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anaid-queen · 1 month

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The Rolin Cut (3min) - a description of all scenes & all my thoughts

(observations as well as theories, mine and others')

as i'm dealing with every single quote and frame we see, it's under a cut - because this bitch is over 10k

Section 1: The Interview

Lestat's portrait (you know the one, the co-founder / Wolfkiller one) is completely engulfed in flames [starting off strong... Louis i see you!!]

Louis: "It is how it happened. I didn't think it at the time, but...yeah. Yeah." [would love to know what memory this refers to.... probably nothing too dramatic, if he manages to be somewhat collected about it? either that or, tbh... who knows. maybe he remembered smth correctly and then was gaslight into thinking differently?? it's not like we don't know someone who'd do that]

corresponding shot of Louis saying the above line in the present day, looking very contemplative [is he (relatively) collected, or is he barely holding it together? why can't i quite tell]

Armand: "May I make an observation?" [asking politely literally for the sake of politeness huh]

Louis: "I lost control of the interview." (AMC+ YT channel says this is Daniel but that's bullshit, doesn't sound like him & wouldn't work at all) [he's embarrassed, of course he's embarrassed, poor sweetie's immediately on the defense]

shot of Louis smoking ... at a bar ? [not sure what to make of this]

Armand: "Yes." [he's sooo fast to say this, god, he sounds almost desperate the way he hisses it... polite veneer OFF]

Louis: "He's skilled." [i know he's being defensive / trying to cover the cracks in his own armor, but i love that he's praising Daniel regardless]

Armand: "He wants you in piece for the privilege of putting them back together again as he sees fit." [ok savage accusation... and every bit of pain aside, projecting much, like HELLO]

Daniel walks into the nature room, where Armand already is, floating among the shelves reading; meanwhile a servant (Rashid?) brings Daniel his food [which begs the question... where is Louis? is Daniel really going to eat there, with his back to Armand, floating high in the room? i'm having so many thoughts y'all, and none of them are in the bible- ahem.]

Louis: "It's his job." [definitely defending Daniel now! baby ily]

Armand: "It's his drug. He's reveling in it." [god he really is soooo pissed isn't he. the harshest/meanest interpretation right off the bat.]

Armand: "You should end it." [and there lies the crux of it. he wants Louis to end the interview (because of course he does), and he's chosen to frame it as 'Daniel manipulates you / enjoys manipulating you, you shouldn't enable him'. wonder how far that's gonna get him...]

a shot of the curtain that's become as much of the trademark logo as the stylized name of the show itself

Daniel: "Session 10 - the vampire Louis and the vampire Armand." [he sounds so annoyed. sick n tired of these vampires]

shots of Daniel adjusting his glasses and the mic [trying his best to appear professional(ly detached) huh]

Louis: "You have our attention." [so generous! wonder if these lines of dialogue go together or not, they could but they could also very well not]

Louis and Armand sit next to each other on the couch; both are smiling slightly, but Louis appears to be challenging Daniel / trying to appear in-control, while Armand's smile is...indecipherable [he's sooooo obsessed <33 sorry not sorry it's all i can see]

Daniel: "Are you two going to finish each other's sentences for the whole session?" [ohhh he doesn't like it... i wonder why. probably because they annoyed him before (this conversation feels pretty cut-together at this point), but i like to think he feels weirdly jealous and doesn't know why :3]

corresponding shot of Daniel - he looks bemused / like he can't quite believe what he's seeing [question remains whether this is too much / uncalled for, or whether he even turns his discomfort down to phrase his question as politely (or unthreateningly) as he can - we really need the true context for this!]

shot of the past: Louis and Armand sitting on a bench, turning to look at each other as one - Louis smiles first, then Armand breaks out in a (happy? relieved?) smile [no freaking clue what scene this clip could be ripped from; but it's clearly supposed to emphasize how in sync they are (finishing each other's sentences, moving as one, making each other happy (?))]

Daniel: "We've been together 77 years, Daniel." [good narrative opening objectively... i'll withhold further comment for now]

shots of Louis and Armand taking a walk in the park and near some building (?) at night, still in the past [not sure if both are from the same scene (one long walk) or not, but the message is clear - they're comfortable together and have been for a long time]

still in the past, Armand kisses Louis' cheek, Louis smiles happily [out of context, a very cute moment, 50/10 no notes. in-context i've seen someone point out a possible relation to a later scene and called in a Judas kiss, and frankly i have no been the same person since]

Louis: "Shall we let the math of that settle?" [i still think this dialogue is very patched-together, but we obviously can't know at this point. he's definitely trying to convince Daniel that he and Armand are a unit, inseparable, why does he even question that. (yeah, right; he's definitely not just trying to convince Daniel.)]

Louis and Armand all but swagger into a room right after one another, Louis giving Claudia (presumably) a Look [they seem happy, and i've seen many people say "they just had sex" and attribute the Look to that as well - it's possible! but i somehow doubt Louis would be so brazen (by his standards) about to in front of Claudia (still assuming this is her); but i'm pretty sure Something just happened between them]

Claudia smiles at someone - fake? genuine? strained, in-between? - while holding a box of some kind under her arm [presuming this is indeed the same scene, it would make the most sense she's smiling at Louis in response. why is she there? are they meeting up? it looks like Louis and Armand are arriving to meet her. is whatever they're gonna talk about related to that box?]

Armand: "She's something, your Claudia." [clearly an overlayed line from the Mansion Massacre scene - but i wonder, not for the first time, how sincere he is being there. clearly he wants Louis to think he means it as a compliment, but could he? at least to a degree? would he be impressed with her, despite himself (his rules, his growing resentment)? a little like Lestat?]

Louis: "A spark in the dark." [still a line from the Mansion Massacre; and can i just say i will never ever ever get over how proud and happy he sounds (seemingly utterly unaware of how he's portraying his life as terrible and Claudia as barely making a dent in the overwhelming darkness of it all..... so typical Louis, really.)]

Claudia leans on a windowsill, raising her eyes to look at something/someone off-screen with apprehension (or disdain?) [no idea who she could be looking at, or when this is - i'll pose a totally wild guess and say either it's Armand or Santiago approaching her]

Section 2: Claudia & Louis

Claudia looking sad (and disheveled?), almost fearful, sitting in a sort of moving vehicle covered by linen (?) [hiding / travelling through Europe?]

Louis: "I wanna say somethin' to you. Our life is shit. It's been shit. It is shit. It's gon' be shit again. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. A shit life beats no life." [someone said Louis is channelling his own mother in this speech to Claudia (it can only be Claudia he's addressing). and i really don't have much to add there. something something generational trauma is a monster.]

a top-down-shot of a convoy of moving vehicles... military vehicles? [i can only guess, it's so dark i can barely see for shit, but maybe Louis and Claudia are travelling in a troop transport? it is wartime after all]

then, a shot we already know well - Claudia and Louis, in ragged-looking clothes (Claudia carrying a bag or suitcase) running away from a building, right before the back of it explodes [speaking of wartime! this is not a good time to be travelling Europe guys...]

Louis is watching a picture burn, in a room where pictures hang behind him on strings [is he burning pictures? if so, of what/who? and the flame looks strangely disconnected... does he have the Fire Gift already? while it would be cool if he discovered it here, i doubt it, because he would look much more surprised/shocked. but what IS he burning? the idea that he's trying to photograph his hallucinations of Lestat but is presented over and over with empty frames really stuck with me...]

Louis and Claudia walk through dimly lit streets, still looking ragged, paying no mind to the rain beating down on them [no idea when or where this could be, sorry]

Claudia crawls out of a hole in the ground, looking extremely ragged and soot-covered and desperate (?), a fire burning somewhere on some trash behind her [either revenants or wartorn Europe; with the fire, i'm cautiously guessing wartimes, but what is Claudia growing out of? looks more likely to be a grave than a bunker, but the fire and the soot would fit with war...]

Claudia, in fancy, all dolled-up blue outfit, ripping down a string with photographs on it and throwing it to the ground in a rage [likely connected to a later scene - she's mad at Louis, and takes it out on his pictures. this still being under the "life is shit" monologue is also very telling... ]

Louis sitting alone on a bench, the camera positioned as if someone's watching him through the bushes but we don't see anyone [what time is this? IS someone watching him? don't ask me!!]

another shot we already know, of Claudia staring at some huge fire, Louis beside her - she still looks ragged, but not despairing anymore, her face a mixture of shock and (very cautious) joy [someone said Louis just burned the revenants...? but i confess i don't know anywhere near enough about that section to make a guess myself. it would work with Claudia being both relieved and shocked (at what's Louis's capable of), though.]

Louis: "And where we're going now, can't be running away again!" [i have turned this bit over in my head again and again. what the hell does he mean? does he just crave stability this badly, or is this a dig specifically at Claudia? his tone of voice almost seems to imply that... but what happened that made him feel this way! is this really about killing Lestat...? or smth else since that we haven't seen? what he says after this implies that they already met the revenants, but surely he can't blame her for leaving them behind?? is he just desperately trying to put his foot down like 'third time's the charm come ON now'. in any case though it's terrible foreshadowing... they "can't" leave, huh?]

Louis and Claudia in rags approach the Panthéon in Paris [at a guess they just arrived in Paris, and are marvelling at the sights / are simply overwhelmed, after everything they've been through]

Louis, standing next to a big wall and a lantern, waiting for a figure from the right to approach [we can't see who it is, but a later scene that seems to be going very well with this one shows us it's likely Armand]

Section 3: The Théâtre des Vampires

Louis: "We're gonna to find others like us. We can't be the only good ones out there." [and this is the bit i said that implies they already met the revenants and that's what Louis is referring to; others "like them" aren't just vampires, but functioning, non-feral ones]

members of Armand's coven bow to Claudia and Louis [part of a clip we've already seen, i believe - this should be when Armand introduces them to the others]

in a big room with at least five coffins at it, it's bedtime - everyone's shutting their lids, but we only get a glimpse of Armand who shuts his last (behind each coffin is also a small area with what i assume are personal effects?) [of all the things i didn't expected, it was the coven having a communal sleeping room... and Armand to be right among them! but maybe i should have ?? idk, i think it's weirdly precious in any case]

a very VERY ragged-looking lady is licking something off her black fingernails [either a revenant or someone even more insane - considering the voice-over is still talking about "good ones", i'm betting on revenant for now, but once again who the hell knows - i sure as heck don't! all i know is that she could likely be the same lady who seemed to be clawing at Louis in an earlier trailer... is she licking his blood off her fingernails now? no... the scenes have totally different lighting. but maybe this is her MO?]

someone we only see a hand of operating a projector (could this be a cinema setting?), someone else looking into the same room from a window beside them [apparently the character is called Tuan Pham and he's part of the coven, but that's all we know so far]

Santiago: "Welcome! We here at Théâtre des Vampires delve into the underbelly of the human soul." [he's clearly presenting the show to the human audience, he's got his showman voice on; and it's certainly fun to hear how it's being pitched to the bewitched audience!]

a shot of a figure on stage, viewed from the back and lit from the front, slowly raising their (his?) head to the light, followed by a shot of Santiago raising his head up to an overhead light - i'm going to cautiously assume those belong together (you never know) and both are Santiago (you see part of the gear from a different trailer where he flew on his back, too) [i'm mostly stuck on why he looks so...apprehensive, you could almost say? like, he could just be bowing out after a show, i can't say for sure. but wouldn't be smile a smug smile? or look extra menacing? and not...this, this almost-afraid expression? i wonder if there's going to be a confrontation in an empty theatre.... horror movie style]

we briefly see boots lift off the stage (whose is impossible to tell) to a few shocked faces in the audience [just gonna assume this is still Santiago, because frankly why wouldn't it be]

someone with Santiago's hair (i can't quite make out his face, but it's likely him) is riding a motorcycle and being quite passionately kissed by a woman sitting on his lap [no idea who the woman is / if i'm supposed to recognize her, but i'll assume she's a vampire as well - and because i cannot assume the worst every second in my life, i will just say right here, to both of them: good for you!]

a stage production - we see a projected background, showing a meadow, a dead tree and three (apparently living) skeletons of humanoid-looking bird creatures, and in front of it are two actors, one with an axe standing in the back and one with a scythe walking towards the bird-things (?), dressed in a hood like Death (the creature closest to him seems to be shaking in fear) [once again no idea who the person in the background could be, or what this play is supposed to depict, but it reminds me of an earlier trailer - it seems to be the same scene, with the same two people and projected backdrop, just minus the skeletal creatures. and in that other trailer, the hooded Reaper was clearly visible as Santiago, and he seemed to be casting the axe out of the other guy's hand with the Mind Gift?? so he could be a victim...]

then there's a reused scene - a group of eight vampires in similar plain clothing crowding around (about to devour?) a red-haired lady who screams in terror; they quickly pull her under [is this part of a theatre performance? it looks very choreographed, and not very efficient... also the lighting? i will say stage for now. also, the woman looks suspiciously like Madeleine, but i doubt it's her. i've seen someone theorize that this is Madeleine's sister, and Madeleine comes to seek out the theatre after her mysterious disappearance...]

Santiago: "We do horror shows so we can eat people!" [skipping over how cute i somehow found this because that's for another essay, i wonder who he's talking to? he's so exasperated! who's not getting the concept / who does he think is not getting the concept? it's Louis isn't it]

corresponding shot of Santiago saying (shouting) the above line, while throwing away a script (?) he held in his hand [is he angry at a change in script, maybe? does he want to go back to the good old days when it was simple(r), and not do whatever is written on the pages he just got? all possible!!]

Section 4: Lestat (x9)

an almost black-and-white (black and warm beige) shot of Lestat strutting through a..backstage area?, taking off his coat - lit from the outside so only silhouettes are visible to us [first thought: diva! :D second thought: wait is he in a hurry or is he angry...]

Armand: "Lestat Lestat Lestat Lestat Lestat Lestat Lestat Lestat Lestat!" [100/10 meme. all i have to say. he sooo can't stand him <333 yes obv i know this is about him being annoyed with Louis constantly thinking (and at the time, as this seems to be the first interview, also talking) about him. but also. 100/10 meme.]

corresponding scene: Armand is clearly very annoyed at Louis; we don't see much of the room they're in, but the window has been taped over with newspapers to block the incoming sunlight [again, i maintain this is during the first interview; basically nothing else makes sense. also, Armand seems to be wearing the same shirt and undershirt (?) as he did at the bar, minus jacket. (his hair is super mussed though... i assume he ran his fingers through it a LOT before he had this outburst)]

Lestat eats a piece of paper... VERY enthusiastically [if this isn't a hallucination i'll eat some paper myself. it's even weird for a hallucination tbh :'D though extremely hilarious]

Armand: "There is no scripting Lestat. You cannot script a hurricane." [i've seen one person suggest this is pre-trial, but i doubt that honestly..? who would Armand be talking to then, and in so contemplative a voice, too. my best guess (which also isn't good tho tbh) is that this is during his early-ish days as an actor. and i still have less than no clue who Armand would be talking TO.]

a short frame of Armand's face, contorted in...rage? despair? he's yelling, and gesturing with his right arm (though that's not clearly visible) - his fangs are out a little. there are two guards, presumably human, in background [whatever the HELL is happening must be extremely emotional, to make him lose control in public and even bring out his fangs!]

Lestat, in his red Wolfkiller cloak, is sliding backwards on a cobblestone road - apparently thrown by the figure he glances at despairingly (who we can't see defining features of). there are humans (?) in the background paying the scene no mind, but someone with nicely done-up hair (with a bow!) is standing next to the person who (presumably) push/threw Lestat, and is watching [it's not difficult to assume the two scenes happen exactly in this order, and that Armand telekinetically yeeted Lestat (his overcoat seems to be the same) - and the other person is very likely Nicki...]

Lestat, in make-up and a very fancy outfit, is lowering a mask from his face with a pleased (?) smile - a theatre performance [i've seen multiple theories on what role he's playing here, so i'll reserve my own judgement - i have no idea :'D]

a very fancily dressed audience very excitedly claps for something... with one figure absolutely not fitting it between the pastels and the finery: Armand, in dark rags, not clapping just staring, seemingly half in shock [another two scenes very likely to belong together - Armand seeing Lestat for the first time, perhaps??]

what can i say about this shot. it's the trial, that's what it is. a big audience, Lestat swaying down the center column between them, Louis, Claudia and Madeleine (Claudia in her yellow dress) tied up behind him on the stage. Santiago in a wig (presumably presiding as judge). the film running on the stage wall behind everyone shows burning picture frames (?) [someone suggested that the pieces of paper displayed on the stage in a display case are pages from Claudia's diary, and they're being used as evidence - that would be a clever twist, though i wonder how they'll match that up with the present (remind me what was missing from her diaries again? not all/most of the patricide plot, right?). i also want to say something about Claudia's yellow dress, but i won't, because it would not really add anything here. if you know, you know.]

Lestat bites into Armand's wrist and drinks. he is dressed relatively well (is that a bow in his hair?), while Armand seems to be in rags. they are underground (catacombs?). Armand appears to be watching with fascination, while Lestat sighs and closes his eyes in bliss. [i have so many goddamn questions about this. more than about any other clip tbh. this does NOT happen like this in the books, not even remotely. and why is Armand in rags? that would indicate this is quite early in their relationship ("relationship"), right? i guess they're really changing up a LOT...]

Louis and Armand in a room with big windows, a lit desk with pictures hung beside it, and a painting on an easel - Louis is holding Armand from behind while Armand also reaches for him, clearly an erotic/blissful moment between them [two things here - theme of Louis' lovers getting over their trauma associated with their dream craft in his presence (/ for him?), and theme of That Embrace... only that Louis isn't the one being embraced this time !]

Claudia: "Let me guess, he's your companion finally. Picked another one over me!" [we can only guess what led up to this, but Louis probably tried to justify something Claudia didn't like by giving an argument a la "but Armand" - because while her rage and resentment are very understandable, i doubt they were triggered just by Louis choosing to date Armand; if everything else was going well for them, why would she mind? no, at a guess, Claudia wants to leave the theatre behind (for whatever reason), and Louis doesn't want to leave Armand. and just like that, her worst fears are realized...]

shots of Armand and Louis, sitting down (?) smoking together - the camera is zoomed so closely to their faces you can't see anything else [if my memory doesn't deceive me, this clip was already shown in an earlier trailer]

the clip belonging to Claudia's line - she's all dolled up in blue, and absolutely furious at (who we can't see but only presume to be) Louis [as i commented earlier, during the scene where Claudia ripped down a string with pictures dressed in the same outfit - these probably belong together. i assume whatever Louis responded to her here only served to make her even angrier... or did she tear down the pictures even before this? she kind of looks like she's about to storm out, though the clip cuts before it can become quite clear]

Claudia, still in the blue doll outfit, apparently posing as a living advertisement for the theatre - having a small altercation with a white man, and clearly very, VERY annoyed at the entire situation [which i 100% understand - i've seen several people call for the head of whoever put her on advertisement duty, and i've also seen theorized that that dress/look was chosen for her so that she appears more appealing; more childlike. all in all, extremely fucked, i'd be just as mad if i was her.]

Section 4: You should fear the other one

Daniel: "Paris sucks." [audio from the Alice clip we've gotten before - and CLEARLY what Claudia was thinking in the scene it's voiced-over to]

Louis: "That's not the point she was making." [still from the Alice clip, and most definitely what she meant Louis...]

Daniel: "Fuck these vampires." [he's quoting - and it should be no leap to assume he's quoting Claudia, she does not like the role (evidently) assigned to her at the theatre]

the corresponding scene where Daniel reads from an old notebook (very likely one of Claudia's diaries) [as above - he's quoting Claudia. though i have to say i don't quite know what to make of his facial expression after he reads the line aloud... provocative, or genuinely thoughtful? knowing Daniel, probably a bit of both, but mostly the former]

Daniel: "I wanna get out alive!" [alright, someone's definitely scared! more than he's ever been before, or at least, more than he's ever appeared to be before. i wonder how long he's been pretending for, or whether something very specific pushed him to this point... i strongly presume the latter]

corresponding shot of Daniel saying that with a desperate sort of expression, and a mystery man he's speaking to just out of focus - he looks like he's trying to convince the man (who only turns to look at him during the sentence), and not much can be gleaned from the surroundings (there's a yellow curtain or partition ?) [my best guess is that Daniel is seeking council on how to best proceed in the dangerous position he's gotten himself into, though who he may be speaking to is impossible to say for sure at this point]

mystery man: "You fear Armand. You should fear the other one." [two things to unpack here - firstly, it's almost obscene how much i relish the thought of Daniel being scared of Armand; i want to scream "BABY!" from the top of my lungs lol. but secondly... are we all in agreement that 'the other one' is Louis? because i've seen at least one person theorize he means Lestat... but surely not. surely not?? if Lestat suddenly showed up in Dubai, i have a feeling a lot things would happen, but not Daniel stepping out to talk about it with someone else... no, this is about Louis. who, may i just remind those doubtful, has nearly killed Daniel at one point before !]

close-up of Daniel's face, an indecipherable expression on it, but clearly some kind of deep emotion is being felt [several people apparently seem to see him having earbuds in...? on my life i swear i don't see them, but whatever he's looking at or listening to (or, of course, remembering), it seems to be very intense. if he's indeed reviewing some kind of material or another, people have put forth him watching some of the tapes he made with Armand back in the day... and ngl i would dissolve into a big puddle of tears on the spot, goodbye cruel world, so i'm rooting for that!!]

Armand gives a very meaningful Look [another bit from a trailer we already saw - i dubbed it bedroom_eyes.png then already, and i am unafraid to do so again. (i also said then how hilarious it would be if Daniel didn't catch his meaning at all... if this expression is being put in direct relation to Daniel being SCARED of Armand, honestly i would just freaking die XD what are you scared of, boy? being gay??)]

mystery man & Daniel, corresponding scene to the man saying the abovementioned line - you can now see his face and more of his clothes, he wears a suit and tie, very thick-rimmed black glasses, and cropped grey hair [it's no secret one of the most heavily debated aspects of this trailer is the identity of this mystery man played by Justin Kirk. he seems perfectly cut out to play Marius, but this look (as well as (apparently) being a human aware of the existence of vampires) made many feel he could only be playing David. however, lately there has been a post pointing out that Marius also wears a similar look at one point in the books, confining his signature color (red) to his pants... i for one know what i'll be watching for in particular when this exact scene flits across my screen!!]

shots of Louis throwing a glass of blood at a painting [people smarter than me have tried to figure out the meaning, i'll withhold my judgement here]

Louis: "You're not here, I'm just fucked in the head." [ngl, Louis, if your hallucinations try to ARGUE with you / make you feel like you have to argue with them - you're already at a bad stage of things!! (if indeed he's seeing a hallucination - i'd just about cry if he said this to the real Lestat when they finally reunite, and he just can't believe it...)]

Louis walking down a street (presumably) in the past [brief scene that at least i can glean nothing from]

hallucination!Lestat birthing a fleshy bird (?) out of his throat wound, trying but failing to speak as the creature screeches [something something the bird in Nicki's mind, the birds speaking to Paul... the bird now birthed from Lestat in Louis' hallucination cannot be a coincidence (also this is from the same scene where Louis finds ("finds") him lying crucified, right?)]

a sequence of shots - Louis snarling in anger, fangs out, flips a table with a tape recorder and some beer and other things on it, attacking young Daniel; they crash down on the floor out of focus, just after the tape recorder falls to the ground [i guess Daniel just asked for Louis to turn him into a vampire!! or rather, told him he doesn't even understand the meaning of his own story, as seen in ep 1x07 and later in this trailer as well]

Louis blowing smoke out of his mouth, possibly in a café in Paris (?) [just saying that because it reminds me of the café he sat in with Claudia talking about his new picture-taking hobby]

Claudia: "You're stronger." [she's talking to Louis as we'll soon see, and i have too many thoughts about what she could mean. what happened that made her asses him in this way? is he drinking human blood now? did he do something drastic she hadn't expected him capable of, and she wonders at what changed? there are simply too many possibilities to say]

shots Claudia and Louis sitting next to each other on two armchairs with a lamp between them, talking - corresponding to the previous and following lines between them [again no idea when this happens or why]

Louis: "Ah yeah?" [he's not looking at her as he says this, and his tone holds ever so slight of a challenge - he's not flattered, quite the opposite - it's almost like he doesn't want to hear her words at all (by their track record, presumably because they're making him uncomfortable - and *that* they presumably do because they are true...)]

Claudia: "Harder, too." [she's relentless, especially if she wants something, or wants to figure something out - she wants to know something about Louis, something she didn't get to witness anything but the result of, i'd wager]

Claudia: "But you gotta give up something to get something." [aaand there it is. at my best guess, something changed in Louis, and Claudia wants to know what it is - specifically, what he gave up for that change.]

shots of Claudia holding an umbrella, watching Madeleine through her window lighting a match (and sewing? there's a sewing machine next to her in any case) [once again re-used, but i won't grow tired of seeing them; they're lesbians your honor!!!]

Louis and Claudia drinking from Madeleine's throat from both sides as she stares at the ceiling, gasping quietly [this now (apart from the deviation from text, now apparently they're both her makers..??) makes me particularly worried in regards to the quote still overlayed on it. could Claudia be talking to Louis after he (/ they) turned Madeleine? did Armand indeed force him, and Claudia notices the change (the loss of the last of his soul, as he says in the books) now and wonders at it? that would be quite ironic... and INCREDIBLY painful]

Section 5: You and Me, Me and You

Louis: "It's you and me. Me and you. You and me. Me and you. You, and me!" [he's swearing to Claudia, as we'll soon see (and that also makes the most sense) - but the quote is obviously hijacked to portray multiple significant relationships for Louis, as per the montage it's set to]

corresponding shots of Louis and Claudia sitting across from each other in a moving vehicle, covered by a sheet of whatever linen (?) vehicle covers are made out of [judging by the way they look this is still wartimes... and judging by Claudia's expression, she's not buying Louis' fervent declaration. my personal theory is that this happens just after they escaped the revenants, but there is no way to know. it seems to be the same scene from earlier in the trailer though, where it's set to Louis "our life is shit" speech]

Armand and Louis standing across from each other (several feet apart) in the middle of a big road, not looking happy [someone suggested this could be a sort of break-up... i'll withhold judgement, but whatever it is, it sure seems serious]

Armand and Louis standing very close, Armand's hand cupping Louis' cheek - only for Louis to move sideways and walk away, seemingly disgusted or heavy frowning for some other reason, as Armand stands almost frozen [probably the same location as the previous scene (judging by a neon light visible behind them), and whatever Armand tried to say or do to salvage the situation, Louis is not having any of it. extended version of the very short clip we got in an earlier trailer, where some people feared Armand may be putting Louis to sleep - worries set aside! Louis is not falling, that's just the perspective making his evasive movement look odd]

Santiago, seemingly sitting down (he's only visible from the chest up), in a wifebeater and suspenders, muscles on display and hands offscreen, staring indecipherably at... someone. [is it Louis? the next scene, as well as the voiceover, sure seem to imply so. and no i can't even begin to theorize on the why.]

Louis staring up at something or someone, clearly conflicted in some way [it reminds me of the moment they showed as his reaction to Lestat's portrait in the first trailer, though it's clearly not the same clip - it's also very unlikely that he's looking at Santiago though, because Santiago was very well-lit (like he's on stage or smth) and Louis' clip is very dark, and people are moving blurrily behind him which wouldn't be the case in a stage setting. nonetheless, cutting these two clips together with that audio strongly implies a close connection between him and Santiago, which would be all kinds of interesting...! (especially after all the theories that the wink from an earlier trailer spawned)]

Louis in the present day, smiling very fondly (almost mischieviously?) at someone off-screen [is it Daniel? again, the next clip implies this, but i've ceased trusting almost any editing in these trailers (if i ever did to begin with). then again - who ELSE would he be smiling at this way? no one it could reasonably be would fit... he's not looked at any of his lovers like that, at least not since his early days with Lestat]

Daniel is looking at Louis, something between doubt and the beginnings of a smile on his face [or maybe the two scenes do belong together here? at least in Daniel's shot, you can see Louis in a blurry outline. i wonder what they are discussing? whatever it is, it has Louis emotional and Daniel still on the side of doubtful... so nothing new really :'D only Louis' emotional cadence being positive is very new, and therefore very interesting indeed]

a shot of Lestat, still clearly a hallucination with a throat wound and white shirt [duh, this can't be a montage of Louis' significant relationships without Lestat!]

and the quote finishes up on Louis speaking the last words in that same moving vehicle - all but spitting them in his conviction, really [one can only guess what's got him so riled up - is he trying to convince the ever-doubtful Claudia, or himself?]

Daniel: "I mean you don't understand the meaning of your own story!" [did they really take the same quote as heard in the tapes on the show (evidently, the provocation that made Louis attack Daniel), but removed a word? there's an "even" in there in ep 1x07! sorry, i notice this shit :'D]

corresponding clip of Daniel yelling this at Louis in his 'shitty apartment', newspapers covering the window still visible [3...2...1... cut to the earlier clip of Louis throwing the table before fucking launching them both to the floor (and yk, attemping to drain Daniel of every last drop of blood)]

Louis, on the floor, looking beaten, face contorted in pure agony, staring at someone just out of focus of the camera (Armand ? it's impossible to say for sure), being picked up and taken away by an older man [i'll say it this way: no idea who the old man is, or who exactly Louis is looking/pleading to, but i can really only imagine one scene that would have him come apart at the seams this badly...]

Louis: "NO!" / sobbing [even without the corresponding clip, hearing his voice drag out and then break over that one-syllable word would've been agonizing. all i have to say to that, really.]

another reused shot, this time the one of Armand leaning on a railing (in the theatre?) and crying, seemingly alone in the room [to quote someone else: 'the look of a man who couldn't prevent it'. coupled with the previous clip, that interpretation seems increasingly likely... this could well be Armand post or during Claudia's death]

Armand: "I failed Louis once in my life, it wasn't in San Francisco." [now this one is very interesting - i've seen many theories on it, but personally what i think far likeliest is the most obvious one: that Armand is trying to sugarcoat/reframe Claudia's death in front of Daniel (but also in front of Louis, of course, always) - either maintaining his claim that he could not prevent the events (but had nothing directly to do with them), or admitting his agency in it but glossing over it as "whelp, i did something i knew was going to make Louis unhappy, i was a terrible boyfriend there for a hot second, but i regret it deeply and it was only that one time!!" and trying to keep it contained in that fashion. also not to be ignored here though is the rest of the sentence... i can only presume he was asked about something in San Francisco (maybe something he regrets / something directly relating to a 'failing' in his & Louis' relationship?), and he tries to say 'nah that wasn't bad, there was only one other time that was bad'. or is this just a transition of topic after they've talked about something in San Francisco? in any case, he is talking to Daniel, and Louis (likely) isn't present, and they're mentioning San Fran. i am not vibrating with excitement, you are!!!]

another re-used clip - the one of Louis looking extremely tough and confident, blood splatters on his face [people have said he just set fire to something, which could be true... in any case, he seems to be feeling very confident, and not very haunted or devastated or overly angry... so my bet would be on the revenants for that.]

someone with white (?) hair walks through the streets of (i presume) Paris at night, carrying a big bag over their shoulder [from behind, it's impossible to say whether that is Santiago, or someone else with silver fox-y hair... could be that old man we saw pick up Louis for all we know! (and putting that together with a certain other clip... i still have the people in my air yelling that Louis has been put in a sack...)]

Louis grabs Armand to kiss him; judging by the blurry green behind them, they could be in a park ? [this could be the "leaked" (= fan-recorded) kiss that went around on twitter a bit ago... that's just about all that i have. i saw someone theorize that this is a break-up kiss, which would fit with the microsecond glimpse we get of Armand's eyes looking sorta glassy... but irdk, i'm also withholding judgement here, no idea]

Section 6: *screams*

Lestat: "Ha!" / yells [weird enough by itself... but much weirder yet with the scene it's attached to]

corresponding scene of Lestat having his little outburst... standing next to Louis, who is frowning heavily at Armand (next to the camera, just out of focus) - they all appear in a gallery that smarter people than me have interpreted as the Louvre [so Lestat is not only haunting the narrative, but Louis & Armand's dates as well! at least he is when Louis is upset... as others have pointed out plenty before, he could well be manifesting every time Louis feels he can't express / has to suppress a certain emotion, and that's why he acts so extremely when he appears. and i for one would love to see that!!]

a red-haired woman, very likely Madeleine, has her hair cut with silver scissors by an unseen person, and has her mouth open screaming in pain/terror [people say this is prep for... you know... and i'm strongly inclined to believe them. i do however have a sickening feeling on top of all the sickening feelings at play here... the way the scissors wiggle, there? together with how extremely her face is contorted? i doubt she's fully screaming in fear... it looks almost like the person holding the scissors is either intentionally, or very uncaringly, cutting into her *ear*.]

young Daniel, looking very pale/sickly (?), appears to get thrown into a concrete wall - hard enough for pieces of it to come crumbling out after the impact [now this is more than curious - is he freshly drained? did Louis yeet him? or rather, did Armand yeet him away from Louis? he is wearing the same shirt he was wearing for the interview, and while Louis first fed from him lying down (well - smushed to the floor), Armand could well have pulled them both up and then removed Daniel from the danger zone (so to speak) by force (and obv, moved to deal with Louis first, before his victim). seems plausible enough for me! (just, whatever you do, don't think about the possible brain damage he could've gotten from that, or the connection between brain damage and Parkinson's...)]

two figures we can only presume to be Louis and Lestat are walking up some very fancy stairs, with Louis holding a flashlight; meanwhile, someone we can only presume to be Armand is floating straight up in the middle of the frame, apparently taking a shortcut next to the winding stairs [Google wasn't exactly helpful in trying to figure out whether this is the Louvre or not, because no staircase i could find precisely matched this one - don't tell me this is a full-scale rebuild of what it looked like back in the day?? :'D - but for now, i will assume that this is indeed in the Louvre. and in any case, the main question is, What The Fuck Are You Doing, Armand?! are you trying to give Louis & Hallu!Stat some space? the whole night-dark place some truly creepy atmosphere?? sorry i'm more yelling than actually theorizing, but i've gone over this so many times and i have no goddamn idea why in the world Armand would just float upwards like this except for how he's an absolute and complete weirdo (affectionate; but affectionate and weary :'D)]

Armand: "I was in love." [yet another hotly debated line - who could he be referring to, many wondered? to me, it seemed obvious from the start - he can hardly be referring to anyone but Louis, not in so blasé a tone (even if he might be acting). admitting love for anyone else - Daniel, or god forbid Lestat - would be a much bigger act for him, and therefore not happening so easily in conversation (imo). also, it's pretty clear he's using that as an excuse/justification - this could very well come up as Daniel is confronting him about something he's done to or in relation to Louis!]

Daniel: "You buy that?" [while this clear provocation could be in response to almost anything (that is talked about with both vampires in attendance), let's pretend for a second it is indeed not cut together with the previous line for the fun of it - just imagine Armand trying to justify something he did by claiming he did it out of love / was crazed by love, and Daniel directing that right over to Louis so brazenly. where would we be without Daniel, truly.]

Lestat, sitting down, holding a cigarette (in what looks like the past to me), absolutely melting with laughter [ok, putting this right after Daniel's question is the clearest bait i've ever seen - by the scene backgrounds alone these two clips couldn't possibly go together. whatever is going on, this is just ("just") the signature crazed Lestat Laugh..!!]

Louis: "Back to hell with you!!!" [yes, the exclamation marks are necessary, he's all but howling it after all - the only logical conclusion to who he's addressing being, of course, our dear friend Hallu!Stat. i guess he's really had enough of him now!!]

the corresponding scene, which features a POV not previously seen (far as i remember) - Louis is angrily yelling directly at the camera, even grabbing it and throwing it to the ground, so presumably grabbing the person he's yelling at. and all that in public! at a café, or at least out in the streets (of, presumably, Paris) [the easiest/closest assumption is that he's trying to grab Hallu!Stat after he's said smth particularly provoking... but what if Louis is actually grabbing some poor uninvolved human who he's mistaking for Lestat (maybe overlayered with a hallucination)? now that would be extremely interesting, and explain the strange POV better too - because that would be the plottwist then revealed to the viewer, likely in the same moment as it hits Louis]

a continuation of a scene from earlier in the trailer - Lestat in his red Wolfkiller cloak, charging at (presumably) Armand, full of rage; while interestingly, the humans behind him appear to be frozen [did he stop time? did Armand, in order to deal with the scene better? in any case, i appreciate the frozen pedestrians, because their positioning is what makes me so sure this is Lestat getting back up from his first run-in with Armand repelling him (as opposed to the reason that Armand threw him on the cobblestones to begin with). i wish him the best of luck, he does seem to have a lot of fury going for him... unfortunately, so does Armand, from what we saw earlier]

a brief shot of Louis screaming, with his face split in a nasty wound - this too is a scene reused from an earlier trailer [people have pointed out it's the same wound he received in ep 1x05 at the hands of Lestat, which makes this very likely to be one of those revisits that have been promised to us... i will hold back on any & all theorizing on what could possibly be revealed there, really, all i want to see is what happened during the brief moment of silence where Claudia couldn't see them. anything else i'll let myself be surprised by!]

another reused clip, this time of the bloodied woman falling from the ceiling onto a prepared blanket on the wooden floor [everyone's working theory then the same as now was/is that this is a victim being tossed through the stage's trap door for later disposal]

a very close close up of a pointy-toothed mouth screaming, seemingly covered by some kind of cloth - also reused [aaand that's where the theory that Louis gets dragged away from (you know) and trapped in a sack came from... can't say i can't see what people mean ! though it would have to be some formidable cloth indeed, to hold even a weakened/"vegetarian" vampire...]

someone (Claudia? impossible to be sure, but who else would it be) sits beside a corpse (one of three visible in the frame) on the frozen ground, and rips out and tosses the corpse's heart - right towards the camera [while people who had seen the full trailer said this scene was even more gory there - with the heart impacting the 'screen' and sliding down - this is already plenty vicious... i wonder why she does it? just anger, or is there a method behind it? could it possibly be related to the revenants somehow?]

Section 7: Pieces

Louis: "Pieces of my life, gone. I knew who I was without those pieces." [started with truth & reconciliation, and now we're here... challenging every 'truth' Louis thought he knew about himself. but this, crucially, does not seem to refer to mainly altered memories (regardless if altered by denial or by outside force) - was/is he actually unable to access whole chunks of memories like Daniel? and if so, why? Armand can't beat the allegations much longer, i'm afraid..!]

Lestat puts his fingers in Armand's hair (specifically, the bow in his hair), and leans up into him for a kiss - the shot cutting barely a frame before their lips would touch [now there's a billion and one things to say about this... but one would be that i highly doubt this is their kiss from the books. for one, Lestat initiates it, for another... that bow. i pointed it out in (who-we-presume-is-)Nicki's hair earlier, and...well. if you were Armand, infinitely powerful in the Mind Gift, and your crush absolutely refused to entertain the notion of smooching you because he's already seeing someone? well, there's a solution to that...!! there's many "solutions" to that, obviously, one more horrifying than the last, so frankly if this is how they're gonna play it here, i won't complain... though i don't actually think they're going to downplay or omit *ahem* certain canon events that are severely worse than a dastardly case of impersonation could ever be - if that is indeed what we're even seeing here. because if it isn't, well, there are about a dozen more theories waiting right around the corner!! from 'he's about to dramatically reject him like in the musical' to 'he's trying to buy Louis' freedom' to 'in show'verse, they actually dated for a bit'. guess we'll just all let ourselves be surprised!!!]

a seemingly ordinary apartment (Louis' apartment in the 70s? impossible to be sure), Armand is staring at something (someone?) off-screen with an indecipherable expression, while a blurry figure in the background is levitating on a chair [so much to unpack here - the blurry figure can hardly be Louis, he doesn't have the Cloud Gift, but then who is it?? and the location, plus Armand's attention being so thoroughly occupied... several people theorized he's watching over the drained/recovering Daniel here, and possibly catching feelings in real time?? but at this point we can't possibly know more about either occupant of that apartment/frame]

two blurry figures walking along an underground tunnel, the figure closer to the camera lighting a fire in their fingers - a reused scene, we know the person ahead is Louis, and the person behind is likely Armand (as we've seen what's very likely the same scene shot from the other perspective in an earlier trailer) [the theories here range from 'Armand first meeting Louis' to 'Armand teaching Louis self-defense', to various more]

one more reused scene - this time of Louis smacking Lestat's head into a wall so hard it leaves blood, and him seeming to enjoy it greatly [as he'll always enjoy any emotion he can elict from his Louis <3 question is only whether Louis is abusing a hallucination, a real person (!) (see above), or whether this will be a flashback... or the future?]

a shot of young Daniel, red-faced and ugly crying [there is absolutely no context, and the background is way too blurry to assume anything but that he's inside a building - people have theorized that this is when Armand tells him that he'll have to / he will take his memories, and while i can't fully rule that out ofc, i've grown increasingly doubtful that Armand took his memories in any sort of a rational act or after a detailed conversation, so...i cast doubt here! no idea which other scene Daniel could be crying this badly in, though... maybe it's not because of Armand at all?]

scene corresponding to the quote - Louis in the present day, with red-rimmed eyes, shaking his head in slight confusion (refusal? upset-ness?), talking to a blurry figure who appears to be Daniel from the silver-y outline we get [he seems... no longer happy to have taken the interview, that's for sure. but not angry, nor (completely) overwhelmed... he's just cracking open, and surprising himself with how much he's leaking all over the place.]

Section 8: Memory Is The Monster

the show's signature curtain, reading "Memory"

Armand strolling up to meet an indiscernable figure in a park, wearing the same outfit (or at least hat) we saw in an earlier trailer [is he meeting Louis for their park bench date? this seems to be the same scene as the bit earlier in this trailer, where Louis waited under a streetlamp - just from the opposite perspective. not 100% sure though]

Louis, Claudia, Madeleine and Armand clinking glasses together at a restaurant or café; Claudia is wearing her yellow dress, Madeleine a jacket (?) in a tasteful dark red, and it has all the vibes of a double date [now we could focus on the absolute sweetness - or the absolute horror - of the idea of this actually being a double date. but since this post is already more than long enough, i'll only bring up the two major things i've seen people theorize are connected to this... well, mainly one thing, two scenes. one thing: the trial. two scenes: the trial scene (duh), and - the cheek kiss from early in this trailer. the trial for obvious, yellow-dress-related reasons; though Claudia could obviously just be wearing the same dress for multiple occasions, that would be a really strange production choice particularly in this matter - and Madeleine seems to be wearing a dark-red skirt on the stage of the trial earlier, and a blue blouse (and the color of the blouse peeking out under her jacket in the date clip could well be a light blue). Louis could also well be wearing the same outfit to the trial later, just minus the jacket. which brings us to the theory that that sweet cheek kiss... could be the Judas Kiss of this story. Louis' and Armand's outfits from the cheek kiss scene seem to match the ones in the date scene relatively well, and the context would work perfectly. picture it: Armand arriving just a little bit later than the others, apologizing with a charming smile, kissing his sweetheart and sitting down - and no one asks questions about where he's been...]

Claudia is blindfolded, and sitting on a chair that is being lifted by various members of the theatre coven as the rest stand around and clap and cheer - she is laughing with absolute delight [the absence of Armand and Louis from this rite (at least as far as we can see) is striking, but Claudia seems perfectly happy - like she has finally found her place to belong, where people love and accept her just as she is. (now if only that were so easy.....)]

the show's signature curtain, reading "Is"

Santiago floating (speeding? speed-floating) through a tunnel [no idea where he's going, no idea what's going on... but ngl, a bit hilarious]

very close close-up of Louis in the modern day [straight-up no idea what we're supposed to read out of this, sorry, pass]

Louis in the darkroom, rubbing his eyes [he looks like me when i'm overtired again... which a vampire shouldn't get, though!! so whatever he's developing, it's clearly really getting to him... (the theory that he's trying to capture Hallu!Stat on camera is well-known at this point, yes?)]

the show's signature curtain, reading "The"

a shot of an incredibly overly bright room (sunlight not just streaming in but flooding it), flowers in a vase in the middle and Claudia on the right side of the frame, smiling broadly and wearing her yellow dress [very VERY clearly a memory / hallucination, from the impossibility of it alone but also simply the theme of overly lit clips usually being hallucinations, often of dead or lost loved ones. and if there's any doubt remaining that this is just that... may i just point to the yellow dress again]

Louis hugging Lestat, really pressing into the crook of his neck and splaying one hand on his back like there's nowhere he'd rather be [to many, surely THE clip of the trailer - spawning untold speculations of whether or not we'll actually get to see them reunite, in the flesh, and happily within this very season. i for one... am sorry, but i cast #doubt. i just don't know how they would fit that narratively. i would love to be wrong though, i truly truly would!!!]

a shot of Lestat, his hair perfectly splayed out in little golden waves and his throat totally bloody [it could be belonging to one of the scenes we already saw, i.e. the Jesus-on-the-cross-pose one... when he comes abruptly up from that pose, he does seem to have similar wounds and hair]

the show's signature curtain, reading "Monster"

yet another scene we already know - the books (and plenty of glass splinters) coming crashing down around Daniel as he's sitting at a desk with his laptop and microphone etc. in front of him [and i still can't unsee the theory that his arms are tied in this scene... it's like Schroedinger's Rope, i can't be sure he is tied up and i can't be sure he isn't! but no matter that, the main question of all is of course what caused that extreme bookcase breakage we see there?? many people's money seems to be on Lestat, one way or another, but i really don't know. not the faintest idea.]

Santiago baring his teeth [and ngl... looking just a bit too goofy with it :'D no idea what the context could be. i just hope he's playing and that this isn't his actual attempt at being intimidating!!]

Armand: "ENOUGH!" [so that WAS what he was yelling! good to know. still wondering what the fuck got him so mad... i can't wait :33]

the scene where Armand hits the table and all the vampires sitting alongside it drop unconscious, reused but extended now - at the end of the table, off the right side, the camera captures someone pulling at Santiago's tongue, at a clearly painful angle [and who could that be but Louis? question is only what the hell happened to make him do that specifically... that is a cruel and unusual punishment..!]

the camera moving over a bridge in Dubai (?) at night [no idea who could be leaving or arriving there - anybody's guess. Daniel leaving for a short while? Louis leaving forever?? something or someone entirely else??? don't ask me!]

Daniel: "Memories just keep bubbling up." [i did not giggle at this... you don't have witnesses, you can't prove anything. i'm just so happy he's remembering!!! (on a more serious note, i have a feeling like he's talking to a friend or someone else he trusts, but not Louis (or Armand)... he sounds too thoughtful for that, i don't think he'd let his guard down like that around them. just doesn't seem the vibe. i could be wrong ofc!)]

Louis: "I want this… to remember…" [the first and likeliest guess would be that he's saying this to Daniel - affirming, almost declaring, that he chooses the pain. chooses knowing over sweet, numb oblivion. but a horrible little voice asks me... what if he's saying it to Armand? pleading with Armand to *allow* him to remember, against Armand's better ("better") advice? ('no, you don't want that...')]

scene corresponding with Louis brave declaration - he's nodding, but he's crying (we see the first blood tear spill), and looking like he's barely holding on by a thread [no matter the precise context - he is being incredibly brave, no longer hiding from his worst memories, but walking towards them with a seeing eye. he is embracing the pain, finally recognizing it's better than just letting it all fester and rot, and i for one could not be prouder of him <33]

shot of Louis smoking a cigarette leaning on a bar - likely the same scene or from the same scene as the clip where early in this trailer [i'm gonna be honest with y'all - i have no idea what might be significant about this one. it's a full circle tho! i guess :'D]

#loumand #loustat #armandiel #devil's minion #claudeleine #interview with the vampire #shit i'm never doing again: this #any/all future trailer analyses will be SHORTER

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glazelilyy · 3 years

Text

you, yourself (diluc)

pairing - diluc ragnvindr x gender neutral reader

word count - 2552

genre - angst with comfort

format - fic

warnings - changing yourself for the sake of others, crying, one sided discourse

summary - after a long day of work and fueled by exhaustion, diluc impulsively says some things he doesn't mean to you, his lover, and is confused when the next day you aren't acting like yourself and more like him.

a/n - yeah this is heavy. changing yourself to please others really sucks. additional note, the reader is a bit stylized for plot purposes meaning they have a bit of a personality to them but i still hope it makes for a good angsty experience. there'll be more of this topic with the other characters i write for which is why diluc's name is in brackets :)

content under the cut!

if master diluc were to embody wispy shadows and the darkness of night, you were a basket of sunshine and embodied warm, fuzzy bumble bees.

diluc himself wasn't exactly sure how he'd managed to fall at your feet, heart on his sleeve instead of locked away behind his chest. for someone who lives in the dark, you were the end of the tunnel, his bright light. he'd managed to stumble his way into love and yet you welcomed him with open arms, took his hands and said "we'll do it together."

you were no different, always the bubbly and cheerful one you'd found yourself at a loss for words when one day you realized the elusive and mysterious master diluc had captured your heart. in a way his liking to the shadows and quiet demeanor drew you in not unlike a moth to a flame.

you weren't total opposites though, after all a relationship needs to have some middle ground. you both loved chess, private time, and a good book in the early moments of evening when the crickets in the bushes that surrounded dawn winery had yet to come out.

a bit of an "oddball couple" (as kaeya affectionately referred to the pair of you), it wasn't uncommon for many locals to see your hand intertwined with the wine tycoon's as you walked towards angel's share—you rambling on about a pretty butterfly or the like you'd seen during your commissions today, while diluc simply nodded and listened along with a loving smile on his face.

diluc at first was hesitant to reach out to someone so luminous like yourself. where you thrived in light he lurked in shadows and he wasn't all that sure that his affections would manifest into anything meaningful. he can still fondly recall your comment on his perception: "to hell with opposites! i like you, you like me, that's all that matters!" you had said with the biggest grin you had to offer.

and you were right, despite your differences the only fact that mattered was that you loved each other. you both believed so at least.

but as of late, diluc's patience had been running thin. the lack of sleep combined with hours upon hours of work both for his business and for the protection of mondstat left him weary and lethargic. by the end of the week he felt little more than a shell of a man.

today, he'd woken up with a glorious three hours of sleep to his name, left in a hurry without the breakfast you carefully prepared (to which he deeply apologized with a kiss on your cheek), sat through countless boring meetings, and sifted through mountains of transportation and quality check documents.

by the time he was to bartend at angel's share for the night, the exhaustion was visible on his sullen face. the shot glasses in his palms felt as heavy as lead, and though drink orders came in through one end of his ear, they always exited out the other side like the faintest of winds. and something else brewed quietly within the confinements of his mind: anger fueled by exhaustion and frustration. he'd almost snapped at a nearby drunkard but managed to reign himself in, though he didn't know how long he could keep it up.

"maybe you should take a break boss..." diluc was brought back from his thoughts into reality when charles placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"...i'm fine," he meant to mumble, but it emerged from his lips more like a sour grumble.

he turned to resume mixing drinks when your hand came to rest upon his knuckles, stilling his movements.

"actually charles, he'll take you up on that suggestion. come on diluc." you gently pried the glass away from him.

"(y/n)." from his stern eyes and warning tone alone you could tell he wasn't happy with your interjection.

"i'm sorry, but you need some rest, even for just a few minutes." you smiled apologetically and took him by the arm, pushing the back entrance door open in the process.

the cool night air did little to calm the simmering anger and frustration that had been swimming in the deepest pits of his stomach for the past few days. in an attempt to get a grip on himself, he leaned his forearms on the wooden beams and massaged his burning temples with the tips of his fingers.

"feeling better?" with a gentle smile you placed your palm on his shoulder.

"...quite." he grunted, though his grainy voice betrayed his response.

"you don't really think i'd believe that right?" your teasing smile fell when he made no move to reciprocate or validate your comment. "you've been working so hard lately," you paused to collect your thoughts, and tried to pick up the mood with your signature brightness, "but on the bright side at least you've accomplished so much! i'm very proud of you and you should be proud of yourself too." still, no answer from your lover.

heaving a heavy sigh, you spoke up once again. "you're doing your best no matter what, i hope you realize tha-"

"must you always be like this?" the atmosphere suddenly grew cold and bitter, as did his voice.

"be...be like what?" your smile grew confused and began to feel out of place on your face.

"you drag me out here in the middle of a shift and for what- for me to listen to your rambles again?" he sucked in a sharp breath through gritted teeth and met your puzzled eyes, the ends of his fingers dug into the polished wooden banister in front of him.

"di-"

"there's no end to it is there? you simply ramble on and on and expect me to listen but there's only so much i can take. archons forbid you ever shut your mouth for once." the eyes that had looked at you so fondly this morning now burned with quiet passion, as if the gentle flips of a fan over cooling embers had begun to rapidly move up and down. you stood in utter bewilderment and hurt, each syllable of his words slapping you across the face like a whip.

diluc however, seemed not to notice the utter look of pain on your face. the rims of your eyes began to pool with tears as you desperately looked at him for any sense of rationality.

"diluc could we talk-"

i simply do not have time for this, please excuse me." he scoffed and brushed past you back in through the doors of the tavern.

and all you could do was stand there, watching as his figure retreated past the wooden door, and let his words ferment in your mind as tears cascaded down your face.

the words you so badly wanted to speak got caught in your throat and coagulated in place.

***

diluc doesn't remember how he managed to fumble through his last shift at angel's share, nor does he remember exactly how he somehow stumbled home and flopped into bed still wearing his day clothes. what he does remember is the feel of your hand on his knuckles, and nothing else. everything was a blur mixed in with exhaustion and frustration.

the morning greeted him with an aching spine that sent shoots of pain down towards his legs. unconsciously, his hands stretched out seeking the warmth of your body...

...only to find your side of the bed cold. his eyes snapped open and, though blearily, he scanned the room in search of your figure. perhaps you'd simply gotten up to use the restroom or change clothes. but much to his bewilderment, you were nowhere in sight. your side of the bed had been neatly made. the satchel you usually carried everywhere hung from a nearby rack in the entrance to the bedroom.

confused, he managed to clamber off of his awkward sleeping position from the bed and went about his morning routine. the feeling of going through the motions of his morning felt off without you by his side, reminding him to brush in circles instead of straight lines, or adjusting the broach on his chest while he fumbled with the buttons of your shirt.

he finished up and pulled open his bedroom door, only to jump in surprise when you stood there, fist raised as if you were about to knock.

"good morning." you politely smiled, looking at him with loving eyes.

the minute you opened your mouth, diluc felt a sick feeling crawl up his spine. your voice, it was odd, something he couldn't place his finger on.

"good morning, my love." he pressed a swift kiss to your forehead.

"i've made breakfast." there it was again, your voice. something was wrong, despite the fact that you looked perfectly normal, even your signature smile was on full display.

as if to silently ask you if something had happened, he placed one of his large, warm hands on your shoulder, the other finding solace on your cheek.

"you could have woken me up. i thought you loved my pancakes?" he spared a teasing smile, just for you, but it fell flat quickly. usually you'd make a witty remark or tease him just the same. but instead you simply stood there, that same smile on your face, and took his hand.

"the food will get cold." you spoke quietly, tugging him towards the stairs.

he obliged and followed but the nauseating feeling eating away at diluc's skin hadn't ceased. something was wrong, he could feel it. and yet as you sat down in front of him at the dining table and cut into your waffles, you appeared perfectly normal.

diluc mimicked your actions and stuck his fork into a strawberry. he looked at you expectantly, knowing that during the morning at breakfast, this was where you'd eagerly talk about the activities you had planned for the day. and yet you sat, munching on your waffles surrounded by a thick fog of silence.

he cleared his throat and met your eyes. "darling, what do you have planned for the day?" instead of going on an animated rollercoaster of dialogue like you usually did, you merely shrugged your shoulders and stuck another bite of waffles into your mouth. diluc frowned, now he knew something was up.

when breakfast had finished, he tried to pull you aside from the hustle and bustle around the winery but you took off with the excuse of needing to get to the guild early.

while he went through the motions of his day, he couldn't get his interactions with you out of his head. diluc hadn't feel the presence of that spark you held that he loved so much. what remained felt cold, and empty. it was quite unlike you to hold your tongue and keep your voice down, it bothered him to no end.

while he sat through meetings, the only face he saw was your eerily calm one. while signing documents, he could only remember the unusual quietness of your voice. these thoughts taunted him all throughout the day, he ended up abandoning what little work he had done in order to catch you before you scurried off towards another commission.

luckily for him, he caught you just as you were cashing in your last commission as dusk began to fall.

"(y/n) i'd really like to have a word with you." he panted, having run all the way from the winery to mondstat. one of his hands perched itself his knee and the other softly gripped your elbow. you nodded and let him lead you to the lake behind mondstat's walls.

"is something the matter my love? you've barely spoken a word." with both hands he took your face into his palms and thumbed your cheeks. his brows furrowed, creasing in the middle, the worry no longer held closed behind the cages of his mind.

you heaved a deep sigh and cast your gaze towards the grassy floor coated in the last remaining rays of sunlight, in favor of staring into his searing red eyes.

"i'm just a bit scared." you mumbled, reaching up to grip his charcoal coat. "scared? of what? have you been threatened?" you couldn't help but silently laugh to yourself and shook your head rapidly.

"no, none of that. i just...wish not to upset you." dumbfounded, diluc could only look at you with confused eyes.

and suddenly he felt his heart drop to the deepest pits of his stomach. the words he'd spouted towards you out of pure frustration and exhaustion hit him like a ton of bricks as he looked through the fog that clouded his memory. concern and worry replaced themselves with an enormous wave of guilt as his horrified face looked towards you.

"(y/n) i- i can't believe i said that i-..." his grip from your shoulder slackened as he stepped back, raising a hand to his mouth as the guilt in his stomach swished and swayed like a torrential stormy sea. you fumbled with your hands, a bit at a loss for words.

"i just wanted to make sure you were okay...i didn't mean to make it worse...i'm sor-"

"no, no. do not apologize, i'm the one who should be groveling at your feet for forgiveness." he interrupted you, running his gloved hand through his frazzled locks.

"diluc..." you took his hand that had been gripping his mouth and held it in both of yours. "i won't lie, what you said hurt me deeply. but i know you were just exhausted and-"

"no, please. don't make excuses for me. i've made a mistake (y/n), but i promise you," his burning hands found their way into yours, gripping them with a passion you'd never seen in him before, "i meant none of those words. i love listening to you, i love your voice- archons you have the most lovely voice. please, even if you are to leave me i ask that you never hold your tongue-" he opened his mouth to speak more but you cut him off by slinging your arms around his neck and pulling him close to you in a comforting hug.

"i won't leave you diluc." you mumbled into his shirt.

diluc's hands hovered in the air before holding you to his body in a desperate grip. "i deeply apologize, no words could ever describe how sorry i am that you heard those vile words from me, my love." you felt his trembling lips fall upon your temple, then your cheek. you pulled your face back to look him in the eye only to find tears running down his burning face. with a smile—a genuine smile—you rose your hands up and wiped away the streaks from his face.

"thank you, i really appreciate the apology." you pressed your forehead against his and brushed your noses.

he buried his face in the crook of you neck and breathed words you only rarely ever heard from him: "i love you." of course, you never needed to hear him say it to know how he felt, but whenever he did say it, he made sure to save it for just the right moment.

"i love you too diluc, thank you." you planted a kiss in his hair and buried yourself deeper into his embrace.

date published: june 25th, 2021

#gender neutral reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #genshin diluc #diluc angst #diluc x y/n #diluc x you

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polarisbibliotheque · 3 years

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Dante & Vergil with an s/o who internalizes feelings like hell when they are going through rough times

Quick scenarios for Dante and Vergil from Devil May Cry dealing with an s/o who bottles up feelings - especially bad ones.

*quick disclaimer: curse words might appear on my writing, eventually ;)

Dante

Fire.

That’s the word Dante would use to describe his loved one’s will.

They probably weren’t the easiest of people to deal with, but neither was Dante. Hell, his whole family was pretty difficult to handle – so he didn’t mind getting burnt on the endless flames from their soul sometimes.

It was worth it. So worth it – because, at the end of the day, he knew they’d be by his side when his soul was caught up in demonic flames, ready to destroy everything. And their presence would be enough to soothe him back into humanity.

He needed that. Dante would always love to have some humanity check around.

It was on a stupid incident he realized that. You were both walking back to the shop, pizza and beers on the go, when a sudden storm of bloodthirsty demons caught you by surprise.

Dante was fast enough to get his guns and go to work, while you just stood there holding the pizza and praying the demons wouldn’t drop it on the floor – you were almost at the shop; it was a long way back to the pizza place and you just wanted to eat and spend some time with him. Holding the pizza was top priority.

Well, that and dodging whatever demons who wanted to cut your head off.

You managed to avoid decapitations, but not to avoid lacerations on your leg: yet another pair of pants that would be forcefully stylized into destroyed jeans. Dante, in the other hand, was far from amused: his eyes were glowing, his voice raspy and his teeth as sharp as fangs.

“Love…” The demons were all but extinguished by his demonic rage and Dante was left panting in the middle of the street, staring at you with red hot irises as you called him. He was about to trigger and you knew it. “Hey, Dante…? Everything ok?”

He kept staring at you, taking a deep breath. His eyes turned to your leg, where blood was flowing freely.

“I’ve had worse. You, in turn, don’t look so good.” Holding the pizza box in one hand, you closed the distance between you and Dante, touching his face and taking him by surprise. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? That jackass of a demon almost took your leg off.” And even though Dante scoffed in his playful manner, his almost-trigger was still there.

“100% sure, babe. All that internalized worry is going to make you burst soon enough and walking a nine feet eight volcano demon around town isn’t exactly inconspicuous.” *(9 ft 8' = +- 3 meters)

That little remark made him laugh, slowly giving the sky-blue color back to his eyes. You smiled as your hand caressed his skin gently, gradually anchoring him back to where he was – to his humanity; the one thing that made him better than all those demons you both used to slay so easily.

“Also, I was more worried about the pizza. See? No fatalities on this department, I did a good job.” You joked, making him laugh even more. That was Dante’s laugh – human, goofy Dante. He didn’t feel like triggering anymore and that was the beauty of not internalizing.

But he knew you were different.

That day in particular, Dante sat by his desk, reading one of his many magazines. You sat on the couch across the room, cellphone on one hand while the other was busy trying to type things on your notebook. He wouldn’t be too concerned, if it weren’t for the way you looked.

You had your eyebrows so close to each other, staring at the screens of your devices with a glare that could easily kill. Your shoulders were tense, your breathing heavier than usual. At a moment, you closed your eyes and let go a silent heavy breath – clearly not wanting to draw attention to your internal overflow of feelings.

That was the moment Dante decided to put a stop to that nonsense – you had to feel your feelings, not bury them deep inside you. He had that fool of a brother to prove that was the worst thing someone could do and Dante himself could attest to it: there were many times he buried his feelings in order not to worry or hurt others.

But he was half-demon, right? It was a pretty tough job to hurt him.

“Hey, babe.” You just noticed he wasn’t by his desk anymore when the Crimson Slayer was standing in front of you, hands on his waist and leaning down to meet your eyes. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Nothing, I’m ok.” Your answer was mechanical, devoided of feelings. In Dante’s dictionary that screamed ‘I’m not ok and I need help’. Because of course he’d always be there to help those he loved, even if they didn’t actively ask for it.

“You don’t look ok. Know when I’m about to trigger? That’s you right now.” He sat by your side, making you stop everything you were doing and pay attention to him. “Only difference is you wouldn’t turn into a big ass volcano demon like li’l ol’ me. More like a pocket-sized beautiful devil.”

Dante’s arm rested on the couch behind you, his lips colored with a smart smile – but his eyes filled with the comfort and gentleness you always knew. That made you chuckle, making him a little happier.

“Well… There’s a lot to unpack.” You sighed, leaving your cellphone and notebook on the couch, running your fingers through your hair in a tired demeanor. Dante only listened, never wanting to interrupt you. “There’s so much going on … You know when things decide to go south all at the same time and you’re standing there in a whirlwind of chaos wondering how it all happened and what to do next?”

“Oh, yeah. I actually know how that feels.” His tone was serious, even though Dante chuckled a little bit. You had just described his entire life in a sentence.

“Well, yeah. That’s pretty much me right now… But I must stay calm because everyone else is going bananas and, honestly, I just want to scream in anger for an entire hour and then probably cry.” You laughed at your own transparency, experiencing that sort of opening with someone else for the first time – you knew Dante wouldn’t view it as a weakness.

Au contraire, he knew that was the fire that burnt inside you – the same fire he had when he triggered.

He wouldn’t say it, but sometimes Dante did cry out of anger after or while triggering, mostly when he was younger.

“Why not scream it out, then?” You looked puzzled at his question as Dante pulled you from the couch. Your notebook and cellphone would be forgotten for that night. “You need to relax and there’s no better way than to put it all out. Then, if you want, we can get a shower and I’ll even massage those beautiful muscles of your back, ‘cause I bet they feel rock hard by now. But for the time being…”

Before he could finish his sentence, Dante was already turning on the jukebox, making one of his scandalous rock songs fill the air with power chords and melodic vocals.

“Screaming rock music? That’s your go to relaxation method?” You asked with a smile playing on your lips while he just held your hands. You didn’t notice, but the reason why you were gradually a little calmer was the way he was stroking your skin.

“Haven’t found a healthier and better way, babe.” Dante had a smug smile on his own lips and you couldn’t stop yourself from chuckling. “You can tell me all about it later, I’m not gonna go anywhere.”

Singing as loud as you could, you were certain you could rely on Dante with your feelings – he always anchored you back to your humanity. And none of you were going anywhere.

Vergil

He could say one of the things he admired most about his loved one was their power.

In many ways, a power different than his, but also equal. Not from demonic heritage, but from pure strength that rose from the depths of their soul; from the fire that burned inside their eyes when pulling themselves together, knees weary, and hands covered in blood; from the assertiveness when their lips mustered energy to say in a cracked but proud voice “I will never give up”.

In his everlasting quest for power, the Dark Slayer found an unbreakable soul that made him realize that, as much as he tried to deny it, he still had a human heart.

Perhaps now Vergil could understand a side of his father he ignored before.

Another thing he could understand quite well was the moodiness. All that power was terribly admirable, but also flammable. With a little spark, it could build up to a fire that would take ages to burn out.

And it showed in what his beloved liked to call a “dark aura”.

Vergil never described it that way until one day he came home after a particularly annoying job, alongside his equally annoying brother, covered in demon blood and guts, having to sharpen Yamato yet again. He entered the room like a lingering storm – eyes cold, hands clenched, feet heavy, dripping blood all over the wooden floor.

His beloved, on the other hand, was sitting in the corner of the room, with a warm cup of tea resting on the windowsill and a hardcover book in the other hand. You lifted your eyes from the pages, immediately caught by the smell of death from the brooding creature that smashed the soft aroma of warm jasmine that danced around the room before.

“The day was that bad, huh?” your voice echoed like a beautiful melody to Vergil’s ears after that hellish day.

“Hmmm?” but all he could muster was a grunt followed by a cold glare while taking those disgusting clothes off.

“The dark aura. It’s all over you.” Resting the book on your lap, a faint smile colored your lips. He finally stopped moving, limiting himself to only stare in confusion until an explanation came back. That made you chuckle. “When you’re in a bad mood, you’re surrounded by this dark, brooding aura that follows you everywhere, my dear. It’s part of your charm.”

"Well then... Perhaps you can help me get rid of it tonight?" And the way you smiled in agreement instead of pushing him away made him smile in return. Internally.

That made Vergil realize how usual the “dark aura” happened around him – and around his lovely companion.

That day in particular, he just observed carefully while you worked on your notebook. Something had happened, he just didn’t know what. Vergil pretended to read his usual poetry book, but your dark aura was there: fierce eyes, frowned brows, jaw clenched… And that overall aura that clearly stated “if you touch me, you’ll lose your arm faster than you can say my name”.

But that was killing you – and that, Vergil knew. He wasn’t naïve on the art of internalizing feelings, nor was he unperceptive. Vergil could see the occasional and faint expressions of pain, the trembling hands, the overcontrolled breathing. You were fighting emotion – and strong emotions even – and that could bring someone down.

Not someone like you – but it could hurt too much on the long run.

“Love…” and your hands finally stopped on the keyboard when Vergil’s hands covered yours. “What is going on?”

“Nothing.”

“That is a blatant lie.” Vergil’s eyes were piercing and judging, but also worried. “Don’t mistake me for a fool who can’t see when something is wrong.” Pulling a chair, he sat next to you, patiently setting the book on the table. “We’re always honest to each other. What is going on?”

Staring at him for a moment, Vergil could see in your eyes all the fierceness he adored. But it was a fire trapped in itself: wanting to lash out and burn while being kept mute until it died out and released its toxicity where it shouldn’t.

“Just…” you tried not to give in, but the words wouldn’t come out. With a sigh, shoulders dropping heavily, you finally decided to speak. “Today isn’t the best of days, Vergil. Everything is going wrong. It’s all a mess. And everyone is depending on me to stay calm and logic, but I just want to go outside and scream for an entire hour. I’ll keep going, of course, but if I think too much about it, I might just have a nervous breakdown.”

Vergil nodded silently, giving you some time to close your eyes and take a deep breath.

“I’m in such a high adrenaline state, I don’t even think I’ll be able to sleep today.” You opened your eyes, flashing Vergil a sad smile. He cleared a strand of hair from your face.

“Come on. It’s time to leave this.” Vergil said as he got up and closed your notebook. Puzzled, you kept staring as he extended his hands for you. “You need to relax before all this energy kills you. I won’t let that happen.”

Of course. The Dark Slayer would never allow the one he loved most to be killed if he could stop it. And that night, he could do it with something as simple as a relaxing bath.

#dante x reader #vergil x reader #dante imagine #vergil imagine #devil may cry imagines #devil may cry fanfiction #dmc imagines #dmc fanfic #devil may cry #devil may cry 5 #dante sparda #vergil sparda #dmc5 x reader #well well I liked writing both #hope it helps someone internalizing feelings as well

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soldmysoultootomeboys · 4 years

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Obey Me Brothers Wedding HCS

Just some wedding headcanons for the boys bcuz i’m soft for them, Gn MC

Thinks about marrying Asmo => 😡💕💕

Lucifer

I can not stress how much this man would be a bridezilla

He’s probably the MOST high maintenance demon when it comes to this, even over Asmo

He gets so stressed over it too and when he's stressed he gets extremely snippy

It takes you knocking a little sense into him to get him back on track

He just wants your day to be perfect and with his brothers causing trouble it's hard to really focus on choosing a tablecloth

He won’t be any nicer to his brothers but he will try to avoid causing fights at this time simply because it's really important to him that ALL of his family is there.

The night after proposing you find a beautiful envelope on white paper with gold trim in your room you realize it's a congratulation note from the celestial realm, presumably from the big man upstairs, it's still a heartstopping realization when you realize who your father in law technically is

Are you committing a sin marrying a fallen angel? Do you care?

It’s easier to ignore it than do anything else, although you do appreciate them registering for the coffee maker you had on your registry. You needed that. Mammon broke the last one.

Kindly begs asks you NOT to do anything crazy in the week leading up to it

Please MC his heart he's about to explode from stress please don't add to it, just for one week

Diavolo plans his bachelor party at the Fall with Barbatos. Invites you along and you have to explain how bachelor parties work

If it’s up to him the wedding will be all black with red accents eDgY mUcH?

At the altar he kisses you twice, first to show everyone that your his, the second time is just for you two, he hides you away from sight curling his black wings around you and holding you as close as he can bear

In the end it's a very happy celebration filled with good food, family, and friends

When you cut the cake feel free to smash a little bit in his face, this is your only chance, he'll be in too much of a good mood to retaliate...much

Mammon

Luxury luxury luxury

He wants solid gold altars, diamond encrusted bouquets, jewels imported from every corner of the world

He has so many plans (as well as a ridiculously long wedding registry)

But the moment you say you want anything he abandons them

Whatever you want he wants, but if you wanted some diamonds too that would be great

He absolutely would be down for a wedding bouncy castle

He gets you the biggest diamond ring ever that he buys with his own money from a lot of shifts at Hell's kitchen and modelling gigs

He totally believes in the tradition of not seeing you until your wedding day but he also forgets so he walks in and as soon as he realizes you're getting ready he shuts his eyes and tries to run out. He'll only talk to you from behind the door.

When he sees you walking down the aisle he falls in love all over again. And he feels like that a hundred different moments. It doesn't matter what you're doing, playing with your veil, wiping cake off the corner of your mouth, yawning, he loves you and loves that you’re his.

He could get married to you in a ditch and still be the happiest man in the world.

He's an absolute goofball and is smiling the entire time

The couple that during their wedding night end up jumping on the bed and having pillow fights while play wrestling

Levi

You really want to marry a gross otaku like him??? Why??

Not that he's complaining! He just doesn't get it. His brothers are so cool and Asmo is so much prettier than him and he doesn't have anything to offer.

It takes a lot of reassuring to convince that this is what you want to do

You two have this same conversation about a million times before the wedding. He just doesn't get why you actually like him. Once it finally sets in that this really is happening and it's not just some big joke he gets really into it and definitely puffs up around his brothers to show off

His first thought is a cosplay wedding and he'll beg for it to be Ruri-chan themed

Good luck getting Lucifer or any of his brothers to agree to dressing up, as funny as it may be

If you shoot that down it's pretty easy to convince him to do something else since mostly he's just excited to be with you

He still has a little Ruri pin on his suit collar and cufflinks

When you walk down the aisle he feels like he’s going to faint from nerves and when it’s time for vows he pulls out a huge list of all the reasons he loves you and why your his Henry, although about half of it compares things you’ve done to things in TSL

He only makes it through a quarter of the way before he gets embarrassed

When he lifts your veil he panics because your so pretty and he can’t handle it

You have to initiate the kiss and when you do he turns as red as a tomato

He tries to play it off but keep a strong arm around his waist unless he really does decide to pass out

He cools down once you guys are at the reception and gets especially excited the little custom made toppers of you two in cartoon form

Satan

He's a bridezilla but in the lightest sense of the word

He won't get upset over mix ups or even really wedding stuff like Asmo or Lucifer but his temper will be extremely fine during this time, especially when it comes to his brothers.

Throws an entire table through the window when Lucifer asks him if he knew where Mammon was

It’s a lot of stress to create the perfect wedding and he buries his nose in different books that can help him

He’s a bit of a perfectionist

The most classic and elegant wedding ever and he’d want to be involved in every step of the way

Very interested in your opinion and if it compares to human weddings

He flushes with pride whenever you compliment something he picked out

Includes casual literary references in his wedding but only so people who really know will realize

Wears a navy suit

Asmo

Also a bridezilla and a petty one at that

There will be drama, there will be tears, there will be a part where he cries off his mascara because Andrealphus of the damned brought the white bouquets and he wanted the PINK ones. This is HIS day why is she trying to ruin it.

It’s a lot of work trying to keep the damage to a minimal

Part of the reason he gets so upset is because this is your day too and he wants it to be perfect.

Prepare for a million dress rehearsals.

He wants to help pick out your outfit and makeup! But he also doesn't want to break human tradition...But he wants to help pick out your outfit and makeup so bad!!

If he manages to restrain himself he picks out the makeup artist and the stylizer because he knows what makeup you like and what looks best on your skin.

Most likely tho he'll want to see anyways and bugs you to let him in

You compromise by going shopping with him as he tries on a million dresses and suits

MC the suit on the right or the one on the left?

They both look exactly the same.

"...Left love." "That's exactly what I was thinking. I knew I could trust you to pick out the right answer!"

Even though he's very good at fashion your opinion matters a lot to him. Sure he could make himself look perfect but he wants to look perfect for YOU. He wants to be your version of perfect and if that means he picks the high cut dress instead of the low cut which flatters his waist better then he'll do it. For you.

He's the type to want to have all the spotlight on him so if you're walking down the aisle he's going to do it too! He does it first. HE says for the attention. In reality he wants to be able to see you the moment you step out the doors and down that hall.

Looks super perfect as he waits for you at the aisle but the moment you get married he starts ugly crying. He throws his veil back on so no one can see it but you just lift it up and kiss away his tears.

Even though it's a lot of work it's worth it to be with the demon you love...but if you shove cake in his face he'll seriously kill you, MC do you know how long this took?!!!!! :'(

Beel

He’s more than happy to do whatever you want

Whatever vision you have he's willing to make happen

He does his best but feels a little useless since keeps having to break for snacks

Wonders why you’d want to be with him when all he ever does it eat but he tries not to bring it up in case it would upset you

He honestly does have a lot of fun planning with you and his favorite part was when you got to taste test different cakes because he got to impress you by explaining all the little differences between each one

He ends up being in charge of everything food related and it helps him feel a bit better

Barbatos ends up cooking the dishes

During the rehearsal he falls in love with you all over again and doesn’t want to let you go the entire time

He gets especially nervous during the month of the wedding

He starts stress eating, going through even more food than normal, but then he gets worried about fitting into his suit and starts working out even more than normal, which makes him hungry again. It’s a terrible cycle

Belphie manages to break him out of it by reminding Beel that you love him more than anyone else

Even though its his wedding he starts setting up just to get out some of his nervous tension until the others shoo him back inside

A huge 20 layer cake each tier a different flavor

He has his own personal cake that's even bigger than the other cake but he’s more than willing to share with you

You two do the cute bit where you smash cake in each others faces

Beel still eats it tho

As much as he loves his family he's so happy to be able to steal you away at the end

Belphie

Planning a wedding is sooo much work

He lets you choose whatever you want as long as you let him sleep

if it was up to him he'd want a small informal celebration with his family but if you want something bigger than he guesses it's fine. As long as he doesn't have to talk to anyone like Diavolo

He uninvites Lucifer like three times, each time using extremely formal paper with beautiful cursive that must have taken hours. When Lucifer confronts him Belphie just says that it’s too late because he already gave away his seat.

He only brings him back when you make him

He sleeps more than usual in the weeks leading up to the wedding. You think it’s because of the stress but in actuality he’s trying to save up his sleep so he’s more awake for the ceremony

As much as he may act like he doesn’t care, he really does want to marry you and it makes him happy to think that you’re going to be all his

Beel is obviously his best man and while Belphie waits for you to come down the aisle he leans against him to take a small nap. Or that's what he had planned. The moment the music starts he perks up and finds himself unable to even close his eyes, too fixated on the doors about to open.

Feeds you the first bite of cake and then just...doesn't stop

He’s so in love with you all he can do is stare

Gives his slice of cake to Beel he'd much rather pay attention to you than eat

However he does smash a little in your face but it’s out of love <3

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ahatintimepieces · 3 years

Text

Fabric Hearts

Remember the first part of that build-a-bear au I wrote for @smieska-draws? It’s back! But now the au name makes sense! Imagine!

Luka, known as the Snatcher to most of the mall locals, runs the Kraft-a-Kid while his daughter, Hattie, runs around with her friends. There’s definitely nothing suspicious about Luka. The rumors that he snatches the souls of children and stuffs them into the dolls are completely unfounded. Probably. Most likely. Don’t worry about it, I’m sure it’s fine.

This is, of course, another au that Smieska and I both developed and like to swap ideas for SO send her your love and adulation because I couldn’t have written this without her ;o; <333 Here’s the link to the piece she did for first part if you haven’t seen it yet (which u should because it’s fabulous and incredible). Without further ado, here it is!

Words: 4,131

The door squeaked open as Luka recorded the number of tiny, elastic collars with bright bells in the back.

“Dimitri can’t make it today,” he warned without looking up from his clipboard. His golden gaze flickered up towards the boxes filled with cotton stuffing and he quickly counted them as footsteps approached. “If you get a sudden influx of customers, come grab me.”

“It’s me, Dad,” Hattie’s voice came from right beside him.

“Did I stutter?” He glanced down without missing a beat. She gave him a deadpan stare as he grinned. His sharp canines glinted in the unnaturally bright florescent lights. “Come on, kiddo. How about you help me with my business endeavors instead of frittering away your summer romping around the mall?”

She readjusted the brim of the top hat she made from her millinery lessons at the fabric store. Why his child fixated on hat-making out of everything she could have taken an interest in was beyond him but even he had to admit her royal purple top hat was well crafted.

“I’m going with Belle and the others to get lunch at the food court,” she said, ignoring his jesting. “Can I have money?”

“You know if you had a job you wouldn’t need to be asking me,” he lamented dramatically before wedging the clipboard between his arm and side. He reached for his wallet in the back pocket of his slacks.

“I’m not even twelve.” She blinked up at him with large blue eyes. “There are child labor laws.”

“Excellent.” He nodded, opening his wallet. “Don’t let anyone in the mall convince you otherwise. But,” he slipped out a bill and gave her a pointed look, “if you accept this, you have to do me a favor.”

“I already cleaned the bathrooms last weekend,” she whined.

His grin widened.

“Tough luck, kiddo.” He twisted the bill in the air, watching her nose scrunch as she seriously weighed her options. After a second of letting her think that she was going to have to do her least favorite chore, he extended the bill towards her. “Just bring me back a coffee and I’ll consider us even.”

Relief instantly flooded her features as she took the bill.

“I can do that! Your usual?” She headed towards the door.

“That’ll work,” he said, tucking away his wallet and grabbing the clipboard again.

“Thanks, Dad!” she chirped before moving to open the door.

Just as she reached for it, the door swung open, and she stumbled back. Luka immediately dropped the clipboard and slipped behind her with the speed of shadows dodging the light. She smacked into his legs, and he placed a steadying hand on her shoulder as Alex walked in with wide eyes.

“I’m so sorry, kid! I didn’t see you there.” Alex winced, looking from Hattie to Luka’s hard glare.

“I’m fine!” Hattie promised, giving a bright smile until she placed her hand over Luka’s fingers. She jolted and twisted around. “Dad, are you okay? You’re really warm.”

“It is hot in here.” Alex tugged at their collar, wincing.

“The thermostat dial was probably nudged,” Luka dismissed, pulling away and stooping to grab the clipboard. “I’ll take a look.”

“Should I get you water?” Hattie asked.

“I have water. Now go have fun.” He shooed her towards the door. “The sooner you leave the sooner you can run my errand.”

Hattie hesitated but when he returned to his task of recording inventory, he heard her retreating footsteps.

“Sorry,” Alex muttered as they crossed over to the table for the employees. They dropped their backpack before grabbing the light purple apron with their nametag.

“Let’s just be careful with how forcefully we open doors, hm? I don’t want to deal with any workplace liability cases. They’re a pain.” Luka shot the teen a toothy grin. Glancing back down to the clipboard, he added in a more monotone cadence, “Anyway, Dimitri can’t come today, so once Ember leaves, it’ll just be you and me for the rest of the day. If it gets too crowded on the floor and I’m not around, come find me.”

“Right.” They nodded firmly. While wiping back their bangs and smearing the beads of sweat on their brow, they hurried out. Once the door closed behind them and Luka was alone, he let out a sigh.

The flame that had flared when Hattie nearly got hit crackled noisily in his otherwise empty chest. Luka placed one of his pale hands over the flame and counted out the seconds between metered inhales and exhales. The snap and pop of embers faded and when he glanced towards the thermostat, the temperature in the room lowered back to a comfortable range.

Not that he was bothered by the heat, but he didn’t need his employees passing out.

Ember’s shift ended as he got to counting the unstuffed plush shells. As she hung her apron over the hook, she informed him that two separate groups had just entered the store. Luka nodded, finishing his current count before getting ready to help Alex on the floor.

He brushed back his long, spiky hair into a ponytail. Stray strands the color of soot fluttered against his cheek, and he tucked them behind his ear.

They reflected a warm violet when they caught the light.

With his hair as contained as he could manage, he grabbed his own amethyst apron with the Kraft-a-Kid’s signature logo; a stylized baby goat and parent goat waving a friendly greeting. After draping it over his black suit and making sure it didn’t displace his dark purple tie, he tied the apron with nimble fingers, clawed at the tips. He double-checked that the pocket had extra thread and a compact sewing kit before he clipped on his name tag and headed out into the workshop.

Alex snapped their head up from one of the stuffing stations, looking relieved when they spotted Luka rounding the counter. Alex returned their full attention to the small girl and her mother while Luka smiled at the two teens with a younger child hovering by the bins of unstuffed shells by the entrance.

While he didn’t know them personally, he recognized Brooke and her younger sister Hali, who worked (or in Hali’s case just hovered around in the back when not at daycare) at their uncle’s travel agency, and then Makoto, who worked at the jewelry store. Judging from their uniforms, the teens were probably using their breaks to accompany Hali. Since he often heard good things about their work ethic and Hali’s sweet nature from Mari, he assumed he had an easy session ahead. He waved them over.

Brooke and Makoto shared a nervous look while Hali bounded over with a bright smile.

“Why, hello there!” Luka pasted on his most vibrant customer service smile as he lowered onto the seat by the stuffing station. Cotton and soft fibers filled the glass tank decorated to look like hearty trees and branches climbed around the edges. The machine itself matched the lilac walls and brown and bronze gears that decorated them. The bins and shelves that held the merchandise throughout the store were all structured to look like spools of golden thread.

Holding an unstuffed goat with dark brown fuzz and silver horns, Hali shyly smiled up at Luka as Brooke and Makoto slowly joined.

“I see you’ve picked your new friend!” Luka held out his hands and Hali gingerly lowered the flat goat into his palms. “Before we bring them to life, how stuffed do you want them to be?”

“Um?” Hali tilted her head with a blank expression.

“Do you want them to be firm or squishy?” Luka clarified, fitting the goat around the nozzle and getting his foot ready over the pedal.

“Fiwm, pwease!” Hali declared in a cutesy voice.

“Excellent choice!” Luka set to work, pumping the pedal as he filled out the head of the goat plush. The machine roared to life, blowing air and fluff with the force of a vacuum. Though, his ears perked when he caught Brooke and Makoto in an intense discussion as they remained a couple steps back. What he couldn’t hear over the machine, he pieced together easily enough.

He knew the rumors and could guess what was on their mind when they mentioned the Snatcher and stolen souls.

Luka smirked as he pulled his foot from the pedal and the machine hushed.

“Now it’s time for my favorite part.” He beamed, pulling off the firmly stuffed goat and then reaching for a bucket full of small felt hearts. “The soul ceremony! Go ahead and pick the heart that most resonates with you.”

“If it’s just a heart, why is it called a soul ceremony?” Brooke asked, her voice quivering as she pressed closer to Makoto.

Hali, meanwhile, was completely enraptured with picking out the right fabric heart.

“Hearts, souls, same thing, really,” Luka soothed with a toothy grin, giving the teens a considering look.

Makoto’s gaze flickered down to his fangs. She lifted her chin, trying to project an air of confidence. But her furrowed brows wavered.

“Souws awe heawts?” Hali gasped, looking up with awe.

“Absolutely!” Luka kept his voice cheerful, gesturing to the bucket. “It’s what gives your new friend life! I imagine without one, they would feel pretty empty and hollow.” Keeping his chin tilted down, he lifted his eyes towards the teens and lowered his voice just a touch. “Wouldn’t you feel pretty soulless without a heart?”

The two stiffened.

“Pwobabwy!” Hali chirped, completely unaware of their increasing unease. She dug around the hearts and pursed her lips. “How do woo know which heawt is the best?”

“That’s up to you!” Luka bounced effortlessly back into an upbeat cadence. He pinched a heart with a checkerboard pattern in red and white. “The nice thing about these hearts is that they’re blank slates. They’ll be filled with whatever you put into them. But don’t put in too much!” he added with a chuckle. “Wouldn’t want your new friend to be more you than you!”

Brooke squeaked in fright and his grin stretched.

“I wiwl take this one, then!” Hali held up a solid red heart.

“Great! Hold on to it, now.” Luka placed the tub back down. “First, why don’t you rub the heart on your hair so your little buddy will always have soft fur!”

Hali beamed at that and rubbed the fabric heart on her hair. When she pulled it back down, some of the blond strands followed the heart while the strands too far away stuck up from the lingering static.

“Well done! Now, rub it against your funny bone so your friend has a sense of humor.” Luka tapped his elbow when Hali crinkled her nose for a moment. Her eyes lit up in understanding and once the heart was granted good humor, Luka added, “and why don’t you strike a superhero pose, so that your pal will hold courage.”

Hali giggled as she placed her hands on her hips and preened.

“Fantastic. Lastly, I want you to rub the heart between your palms!” Luka motioned for her to mimic him as he demonstrated. “Now, when it’s nice and warm, give it a clap to start its heartbeat!”

The clap resounded through the workshop and the teens jolted behind her.

“That should do it,” Luka praised, holding out his palm. Hali handed the heart over, and he slipped it into the goat, tucking it snuggly away in the cotton and fluff.

He then set to filling out the rest of the plush. Once it was stiff and sturdy, he handed it to her, asking if she was content with it. When he received an enthusiastic nod, he took it back and sealed the hole. He snipped the extra thread with the scissors in his apron and then passed the goat back to Hali.

“Here’s your new friend! Be sure to visit our shop in the back! We have plenty of accessories and outfits for the newest member of your family,” Luka recited the same sales pitch as always. “Once you’re ready, head over to an open kiosk so you can fill out the adoption papers. If you need any help, Alex or I will be overjoyed to assist.”

“Thank woo!” Hali hurried over to the accessories, hugging the goat to her chest.

Luka clasped his hands and turned to the teens. When his gaze flickered to the floppy hooded doll in Makoto’s arms, her embrace tightened.

“Ready?” He motioned for her to hand it over so that he could stuff it.

She looked to Brooke, who shrugged with uncertainty. Makoto stepped forward.

Keeping his tone light, he went through the same script as always. He asked if she wanted the doll to be firm or squishy and, in an effort to loosen her up a bit, offered to add any fun sound boxes or scents to the plush. She remained on edge until he asked about the nametag on her uniform as the machine roared to life again. She explained how her boss liked to give everyone themed nicknames and she was saddled with “Makoneko.” When he asked if she appreciated the nickname, she pointedly rolled her eyes as he removed his foot from the machine pedal again. Her shoulders relaxed when he chuckled.

“Your turn to pick a heart,” Luka twittered in an overly cheerful voice as he held out the bucket.

“Do I have to do the ceremony?” Makoto hesitated, plucking the first heart she saw. Rather than scared, her bored expression mirrored that of many teens who wanted to skip the step.

Perfect.

“I wouldn’t recommend it.” He shrugged casually. “What is a heart without a heartbeat? A soul without a person behind the personality?”

“What?” She faltered, shoulders slowly stiffening again as Brooke’s eyes widened.

“I only mean it’ll be a sorry existence for this little friend.” Luka waved the stubby hands of the purple plush toy. “And you get out what you put in.” Her brows dipped in slight confusion, and he smirked. “You have to at least start its heartbeat. You don’t want to bring a ghost home, do you?”

“Just do the ceremony!” Brooke hissed through clenched teeth.

“F-fine,” Makoto said, slowly lifting the heart to her long black locks. “So, hair for soft fur?”

“Does it look like this one has fur?” Luka gestured to the doll with the yellow spiral in its hood. He scoffed, turning up his nose. “Of course not! No. First, why don’t you rub the heart against your belly so that it’s full of laughter.”

“I thought that was the elbow.” Makoto crinkled her nose. Though she rubbed the heart against her stomach, eager to get it over with.

“There is a difference between telling good jokes and laughing at them, kiddo,” Luka offered with a smirk. “Now, how about you jump up and down a few times? I’m sure your friend would love to share some of your energy.”

“What does that mean?” She jolted.

“Just that exercise keeps the heart healthy,” Luka said placidly.

Her eyes narrowed but she eventually gave a sluggish skip.

“Then, rub it against your ear, so it will always listen.” He smiled brightly, being sure to bare his teeth. Once she complied, he clasped his hands together. “I’m sure you know what to do now! Warm it between your palms and then clap to start the heartbeat!”

She let out the breath that she had been holding, relieved it was finally over. She gave a small clap before passing the heart back. He slipped it into the doll.

“Any names in mind for your friend?” Luka prompted as his foot tapped the pedal.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled curtly, purposefully trying to let the whirling air in the stuffing machine drown out her answer.

“How’s this feel?” he asked a few seconds later when the machine hushed again. He pulled the doll from the nozzle and passed it back to her.

“Good.” She returned it after assessing the squishiness.

“If you haven’t got any names, I always thought these particular dolls looked like minions,” he prattled, closing the seam. When she didn’t respond, he continued lightly, “so Minion might be a good name.” He glanced up to meet her gaze and lowered his tone. “You did make sure it’ll listen. It’ll be an obedient little kiddo.”

Her breath hitched.

“Obedient to who?” she challenged, maintaining a fragile glare.

“All done!” Luka snapped upright after snipping the excess thread, pretending he hadn’t heard her question. “Welcome your friend into the world!”

Makoto accepted the doll, her gaze flickering between it and Luka with uncertainty.

“Same as always,” he droned in his peppy, customer service voice. “Browse to your contentment. My daughter recommends the plush purple cherries. You want to keep your buddy happy and fed! Make sure to finalize the adoption and meet Alex or I by the counter.” He glanced over to find the other young girl with her mother already at the cash register. “Looks like it’ll be Alex!”

Makoto nodded numbly as Brooke stepped forward and looped her arm through hers, rescuing Makoto by tugging her away.

“One more thing,” Luka began, keeping his eyes on his clean-up routine. The teens’ footsteps paused as they hovered. Though his smile laced his voice, his enunciation was sharp. “I’m sure the Snatcher doesn’t have to tell you but be sure to treat your new friend as you would yourself. You put your soul into bringing them to life, after all.”

The teens gasped.

“Have a good day, kids.” Laughter laced his voice.

They rushed away as he chuckled.

While he finished cleaning up, Hattie returned with her friends. As soon as she spotted him behind the stuffing machine, she rushed across the tiles decorated to look vaguely like a forest path.

“Here’s your coffee,” she chirped, holding up the cup.

“Any plans for the rest of the day?” he asked, pushing to his feet and picking stray fluff from his apron. Once he was as clean as he was going to get, he accepted the drink. He held it towards his lips, pausing to quirk a brow at young Muriel and Timmy as they passed the stuffing machines to check out all the colorful outfits. Belle, meanwhile, joined Hattie with her azure bow bouncing in her dark coils.

“We’re going to head to the bookstore.” Hattie shrugged. “Tim’s friend is hosting a card game tournament.”

“Remember to be back by six,” he instructed. “Don’t go snacking after four or you’ll spoil your dinner.”

“I know, Dad,” she huffed dramatically.

“Also, Mom says hi, Mr. Kingsley,” Belle pipped in.

“Tell Mari I return the sentiment. Now get your friends to stop loitering.” He turned back towards Hattie and rose his voice so Timmy and Mu could hear. “They scare away customers.”

“Says the Snatcher,” Timmy whispered to Mu.

Luka covered his smirk with the coffee cup. His gaze shifted over Hattie and Belle and he watched as Makoto and Brooke fled the store at a brisk pace. Hali struggled to keep up, but she managed to meet his eyes and offered a cheerful wave.

“Fine,” Hattie sighed. “Come on, guys!”

“I need to stop by Mom’s before we head to the bookstore,” Belle mentioned as she and Hattie turned to leave. “I left my cards with my backpack.”

As the girls left, Luka turned to head back towards the counter, taking a sip of his coffee. He immediately winced.

“Ugh, tepid,” he grumbled as Timmy and Mu ran past, hurrying out to follow Hattie and Belle.

After making sure the kids all had their backs turned and Alex was busy with something on the counter, Luka summoned a gentle ember to his hand. While the flame harmlessly licked the cup, the coffee warmed inside until steam wafted from the hole in the lid. He took a tentative sip and swallowed the scalding liquid.

The flames in his chest crackled and popped, and the knots in his shoulders eased.

He snuffed out the ember in his hand as he lowered the cup. Mist trailed from the lid as the coffee maintained its heat.

“I think you scarred those two for life,” Alex muttered as Luka returned to the counter.

“Which two?” he asked, mind still on Hattie and her friends.

“Brooke and Makoto.” Alex glanced up, shaking their head with a scolding expression.

“I didn’t do anything out of the ordinary,” Luka said calmly. He leaned against the counter, sipping his coffee during his momentary break. “If those hooligans are letting their imaginations run wild, it’s not on my conscience.”

“Uh-huh.” Alex gave him an unimpressed look. “Also, I think we’re running low on the beach ball accessories.”

“I noticed,” Luka muttered, swirling his cup pensively. “Those aren’t particularly popular, and we are getting near the end of the season…”

While they discussed whether they needed to send out an order or if they would make it until the fall selection came out, Hattie rolled on the balls of her feet as she, Timmy, and Mu waited for Belle to return from her mom’s flower shop just across from Kraft-a-Kid. Hattie idly watched all the mallgoers, thoughts blank, but Timmy and Mu had their eyes locked on Kraft-a-Kid, thoughts whirling noisier than the stuffing machines.

“Okay, I’m ready!” Belle announced as she bounced out with her deck of cards.

“Hattie.” Timmy whirled around. “Your dad’s magic!”

“Timmy, he doesn’t steal souls, we’ve been over this,” Hattie whined, crossing her arms.

“If he doesn’t steal souls, then what’s with his coffee?” Mu snapped, nodding her head towards the display window where Luka could be seen leaning against the counter inside the workshop.

Hattie squinted, trying to figure out what was out of place with the steaming coffee cup. After a moment, she turned to Belle, who shrugged.

“It’s hot!” Mu gestured wildly, causing her blond mustache to bob with her movement. “Look at that steam!”

Hattie blinked in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Belle supplied dryly. “Because Hattie ordered it hot.”

“But he said it was tepid!” Timmy argued. “We heard him!”

“He probably thinks it is,” Hattie said, knitting her brows together. “He likes his coffee hot enough to burn his tastebuds.”

“You aren’t getting it!” Mu huffed. “It wasn’t steaming when he said it was cold!”

“Okay, but even if he somehow heated it up, that didn’t have anything to do with stealing souls,” Belle appeased.

“That’s what we mean!” Timmy urged. “If he can use one type of magic, he can use others!”

“I regret the day I told you about those rumors,” Hattie grumbled.

It didn’t matter as much when strangers said it, but instead of laughing with Hattie when she told them that people thought her dad was some kind of heartless, soul-snatching monster, Mu and Timmy had latched onto the conspiracy and ever since refused to let go. She couldn’t talk about new product plushies or designs around them anymore because they would just start a debate about which shell would best hold the souls of children.

“Look can we just get going?” She started walking in the direction of the bookstore and Belle matched her pace. Mu hurried to catch up as Timmy trailed behind, keeping a watchful eye on Kraft-a-Kid.

“Are you sure you haven’t seen anything weird?” Mu insisted. “Heard any screams of children he caught? Seen any dolls move in the corner of your eye?”

“You know he laughs like a cartoon villain?” Timmy added.

“The store is literally called Kraft-a-Kid!” Mu continued. “Open your eyes, Hattie!”

“Kid is just another word for baby goat!” Belle argued. “It’s cute!”

“We aren’t talking about this anymore!” Hattie snapped, tugging down on the brim of her hat. She turned away from them and focused on Belle. “So, what deck are you using? The one with fairy types? Or your cat themed one?”

“Both!” She grinned mischievously as she happily helped to redirect the conversation. “I combined them because I wanted to use all my favorites. How about you?”

“Going with the forest deck.” Hattie glanced up, where her deck was safely tucked away in the hidden compartment she stitched into the top hat.

Timmy and Mu huffed, letting their argument go as they pipped in with talking about their own decks. But it was only a matter of time before they started back on their theories about her dad’s supposed magic. Trying not to deflate too much, she kept her eyes forward. She swallowed her frustration and focused on the upcoming tournament.

Besides, even if her dad did have magic and only used it for heating up coffee, it hardly seemed something a heartless monster would do.

Right?

#a hat in time #ahit snatcher #ahit prince #ahit hat kid #ahit dadtcher #my writing #build-a-bear au #'im gonna take a break'#*proceeds to post exactly one day after the old posting schedule #im still writing lol just gonna be all over the place for a bit #ALSO FINALLY WROTE THIS #ITS BEEN ON MY MIND FOR FOREVER #ITS JUST REALLY FUNNY TO ME TO IMAGINE SNATCHER RUNNING A BUILD A BEAR PLEEEEEEASE #i have one more short thing for this that addresses the heart-shaped hole in the room and then u might find me #ricocheting around other aus like a pinball #anyway that's all for now #thank you so much for reading as always!!!!!#catch ya later!

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sailorhyunjinz · 3 years

Text

~ 𝕋𝕒𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕡𝕚𝕔𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦 ~

Part I

All picture rights to their respective owners.

ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥: Photographer!hyunjin, fem!model!reader, manager!Bangchan, stylist!Jisung, agedup!straykids, SMUT IN LATER PARTS, fluff, character driven story, strangers to lovers, summer au, mentions of insecurity, love at first sight.

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 3,5 k

ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖: I have never written a series before so please understand if it’s lacking heh... and yes the title does relate to the kooks song with the same title so do give it a listen because it’s really good and fits the story c:

also this starts slowly LMAO MORE FUN THINGS ARE COMING UP I SWEAR <33

If you have any feedback I’m more than happy to receive it! <3

Taking pictures of you - MASTERLIST

ONE｜TWO｜THREE

Working as a model was not easy. The complaining managers and the expectations by others was too much to handle. Heck, even getting to the shooting locations was a hastle most of the time.

You tilted your head against the window in the backseat of the taxi. It was a calm august wednesday. The late summer breeze made it’s way into the cab thorugh the window that was opened on the drivers side. Your phone screen lit up, multiple notification from Instagram.

“omg! slay bbygrl”

“her face is crazy pretty”

“beautiful”

You’ve heard these words too many times. If you’re told the same thing over and over again they eventually mean nothing. You scrolled through the other comments on your latest instagram post, a photo from your last photoshoot. A picture of you lying in a bed of white flowers, your skin glowing and your body covered by a white sheer dress that accentuated your neck. It’s not a bad photo but was I really worth the attention? “There are a thousands of other girls way prettier than me.” you though and with a sulken expression you watched life run by outside the window.

15 minutes later you arrived at your agency. You smiled your model smile at the taxi driver to which he smiled back and responded: “My pleasure, miss y/n”.

A big shadow was cast from the building in which the modeling agency was. The beige renaissance building was surrounded by green bushes and a black fence. The big oak entryway had golden lion knockers and an ingraved golden sign. “Eccellente Modeling Agency” it said with bold black letters, contrasting nicely with the gold plate. You rang the doorbell next to the sign and in a matter of seconds the oak gates opened with a loud creak.

“Y/n!! You look stunning as always!” said your manager Bangchan as he hugged you. The smell of his aftershave violated your olfactory sense as usual, making you scrunch your nose. He was always dressed business casual, his white polo shirt and light brown dress pants being a good example but today his poloshirt had a great amount of buttons unbuttoned.

The both of you made your way into his office. A room with a high ceiling and a chandelier worth more than your career. You sat down in the leather couch across the desk, Bangchan sitting on the other side of it.

“Give me a moment.... Just pulling up some files for the new photoshoot I’ve planned! I promise, you’re not gonna be disappointed.” he says smiling, the desktop screen reflecting in his brown eyes.

He turns his computer screen towards you. Your eyes scan the pictures that pop up.

“May I present to you the profile of Hwang Hyunjin. One of the most renowned photographers of this age”. Bangchan looks at you, reading your expression.

The pictures are truly beautiful. Everything, from the outfits to the lightning was perfect.

“Bangchan, you’re insane” you say, smiling widely as you made eye contact with the dark haired manager. “These pictures are so stunning!” you squeal. “How did you even get in contact with him?”

“Nothing for you to worry about y/n, I have my contacts. I’m a manager after all”. He scoffs whilst scrolling through the profile. The next picture getting better than the previous one.

“So... when is the shoot and what concept have you planned?” you say whilst your eyes are glued to the computer screen.

“Mr, Hwang works for a multitude of companies but Styliz needed a model for their new pastel collection which I immedietly snatched onto. We all know how beautiful you look in pastels y/n” he said attentively to which you smiled, adoring the interest he has for his work.

“Oh.. I also cheked your schedule and you seem free tomorrow so how about then?” he added.

“Yes! I’d love too” you said with a small nod.

“Not that you have much choice, Mr Hwang’s time is worth gold y/n” he laughed and reached for something in his cabinet drawers.

“Here, take this” he said while sliding over a light grey business card.

‘Hwang Hyunjin, Photographer’ was written in dark grey letters. A black border decorating the edges of the card.

♡

The morning sun shined thorugh the curtains blinding you temporarily. You felt after your phone on the nightstand with you hand, your eyes still closed. ‘8:05 am’ the screen showed against the background picture of your family.

You missed them, moving to a different city across the country at the young age of 18 was scary. You’ve aged, that’s for sure but you still missed them dearly. Dragging your lifeless body to the shower you hope for a day with happiness whilst the warm water hits your bare skin. It was a big day after all. A photoshoot with photographer Hwang Hyunjin. “Me... on Hyunjins work? It must be a dream...” you thought, grabbing the towel hanging on the cold, silver rack.

You dryed off your thick hair with a light pink towel with one hand whilst the other hand held your phone. “I have to look at his photos again” you thought, tapping on the Instagram icon and typing “Hwang Hyunjin” in the search bar, hoping and praying that his work was published on the social media platform.

“@ photographerHwang” was the first result to pop up and you tapped it instantly being just as surprised as you were yesterday of the beauty that his photos carried. Bumping into the table on your way to the kitchen you noticed a different photo on his feed. It didn’t look like any of the other photos because it was a selfie. You dropped your towel on the floor. No... it can’t be him... or could it?

His face looked like a work of art. Not only was the photo nicely edited with warm light emitting from your screen but the person was even more eyecatching. “It’s probably one of his models” you though as you placed your phone on the kitchen counter and grabbed a carton of milk from the fridge.

But what if it’s really him?

♡

You threw on a grey hoodie and biker shorts before you flew out to the taxi waiting for you outside the apartment.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting sir! Here!” you said while panting, quickly pulling up a text message you got from Bangchan sharing the location of the photoshoot.

“Please, Miss y/n! No need to apologize” laughed the middle aged taxi driver softly. You were now on your way to the shoot.

Your brain was scattered. One part of you hoped that Mr Hwang really was the boy you saw on his instagram. His long, blond locks slightly covering his sharp jaw. His skin clear as day and rosy lips plump like two rose petals. The other part shut everything down, convinced that it’s one of his models that happened to be to your liking.

You opened his instagram page again.

“He must be famous for his perfect features...” you said under your breath, staring at his lips.

The whole taxi ride was filled with thoughts of him, whoever he was.

“Soon there miss y/n” the taxi driver said after 10 minutes of driving. The taxi slowed down and looking outside the window you saw Bangchan standing infront of a building that looked similar to the agency building. You waved slightly and he waved back at you.

You turned around to the driver and said; “Thank you so much sir”, giving him a generous tip and exiting the vehicle. A warm breeze latches on to you, making your hair flutter in the motions of the wind.

“Y/n! Perfectly on time” Bangchan said and hugged you.

You hugged him back, asking him about his day so far to which he responded;

“Good but going to be even better after this legendary photoshoot is done and we have the most perfect photos taken by the most influential photographer!” he sounded like a little child in a candy shop.

Your ears heated up due to his words and you smiled slightly.

“Let’s go to the second floor and get your outfit and makeup ready. A introduction with Styliz manager won’t be needed since he already knows your delightful personality” he laughed at his corny remarks and you did the same.

“You seem even more excited than me” you remarked, pressing the elevator button.

“When you see the end result you will be floored” Bangchan said and winked at you.

The elevator clanged. “Second floor”. The metal doors slided open. The eyes of a dozen stylists and makeup artists caught onto you. A slightly potbellied man in a navy colored suit approached you.

“Y/n! I’m so happy to see work with you again.” His voice was hoarse due to his age but his personality being the total opposite. You knew him well since Styliz’s chief was one of the first to offer you a modeling job in a foreign city, you only being a teenager with a big dreams at the time.

“Mr. Styliz! It’s lovely to meet you again” you smiled and sat down in a makeup chair, a girl with blond hair and big hoop earrings starting to brush powder across your nose. You saw Bangchans figure leave behind a door in the reflection of the mirror.

“Mr. Styliz, might I ask you a question?” You regretted the words as soon as the came out of your mouth. You didn’t need more information about the mysterious boy you saw on Hwang’s instagram page but you simply had to know who is was.

“Well of course y/n” said Mr. Styliz, his warm breath touched your cheek as he stood right by your side, smelling of morning coffee and looking at you through the mirror.

“Could I please get more information about Mr.Hwang?” you said, making eye contact with the old man.

“y/n, you’ll meet him soon! Then you can ask him how much you would like about his life but I must warn you... He is quite the secretive type”. The coffee breath was accentuated as he laughed.

You tried to play along, laughing a fake laugh as the hair designer started to brush out your locks. A wave of embarrassment washed through you.

The lights of the makeup mirror were getting hot, tiny sweat drops beading on your forehead which the makeup artist wiped off.

“We are done, Miss y/n” said the makeup artist, her earrings reflecting the light in the studio. You thanked her and saw Bangchan standing at the door where the cameras were.

“y/n, not much time left. Please go down the hallway and into the second door on your left, the stylist is in there fixing your outfit”. One reason as to why you loved Bangchan as your manager was his calm temper. Even in a time crunch, he always made sure to talk to you in a serene tone. After years in the modeling industry you still couldn’t get used to the ill-tempered staff. Too many times you had been forcefully dragged down corridors and streets whilst they muttered swear words at you. Even thinking about it sends shivers down your spine.

Your shoes tapped the white linoleum as you made your way down the narrow hallway, knocking on the second door to your left just as Bangchan said.

A familiar voice said; “Come in!” to which you turned the golden doorknob on the white wooden door. The tall figure was rummaging in a big plastic container filled with clothes but upon your arrival the figure greeted you with warm eyes.

“No way!! It’s y/n!” screeched Jisung. He pulled you in to a hug, his belt buckle hit your stomach through the grey hoodie.

Jisung was a stylist and worked closely with Mr. Styliz therefore you’d gotten close to him. Not only did you like him for his exquisite fashion sense which had a whole different concept each time you saw him but also for his friendliness, always being polite.

“I’ve missed you so much Jisungie” you said with a pout.

“I though it was onesided but I guess not haha”

“Don’t be silly! How could I not miss that smile of your Sungie?” you hit him playfully on the arm to which he blushed.

“Go behind that and I’ll throw some clothes for you.” he pointed at the wooden divider standing in the corner of the white room filled with clothes racks and colorful clothing.

You started undressing behind the divider and suddenly a pile of clothing was thrown on your head over the divider. You heard Jisung snicker at the yelp that came out of your mouth as you drowned in the clothes

“Jisung, you are so dead when I’m done” you said whilst putting on the last details to the outfit.

“I’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry” he said pleadingly while laughing hysterically.

You stood on the podium infront of the full lenght mirrors in the room as Jisung observed you and pinned the clothes slightly.

“Not gonna lie, it’s looks really good on you. The pastels matches perfectly with your skintone.” Jisung looked on the pleaded white skirt you had on.

You looked in the mirror and shook your head in agreement. The pastel purple sweater with the white collar poking out made you look youthful and innocent. You had on patent mary jane shoes in the same purple color as your sweater. The white kneesocks were slipping down as you moved slightly, almost looking like a school girl as you bend down to lift the socks up.

“Do you like it?” Jisung looked at you through the reflection on the mirror, standing on the floor making him a head shorter than you.

“Yea! You’ve never given me a bad outfit Sungie, they’re always adorable. My favorite stylist but don’t tell that to Bangchan” you smirked to which Jisung laughed.

♡

“y/n, Jisung did a great job! You fit the concept to a tee” Bangchan stood infront of two wide dark green doors which led to the photostudio. He smiled shyly and pushed the doors open, a bright white light blinding you as you stepped in.

You squinted and held your hand infront of your eyes as you entered the studio, the air stuffy from all the white boxlights that have been working for a while.

“Miss y/n is here now, Mr. Hwang” Bangchan announced.

Your eyes felt blurry and the lights created a bokeh effect, your vision feeling like a filter. The first thing you saw was him. Hwang Hyunjin.

The shock froze your feet in one position. It was him. The selfie was Hyunjin. And he was hotter in real life.

A tall, slender figure stood on one foot, the other one behind his leg with the tip of the shoe pointing towards the floor.

“Are you ready, miss y/l/n?”.

His voice was sweeter than honeysuckle, you melted upon hearing him speak. Bangchan looked at you confused when you didn’t move, just observing the presence of the blonde boy infront of you.

“y/n?” Bangchan had a worried expression on his face as your face broke out in a massive blush.

“yeah..uh-mm..yes” you only managed to get that out before you were infront of the camera.

His willowy fingers wrapped around the black Canon camera, it fit perfectly in his hands as if it was made for him. You gulped upon seeing the veins that ran up his exposed arms, the white shirt bunched up by his elbows.

“Everything good miss? You seem distant” he said in that raspy but sweet voice.

“Uhm...yeah totally..” you looked awkward with your hands by your side as you saw Bangchan observing you with a confused gaze.

“Please tilt your head to the right and stand broad with your feet” Hyunjin commanded to which you complied. The flash of the big studio lights didn’t effect you as much anymore since you were used to this but what did effect you was how concentrated Hyunjin looked. Like a true photographer. It was obvious that he enjoyed his job by the way his eyes shined when he looked at the monitor and corrected every detail. Luckily you could stare at his figure all that you wanted since it looked like you were keeping eye contact with the camera and not him. Glancing over to the left of the photographer you saw Bangchan smiling his bright smile, signaling that he’s proud over you.

Flash

And another flash before Hyunjin looked at the monitor displaying the photos he just took, a smirk crept onto his face.

“Good job y/l/n. Could you please grab that chair over there and sit on the edge of it?” he said whilst pointing towards a small wooden stool. Reacting instantly to his soft voice and gestures you pulled the stool towards the x on the ground, making sure you were in frame.

“One leg over the other” Hyunjin said without even looking towards you, his pale veiny hands were now twisting and turning some buttons on both the camera and monitor. You shook your head up and down slightly in agreement before doing as told and as Hyunjin turned back his chocolatey brown eyes landed on yours. Now it was impossible to hide your burning cheeks, Hyunjin noticed since he laughed stiffly before grabbing the camera off the camera stand and going down on one knee to capture an angle from below. Numerous amounts of sparks from the big box lights were emitted and after every spark Hyunjin turned around to the screen which displayed your figure. Staring at him you smiled slowly, feeling your heart beat faster. Why do I feel like this by just looking at him? Your head was clouded with millions of other thoughts. Just as you started tuning out the room Hyunjin clapped his hands hard, the sound ringing in your ears. You jumped slightly which made Bangchan laugh.

“All done! Nice work everybody” Hyunjin announced loudly before bowing down to the other staff members in the room and to you as well. You returned his gesture by a slight bow of the head and quickly scurried of to Bangchan, your face hot.

“Are you sure you’re not ill?” Bangchan said softly before putting the back of his hand towards your forehead. Shaking your head from side to side you pushed his hand away.

“No, I’m fine... just so hot with the box lights you know?” you laughed fumblingly, not knowing where to rest your gaze.

You felt someone tap you on your left shoulder and you almost fainted when you turned around. Hyunjin was standing three footsteps from you, the scent of his cologne making you swoon. He smiled as he saw your shy expression and sparkling eyes.

“I though that it must have been hot, here have this”

He casually held out a waterbottle which you received with both hands as a gesture of thankfulness.

“y/n, I’m just gonna head off to Jisung to discuss something. Meet me at the changing rooms in about 10, ok?” Bangchan said, slightly leaning towards your ear.

“Yeah, see you in 10!” you said while the managers back disappeared through the broad doors of the studio. Turning back to Hyunjin his blond locks were draped infront of his eyes and as he spoke he tucked those light pieces behind his ear, revealing his small silver hoop earrings.

“I’m gonna pack up the cords now but it was a pleasure to work with you, miss y/l/n”

The corners of your mouth went upwards at his formality.

“Please, call me y/n” you said quietly, being too shy to look him in the eyes.

“Sure, see you around y/n” Hyunjin said as he lifted up his hand to shake yours. His lanky fingers were filled with bold rings, many of which were designer. A slight panic rushed through your mind as you didn’t want to scare him away with your clammy hands. The sweaty hands and the churning of your stomach was all due to Hyunjin nearness. Hesitantly you streched the tips of your fingers against the blond haired boy and his hand emitted warmth when being met with your fingertips. He smiled before turning back, his eyes forming into half moons as charming dimples errupted on his lean cheeks.

You bowed to the other staff members on your way out of the building on your way to meet Bangchan and Jisung in the changing room. The waterbottle in your hand almost slipped as you took another clunck of the fresh water and that’s when you noticed something. Stopping in the hallway where the stylists room was located you inspected the waterbottle and saw a black marker scribble on the wrapper around the bottle. Upon removing it your heart stopped. Your knees could give up at any moment from the sheer shock. Am I losing my mind? A number was loosely doodled on the white plastic wrapper and underneath it there was a message.

Call me

// Hyunjin

𝕋𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

@vogueinnie @that-anxious-bisexual @putmetogetheragain13 @hyunsluvv @lawleighette @meow-minho @minaamhh @ohmysparkle @hwangi @rindomo @fleeingreality @nycol-ie @jisungsplatforms

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Text

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 16 - ao3 -

Of course, Wen Ruohan wasn’t the sort of person to leave things to chance: the next time he sent an invitation for Lan Qiren to visit the Nightless City, he sent it straight to Lan Qiren’s father, instead.

“Naturally Qiren will go,” Lan Qiren’s brother said.

Lan Qiren mentally cursed Wen Ruohan’s name, even as he raised his hands and saluted to signify his agreement.

“Very well,” their father agreed, disinterested and toneless. His gaze was more and more distant these days; Lan Qiren suspected that the day his brother became sect leader was growing ever closer.

“I’ll select an appropriate escort, and a gift –”

“No,” Lan Qiren blurted out involuntarily, horrified at the idea of what another gift might trigger in Wen Ruohan’s purportedly competitive soul. “I – that is – I’m not going on behalf of the Lan sect, am I? I’m going in my personal status as his sworn brother. Taking too many people with me or bringing gifts might give the impression that I’m holding myself distant.”

Or something like that.

His brother looked at him for a long moment. “Very well,” he finally said. “Some servants as attendants, rather than a delegation of disciples, and no gift. You’re right; we don’t want to appear sycophantic.”

That hadn’t been what Lan Qiren had said or meant, but he’d take it.

His travel to the Nightless City was uneventful after that, as was his arrival: he made it to the main gate with relatively little fanfare and asked one of the guardsmen which way he should go, having never arrived on his own before. Instructions obtained, he made his way towards one of the side entrances to the Sun Palace. The main entrance was crammed full with petitioners, as always – Wen Ruohan rarely entertained them himself, but he had built up a decent bureaucracy to manage the work of it, which Lan Qiren supposed was necessary given the much higher number of people that were sworn to the Wen sect in comparison with the other sects.

It didn’t occur to him to question the instructions he’d been given until he was shown into one of the sitting rooms – not the one he’d been in before, and the hallways leading up to it were all unfamiliar – and he saw a woman sitting there, waiting for him, instead of Wen Ruohan.

The woman’s face was unfamiliar to him, but her luxurious robes, bone white and heartsblood red, patterned in the particular stylization of the red sun reserved for the highest rank within the Wen sect, as well as a glittering golden tiara dripping with rubies, announced her identity.

As did the pronounced curve of her pregnant belly.

Lan Qiren raised his hands and bowed. “Greetings to Madame Wen.”

He felt strangely uncomfortable, although he could not identify why. He had plenty of experience with pregnant women, so he didn’t think it was that, but there was something distinctly off-putting and surprising about this pregnancy, which Wen Ruohan must have known of but not mentioned during his visit to the Cloud Recesses.

Madame Wen watched indifferently as Lan Qiren saluted her, not stopping him even as he held the bow, and she was a few beats late in waving for him to stand up – her status as the mistress of a Great Sect was well above his as a second son, but it was still a little rude.

“So you’re Lan-er-gongzi,” she said, her eyes scanning him from top to bottom. “My husband’s sworn brother, of which he is so fond.”

Lan Qiren opened his mouth to deny it, but all the usual excuses he’s concocted for himself choked in his throat and dried up on his tongue: every time he’d told himself that Wen Ruohan only meant to irritate Lao Nie or his brother, that it was a political move or a quickly-regretted moment of impulse, that their supposed ‘brotherhood’ was little more than a word –

It was difficult to weigh that against an afternoon wandering through a market, and a room done up in all the ways Lan Qiren liked best.

Be generous. Be grateful. Be loyal.

However it had started, Wen Ruohan had lived up to the brotherhood to which they had sworn.

Do not make assumptions about others.

Lan Qiren had not.

“Sect Leader Wen is forgiving of my faults,” Lan Qiren said, deciding that he would need to do better in the future. No matter the rumors about him, Wen Ruohan had never wronged him personally, and he ought to behave accordingly. “Allow me to express my best wishes for your child.”

It was an ugly and un-poetically blunt sort of well-wishing, and he regretted it the instant he said it; if he hadn’t been so distracted by unwelcome self-revelations, he would have thought of something better.

“A son, they say,” Madame Wen said, watching him as if to see his reaction. Whatever it was she was looking for, she didn’t seem to be getting it; her eyes narrowed in dissatisfaction. “Well, you've got a pretty face, I’ll give you that much.”

Lan Qiren was unperturbed by the comment – his ancestors had always had a taste for beauty – and he didn’t quite understand why she made it sound like an insult. Still, he’d learned from prior mistakes that when someone was complimenting you in a mean tone of voice, it was impolite to respond by saying “you, too”, so instead he just waited patiently for her to get around to making whatever point she had brought him here to make.

“They say that you’re a mediocre swordsman,” she said, and Lan Qiren frowned – he wasn’t talented, no, but mediocre seemed a little harsh. Average would be a better way to describe it. “A good musician, but also stern and aloof. I wonder, what aspects you have to recommend yourself to someone like my husband?”

“Your husband was the one who proposed brotherhood,” Lan Qiren said. He was pretty sure that was the case, though of course he couldn’t be entirely sure; still, he was going to stand on that ground until he heard otherwise. Feeling uncomfortable, he added, “I didn’t think I needed to recommend myself. Has he said something to you about me?”

Madame Wen’s lip curled up in a faint sneer. “He’s barely mentioned you at all.”

That was about as Lan Qiren would have expected, and he nodded in satisfaction.

“At least the rumors regarding your disposition were correct,” she remarked, her expression of dissatisfaction unchanging. “You don’t speak much, do you?”

Do not use frivolous words beat at the inside of Lan Qiren’s mouth, but he’d learned about not sharing the rules every time he thought of them, too, even if it had taken many years to do so. He inclined his head in confirmation instead.

“So cold and distant, like the frost on a distant evening – with a temperament like that, you seem untouchable. One could scarcely bear to lay hands upon you...I do wonder how well someone like you can really play.”

Was he supposed to start boasting about his skills in music? It was well known that personality could affect musical talent, and he was better at the more intellectual and reserved songs, although to his own disquiet he found that he could quite adequately pull of some of the more disturbed songs, the passionate and unrestrained pieces, as well; nevertheless, the type of music did not correlate with quality.

Confused by the line of questioning, Lan Qiren found himself blurting out the first thing that came to mind, which in this case was, “I’m best at guqin and xiao.”

He was pretty sure that wasn’t what she meant, though. He thought he detected dissatisfaction about her, possibly at his inferior answers, and he had the vague sense of what he might call hostility or resentment if she had been some evil creature, but he was, as his fellow disciples liked to remind him, notoriously terrible at understanding emotions.

“Your talents must be prodigious.” Madame Wen smiled at him, face tight; he must have said something wrong. “You must forgive me my ignorance on the subject. I have no doubt that when you are in the field, it is terribly difficult to compete against you.”

“…I took first place at the music competition at the last discussion conference,” he said. Even if he suspected that she might not be talking about music, he was truly at sea in terms of what she was talking about. “But naturally that was only against my peers.”

Madame Wen’s eyes narrowed in a glare.

Lan Qiren had only meant that there were teachers far more skilled than he, but he had the distinct feeling that he might have accidentally insulted her.

He really wanted to stop having this conversation. Why couldn’t some of the rumors she heard about him have been about how bad he was at picking up subtext? Or, if he was indulging in futile wishes, something about how his cold and monotone voice was simply a characteristic, not a measure of how he felt about someone?

“Prodigious indeed,” she said through gritted teeth. “It seems I should ask for a demonstration of your talents.”

Wait, was that was she was hinting at? It was a little rude to make such a request on their first acquaintance – it made him feel a bit like a hired musician, rather than her husband’s sworn brother – but thinking on it further he didn’t mind. He did intend to be a musician one day, a traveling musical cultivator, and he had never minded playing for people. It was easier than talking to them.

“Is there anything in particular Madame Wen would like to hear?” he asked.

She named a song, fairly common and romantic in nature – at least one variation of the lyrics was crude enough that it saw regular use in brothels, but the tune itself was perfectly ordinary, and he supposed the sort of thing a young woman might enjoy. And after all, Madame Wen couldn’t be more than a half-dozen years older than he was, even if her poise and stature suggested an older woman.

Lan Qiren obediently settled in the spot that Madame Wen directed him to, taking out his guqin and checking it over meticulously to make sure it had made it through the travel without issue.

He had just started to play when there was a sound outside, the door opening; Lan Qiren looked up and saw Wen Ruohan enter the room in with a swirl of white-and-red robes.

He did not look pleased.

Lan Qiren began to stand, intending on saluting, but Wen Ruohan waved a hand at him before he could even start to rise up.

“What is the meaning of this?” he asked his wife instead.

She smiled back at him, her expression seemingly full of meaning: “What do you mean, husband? I heard by chance that your sworn brother had arrived, and I thought to greet him, as any good wife ought to do.”

“Greet,” he said, his lips turned down. “Is that what you call it, when you have your guest play brothel songs for you?”

Technically, the song had been originated in a play –

“He agreed,” Madame Wen said. “But naturally my husband’s happiness is what I care for most. If my husband dislikes it, or think that I have insulted his sworn brother by permitting him to behave like a pretty flower selling favors in the red-light district –”

“Accompanist,” Lan Qiren corrected, and they both turned to stare at him. Their expressions were both quite intense, as if he’d said something wrong. He hesitated, but continued, “My understanding may be flawed, but I thought most brothel singers hired professional musicians to accompany them, so as to better reflect their beauty and increase – ”

“What are you implying?” Madame Wen snapped, and Lan Qiren recoiled a little.

“I didn’t mean – I only – it’s just that I heard –” he stuttered, and Wen Ruohan laughed.

“Perhaps I was too quick to dismiss the comparison,” she said coldly. “The flower appears beautiful from afar, but its thorns still cut deep.”

“My sworn brother is no flower,” Wen Ruohan said, and his eyes were curved; he seemed much calmer now, making the room less fraught. “But rather a pearl unlike any other.”

“Oh yes,” Madame Wen said, and she was sneering outright now. “Naturally you would think so. Who does not know of your – great friendship?”

Lan Qiren wouldn’t go that far. Not even half as far, really. He was just opening his mouth to point out that they barely knew each other, really, but he never got the chance; Madame Wen tossed her head, her tiara of gold and rubies making bell-like sounds, and placed her hand on her belly.

“I will retire,” she announced. “I would not dream of intruding in the time that you two wish to share. Perhaps he can play for us at dinner, if it is not too much of an imposition on his time.”

Wen Ruohan merely stepped aside and allowed her to go, saying nothing.

Truly, Lan Qiren thought to himself, the rumors must have misjudged Wen Ruohan – surely if he were as cruel and ruthless as all that, he wouldn’t have taken such insolence without raising a response.

“Forgive me,” he said, and Wen Ruohan looked at him.

“For what?” he asked, his habitual equanimity returned to him. “You did nothing.”

“She doesn’t seem to like me,” Lan Qiren said, bowing his head. “I’m not sure what it was that I did to cause it, but it was not my intent to cause trouble.”

Especially the sort of trouble he’d been specifically instructed to avoid, he thought, a little miserably; he remembered now all the admonitions of how, brothers or no brothers, oath or no oath, no man would want to anger the woman who bore him sons.

“Think nothing of it,” Wen Ruohan said, and when Lan Qiren stole a glance he did not in fact seem upset. “It is the early growing pains of marriage, little more, and worsened by her current condition. I was clear enough when we started out, promising her respect, power, sons, and even freedom, yet she can’t stop herself from scheming for more...truly well-suited to be my wife, provided she learns not to go too far.”

Lan Qiren did not understand.

Wen Ruohan noticed, and chuckled. “Do not concern yourself with it. You are not the object of her grudge, merely a convenient target.”

“She seemed to be fairly deliberately aimed to me,” Lan Qiren said doubtfully.

“Mm. Which of us has experience being married, again..?”

Lan Qiren ducked his head back down, conceding the point, and then, with an effort, shook his head to clear it of cobwebs and smiled at his sworn brother. “Well, you wanted me to come to visit you, da-ge, and here I am,” he said. “I look forward to the opportunity to spend more time with you.”

Wen Ruohan seemed oddly taken aback, almost more surprised by Lan Qiren’s sincerity than by his wife’s tricks and sarcasm, and it took several moments of staring before he finally responded with a simple nod. “I look forward as well.”

“I find we have not had time to get to know each other without a third party acting as a medium,” Lan Qiren continued. “Would you like to play a game or two of weiqi? I’m not…especially good at social interaction, getting to know people, but I’m sure I can manage to lose a game with some grace.”

Wen Ruohan had started smiling. “You assume you’ll lose?”

“I assume you have slightly more experience than me, yes. I’m decently skilled, but I prefer to spend my time on music…I really am happy to play for you and Madame Wen after dinner, if you’d like. A good life requires a happy home, and I can’t even imagine how difficult bearing children must be; I’m happy to accede to her request. Anyway, I enjoy playing.”

“I would be happy to hear that piece you played at the discussion conference once more,” Wen Ruohan said. “Though if you’re acceding to her request, I note – after dinner?”

“Well, naturally,” Lan Qiren said, puzzled. “I assumed she had misspoken. I mean, I’m your guest, aren’t I? Only hired musicians play at dinner instead of eating. If she really wanted music with her dinner, she would need to pay me.”

Wait, that sounded wrong.

“Not that I’d accept,” he added quickly. “I wouldn’t disrespect your hospitality in such a way.”

Wen Ruohan was grinning. “Indeed,” he drawled. “Undoubtedly she misspoke…it’s been rather a long while since I’ve played weiqi, but I think I’ll still be able to manage to trounce you. Let’s go find out.”

Lan Qiren gathered up his guqin and followed Wen Ruohan to the door.

“Oh, and little Lan?” Wen Ruohan said as they walked out into the hallway, his voice casual and indolent. “There’s no need for you to spend much time with my wife while you’re here. I wouldn’t want her to suffer too much stress, given the child.”

Lan Qiren didn’t entirely understand the request, but he nodded gamely. “I’ll avoid her when she’s not with you,” he offered, and felt pleased when Wen Ruohan nodded in satisfied acknowledgement. “I don’t want to cause her any more concern.”

“Good,” Wen Ruohan said, opening the door to another room – his bedroom, Lan Qiren thought as he spotted the familiar set of six treasure swords on the wall. There was a table there that would work well for a game of weiqi, and Lan Qiren supposed it made sense for Wen Ruohan to want to be comfortable while at home. They were brothers, after all… “I’ll have the servants set out the game. Shall we walk in the garden in the meantime?”

“That sounds good,” Lan Qiren agreed, then looked down at his guqin. “I should put away my things, if the room I’m in is not too far? I really didn’t have an opportunity…”

“Your room is just down the hall,” Wen Ruohan said. “You’re family now, aren’t you?”

Lan Qiren smiled.

Maybe this will work out after all, he thought.

#mdzs #lan qiren #wen ruohan #my fic #my fics #spilled pearls

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zavollistic-love · 3 years

Note

Fun Fact! Whitty pretty much taught himself everything. He was alone in a lab for years and so he had to learn everything by himself (i.e. how to read, how to walk, eating, bathroom things, etc). So… How would he react when someone tried to help him with something he didn’t know? -💣

Indeed very cool facts anon

And I also offer in return a very fun headcanon of mine to back up those, Whitty knows how to do a lot of these things... Except writting.

Don't get me wrong, he knows how to write, if you give him a keyboard or an old typewriter, he can definitely write anything, a bit slow but surely. He is smart as hell, he knows how the letters are supposed to go and how the grammar works.

...except handwriting.

He never had the need to, hiding from the greater good in alleys, he only needed to be able to read and listen for cues.

While working with Daddy Dearest, all his contracts got signed for him. He never had to write anything.

And he keeps it well hidden until you ask him to grab a paper and pen and write down some annotations for you while you read them aloud.

Whitty goes to grab the paper and pen as you asked, thinking he was going to give them to you, and freeze as you tell him to sit down to write the new recipe you found on internet. Of course you could already use the page you are on but you are sure you will end up losing the link and forgetting about it - paper seemed so much reliable to you at these moments.

You start reading the first steps aloud without noticing Whitty is still frozen in place, and his surprised expression turning into a quiet, sour one, as he fiddled with the pen in his hands, eyes fixated on the floor.

You're on the 5th ingredient as you turn around to find Whitty with his tensed shoulders as he glared to his feet. "Is...is something wrong? Am I reading it too fast?" You ask carefully, noticing his arms hanging by his side as he still got the paper and pen in each hand.

"No." He quickly replies. "I just-" Whitty cuts himself off before taking a deep inhale, "I don't know how to write." He mutters in a single breath as you struggle a bit to understand what he just said. "I never needed to learn."

You tiptoe around, asking him more as he explains you how he knew the letters and words, but picking up a pen and making the shapes... He felt a bit ashamed to admit this for you, but he also felt like he should be honest about it.

You drop the whole recipe thing you were on about, and take his hands, leading Whitty to your counter so he could settle the paper down and pen

He looks at you with a puzzled expression as you put the pen around his hands and help him properly hold it, aiming the tip at the paper. The size difference between your small hands and is his big ones is so noticeable, but you still manage to take a hold of his hand and move it around.

You start to make him draw the W shape. "That's a W," you say, as you continue guiding his hand to write the next letters h, i, two t and a y. "That's your name, you just signed a paper," you cheered.

Whitty stares at the paper you just helped him write, fighting back the smile creeping up its way to his face. "...Teach me how to write your name." He shyly asks.

You slowly help him, and soon he is already getting the hang of it. You both spend the whole evening teaching him capital and lowercase letters, different handwriting styles and you even help him create a cool stylized signature, similar to his graffiti style, he adds an arrow tail to the end of his Y

Just prepare yourself to have a bunch of papers and notes filled with different styles of writing and filled with poetry and cooking recipe or simply random words that he finds mesmerizing to write down

And your name with hearts around too

#whitty x reader #whitmore x reader #whitty whitmore #whitty imagine #vs whitty mod #friday night funkin' whitty #friday night funkin whitty #whitty fnf #fnf whitty #whitty #fnf imagine #friday night funkin #fnf imagines #friday night funkin'#fnf x reader

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jjmjjktth · 3 years

Text

Chapter 2: There’s Always a First

Chloé! A true wielder! This is it. The end. By the time the information soaked into my brain, I’ve arrived at Ms. Bustier’s classroom.“Marinette! You can sit in the righthand second row; right next to the new girl!”

“Yes Ms. Bustier.” At least I’m not next to Chloé this– A hand grabs my wrist startling me out of my thoughts.

“Hi! My name is Alya, the new girl. I can see it! We’re gonna be besties!” This could be good.

“I’m Marinette. Please say something before you touch me next time though, I’m blind.” I smile towards her.

“Sure thing, girl. I should’ve known, I see your cane now.” Alya responds a bit sheepishly.

I pull out my braille note taker and refocus my attention to Ms. Bustier’s lesson.

“Ivan! Principle. Now!�� Ms. Bustier exclaims.

“But Mis–”

“I don’t want to hear it Ivan.” Something feels wrong.

“Ooh! What a pretty feather!” Rose’s sweet voice announces. As I hear everyone turn in their chairs along with a few small gasps, Ivan agrees with something, “Yes, Paeon.” Everyone screams.

Chaos. Utter chaos.

“KIIIIIIMMMMM!” a loud thing cries with a voice that reminds me of grinding gravel. Everyone runs away. Except Alya who pulls me after the voice saying something about superheroes an supervillans. I managed to get free by the enterance of the school; and, with the assistance of Nooroo and my cane, made it home without any trouble.

I dash upstairs and lock my trapdoor so I can talk to Nooroo.“It’s usually called a sentenal but, since the peacock miraculous holder is a villain, we call it an amok.” Nooroo informs me helpfully.

“I need to get to the greenhouse. Nooro? Will you help me get there without dying?”

“Of course Ms. Marinette.” Nooro chirps and re-enters my pigtail.We make good time on our journey and Nooroo barely has to make any redirections.

Arriving at the greenhouse, I quickly shut the door behind me.“Nooroo. Wings rise!” I shout.

A warm feeling spreads over me, starting at my fingertips then flowing to my shoulders and cascading to the floor. A delicate feeling mask materializes over my eyes presumably to hide my identity from the world.a metal septre has replaced my cane. On instinct I sit down. Behind me was what feels like a metal throne stylized after vines. Probably because I’m in a greenhouse. I run my hands over what feels like an evening gown and am pleased with the silky texture. There are purls clinging to the bottom of the skirt that thin out around mid thigh. The top goes all the way up to around my voicebox and is covered in fabric butterflies trailing down over my collarbone and to my waist. My shoulders are bare but i have gloves embroidered with more butterflies that trail up to my elbows. My shoes are simple heels. Thank goodness.

I finally take notice of the new sounds. Wings! Hundreds of them! I reach out my hand and six tiny legs land on my glove. So I can feel through these. With a kiss, I send out my butterfly to find a champion.

As the butterfly leaves my little sanctuary, all the strong emotions in paris flood into my head and I mentally separate those with the drive that I can transform.

First I sense curiosity and adventure with an unhelthilly low amount of fear, Alya. maybe some other time. I need someone protective, the monster has a hostage now. Freedom, chaos, and protectiveness! This is just what I need. Wait. They already have a miraculous. The black cat i presume. Finally! Another protector, but also guilt and panic. I urge the butterfly to land on the item clutched in his hand and the mind link is formed.

“Ivan Bruel, you strive to protect your love who is taken by the amok.”

“YES! Yes…. but who are you? Are you in my head? Are you like Paeon?!” Ivan responds quickly.

“I am Lady Papillon, we are connected through my power. I am not with Paeon however; I can gift you with the power to save Mylené and Paris, should you accept.”

“You’re not with Paeon?”

“No,” I reassure him, “I cannot lie with this bond, neither can he, but unlike Paeon I do not twist my words.”

“Alright, My Lady, I accept.”

Lavender bubbles cover Ivan leaving behind an eight-foot tall knight made entirely of metal. He wilds a six foot war hammer that sends out a shock wave when hit against his shield.“What would you like to call yourself?’” I ask.

“Call me Iron Heart.” Ivan smirks.

“Allright, Iron Heart, they are headed to the stadium, there should be a hero waiting for you there. They will be dressed like a cat.” Iron Heart nodds and takes off at a sprint.

Looking through Iron Heart’s eyes, I notice a boy pole vaulting across the rooftops toward the stadium. He wears a colored suit, I assume it is black, with clip-on cat ears and a belt tail that moves of it’s own accord.

“Iron Heart! Your hero is over there!”

“HERO!! What do you call yourself?!”

“Who’s asking?” he looks defensive.

“I am Iron Heart, champion of Lady Papillon the hero of the butterfly miraculous. She gave me power to protect my love from the amok.”

“Is Lady Papillon the partner my friend told me about?” the cat asks.

“She says ‘she is’” The feline looks at Iron Heart suspiciously.

“Chat Noir.” Was the simple response before he took of in the direction of the amok.

Looking ahead through my champion’s eyes, it was clear that the amok was causing as much damage as possible while searching for its prey, (also known as Kim). Despite its erratic search pattern, the monster seemed to be moving steadily in the direction of the stadium; most likely due to Kim’s love of sports and dares. Apon arriving at the stadium, the amok, not finding its prey, sent a shockwave into the air in rage. I could feel it, even all the way from my greenhouse.

“Ironheart.” Lady Papillion stated, noticing the amok kept one of his fists closed the entire chase, “The amok must be in his right fist! You must tell Chat Noir!” When she heard Ironheart relay her message, she started brainstorming how to destroy the amok without harming Myléne. Looking around the stadium, Lady Papillion took notice of a few items: a rack of soccerballs, the goal, and a bunch of plastic tiles on the sidelines. She focused on forming a plan. A-ha! “Ironheart, notify chat noir to be ready to cataclysm the amok. You must start throwing the plastic tiles and soccerballs to distract it; then when you throw the goalpost it will be caught off-guard and catch it so Chat Noir can cataclysm the amok and you can catch Myléne.”

Her plan worked perfectly. “Ironheart, let Chat Noir know that after he recharges I will speak with him at the Eiffel Tower.” She said.

“Of course My Lady!” Ironheart stated with a playful bow before relaying her message to Chat Noir who agreed to meet her in twenty minutes.

Masterlist - First - Previous - Next

Taglist: @novemberandmay @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @slytherinhquinn @blackroserelina @moon5608

#marinette dupain cheng #blind!marinette #butterfly!marinette #felinette #daminette #maribat #idk #master fu #is a supportive mentor #the question au

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hardskz · 4 years

Text

bow down.

pairing — bang chan x genderneutral! reader

genre — modern royalty au, drama-ish, smut; sexual tension-ish, hand kink, brat tamer! chan, degradation, leg humping, humiliation

synopsis — you have eyes. prince bang chan is a whole snack. but you also have too high of an ego and can’t seem to accept that prince chan isn’t full of himself unlike the other dozen members of any royal family you’ve met before. alternatively, this is the disney channel movie ‘princess protection program’ but make it porn only.

note — this fic with a wc of 7k+ does not include any spoilers to the movie and you don’t even have to know what the movie is about you’ll get the gist as you read. ngl half of this is from one of my drafts from like 3 years ago and i never continued it so here i am turning it into filth hahahah (and i needed a fresh idea for brat tamer chan and hence why i think the sfw part is better written than the nsfw lmao) rip also pls accept this as the follower milestone gift and 1 year anniversary special :’)

“I’m pretty sure I asked for a puppy for my birthday — which was three months ago may I add — not for a new roommate?”

You look back and forth between Youngjae and the stranger sitting on the couch who is staring back at you with a curious expression. He looks around your age and you admit, his face isn’t the kind of face that makes you thank your parents that genetics did a decent job on you. It’s quite the opposite, actually.

His face is the type of face that makes you ask your parents why genetics didn’t do a better job on yours. Okay, you haven’t reached that stage of visual inferiority yet but that’s mainly because he is dressed in clothes that were trendy in the 15th century or something. The garments clinging to his skin look like a bad fusion of a suit (which college student wears a suit in their free time?) and the ridiculous costume the marching band at your former high school had worn whenever a football game was up. And those weird golden pins clipped on the blazer makes it seem as if he used to be in the marines or comes from a royal bloodline or—

Oh.

“Don’t mind my cousin, your Highness. (y/n)’s humor has always been questionable.” Youngjae sends you a glare before he puts on his sweetest smile — you know, the act he puts on whenever he tries to negotiate a bonus with his boss or woo his date — and opts to ignore your presence. “Anyway, since we are dealing with a more serious issue at hand than originally expected, we need to give you a makeover to—“

Before he gets to finish his sentence, you violently tug him away from the prince and despite Youngjae thrashing around and complaining, you manage to send the guest a forced smile and leave his vision. The moment you let go of Youngjae in the neighboring room, he readjusts his collar. “What? Couldn’t you have waited once I was done? Also, was it necessary to crinkle my collar this much?” he hisses but you get straight to the point.

“What is he doing here?”

“Uh, sitting on the couch?”

“That’s not what I mean.” you grit your teeth and land a punch on his arm. “What is he doing here?”

Youngjae looks over your shoulder, making sure that what he’s about to say next is only heard by you. “Prince Chan is,” he hesitates, unsure how to approach his topic. You know it’s taking up his last nerves to conclude a logical explanation as the tip of his tongue pokes out of the corner of his lips; a habit he has adapted ever since he stopped chewing on his bottom lip. “The predicament he’s in is worse than we expected. Well, his dad is partially at fault because he forgot to tell us this not-so-small critical detail that—“

“Youngjae, you’re rambling.”

“The point is.” he sighs and gives you a distressed look as if he already knows you’re not going to like the information at all. “We can’t send him to the family in Goyang, the place he was originally going to stay in. He’s one of the more extreme cases and the Board agreed that he had to live with one of the active combatants to ensure his safety.”

Silence engulfs the kitchen and you know he’s waiting for you to count two and two together.

“He’s going to live here,” you deadpan eventually and Youngjae nods in confirmation.

“I know you’re not very happy—“

“Not very happy is underwhelming.” You earn a flick against your forehead and yelp in pain as you over the spot he just hit. “Ow! I was just stating the truth!”

“Will you stop interrupting me? Geez. Yes, I know that you’re not happy at all. I know that you’re not a huge fan of the majority of our family working in this business. But please do me this one favor or so help me God— try to be nice to him for the next year.”

“He’s staying for a year?” you shriek and in the blink of an eye, Youngjae clamps your mouth shut.

“Can you keep it down?!” he whisper-yells, then retreats his hand and reverts to a conversational tone with a frown. “It’s just a year, okay? Y’know, just... say hi to him whenever you see him. Act civilized.”

You grimace as he stresses his last words like you didn’t know what human decency was. The longer you keep the petrified expression on your face, the more it turns into a staring contest between the two of you. Just as if you were each other’s reflection, you mimic his actions and vice versa. When Youngjae squints, you squint. When you shoot him a glare, he returns it. It all boils down to the final blink that Youngjae feints and you’re the first to look away.

“Okay fine! I’ll try to behave,” you mumble in defeat.

A satisfied smile makes its way on Youngjae’s lips. “It’s always nice negotiating with you.”

Being born into a family where the majority works for the royalty protection program (short: RPP or as you like to stylize it: argh-pee-pee), also known as the secret service for people with crowns on their heads, comes with many perks. In your eyes, this privilege comes with many, many downsides that aren’t worth the advantages. Sure, there is the one or other occasion where you can waltz around in fancy evening attire and attend an actual ball, but overall, it’s a pain in the ass.

Even though it’s prohibited to openly declare that you work for the RPP, the news always finds its way out. Usually, it takes approximately a week for pretty much half of the neighborhood to find out. And it certainly isn’t nice hearing whispers about your dad being that guy working for the program whenever you step out of your house, which is ultimately why you moved in with your cousin Youngjae. (Housing in your small town wasn’t really affordable for a dirt poor college student after all!)

Youngjae has always been your favorite cousin out of the... whatever number of cousins you have. But here’s the thing. He also works for the RPP.

However, somehow he managed to — and up to this day it still remains a mystery to you how on earth he did that — keep his job a secret. Especially with his tendency to dish out the worst kinds of secrets when he’s slightly tipsy. Frankly, you once considered printing out the image of a trophy for that remarkable feat.

With your dad and cousin both active in that business (because organization sounds too shady), it’s not the first time you meet a prince, so you already know how the entire thing works. The concept is quite simple; they get sent to a household but before they settle in and take on a fake identity until their circumstances have improved, they undergo a makeover. Most of the time, it ends up in the glow up you secretly crave but in Prince Chan’s case, you suppose he can’t get any more attractive.

Oh boy. You’re in for a ride.

You’re busy slicing bell peppers for the meal you were cooking when both your cousin and the prince enter the kitchen and Youngjae explicitly demands you to pay them attention. You don’t react immediately, but the moment he threatens to swipe the knife away from you, you perk up and set your desire to prepare your fried rice aside.

“(y/n), uh, hi? I’m Bang Chan and I’ll be your new housemate for a year. I hope we can get along.” Chan recites his introduction without any mistakes and earns a way too brotherly pat on the back from Youngjae, considering that they just met this morning. It’s truly amazing how fast Youngjae can get people to warm up to him.

Chan is stripped out of his weird clothes and instead, looks like he threw on the next best thing lying around in his room. Nonetheless, despite the seemingly little effort that was put into the outfit, it looks oddly good. The stylists didn’t seem to do much to his hair and just parted his bangs a little, so one could catch a slight glimpse of his forehead. It’s just a small detail, but you find yourself liking his current appearance much more appealing than before, though you’re pretty sure his clothes played a major part in your previous distaste.

“Remember Jihyo?” Youngjae interrupts your train of thought. “She’s Chan’s relative. And because I’m the genuine friend who loves to help her out, I decided to agree to this after she went down on her knees and begged me to let Chan live with us for a while—“

“I’m not interested in your blown up, fictional background stories, thank you very much.” you backtrack. “Wait. Did you say Jihyo? Seriously? Jihyo is his alibi?” Of course, you remember Jihyo. It’s quite difficult to forget her when Youngjae used to swoon about her at every hour of the day, back when they were a thing. Besides, she still stops by every few months.

“C’mon, you have to admit there is a similar vibe between them!”

You furrow your brows and inspect Chan a second time. Your gaze wanders back to Youngjae and then returns to Chan anew. It’s obvious that the latter is feeling as if he were up for auction and you can’t really blame him for feeling so uncomfortable. You’ve heard from a few friends that if looks could kill, you’d have the highest killing record.

There’s no similar vibe in your view, but for the sake of entertaining Youngjae’s thoughts: “He does seem similar to Jihyo.”

“Told ya. But back to more important matters,” Youngjae coughs and wraps his arm around your shoulder to pull you closer, but it somehow seems as if he’s opting to strangle you. “My duties are calling, so I won’t be back until late. You look like you could need some help with cooking, by the way. I’m sure Chan right here is willing to help you!”

“I’m almost done though—“ you choke when he tightens his embrace. By now, his arm is no longer hugging your shoulder, but rather crushing your throat.

“You look like you could need some help,” he repeats, this time with added urgency. “It’d be a great opportunity for you to bond since you’ll also share pretty much all classes at uni. Did you know, he has the same major as you! Besides, it’d be a very useful life experience for him if he helped you with cooking.”

“Of course, how fun!” you hiss, voice going an octave higher from the lack of oxygen. “I already said that I’m painfully delighted about that, so you can let me go now, Youngjae!”

A sneer and a jab in his arm later, Youngjae finally takes his leave. That nasty liar, leaving an hour earlier than his schedule stated. You know that silently cursing at him isn’t going to make your problems dissolve because that’d be a dream come true.

“Listen, let me get things straight.” you sigh, picking up the knife to resume chopping your vegetables. Youngjae may have ordered you to act civilized, but having eye contact with Chan when you’ve been starving for the past hour isn’t your priority. Food doesn’t make itself. “I don’t have any intention of getting close to you and I expect the same from you. Don’t step a foot into my room, don’t talk to me unless absolutely necessary, and don’t think I’ll run around and do your chores or cook your meals like one of your little servants. Just because you’re a prince doesn’t mean you’ll be treated like one under this roof.”

“We live in the 21st century, not the renaissance. Your idea of royal families is very dated.” Chan chuckles dryly.

“Baron Yoon Jeonghan from the seven islands is a stuck-up prick and out of touch with the world. It took him several visits to the slums, multiple voluntary hours at the kindergarten, and stripping him off his bank card to make him see reason,” you deadpan. Fuck Baron Jeonghan. Just thinking about your first and last encounter with that entitled douchebag almost makes you slice your finger instead of the bell pepper. “Duchess Yoo Shiah threw a hissy fit when she found out her clothes weren’t dry cleaned and bought from Zara instead of fucking Dior. The one who takes the cake when it comes to privilege is Princess Kim Min—”

“Everyone knows they are problematic,” Chan interjects. True, he has a point. There’s nobody out there who doesn’t know about Baron Jeonghan or Duchess Shiah but he’s also missing the entire point.

“And guess who gets stuck under the care of the RPP?” you raise a brow at him. He blanches at the realization as if he got struck with lightning. Perhaps you should give him more credit because he seems to own more brain cells than Baron Jeonghan. “Exactly. Everyone problematic.”

Chan’s jaw is clenched as he racks his brain to come up with a smart comeback. The sight of him stumbling on his words is nothing but pitiful, so you turn back to the cutting board and grab an onion to slice in half. “I’m not interested in your sob story, your Highness. I don’t care why you’re under the protection of the RPP. The only thing I care about is that you stay out of my business.”

“Chan is fine. No need for the title,” he sighs with a strain. “Perhaps I should’ve been more considerate with my first comment. Youngjae already told me about your… negative attitude towards the entire setup. It wasn’t my intention to anger you. Sorry.”

Well, that’s new. Out of the dozens of aristocrats you’ve met (and sadly also shared a house with back when you were 16 years old and still living with your dad), he’s the first to drop his title within five minutes for the sake of the disguise and apologize.

“We live under the same roof so we should get along with each other. If there’s something you need help with, just ask me, (y/n).”

“Thanks for the offer,” you reply nonchalantly because act civilized unless you want to suffer from a late-night sneak attack from Youngjae if he finds out. “But no thanks. I don’t need your help.”

You find yourself in need of help a few weeks later, right before the dreaded exam season.

“No. Forget it, Bam. I’m not going out clubbing with you tonight. In fact, I won’t do that anytime soon.” you let out an exasperated sigh as you try to break down to your friend that you prioritize your grades over his need of getting wasted.

“C’mon!” he whines so loudly that you have to put your phone farther away from your ear. “You’re not in that much stress yet! You have to make the most out of it before you drown in your exams.”

“Things are different for engineering students like, uh, me for example!” you hiss. “I fell behind and need to catch up. Ask Yugyeom or Changbin.”

“First of all, Yugyeom is always at the bar doing his job. And Changbin never picks up his phone. There’s nobody who’d dance with me!”

“You abandoned me at the bar for some chick the last time,” you deadpan. “I’m very sure you’ll find someone.”

Bambam finally gets the gist and gives up. “Fine then. Your loss. Have fun dying in numbers and variables instead of living in the moment. You’re going to regret it—”

You end the call and set your phone on mute before throwing it on the bed. Sometimes you wonder whether you were on drugs when you decided to major in engineering. The longer you stare at the jumble of numbers and letters — some of them in Greek too — the more you think your brain cells are decaying.

That’s how you find yourself in the kitchen, complaining at Youngjae’s expense and telling him how much you’d rather drown in bleach than subjecting yourself to Algebra II.

“You know there’s someone you can ask for help and he’s right here,” Youngjae drawls before chugging down the rest of his beer. If he’s going to be a victim to your temper tantrum about a major that you chose yourself, he might as well get a drink so he won’t go insane from your monologue about numbers and graphs and formulas he’s forgotten since he graduated from high school.

You gawk at him. “You? Are you hearing yourself? You almost failed maths. Twice!”

“Because I didn’t mean myself, dipshit,” he says blankly and his eyes flit over your shoulder, “Speaking of the devil. There comes the man of honor.”

You whip your head back to the door to see Chan enter confusedly. “Uh, did I interrupt something?”

“Yes.”

“No, we were just talking about you!”

You send Youngjae a death glare which he casually shrugs off. “(y/n) here is bitching about her Statistics I class and needs a tutor!”

“It’s actually Algebra II if you bothered to pay attention—”

“(y/n) needs a tutor!” Youngjae exclaims and nearly trips on his feet when he gets up from his chair. “Channie, I heard you’re good with numbers. Didn’t you get accepted into all Ivy Leagues in the States for all engineering programs?”

“You didn’t have to word it like that,” Chan laughs it off and nervously rubs the back of his head. He’s not denying it though.

“Obviously he would. He’s loaded and lives in a castle,” you mutter under your breath, but everyone catches it.

“Hey,” Youngjae warns. “That wasn’t necessary.”

“It’s alright,” Chan says casually. “I just wanted to get myself a snack. But if you have some questions, don’t hesitate to knock on my door. The offer still stands, y’know.” He digs through the cabinet until he finds two packs of the strawberry flavored Pocky knockoff that is 1) apparently his favorite thing to eat and 2) half the price of the Pocky version. He gives Youngjae a thumbs up before he returns to his room.

The moment Chan is out of sight, Youngjae whips his head to you, nostrils flaring. All that’s missing is steam coming out of his ears and his face running red and then he looks like the impetuous brother in every kids cartoon ever. “Really? He’s been staying with us for how long now? Four weeks? Five? Yet you’re still acting as if he murdered you in your dreams or something.”

“I don’t like him,” you state coldly. Youngjae looks like he’s about to rip his hair out.

“Look, I get that you don’t like me being active in this field of work, and I get that you have some hatred against the royal families. But you know you signed up for this when you decided to move in with me.” Youngjae pauses to get a breather and pop a new beer bottle open. “Besides, Chan isn’t like Baron Jeonghan or Duchess Shiah. I have eyes, (y/n), and I’ve seen you two avoiding each other as much as possible. And he doesn’t just laze around — he does the fucking chores and cooks dinner too! Chan is good, (y/n).”

The last words make you snap. “Good? Are you fucking serious? Because that’s why the press in his kingdom is depicting him as a tyrant who cares more about building his sick harem instead of helping the poor. And wasn’t he diagnosed for having anger management issues?!”

All the color leaves Youngjae’s face. This is obviously something you shouldn’t know. While he’s scrambling for words, you take the chance to add, “Dunno why you’re protecting him when he’s making headlines as a prince who can’t keep his dick in his pants.”

“Chan isn’t just a prince,” Youngjae says quietly. “He’s the crown prince.”

Your eyes widen at the confession. “What? Isn’t that even worse with that reputation he has?”

“It’s all propaganda,” he sighs and takes a swig, “The ministers are doing everything they can to finish him off. You see, Chan is the only child of the current king of the seven islands, and if he’s wiped out, it’ll be utter chaos. Chan’s smart and I admit, he used to have anger issues, but he’s worked on them. Though I guess he’s resorted to bottling up his feelings when push comes to pull. The point is, all the higher-ups don’t want him as their future king because they know that Chan is very much capable of pulling through with his own ideas and that doesn’t sit well with them. And a supposedly impulsive future king is the last thing anyone wants, hence why his people are eating up the news.”

“Oh.” you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel an ounce of remorse. However, it’s not the first time you’ve heard such stories.

“Yeah. Oh,” Youngjae mocks, “If that’s the main reason why you don’t want to talk to him, now you know better. He might have power, but he’s not a monster. And for the record, he got into all Ivy Leagues and elite schools all over the world through his intelligence, not his status.”

Although you can see it in his eyes that Youngjae is done with the heated discussion, he’s still waiting for you to say something. You frown. “So… you think he’s a good tutor?”

“He’s your only shot.” Youngjae says nonchalantly, then adds with a warning tone, “But remember: Act. Civilized. Oh, and don’t tell him I told you about his circumstances. It’s supposed to be confidential information.”

You roll your eyes. How the fuck hasn’t Youngjae been busted yet?

Nonetheless, you’re trudging to Chan’s door a few minutes later, your fat binder of incomprehensible math formulas and (Greek) letter heavy in your arm. Chan opens the door with surprise etched on his face after you knocked, but it settles to warmth when you begrudgingly ask him to help you understand Algebra II.

“Sorry, it’s a little messy here,” he chuckles airily once he lets you in. It’s not messy per se, just a few clothes piled up in a corner of the room and some books and messily written notes lying on his bed. Still, it’s by far cleaner than the pig stall that is Youngjae’s room (and yours when you’re having a very bad day).

Chan clears his desk and drags his other chair to the table before plopping down on it. “So, what’s the problem?” Instead of answering, you just shove a sheet of paper up his face. “Y’know, you can talk to me. If this is about earlier, it’s really alright. I’m not mad or anything,” he says with the same friendly tone you’ve been hearing ever since he moved in, yet he still takes the sheet from you. You watch his brows scrunch together the more he reads on, and you can already see the question forming in his mind.

“(y/n), you do know this is the basis to understand—”

“I was absent when the professor covered it and everyone I asked couldn’t quite explain it to me,” you respond before he can finish speaking out his thoughts. “All my friends were like—” you gesture with your hands, “—you just do this and that and then hope your hunch is right. Before you say it, yes I know that I don’t get the material of one entire unit and the exam is two weeks away.”

“Then let’s not waste any time,” Chan says before grabbing his iPad. You stare at him blankly as he writes something on his tablet. The last thing you expected from him was to accept it and try to hammer as much of missing information as he can into your brain, but then again, you’ve never seen him backtrack whenever Youngjae asks him something. Speaking of Youngjae, perhaps he is right. Chan does seem to know what he’s talking about.

“You have to subtract X first, then replace it with Y,” he explains as he circles said letters in different colors. By now, you’ve leaned closer to him to get a better view on what he’s writing (his handwriting isn’t the worst you’ve ever had to decode; refer to Youngjae who you’ve internally awarded with the worst handwriting of the decade).

Chan is exceptionally good at explaining. You feel like you’ve figured out a secret of the world that not even Pythagoras found out as you slowly understand what on Earth you are supposed to calculate with the formula. Chan is patient, always asking if you got it or if you needed another clarification, and takes the time to draw colorful graphs to visualize the jumble of numbers. His voice is pleasing to the ear too, soft and gentle to the point where you’ve blurred everything out except Chan. Chan’s voice. Chan’s hand.

You didn’t mean to stare, but with him always adding something new every five seconds as he goes on with his monologue, you can’t help but do so. His fingers aren’t long — that’ll always be courtesy of Hyunjin from Subway and yes, his very pretty hands might be the sole reason you only insist on going to that one specific Subway at the intersection next to KFC — but just one glance at Chan’s hand and you know that he’s strong.

He’s barely applying pressure to the pen, but you can see the veins slightly protruding. Chan’s sleeves are pushed back and if you move your head a bit, you’re more than certain that veins are bulging out from his forearms too. However, you don’t muster up the courage to do that because Chan will definitely notice and the last thing you want on your platter is to tell him that you were too busy checking out his arms instead of listening to him talk about Algebra II.

Eventually, Chan sets the pen down to stretch his hand. He says something, but you don’t pick up what exactly. Not that it’d matter much anyway since you’re too busy admiring his hand—

“(y/n), you there? I called out your name several times but you didn’t react.” Chan’s breath hitches and surprise flashes in his eyes for a split second when his gaze meets yours. You don’t understand his hesitation, but then horror bubbles in you once you realize that his hand is firmly gripping your chin and keeping your head pointed at his direction. The very same hand you’ve been staring at for God knows how long.

“I’m good. Just a little tired, but I’m good,” you stutter, though it comes out very breathlessly as if you just finished a marathon.

“Tired?” Chan echoes, concern settling into his features. “You should’ve said so, then I would’ve stopped talking. You need something?”

Now that you think about it, you’ve never got a close look at Chan. Sure, he’s handsome, the countless pictures of Google prove that he’s also too photogenic for his own good (goddamnit, why didn’t your parents make you just as photogenic?) but in person, he’s something else. His lips are plush and look very inviting to kiss, and the lower your eyes wander, the more you see a toned chest hidden underneath that damn shit that hugs him in all the right places.

Fine, his hands aren’t the only attractive thing about him. Then again, he’s a prince.

“I said I’m good.” you snap out of your thoughts and finally gather enough control over your nerves to tear his hand away. “And I caught everything you said.” Of course, you know that’s a blatant lie and he knows so too from the way he’s looking at you. That is until he quirks a brow.

“Okay, then what did I say before I called you?”

Your mouth feels dry. It’s almost as if he knew the reason for your distress. “I caught everything relevant to this,” you mutter, suddenly finding his curtains much more interesting. What an interesting design, maybe you should get yourself new curtains too—

“Then you wouldn’t mind solving these questions, right? Just so I can make sure that you got everything down.”

“Sure,” you reply because that’s the only thing you could say without hurting your ego and straining your vocal cords. Chan doesn’t comment any further and looks for some practice questions before sliding the iPad to you. Already the first question makes your head spin in disdain. Numbers? Variables? Never heard of them.

Chan is watching you like a hawk as you fiddle with the pen, unable to write down anything that makes remote sense. Feeling his eyes on you makes you feel helpless and you shift around in your seat. “What are you staring at?” you glare at him once you give up for good, and you just hope that your look is as intimidating as you pictured in your head.

“You’re definitely exhausted. You’re shaking,” Chan points out. Your eyes widen as you stare down and realize that your thighs are shaking, and it’s then and there when you realize that you’re feeling hot. Seems like Chan doesn’t realize that because the worry written on his face is genuine. “You say the exam’s in two weeks right? We can stop for today and work on this tomorrow. That is if you still want my help.”

You nod and add in a tiny voice, “Yes, please.”

You’re too busy ignoring the heat building between your thighs to notice the borderline feral sound that leaves Chan.

“And here I thought you had quality bonding time.” Youngjae gives a disappointed look. “You’re acting even colder towards him than before your exam meltdown. Your prick level can only stoop down so low.”

You ended up getting tutor lessons from Chan every day before the dreaded day of judgment: the exam in Algebra II. You spent more hours in his room than on your own if you were completely honest, and the results were fruitful. While you did manage to pass the exam with a fairly high score, the price you had to pay was hell.

It’s almost as if Chan caught up on your hand fixation. Sometimes he twirled the pen in his fingers, sometimes it was the simple bracelet dangling on his wrist. Just when you thought he had you figured out, he asks you if you’re alright, visibly oblivious to his effect on you. Such duality in a person should be illegal, you conclude. If you die from whiplash, you know who the perpetrator is.

“You were the one who pretty much pressured me into asking him for help,” you drawl.

“I had good intentions only! You can’t keep up the I-hate-royal-families-blah-blah mentality the entire time!” Youngjae wails before stuffing a handful of chips in his mouth.

“Watch me.” You internally cringe at the loud crunching sounds he’s making and add vigorously, “And stop chewing so loudly.”

“You’ll get around or so help me God—” he groans when his phone buzzes. He doesn’t spare a glance at the caller ID because there’s only one person who has set his ringtone to the baby shark song specifically for when he’s calling. “I gotta go, Jinyoung’s being a bitch again. Don’t murder somebody. Thanks.” You only watch him shuffle for his bag and grab a handful of chips before he’s out the door. Groaning, you clean up the mess he’s made on the table.

Just as you’re done wiping the crumbs off the surface, Chan pads into the room.

“Hey, can we talk?”

“I established right at the beginning that you should only talk to me when absolutely necessary.” you scowl, trying to walk past him.

“Well, this is important,” he urges and blocks the doorway, effectively stopping you from fleeing. “And I do deserve one conversation with you after I helped you out.”

“You offered on your own. That’s not the same as asking for a favor.” You successfully push your way past him, but in the next moment, he spins you around and pins you against the wall.

“We’re going to talk, whether you like it or not.” The sudden coldness of his tone has shivers running down your spine. Chan holds your wrist in an iron grip and if he clutched on any tighter, you wouldn’t put it past him to break your bones. Out of options, you comply and give him a curt nod before he lets go and takes a step back.

“I don’t understand you, (y/n). I genuinely thought you would put your prejudices aside but instead, all I get are mixed signals from you.”

It’s your turn to gawk. “Me? Mixed signals? What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about how you keep looking at me as if you want me to fuck your brains out.” If the color hasn’t drained from your face yet, it has now. Chan smiles wickedly at your horrified reaction but doesn’t stop there. “I’m talking about how you talk like you don’t want anything to do with me but act as if you’re begging for my attention.” He takes a step closer to you, and you wish you could morph with the wall. “I’m talking about how you keep staring at my hands and think I don’t notice it.” You wince when he rests his hands against the wall on each side of your face, leaning closer so that you can feel his breath on your lips. “So, you have a thing for my hands?” Bullseye.

“You’re so full of yourself. No wonder your ministers want to get rid of you,” you snap because you’d rather suffer from food poisoning than admitting that you want Chan’s fingers in you.

Something shifts within Chan. He gapes at you, clearly not expecting you to even know about the ministers. His demeanor darkens in a blink of an eye, and you feel like your legs are about to give up on you when you meet his eyes, black and feral.

“You’re playing with fire. Don’t anger me,” he warns, voice low and rough.

“So it’s true that you resorted to bottling up your feelings, your Highness?” you cock your head to the side. Chan clenches his jaw at the mention of his title, struggling to keep his anger in check. You laugh through your nose, then grab one of his hands and force it away from the wall. If he already knows that you’re thirsting after him, might as well go for it. “It’s funny how your ministers aren’t able to string you around like a puppet yet here you are, unable to do anything against a commoner. You know you have nice hands and you know my weakness and yet, you’re not using them on me.” He gulps when you fumble with his fingers.

And then he understands.

“Unless I misread the situation,” he says darkly, though you distinguish the slight tremor his voice carries. “Do you really want this? I’m not going to go easy on you.” Chan is dead serious, judging by the way he’s looking at you expectantly.

“The safe word is petunia.” You don’t take your eyes off him and add in a louder tone, “Now try me, do your worst.”

“You’re going to regret wanting me at my worst,” Chan growls and before you know it, he crashes his lips against yours. The kiss is anything but sweet, more of a clash of teeth and tongues and saliva dribbling down your chins, yet it leaves you boiling hot and wobbly on your feet. He presses you up against the wall and forces his leg between yours, the sudden contact making you hunch forward. You moan against his mouth when he tugs harshly on your hair, the sting making your nerves go haywire. In the meantime, your hands roam his upper body, blunt nails digging into his shoulders as you try to buck your hips against his leg. While he doesn’t budge, you manage to elicit a groan out of him.

When you pull away, you’re both gasping for air. Chan’s hair is disheveled from the way you’ve been pulling on them, lips pink and glossy. One look in his eyes is enough to make your heart stop beating. They’re dark and animalistic and set ablaze with unfiltered lust. You’re such in a daze from a simple kiss that you nearly stumble when Chan drags you to his room.

He manhandles you on his bed with ease before his lips latch on yours once more. You nearly sob when he rids you off your pants, putting pressure in all the right places to have you losing your mind. As you’re about to gain back some dominance in the kiss, he breaks it off. His fingers that were once ghosting over your underwear are now tracing patterns all over the material, making you spasm. “You’re such a brat, all bark but no bite. All it takes is one kiss and you’ve lost all your fight. Can you get any more pathetic?” he mocks as he focuses his fingertips directly on the wet patch of your underwear. Your eyes roll back as he rubs on the same spot, the broken moans leaving you eerily similar to cries. “Don’t tell me you’re about to come like this. How sensitive are you?”

“Am n-not—” you cut yourself off with a whimper when he lets the waistband snap against your skin.

“Yeah, you sure about that?” he grins and that’s when you break, feeling your high approaching at lightning speed.

“Don’t wanna come like this—”

“But I thought you’re not sensitive?” the satisfied grin just widens with every syllable that leaves his lips. “If you don’t want to come like this, all over your underwear, beg.”

Chan applies even more force to your sensitive spots, and you struggle to have a clear thought. The smirk he delivers is lethal, and you couldn’t be any more convinced that he’s the devil’s incarnate.

“I’ll do anything, please. Don’t let me come like this, that’s all I’m a-aah-asking for,” you weep, your blood nearly boiling at its climax, “I’ll even take a punishment!”

“Say my name,” he orders, fingers still drawing circles.

“Your—”

“My name, not my title.”

Your breath hitches as you finally realize what he’s aiming for. He wants you to remember that it’s him who’s reducing you into this illiterate mess. Him, the one you’ve been despising since before you even met. If you still had any ounce of dignity left, you’d try to fix the power imbalance until you’re left with no choice but to obey, but now you’re so close and the last thing you want to do is come with your pants on.

“Please, Chan,” your voice breaks towards the end and in an instant, he pulls away. As you’re letting you’re basking in the break from his brutal tempo, not too affected by how your upcoming orgasm is fading away, Chan observes you.

And then out of nowhere, he flips you on your stomach and delivers a hard smack to your ass that has you screaming into the pillows.

“You said you’d take any punishment too, right?” You twitch as he rubs the small of your back. You can already imagine the handprints on your ass he continued to slap you with such force that has you moving up the bed. The pain that’s going to haunt you for days. Before you know it, you try to arch your back to lift your ass, but then the bed shifts. “But if you really think I’m going to spank you as a punishment, then you’re really fucking dumb. As if I’ll use my hands on you when we both know you love my hands.”

With that, he drops himself on his chair, spreading his legs that you can see the prominent tent forming in his pants. He orders you over with a flick of his finger, and just as you get up from the bed, a new wave of horror flushes over you.

“Crawl.”

The look you send him is priceless. There’s no fucking way you can do it. It’s just a few meters, nothing you can’t handle, but he’s there sitting on his Ikea swivel chair as if it’s his throne made of gold, watching your every movement like a predator. And then there’s you, only in a shirt and underwear, being forced to go on all fours as if you were his fucking dog—

The difference in power display couldn’t get any more visible. He really is the fucking worst.

“You’d really do anything, huh…” he muses as you drop on your hands and knees and crawl to him, never looking up. It’s only when he beckons you to stand up that you look at him with nothing but rage and shame in your eyes. Chan has always been slightly terrified with your death stare but right now, he can’t take it seriously and it shows. It shows in the way he smiles lopsidedly, in the way his brows quirk in amusement. “Now hump my leg.”

Humiliation runs through your body all over. Your fists are clenched as he waits for you to act, even pats his thigh in case you didn’t get the memo. But oh you do, and his thigh does look inviting.

“Hump my leg like the brainless bitch you are. If you want my hands or my cock, you earn it first. Especially since you treated me like shit ever since I moved in.” The last sentence burns you badly because he has a point. But then there’s the prospect of his hands and dick that’s bulging out of his pants.

Pushing all thoughts away, you settle on his leg. Taking a moment to gather yourself, you tell yourself it’s all good and then you move. The first thrust knocks all air out of your lungs and you grab onto his shoulders for support. You didn’t even move that much, but Chan’s looking at you as if he’s about to fucking devour you and knowing that he is very much capable of moving you around, you’re starting to become overwhelmed.

Eventually, you lose yourself in the feeling of his rough jeans against your drenched underwear, humping on his thigh as your orgasm builds up. It’s silent, save for your pants, and the countless whimpers flying past your lips as your movements gradually become sloppier. You’re almost there and you know it. But so does Chan, and the moment he’s got it figured out, he lunges from your hips and forces you to pick up the pace.

“Oh no, you’re going to come,” he growls, ignoring your pleas and sobs. Adrenaline courses in your blood and you know it isn’t long until you fall apart. You try to make him stop, even put your hands on his, but you don’t have the energy to actively push him away.

“Chan, please— I’m gonna—”

“You’re gonna come? Then fucking come on my thigh, (y/n),” he snaps, and then adds, “You hear that? You’re about to come from humping my thigh.”

Maybe it’s the realization that he’s right, maybe it’s the way he’s worded it. Either way, it’s the last straw to make you spasm as you come, soaking your underwear and even managing to make a mess out of his pants. Chan makes sure you ride through your orgasm, only stopping to move your hips once you’re all spent and resting your head on his shoulder. Your eyes are glassy, vision foggy, but the only thing you can envision clearly is Chan.

Chan jolts when your hand grazes over his bulge. You’re about to undo his pants, but he’s quick to stop you and restrict your hands behind your back.

“You think you deserve my cock? Dream on. As if I would fuck any commoner, especially those who don’t respect me,” he spits, and you flinch at his choice of words, clearly recalling that you used the exact same terms and he’s now using it against you. “You said you’d take any punishment. Well, guess what? This was just punishment number one.”

#yes the ending is rushed oops sue me #may consider part 2 so heads up #stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan smut #chan smut #smut.mine #dom!chan #sub!reader #crispy.txt

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cyanidas · 3 years

Text

Midnight Manor; Episode 1, Part 4

Where should you go?

>The Science Tower.

You head for the door at the end of the foremost hallway to the east. An intricate, stylized brass plaque is fashioned to its face, reading; The Scientific Research Tower. You turn the handle, and head inside.

This Tower consists of various beeping, whirring, and humming machinery. You know just from looking at them, due to your years of expertise in the field of scientific research and innovation, that many of these machines are older models. They vary from biochemical splicers, to old encryption surveyor computers, and appear as though they've been in some form of stasis mode for who knows how long.

These machines line the walls of the large, rectangular area like trophies in a hunter's study. They have power running to them, but it doesn't seem as though they've run any higher process other than maintenance in a long time. You find yourself regarding the technology with apathetic admiration, knowing the ins and outs of every tool here, connecting them to memories both proud and ugly.

On the wall to your left is a ladder, enticing you to lift your gaze upward. Tools and devices give way to framed achievements, medals, maps, letters, blueprints, and the like. Xephos was always known for his involvement in the scientific community, himself; something you went to college with him to study.

Your vision may be a bit blurry now, but you can make out just near the ceiling, an object that seems crooked and out of place. Thankfully, it's near the ladder, so you decide climbing up to get a better look would be the best idea. You walk to the wall and hoist yourself onto the coated iron bars, easing yourself upward with each step.

As you climb, you think you may be hearing something in the cavity above you. Someone might have had the same idea as you to come here. You feel torn between further investigation of the noise, or the crooked item on the wall.

What should youuuuu, you you you, youyouyou you decide to try and get a look at the crooked object on the wall.

Reaching outward with your right arm, you try to gauge its distance to you without disturbing any of the nearby objects along the wall, and come to find that its about twice the length of your arm away from you. In the older days, you very easily could have swooped in using some device, be it a jetpack or some spliced wall-climbing ability...but these are not the old days.

You exhale with a huff. The noise above you stops. Your eyes widen, and you stare at an empty spot at the ceiling, but it feels as though you're staring right through, into the eyes of whoever is above you. A slight shuffle and a small shriek echoes back from the room, followed by a loud noise and a loud swear... it sounded familiar.

You ascend the ladder and unlatch the trapdoor to the room, and poke your head inside enough to see... Lalna... seething on his knees and clutching his hand. This room, unlike the white and steel of the room beneath it, is entirely wooden and decorated like some sort of study.

"...Jones?" you gently call to him, who inhales with a start and exhales with relief in response. "You okay, there?"

"Ack, yes, yes, I'm okay." he sighed, "You frightened me, that's all."

"What happened here?" you ask, gesturing your gaze downward to the floor, where he kneel among a pile of papers and a few reasonably sized cases.

"I...I was looking around the files up there, looking for devices like these." he pointed with his non-crumpled hand at one of the cases, "One of the cases managed to jab the back of my palm pretty harshly. I was only curious, you see..."

"Curious?" you ask, taking this time to lift yourself into the room.

"...Well, yeah. Xeph has thousands of unique tools and devices not seen since wartimes." he smiled in a way only those wholly passionate about a subject would smile, "To be able to see them again after so long... I've missed it."

His smile turned wistful... then quieted into a muffled horror and a deep, dark sorrow.

"That's...the only thing I've missed. One of them, at least." he draws his head to his right hand, which is already wrapped firmly in a bandage.

You nod.

"We've all lost a lot." you say in a low voice to reassure him in his loneliness, "And in some ways, gained back much...too much. All of it unwanted."

He only nods back, preferring only to observe the test motions of his hand.

"Let's get you off the floor." you extend your own hand to him, assisting him up before bending down again to gather the skewn papers along the floor. It seems as though three file cases had been toppled, each with different classified labels.

The red folder is littered with news clippings and polaroids, all paper-clipped in stacks.

The brown folder are all loose-leaf pages, unrelated to one another...but they do all seem connected, mentioning some sort of project.

Finally, the black folder contained folded pages of what must've been blueprints. You want to look, but decide now's not the time, and stuff them all into their proper place.

Lalna took the time to separate out the device carriers from the folder cases, opening and closing each one, before returning them to their rightful areas above the files.

"You go on ahead." he spoke up, "I'm gonna head down in a moment. I just need a few to collect my thoughts."

"I hear ya." you say, with a firm pat to his shoulder, "I'll be on my way, then."

You open the hatch again and begin your descent into the main hull of the tower. About halfway down, you feel something is amiss...

Looking upward, you notice something... the crooked item on the wall is... gone! You quickly whip your head around to survey the area, and you don't notice anything else out of the ordinary. Nothing jumps out at you, at least. Though confused, you continue down the rest of the way, and exit the tower.

The only person you see out here appears to be one of the taller men from the earlier greeting, resting on a couch in the common area clear across from you.

An hour has passed.

Where shall you go next?

#yogscast #yogs adjacent #midnight manor #yogtober #2021 #cyanidas #i really dont know what else to tag these as #cywrites #i guess?

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beomglocks · 4 years

Text

unlikely allies ; txt x reader

part: zero, ,,,next chapter

plot: when a zombie apocalypse breaks out in your town, you're forced to team up with a group of boys from very different social standards in your school.

genre: fluff, angst, horror i guess?, not really that scary but alright, some funny moments

w/c: 3.3K

warnings: blood, gruesome scenes (kind of really detailed), cursing, everyone hates each other, definitely some major injuries, zombies duh, everyone kinda pining for mc

︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵

"yeonjun you're late...again," your history teacher sighs. you watch as choi yeonjun strolls into class like normal. "sorry teach, i didn't really wanna come."

yeonjun is the school's heartthrob. everyone likes him, at least you think everyone likes him. you wouldn't say you like him but you can see why people would. he's an asshole but a cute asshole. he really doesn't care for his studies and treats people like they owe him something.

you roll your eyes at his answer and decide to focus on the roll call for when your name is called. "choi soobin?" you see a boy with purple hair raise his hand silently. you hear yeonjun snicker from the back of the class. you watch soobin turn around to glare at the other.

"something funny choi?" he seethes. yeonjun raises an eyebrow at soobin, leaning forward in his seat, "yeah something sure is funny."

soobin gets out of his seat and strides up to yeonjun's seat, easily towering over the boy. he grabs the collar of yeonjun's hoodie and lifts him up so that he's standing face to face.

"why don't you laugh in my face then?" soobin challenges. yeonjun looks bored, not even the slightest intimidated by the taller boy.

"ha. ha .ha." he annunciates each word mockingly, smiling in soobin's face.

the next thing you know the two boys are the floor fighting one another. "hey hey hey!" your teacher runs from the front of the class to the back to break up the fight. there's already a small crowd around them and no one seems adamant on helping break the fight up.

the thing is, choi soobin and choi yeonjun are known to fight a lot. you're not sure why they hate each other so much but every time they're near each other fists start flying. who thought putting these two in a class together was a good idea.

soobin was a quiet boy, everyone knew that. somedays he'd come dressed like the fluffiest cat you'd ever seen and sometimes he'd dress like a total greaser. he could just switch up like that; just like his attitude. he was nice, from what you knew he would always participate in extracurricular activities and charity events around the school. however, because people thought he was soft they would always mess with him. he was always able to hold his own though.

"hey break it up!" you hear your teacher shout. the two boys were in their own minds continuously throwing punches at each other. you were still sat at your desk, not really caring for fights between two stupid alpha males.

your teacher somehow manages to pull soobin from yeonjun and hold him back while a friend of yeonjun's holds him back as well. both boys have a good amount of blood on their faces so you can't really tell who won.

"you're fucking weak soobs! that shit barely hurt," yeonjun teases. he has blood trailing down his hairline from when soobin pushed him to the ground and blood on his nose and around his pouty lips. "bold talk for someone who just got their ass beat," soobin spits. he too has blood on his nose and lips but he's also sporting a cut on his cheekbone, yeonjun must've scratched his face.

"enough! yeonjun go to the nurse's room to get fixed up and soobin straight to the principal's office, you'll go to nurse after he's done, you hear me!" your history teacher orders. you watch her look around the room for someone suitable enough to escort yeonjun to the nurse's office.

you silently pray that she doesn't pick on you but seeing as you were the only one not interested in the drama, her eyes fall on you. "y/n please escort yeonjun to the nurse's office, i frankly don't trust him to actually go there on his own."

you curse at her in your mind but stand up anyways. "no problem," you force a light smile.

you and yeonjun leave the class ahead of soobin. as you're walking down the hallway, you glance at yeonjun. he doesn't look angry, if anything he looks calm. "i know i'm hot but stop staring at me," he looks down at you.

you roll your eyes at him. "do you not talk? come to think of it... i didn't even know you were in my class," yeonjun looks at you quizically but with curiosity in his eyes. you know that if you don't answer him he'll keep pestering you. "we've been in the same class for the past four years," you mutter.

you can feel his eyes on you but thankfully he doesn't say anything. while you two are walking through the halls you see a boy on the floor playing with something. "what's that kid doing over there?" yeonjun asks. he's already starting to walk away from you but you grab his sweater.

"sorry yeonjun but our only destination is the nurse's office," you say to him. he looks at you with his eyes narrowed down at where you're grabbing him. you stumble back as he yanks his arm away from your grasp, striding towards the boy. you huff following him.

"hey loser, what you got there?" yeonjun looks down at the boy. the boy turns around with confusion laced on his features. he sighs, "what do you want?" he pouts.

when you reach the boy you recognize him as choi beomgyu. the kid is smart but only when he wants to be. he's in your science class and is always messing around and not actually ever doing the work. either that or he skips class to run off and experiment with random things. he's a nice guy and you sometimes ask him for help during labs since he's probably the smartest kid in your class.

"hey beomgyu, what's up?" you greet him. he turns towards you and smiles warmly. "hey y/n," yeonjun looks between the both of you and rolls his eyes. "what the hell are you doing with one of the baseball teams bats?"

beomgyu moves the bat behind him and glares at yeonjun, "i was just curious as to what makes it so hard-hitting. i've been craving my way into it but can't seem to get too far."

you crouch next to him, "maybe you should've picked up one of the metal ones. i'm pretty sure the wood ones only have wood in them. though i heard they're made with bamboo so," you shrug. beomgyu stares at you silently.

"y-yeah you're probably right...thanks y/n," beomgyu snaps out of his daze and pockets the butterfly knife he was previously using. yeonjun tsks, "cmon y/n, let's go i already lost interest." yeonjun pulls you along as you watch beomgyu wave and head to the auditorium.

"god why did we have to take the long route this is fucking boring," yeonjun complains. you sigh, hoping he'll shut up already. "do you ever not talk?" you ask him. you both are too busy glaring at each other that you don't see when someone bumps into you.

the person drops the pile of books they were holding in their hands. "ah shit," they mumble. you snap out of glaring at yeonjun to see a boy on the floor with books scattered around him. "shit im sorry! i should've been looking at where i was going," you apologize kneeling down to help the boy pick up his books.

"oh don't worry i shouldn't have taken up carrying so many books to the point where i couldn't see!" the boy's voice is so cheerful it makes you smile. you're glad he's not mad at you.

the boy is really cute too. his boyish features suit his face well and his hair is messy but looks like he stylized it that way. he's dressed comfortably in a huge sweater and baggy jeans with a molang keychain attached to one of the belt loops.

"where are you even going with all these books?" you ask. "i offered to take these back to the library for my english teacher, in hindsight i really should've just taken two or three not the whole stack." he chuckles sheepishly. he gets up, picking up as many as he can.

you pick up the rest and set them on top of the already tall stack lightly. "well good luck," you pat the stack in encouragement and it makes him lean forward a bit. he thanks you and makes his way down the hall once again.

you turn to yeonjun who was leaning against the wall watching you. "seeing you being nice to everyone is making me want to choke," he grimaces. "take notes choi."

it felt like forever since you arrived at the nurse's office. walking with yeonjun was really torture to you since he wouldn't shut up about how amazing he thinks he is.

once you walk in you both notice that the nurse isn't at her usual place at the front desk. "she went out to get more ice from the cafeteria," you hear someone speak. you both turn around and see a boy sat on one of the cots the nurse sets up for people who injure themselves.

the boy is kang taehyun, member of the baseball team. "hey tae!" yeonjun greets. taehyun raises his brow and moves the now melted ice bag from his wrist. "what's got you in here?" yeonjun asks sitting on the cot across from taehyun.

"i'd rather you not act like we're friends," taehyun states calmly. "but if you must know, i was practicing my swings and got a little too caught up. i barely noticed that i sprained my wrist." he looks down at his wrist which is slightly swollen.

kang taehyun was the baseball team's most prized possession. they really did cherish him because he was the ace of the team. he always scored home runs and when he was pitching, he always managed to get the batter to strike out. he was really talented no one could deny that. despite his hard work on the field, he was dedicated to his studies and was always at the top of all his classes. you wondered how he felt about spraining possibly the most important part of his body.

"damn, that must suck," yeonjun states, he doesn't sound apologetic at all and you wonder how that guy could have any friends. "im just here to get patched and cleaned up because that dickhead soobin decided this was fight club," he tsks. taehyun chuckles, "hope he knocked some sense into you." yeonjun rolls his eyes.

taehyun finally notices your presence by the front desk and motions you over to them by the cots. he's friendly but not someone you'd normally hang out with. "you don't look hurt?" he chides. you point to yeonjun, "i was asked to bring him here since our teacher didn't trust him to come here and well, actually arrive. since the nurse isn't here im guessing I'll have to stick around in case he tries to escape."

taehyun chuckles, "makes sense."

the room is quiet for a couple of moments, save for the ticking of the clock on the wall. you feel awkward being around two of the biggest names at your school. yeonjun is sprawled out on the cot and taehyun is still cradling his wrist. "uh...when do you think the nurse will be here?" you ask quietly.

taehyun looks up at you, "well when you got here it had been about 15 minutes since she left. she probably took a detour or something?" you nod looking at his wrist once again. "you should probably wrap that in a gauze, it'll help with the swelling," you suggest. he smiles at you, "thanks...uh?"

"y/n"

"right thanks y/n," he stands up and walks over to the cabinet to find the gauze wrap. in the meantime, you turn to yeonjun. it looks like he's sleeping but being in a class with him for 4 years has taught you better. "yeonjun."

he doesn't move. "yeonjun get up, i know you're not sleeping," you try. he sits up with a groan, "what do you want? i barely know you." for some reason you feel rage bubble up inside of you. you're not sure why either. usually, you were fine with not being noticed by the "so-called" popular kids but because of yeonjun, you were stuck in the nurse's office watching over him like a babysitter.

"why the hell did you fight soobin? if it wasn't for you i wouldn't be here talking to you right now," you say through gritted teeth. yeonjun raises an accusing brow at you, "were you not watching the fight? he threw the first punch for fucks sake." "you provoked him," you retort.

"it's not my fault he's dumb, god do i have to take responsibility for that too?" he groans laying back down on the cot. you eye him but decide to leave the conversation at that.

after your mini argument with yeonjun, you see taehyun return with the gauzes already wrapped around his wrist. "this is much better," he smiles down at his wrist. "glad i could help," you smile at him.

silence falls upon you three again until you hear a groan from outside. it doesn't really sound like a groan a human could possibly make, it sounds way to pained and low. "what was that?" taehyun asks. you shrug, "it might be the nurse." you walk over to the door and take a look outside.

the hallways on both sides are dimly lit and desolate. you can't really see down the hall because it just fades to black. you walk back inside the nurse's office. "there's no one out there and honestly, it looks way too cree-," you're cut off as a shrill scream rips through your conversation.

yeonjun sits straight up this time, "what the hell was that?" taehyun's eyes are wide with alarm, "that scream did not sound like a happy scream."

your eyes dart back and forth from yeonjun to taehyun. "i swear when i looked outside there was nothing," you say hurriedly. you're not sure why you feel panicked but you do. "check again," yeonjun tells you. you want to tell him 'no' or 'do it yourself' but you were the one to check first so you figure a second check done by you is only fair.

sighing, you walk to the door once again and look into the halls. for the second time, you don't see anything except for the darkness of the long hallways but you peer further and notice something.

all the way near the end of the hallway you see the nurse running towards her office. "hey i see the nurse," you call out to the boys. they make noises of acknowledgment and you hear yeonjun mumble a 'finally'. you keep watching her but you notice that she's running quite frantically to be considered normal. you don't say anything watching her run towards the office with confusion laced on your face.

that's when you see it. you see a figure running almost at the same speed as her but with more of a limp in their step. that's when you can hear the groaning more clearly but it's not coming from the nurse, its coming from the figure behind her.

the nurse makes the fatal mistake of tripping over her heels because she's running so wildly. her body slides a couple of feet from the door but she struggles to stand. she looks up at you and you can see that she has sweat and blood all over her face and her hair is unruly and matted.

"h-help me please!" she calls out to you. your heart is beating intensely. you don't know why she looks like this but you want to help. "y/n?" you hear taehyun call out to you. "what's going on out there?"

you bite your lip and decide to help her but as soon as you step out of the office the limping figure lurches forward and pounces on the nurse's idle body on the floor. you let out a horrified scream and step back. you can see the 'limping figure' clearer now and it seems to be one of the lunch ladies.

the only thing was that she didn't look the way she did when she served you breakfast this morning. her skin was pale and her veins were strangely very visible throughout her face and arms. her uniform was tattered and ripped as if a struggle of some sort had taken place. her face had deep scratches that had drying blood pouring out of them. her eyes were not warm, they seemed to be greyed out and she seemed very rabid.

you stood there, horrified, as the lunch lady tore through the nurse's clothes and body. you wanted to throw up as a bit of the nurse's blood was unintentionally launched at you. the lunch lady dipped her head down to use her teeth to devour the nurse's flesh in cold blood. you couldn't even rack up a sob.

it was like something out of a horror movie. except this was real life.

before the lunch lady could even finish eating the nurse, you watched as the nurse's body convulsed and thrashed violently before standing up on her own. her head was hung low and she seriously smelled disgusting.

you felt stuck as you watched both women stumble towards you before breaking out in full sprints. you flinched and shut your eyes tightly as you waited for your life to flash before them. it really felt like at any moment you would find yourself being eaten alive and convulsing into whatever monster that was.

but the feeling never came. instead, you felt your body crash against taehyun's on the floor. the only thing you could hear was the door slam shut and the screeching and groaning of whatever the hell those people were outside as they tried to get through the door.

you opened your eyes slowly and noticed that yeonjun was to one to slam the door shut, it seems like taehyun had pulled you inside.

taehyun groaned, moving to stand, "what the hell was that?" you shook your head, now having time to process what you saw. "she ate her...s-she- her body," you couldn't even finish explaining as you broke out in tears. taehyun ran a soothing hand up and down your back.

yeonjun moved away from the door. there was a tiny window on the door so you guys could see that the monsters were still trying to get in. "what the hell are we gonna do! if we go outside they'll tear us to shreds!" yeonjun too had tears streaming down his face. you have to admit you'd never seen him so vulnerable.

taehyun was the only one not crying. you could see tears in his wide eyes but they never fell. you figured he was trying to be the strong stable one in the group right now. "ok guys lets calm down. we don't know if we're the only people alive so we need to be careful." taehyun explains.

you do really feel bad for him right now. you know he's a year younger than you and yeonjun and him having to be the 'leader' at this moment must be tough.

he sighs looking at the both of you. "if we wanna make it out of here alive...we're gonna have to fight."

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spruceplank · 3 years

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I told you I was brave but I lied

AN: based on this post by @blocklasagna

Or the AU from the time after Wilbur’s death and before Tubbo’s peaceful driven presidency can really begin because rebuilding has just started: The universe takes Tommy from Dreamsmp and asks the admin of Hermitcraft to help him heal. Cue Tommy now in Hermitcraft re-learning how to live again and not just survive because he deserves a chance to be a kid again.

Content warning: Descriptions of a panic attack

ao3 || 3.6k words || First | Previous | Current | Next

When Xisuma asks him if he wants to go to the server shopping district, he immediately says yes. It doesn't matter that this meeting is going to be for Xisuma telling the rest of the server he's here for now. It doesn't matter that it's like twenty plus people he's never met before in his life. He's not worried about it at all! If it means he gets to see more amazing buildings like Xisuma's base but now from so many different people he's all for it! If only he could get himself to believe it.

When Xisuma leads him to a nether portal he's starting to think this wasn't the best idea. He manages to pass it off as being worried about piglins and Xisuma assures him that their nether hub is spawn proofed, well at least the parts they'd be going through.

That's not something he's sure of but he decides to continue to trust Xisuma for now, at least on this. When he goes through the portal though, if it weren't for the sweltering heat he would not believe this was the nether. He doesn't have time to even look around at the place because he's too busy trying to catch up to Xisuma who's already off walking towards another portal. Hermitcraft huh… Was everything on this server so extravagant and resource intensive? The only other place he's seen so much warped or crimson wood is in the respective forests they come from.

He's too busy gawking at the massive tunnel, made out of crying obsidian of all things, that he almost misses Xisuma going through another portal. Thankfully he manages to catch a glimpse of yellow in the corner of his eye and he scrambles over to follow the admin through the portal. Upon stepping out the other side he immediately thinks that this has to be some sort of fever dream. There are diamonds in the trees. And not even like just a couple, like as many diamonds as Technoblade owns and that's a lot of fucking diamonds. He looks around and is just blown away.

This is a fully paved and detailed shop like area. This is the kinda shit he remembers seeing on servers dedicated to shopping where days of work were spent to make a server area look nice. There's an entire series of stylized buildings that are all completely different scattered about and then he turns around - Holy Fucking Shit. There's a fucking diamond throne. There is a throne made of diamond blocks, literally only diamond blocks in the building behind him. It doesn't matter if it's only the front of the throne or its hollow on the inside, that, holy fucking shit. How many diamonds even is that?

He doesn't even realize he's stopped walking until Xisuma is asking, "Tommy? Are you alright?"

"What the fuck." Is all he manages to say. Why the fuck is there a dog in a jumpsuit. Do those sheep have sunglasses on? What the hell is going on around here?

"Excuse me?" Xisuma balks.

There's, that's a fucking terraformed mountain. He bites the inside of his cheek to make sure he's not having a hallucination or in the middle of a fever dream. Nope, neither of those. He really can't put thoughts into words right now so all he manages to say is, "What the fuck is this place."

"The shopping district?" Xisuma hesitantly supplies. He needs Xisuma to know how crazy this is to him. What the actual shit.

"Dude, Xisuma, how? There's, there's fucking diamonds in the trees. The throne, the throne of diamond blocks. It's just sitting there? Hello? How has no one stolen that? Then there's the fucking buildings! What the fuck!" He yells, half laughing because he feels like he's losing his mind a little bit.

"Welcome to Hermitcraft, your one stop shop for over the top." A new voice chimes in from behind him, sounding amused.

"Hello Joe." Xisuma greets the other person, Joe. He turns to look at whoever it is and finds a dude with a basic blue shirt and jeans. The blue shirt has a white @ symbol on it. Brown hair hangs slightly over the edge of rectangular glasses.

Joe gives Tommy a smile when their eyes meet and he feels like the man is staring into his soul when he greets, "Howdy Xisumavoid and guest, you're up and around much faster than I thought you would be."

"Right introductions! Tommy this is Joe Hills, pseudo admin and poet. And Joe this is Tommy." Xisuma

"Hiya Tommy, nice to meet you." Joe offers a hand which he shakes.

"Thanks, you too." He nods to Joe.

Joe smiles at him again and he thinks that maybe its not Joe, maybe he just isn’t used to people being friendly without an ulterior motive that makes him so nervous about meeting the man. He’s distracted from his thoughts when Joe asks, "So did Xisuma tell you much about this server?"

"Uh… No, not really?" At least he hopes not. He didn’t remember much of anything. It was called Hermitcraft. Xisuma was the admin. Uh….

Joe sends a look to Xisuma who merely sputters in response for a moment before defending himself with an explanation, "I didn't want to overwhelm him! He thought my base was a lot yesterday so I figured he could learn as he went."

"So you didn't want to overwhelm him but then you brought him to the shopping district for the emergency meeting where you're going to tell most everyone on this server that Tommy will be here for the foreseeable future with no other explanation? And you didn't want to overwhelm him?" Joe continues to send a look of what he can only call ‘displeased parental figure’ at Xisuma as he asks. Yikes, he’s seen that enough from Philza Minecraft to know that even if it doesn't mean you’re in trouble it certainly means this wasn’t your brightest idea.

"Okay, fair point." Xisuma sighs.

"Is everything on this server like this?" He can’t help but ask nervously. There was no way right? But no, Xiusma’s base was insane. The nether hub was also insane too.

Joe laughs lightly, "Tommy there are things on this server that will blow your mind, this is just a small glimpse of what Hermitcraft is like."

"Fucking hell." He can’t help but mutter.

"Well I wouldn't want to spoil the surprises of Hermitcraft either. After all, where's the fun in that." Joe grins at Xisuma who merely shakes his head in response to the man’s antics. Joe rolls his eyes but starts walking away only to call over this shoulder, "Alright follow me you two, Xisuma is going to be late to his own meeting."

"We'll have time! Someone else is always late!" Xisuma yells after Joe.

"Yeah but some of us, have things we would like to get back to. Remember this was just brought up yesterday." Joe yells back without stopping or turning around. Xisuma grumbles under his breath but gestures for Tommy to follow him after Joe. Well at least these two seemed like good friends. Hopefully that would bode well for him. But then again, he and Quackity used to be good friends too.

"Hello everyone and thank you all for coming on such a short notice." Xisuma addresses the crowd gathered around the outside of a building. Apparently this was the moon area? He didn’t know what the surface of the moon would look like but here in the center of all of this it certainly looked out of place. Pretty bleak too but there were so many different blocks blended together he had to give whoever built this area props for the block varieties. He stands a little behind one of the various pillars in the ground near where Xisuma is so he’s not visible to the others because he doesn’t want people staring at him right now. Its weird to occasionally peek around and see all these people in the same place talking nicely with one another. He’s used to only seeing fighting when large crowds gather. The area gets silent after Xisuma talks.

"What's this all about anyways?" Someone asks.

He expects Xisuma to ask him to come forward but the admin doesn’t even look his way when answering, "We have a guest who will be staying here on Hermitcraft with us for the foreseeable future. I expect you to all be on your best behavior."

"Why did you look at me when you said that?!" Someone cries out, sounding offended.

There’s a round of laughter when someone teases, "I don't know mother spore, why do you think?"

The first voice snipes back, "Hey! You're in on that too!"

"Yeah but you started it! Besides everyone knows the HEP is the best around here." The second voice throws back with a huff, "Maybe we'll recruit our new guest to join us as well."

Someone else chimes in, "Oh no don't you dare! What if he wants to join our side? Not you HEP people!"

"Nuh huh! He'd join our side after just touring our base!" Another voice retorts back and he peaks around the pillar to look at the group of people. He can’t really make out who is who or who’s been speaking. But now he’s curious.

"Sides of what?" He can’t help but ask, hoping that someone will answer without looking for him.

A man with a pinstripe suit talks without even realizing it was Tommy who asked, "The opposing sides of the war-"

Opposing sides of the war. Opposing sides of the war. The opposing sides of the war. He’s running from the battlefield before he even realizes he’s gone. He hears someone call his name and a few others echo that call but he won’t go back there. Please, please, please no. He hears the sounds of withers and explosions. He can hear the opposing side’s cheers as his friends die. It was never meant to be. The final control room. Eret betrayed them. They all lost a life. He’s already lost two lives. He only has one left. His brother is dead. Wilbur is dead. That’s a good thing right? It means his brother won’t have to suffer anymore. He couldn’t save his brother. He couldn’t save his best friend.

He doesn’t know where he is. The ground is hard beneath him but he can’t breath. Is it possible to drown on dry land? Why is he just sitting here? They’ll catch him if he doesn’t keep running. He pushes himself off white walls and turns to run only to smack into someone coming around the corner of the building.

He’s knocked back to the ground and the world spins. Over the sound of his own heartbeat in his ear he can sorta make out someone say, "A Kid?"

"Oh no." Everything sounds far away. There are people here. He's walked right into two of the enemies. He's as good as dead.

He has to leave. He has to run while they're distracted. He tries to get himself up from the ground only to fail and fall back down against the hard stone. Someone is asking him a question, "Woah dude, are you alright?"

Are they asking him a question? He squints, trying to make out the people in front of him. The world comes together to see a person with a moustache and someone with a robot eye. He doesn't know these people. He shuts his eyes again and curls in on himself. He doesn't understand. What is going on? Why is he so scared? Why can't he breathe?

"Iskall he's having a panic attack." One of the people says. He recognizes the words. A panic attack? It sounds familiar but when he tries to remember why all he can hear is laughter blending into explosions. The world is shaking. The ground crumbles beneath him and - there's something touching his arm.

He wretches away from the touch, eyes shooting open to identify the threat. It's the person with the robot eye. They're holding up their hands in a non threatening way. They're not a threat to Tommy. Their voice is warm when they ask, "Can you hear me? Is it okay to touch you?"

The thought of them not being a threat is quickly overrun by maniacal laughter. Let's be the bad guys, let's be the bad guys. Wilbur wasn't a threat before. People change. He can't trust anyone. The mustached person watches him before turning to robot eye and quietly saying, "Iskall I don't think he can hear us, we need to go get-"

"NO!" He chokes out on half a breath. No, no, no, no, no. He doesn't know these people. He doesn't trust them. But what if they bring back someone he does know? What if it's an enemy? What if it's one of his brothers? He'd rather leave his fate to strangers than anyone he knew.

"Alright alright, can you match my breathing? In and out, in and out, may I see your hand?" Robot eye, what was the name, he doesn't remember what the other person said. Robot eye asks for his hand, holding out one of their own like a request. He doesn't want to take it. He doesn't want to take it. A grounding presence. Calm the breathing. Match my breathing. Static fills his head in the places where memories should be. He holds out his hand. Robot eye gently maneuvers his violently shaking hand onto their chest, he can feel a steady heartbeat beneath his palm. The slow, exaggerated rise and fall of their chest. They're talking to him again, "See just time it with mine okay? Don't think about it, just follow what you feel."

He feels like he's drowning. He feels like the world is shaking. He chokes on his own sobbing and panicked breathing, "They, don't, don't let -"

"Hey, hey it's okay, it's okay. Just match my breathing okay?" Robot eye whispers to him. Gently tapping his wrist to get his attention. Through blurry vision he can make out the fact they're counting but he can't hear the numbers.

"Can't, can't, too loud." Even his own words sound like a roar in his ears. He's going to die here isn't he? This is where they died, this is where it ended. The cramped walls of the ravine loom over him as yelling echoes from nearby. Its too loud here, its always too loud here.

"Mumbo, do the Sahara protocol." Robot eye says to mustache.

Mustache, Mumbo?, looks bewildered at Robot eye who merely nods with a raised eyebrow as if saying to speak. Mumbo sighs but starts to explain something, "So you start by selecting the items you want which sends the order keys back -"

He tries to focus on whatever is being said but it's so over his head that he doesn't even know what the hell is being said. In a brief respite of everything not being deafeningly loud, he can hear the Robot eye person quietly reassuring him, "There you go, just match my breathing. In and out, in and out."

"When the order key… gets sent back to the warehouse… the connected...." Mumbo’s voice fades in and out as he tries to calm his breathing. His heartbeat pounds loudly in his head and everything seems muffled as he tries to make sense of the world.

"Conn- connect the what?" He struggles to ask through shaky words. What the fuck is this dude talking about? Didn’t he hear something about pistons?

There’s a pressure on his wrist as someone, Robot eye, squeezes his arm lightly to get his attention. Its a little hard to hear but he can make out the concerned voice that tells him, "Hey, hey, don't speak, no speaking until you're matched up your breathing."

So he sits there and listens to whatever the fuck is being talked about. He closes his eyes and just listens. This has to be about redstone. He’s heard repeater and comparator which he’s pretty sure are redstone things? His knowledge of anything beyond basic pistons and stuff is basically nothing. Eventually it feels like he isn’t dying anymore. He opens his eyes to see Mumbo pacing back and forth as he talks.

"And then once the shulker box loader is done," Mumbo is just making up words at this point. What the fuck is a shulker box? A loader? Are these english words? He’s too busy trying to figure out what the fuck a shulker box loader that he misses more of whatever is being said. He only snaps out of his own thoughts when Mumbo finally stops pacing, "Until finally the order arrives and you can remove your items from the shulker box."

He stares up at Mumbo, hoping that he looks as confused as he feels. When Mumbo merely shrugs he looks towards the other person who asks, "Better now?"

"Yeah, what the fuck was all that?" He questions, ignoring how raspy his voice sounds.

Mumbo looks at him like he’s the one making up words, "The panic attack or the redstone?"

"You were talking about redstone!?" He can’t help but squawk.

"Yeah?" Robot eye hesitantly answers.

Everyday he is just a little bit closer to losing his mind like Wilbur did, "What the fuck."

The conversation forcibly switches topics when Robot eye suddenly points at him and declares, "Oh wait you're that Tommy kid!"

"I'm not a kid!" He instinctively bites back before he realizes what was just said and pauses for a moment. He never told these people his name, "But my name is Tommy, how did you know that?"

"Dude we've met before, remember MCC?" Does he remember what now?

"What's MCC?" He asks confusedly. Why were these two saying fake words at him? Wasn’t it enough that he had a panic attack?

"Minecraft Championships, run by Noxcrew? If you don't remember me then surely you remember False and Ren right?" Robot Eye person presses. The other two share a concerned look and he feels like he’s missing out on some inside joke.

"Um.. You sure are saying words to me…" He tries to laugh it off but it really doesn’t work. He sure hopes he’s not supposed to remember these people.

"You're joking." Robot eye states and maybe he flinches a little at that.

"Uh…" He looks between the two of them trying to grasp any sort of name from his memory but he's only coming up with a whole lotta nothing.

Mumbo awkwardly clears his throat, "Iskall I don't think he's joking."

They all sit there in the weird silence where the air hangs heavier than when he was in the middle of the panic attack. He realizes that his hand is still awkwardly held out against Iskall’s chest where he can still feel the other’s heartbeat. He bites the inside of his cheek, trying to push past the uncomfortable weirdness that he feels because everyone is going to be aware of what he’s doing and focus on him again at the movement. When he finally works up the courage to do so its right as Mumbo says, “We should probably tell the others you’re here.”

Immediately his world seems to darken at the edges of his vision. There’s hands on his shoulders and his eyes snap open, when did he even close them?, to see Iskall looking at him with concern, "Tommy, Tommy just breathe. It's to let Xisuma know you're safe. He becomes a mother hen when he's worried."

He nods weakly, trying to remember how to breath again. He hates this. Hates feeling like this. Hates having to rely on others for something so stupid. His breathing stutters to a more even pattern slowly. Mumbo holds up his communicator which is open to a private chat with Xisuma, "I'll even send a private message to Xisuma, do you want to watch me do it?"

He doesn’t understand why these two are being so kind to him. But he does want to watch Mumbo message Xisuma. Because even if they were nice to him, he still couldn’t trust them. He watches the messages pop up over Mumbo’s shoulder from where the man shifts to sit down next to him against whatever building is at his back.

MumboJumbo: Hey X, me and Iskall found your lost guest. We're probably taking him back to the jungle for a bit.

He wonders what the jungle is aside from being a biome. Is that where these two live? He is thankful that wherever it is, its somewhere out of this shopping district.

Xisumavoid: Oh thank goodness you have him, is he okay?

He feels bad for making Xisuma worry. Why does he always mess everything up?

MumboJumbo: He's physically unharmed and a little shaken up still but he's okay

Xisumavoid: Okay? Why don't I believe that?

MumboJumbo: Iskall says to remember the fifth? What does that mean?

Xisumavoid: Tell Iskall I want to talk to him later but otherwise I'll leave Tommy in your hands. Thanks, you two.

He can’t help but feel even worse at Xisuma’s trust. He has to clear his throat but he manages to rasp out, “Te- tell him I said hi. And, and that I’m sorry.”

MumboJumbo: Sounds good, Tommy says hi and sorry by the way.

Xisumavoid: There's nothing to be sorry for Tommy, but hello back :P

MumboJumbo: :P

He zones out for most of the trip wherever they take him. The jungle right? It's only when he blindly stumbles into Iskall's back for a third time in the nether that he's forced into a piggyback ride. He passes out before they even leave the nether. Maybe letting other people help him is okay, just this once.

#hermitcraft x dsmp #hc x dsmp #dsmp x hc #i think those are all the tags i need on this now?#anyways i return from my break of having to do life things bleh #next chapter will hopefully not be as mean to me as this one was #i hope yall enjoy it anyways!

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quickspinner · 3 years

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Guard My Heart - Ch 2 Bright as Ever

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“It looks so great, Marinette!” Tikki squealed and Marinette sat back on her heels and looked up, smiling as she rubbed a forearm across her forehead.

“It really does,” Marinette agreed, her voice slightly muffled by the mask she was wearing to filter out some of the paint fumes. She laid her paintbrush carefully aside and looked up. “How’s it going up there?” she asked, and dodged a glob of black paint just in time. “Careful,” she scolded, scrubbing at the spot with a rag even though she had a drop cloth on the floor for just this reason.

“My apologies,” Wayzz said above her, moving so that his paintbrush was hovering over the paint can and not Marinette’s head. “You startled me. I am almost done.”

“Good,” Marinette smiled, and resisted the urge to tell him to hurry up. Wayzz was careful, which was why she had selected him to help her with this final stage, filling in the last of the narrow curlicues and flowers she had roughed in days ago. His care came at the price of speed, though, and sometimes his slowness made Marinette want to scream.

It was still more efficient to have Wayzz filling in the upper portion than for Marinette to get up on a ladder to do it, and the kwami was so happy to be helping that she didn’t have the heart to rush him, so she throttled down her impatience and walked out to the middle of the room to spin a slow circle and take it all in. She’d had most of the kwamis in here helping at one time or another, because this would be their home as well and she wanted them to feel some ownership and investment in it. The walls that surrounded her were now a soft pink, with her signature flowers in darker pink and black at all the corners and coordinating scrollwork anywhere that seemed too empty. Framed photographs from her portfolio were stacked in a corner and covered with a cloth. She’d hang those tomorrow, once the paint was dry. The back wall that they were finishing up now had her flower design on a much larger scale, framing the little sales counter. Fixtures and clothing racks were all shoved to the center of the room at the moment, but now that the painting was done, she could start getting that arranged. She wasn’t ahead of her plan by any means, but she was on track.

She noticed a shadow against the paper covering the shop’s front door just before there was a rap on the glass. Marinette waited for Wayzz and Tikki to zip out of sight, and then went to answer it. She was pretty sure she recognized the silhouette, and sure enough, Luka’s friendly grin greeted her as she opened the door.

“Hi,” he said, a little sheepishly. “I’m trying to move a table and I could use a hand. Would you mind coming over when you have a second?”

Marinette smiled. “I have a second now,” she said, stepping out and checking her pocket for her key before she let the door close behind her.

Luka chuckled and tapped the mask Marinette was still wearing, and she blushed beneath it. “Oh. Right.” She took it off, embarrassed as she rubbed at the lines she was sure it had left on her face. She opened the door again and dropped the mask back inside, knowing that one of the kwamis would retrieve it for her.

“You could just prop the doors open,” Luka suggested as they walked over to his space.

Marinette huffed. “I don’t like being watched while I work,” she replied, which was only half a lie. It was true she didn’t especially want people looking in on her while she was contorted around, potentially with her ass in the air, trying to find a good position to do what she needed without leaning into wet paint. Mostly, though, she didn’t want the kwamis on display for any passers-by.

She smiled a little as Luka held the door of his own shop open and motioned her inside. It had a more industrial warehouse feel, with exposed beams in the walls and ceiling, and low voltage lighting strung over the crowded space. Marinette wouldn’t have been at all surprised to find out the multicolor slat wood flooring had come from the Liberty (it hadn’t, Luka had laughingly assured her when she asked, but he had picked it because it reminded him of home). Really, the whole place felt like the Liberty, and Marinette loved it, right down to the friendly, grinning cement turtle statue sitting by the door. The thing was knee high to Luka and while one couldn’t exactly call him pretty, his shell twinkled with embedded pieces of mosaic tile in many colors, and there was an air of mischievousness in his grinning face that made Marinette smile back every time she saw him. He looked exactly like the kind of thing Anarka would go wild for, regardless of the fact that he was incredibly, impractically heavy. She couldn’t imagine what shipping him had originally cost, and Luka’s story of actually getting it to its place by the door had left Marinette giggling uncontrollably. She was positive from the look on Luka’s face while he told the tale that it was never moving from that spot unless someone both bought it, and was willing to carry it away.

The whole shop was full of fun, eclectic things like that, as well as some more valuable antiques. Marinette loved it, and could picture in her mind the type of customer Luka was likely to bring in. She hadn’t told him that she’d already started a few sketches for his branding, based around a stylized boat. It had taken her a few days to get over the fact that he’d named his shop Second Chance Antiques and Curiosities . She had nearly laughed in his face when he told her, and that would have been really hard to explain. She’d managed to hold it in until she was alone, and then she and Sass had had a good laugh over it.

“Sorry I have to keep asking for your help,” Luka grunted, as they both took an end of the table he needed moved and shifted it. “I thought I had a plan, but there’s just so much stuff, I keep having to rearrange.”

“It’ll be easier when you get some customers in here and get some of this stuff—oof—out of your hair.” Marinette sighed as they set the table down in the area Luka had cleared out for it. “Maybe if you used the bigger pieces as sort of...display cases for some of the smaller stuff?” she suggested, stretching her back slightly as she looked around.

“Yeah, maybe,” Luka sighed, giving her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m sure I’ll figure it out eventually.”

Marinette put her hand on his arm and rubbed it gently. “You will. We’ve both got a lot of lessons to learn, but we’re both adaptable. We’ll make it happen.”

Luka made an affirmative noise, but sighed again.

“Luka,” Marinette said gently, and he looked at her with that same not-quite-there smile.

“I’m okay. Freaking out a little, but I’ll manage. I’ll be fine once the shop opens and things start happening, it’s just...the waiting is getting to me, I guess. It’s not like I don’t have a thousand things left to do to get ready, but...I don’t know, I’m not explaining myself well.” He looked away from her, and ran his fingers through his hair. It was hanging loose today, and the blue looked bright and fresh. He must have done a touch up for opening week, she thought absently, reaching up to tuck a lock behind his ear. His eyes darted to her with something like surprise and she drew her hand back quickly, self-conscious.

“You won’t know what the right choices are until you can get people in and see their reactions,” Marinette suggested, and the smile he gave her was real this time, real and grateful, and she smiled back. “You’re better at reading people in the moment rather than predicting people you don’t know—o-or at least you used to be—so I can see how you’d be frustrated trying to do this without any way to get feedback.”

“You’re not like that,” he muttered, smile falling as he looked back at the shop and sighed. “You’ve probably had a vision and a plan since before you signed the contract.”

Marinette bumped her shoulder against his. “You’re not me, though. It’s okay to do things your way, and not mine. Opening week is important, but it isn’t everything.”

Luka grinned at her, and Marinette felt her shoulders curl under his knowing look. “It caused you physical pain to say that, didn’t it,” he chuckled.

Marinette scoffed and folded her arms, and then muttered, “Maybe.”

Luka laughed and put his arm around her shoulders, giving her a little squeeze before letting his arm drop. “Thanks for the pep talk, Marinette.”

He was smiling now for real, and it didn’t fade, and Marinette felt unreasonably proud about it. She opened her mouth to say something, though she had no idea what, when Luka’s phone beeped a familiar tone. He frowned and pulled it out of his pocket, checking the akuma alert. Marinette leaned over without thinking to look as well, dread curling in her gut even as her heart pumped faster.

“It’s not nearby,” Luka assured her, and Marinette sighed, and then her eyes widened and she jerked back a bit as she suddenly realized how she was crowding him.

“Well, that’s a relief,” she said, quickly, backing up. “I should—”

“Watch out!” Luka was lunging forward before she even registered her calf hitting something hard, and he grabbed her arms just as she pitched backwards with a yelp. “I got you,” he said breathlessly, as he braced his feet and pulled her upright. “Sorry, that scared me,” he said, letting go of her quickly, his hands moving to tug the tail of his shirt nervously and nodding at the glass-top coffee table she had almost fallen into. “You could have really gotten hurt. Please be careful.” He grinned sheepishly. “At least until I get this place a little more organized.”

“Luka.” Marinette stepped forward and hugged him, and though his arms wrapped immediately back around her, she felt herself blushing, the feel of a man’s body against her instead of a half-grown boy’s suddenly forcibly reminding her that they weren’t teenagers anymore. “Couffaines don’t do organized,” she teased, keeping her head down so he couldn’t see her embarrassment. “Stop trying to make it look like you think it’s supposed to, and do it your way. It’ll be fine, and you can adjust from there.” She let go quickly and straightened without looking at him.

“I have to, um, go finish my painting before it all dries out or...something,” she said quickly, making sure she watched where she was going this time as she walked away from him, face burning. Stupid, why had she done that? Sure, they were friendly, and yeah, they’d fallen fairly easily into something like their old friendship. Luka had clearly meant what he said, about the way friendships come and go, and he seemed perfectly ready to let her take back her place in his life, and it was so easy to just go with it...

Not exactly her old place, she reminded herself firmly. That was hardly to be expected. He’d always been touch-oriented though, and had been touching her shoulder or her arm or her back just as casually as he ever had, so maybe the hug wasn’t a big deal to him. He probably hugged his friends all the time, and it’s not like he knew that she didn’t. Besides, she used to, and she probably would, if she still had friends—real friends. And Luka was a real friend, so there was nothing wrong with hugging him, especially when he was clearly so worried about whether he could pull off this new business venture. She was freaking out over nothing, surely. She could comfort him; he’d do the same for her—he had done the same for her, so it was her turn , after all, especially being the more experienced when it came to business and marketing, so...

Marinette rushed through the door of her shop and locked it quickly, and then put her hands over her face and shrieked into them.

“Marinette,” Tikki said sympathetically, flying up from her purse to pat her shoulder.

“I know,” Marinette mumbled. “Okay, um...I don’t think I can leave in spots just now without being seen so...let’s go out the back and try that alley a couple blocks over.”

Transformed and with her mind focused on the goal, she followed the general direction of the alert, and then the screaming, to a fancy restaurant on the roof of a high-rise. Chat was already there, crouched in the remains of the outdoor dining, clearly regrouping.

“What’s up?” she asked, landing next to him.

“This restaurant’s nearly impossible to get a table at,” Chat said grimly, with none of the joking humor he would have used once. “Big snob energy. Guess they snubbed the wrong person today. Best guess is the akuma’s target is the maitre’d or the manager, unless there was some random civilian that was especially rude. Looks like your standard entitled rich lady to me, though, so I’m betting on a beef with the restaurant.” He glanced at her. “You got here pretty quick today.”

“I’ve made some changes in my personal life,” she said carefully. “I’m hoping it’ll give me a little more freedom and you won’t have to wait for me so often.”

“Not like I have anything better to do, but I’m not complaining,” Chat grunted. “Give me the plan and let’s go.”

Ladybug sighed to herself. She had always wished he would take this job more seriously, but something had changed in Chat when they took Hawkmoth down, and while he had improved somewhat since then, clearly he’d been having one of the bad days before the akuma struck. Grim and cynical wasn’t an especially good look on him, and it worried her.

No time to worry about that now though. “Distract and evacuate,” she said. “We need to get the civilians out of there. Hopefully in the process we can figure out which one it’s specifically targeting.”

“Works for me.” Chat launched himself forward, ready to go as always, and Ladybug moved only an instant later.

The akuma was obnoxious and destructive, with heeled shoes that could shatter concrete and a banshee-like scream that left Ladybug’s ears ringing even after the cure. Ladybug winced as she looked back at the trail of destruction. Chat just flopped on his back on the rooftop.

“Could’ve used some backup for that one,” he muttered.

“I’m sorry, there was no opening,” Ladybug panted, putting her hands on her knees. “I was afraid to leave.”

“Not blaming you,” he said, with a hint of his old humor in the half smile he managed as he turned his head to look at her. “Just saying. We could really use a hand more often.”

Ladybug made a neutral noise. She didn’t disagree with him, but…

But, but, but. There was always a but. But the rules . But identities . But it was her responsibility.

“Ladybug,” Chat said, the smile falling away as he watched her expression. “I really didn’t mean it that way.”

“I know,” she said, her voice coming out a tad too high. “It’s fine.” She held out her fist to him and he rolled over on his side to bump his against it. “I gotta get back.”

“I’m just gonna lay here for a while,” he muttered, and Ladybug sighed, reaching down to ruffle his hair affectionately.

“Don’t stay out too long, Kitty.”

“Yeah, yeah, beep beep. I got it.” He waved his ringed hand at her and then flopped back down to the roof. “Don’t worry, I don’t plan on getting stuck on top of this building.”

Ladybug huffed a laugh, and tossed her yoyo.

She transformed a couple of streets away, and glancing at the time, she went up to the apartment instead of back into the shop. Several pairs of large eyes in small faces peeped out as soon as they were sure it was her, and came to circle around her.

“I finished the pieces you asked me to,” Wayzz told her

“We cleaned up the paint and sealed the cans that were left,” Pollen piped up.

“That’s great,” Marinette said with a tired smile, giving them each a cuddle. “Thanks so much. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“It is the leassst we can do,” Sass observed mildly, bringing a damp cloth to her. Marinette took it gratefully.

“Where?” she asked, and wiped at the spot Sass patted. The cloth came away smeared with flecks of half-dry pink paint. Ugh, did she have that on her face the whole time she was talking to Luka? How embarrassing. She handed the cloth back when Sass nodded that she was clean.

“I should go finish,” Marinette sighed, but instead she sat down on the couch.

“You should eat first, Guardian,” Pollen told her, hovering. “And rest. There isn’t much left to be done. You can finish it tomorrow.”

“She’s right, Marinette,” Tikki piped up, perching on Marinette’s shoulder. “You can finish the paint in the morning, and it’s on the other side from the dressing area, so it won’t keep you from getting the curtains up over there or any of the other things you had planned.”

“It’ll just delay everything by a couple of hours,” Marinette sighed, slumping on the arm of the couch. “I’ll see how I feel after dinner. I’d rather finish it tonight if I can.”

“Then you’d better go make dinner before you fall asleep on the couch,” Tikki giggled, and Pollen agreed, tugging at Marinette’s fingers.

“It won’t do for you to be skipping meals!” Pollen scolded.

“All right, all right,” Marinette giggled, getting up. “I’ll make dinner.”

The kitchen in her apartment was separated from the living room by a small but usable breakfast bar, so Marinette hadn’t bothered to get a separate table. Instead, she lined up the kwami’s plates on the inside edge and pulled up a stool on the other side of the counter to sit at her own plate.

She was just finishing up, her thoughts already running on the next things she had to do, when she was distracted by the muffled sound of...a guitar. The kwamis paused in their chatter, and Marinette sat with her fork halfway to her mouth, listening. After a moment she smiled. “It’s Luka,” she murmured. “His apartment probably mirrors ours, so his kitchen and living room must be on the other side of this wall.” Her eyes widened slightly in alarm. “If we can hear him, he can probably hear us if we get too loud. I can pass some noise off as the tv or the radio, but we’ll have to be careful.” The kwamis nodded, but Marinette shot pointed looks at Xuppu, Orikki, and Ziggy in particular. They all made faces at her, but nodded along with the others.

Everyone was quiet as she finished her meal, smiling as she listened to the wandering guitar. “It’s nice,” she observed to no one in particular. “It’s been a long time since I heard Luka play.”

It was funny, the effect it had on her. She could feel her shoulders sliding down, and a pleasant calm seeping into her. Had he really made such an impression all those years ago, that she responded so easily to the sound of his guitar even now? She took her dishes to the sink and stood a moment, laying a hand over her heart, and for a moment she heard a different song,

When she took a breath, though, instead of the scent of metal and river wind, the scent of lemon dish soap filled her nose and brought her back to the present. She smiled at the kwamis, who had busily stacked their little plates next to the sink and were filling it with water and soapsuds.

Right . All of that was a long time ago, and they were different people now. Still, maybe sometime soon she could come to one of his gigs and hear him play for real, and not through a wall. Though...it was kind of nice, knowing she was the only one who was hearing him right now. She wondered if he knew she could hear him.

The tune changed, took on a little more purpose, and Marinette smothered a giggle. No, she doubted he realized she could hear, because he probably wouldn’t be caught dead playing Love Me Like You Do with an audience, even if he did give it a bit of a metal makeover.

She’d have to let him know. Eventually. When she could think of a way to tell him that wouldn’t make him think he had to stop.

She hummed quietly along as she and the kwami finished washing the dishes.

“Are you going to go back downstairs?” Tikki asked, tilting her head.

“Mmm...no,” Marinette decided. “There’s still plenty to unpack and put away up here, and you’re right. I can finish the shop in the morning.”

The next few days were a blur of hard work as opening day got closer and closer. The shop was coming together, and Marinette took comfort in, for once, being able to get everything just right, without anybody telling her it should be different, or complaining that she was too fussy.

It was exhausting, though, and led to some pretty silly late night giggling with the kwamis as they tried to get her to rest before she made herself totally delirious.

The day before opening, she walked into Second Chance with a box in her hands, trying not to giggle openly.

“Hey, Marinette," Luka greeted, looking up from where he was loading up some display shelves near the counter.

“Wow, Luka, it looks great in here,” Marinette said, looking around.

“You were right. When I stopped trying to be strategic and just put things in where they felt like home, it all came together. I’m still not sure it’s the best arrangement, at least it feels comfortable. ” He looked much more relaxed, and his smile was easy and true.

“I think that will work the best for you in the end,” Marinette smiled. “The right customers will like it, and the ones who don’t, well.” She patted the big cement turtle on the head. “Probably aren’t looking for the kinds of things you’re selling anyway.”

Luka chuckled. “Fair enough. What can I do for you, Marinette?” He slid the case closed and stood, turning to face her.

Marinette bit her lip, and then held up the small box in her hands. “Well, I...maybe stayed up a little late last night, and I got kind of loopy, and then instead of going to bed like a smart person, I...did something silly. And if you hate it you can say so and I’ll walk right back out and we don’t ever have to speak of this again.”

Luka raised his eyebrows. “That sounds a little dramatic. What, did you make me a lace nightie with matching slippers?”

Marinette burst out laughing. “Okay, you’re right, that would be sillier,” she giggled, setting the box down carefully on a nearby table. “No, it’s not for you actually.”

“Not for me?” Luka put his hand to his chest. “I’m hurt.”

Marinette giggled again, pulling some things out of the box and turning away from him. “You might not be when you see it.” Impulsively she added, “Turn around.” Luka did, and Marinette hurriedly went to work.

“Okay, you can look now.” She was barely holding back laughter, and when Luka turned around his mouth dropped open.

“You’re kidding me,” he said, covering his mouth with one hand as he approached, trying to smother his laughter. “Marinette. Oh my God.”

The cement turtle now sported a pair of Eiffel tower sunglasses the exact match to the ones Marinette had made for Jagged years ago. He had a choker of studded leather around his long neck and another cuff around one ankle, and Marinette had hung a guitar made of cardboard and purple glitter on him as well.

“Tada!” she said, throwing out her hands. “He’s a rock turtle, Luka. Because he’s, you know, rock, I mean I know he’s concrete but it still counts. So now he’s a rock turtle for real.”

“I think those paint fumes are getting to you,” Luka laughed, and then threw one arm around her neck and kissed her forehead before letting her go. “I love it, thank you. It’s amazing.”

“He can be your mascot,” Marinette giggled, unreasonably pleased and trying to resist the urge to touch her forehead. He’d done that the way he used to do it to Juleka, after all, and how touch-starved was she, that she kept dwelling on every little gesture of affection he made? It was Luka, after all, and he was just like that.

But he was smiling, wider than he had in days, and it gave Marinette a sense of accomplishment that more than made up for her tiredness.

“Ready for the big day?” Luka asked as he crouched to examine the turtle’s new guitar.

“I think so. Yeah, I am.” Marinette brought her hands up and rubbed her arms. “It feels like I’m going to jinx it, saying that. Like one of those dreams I’m always having where I walk into a class or a client meeting and realize suddenly that I forgot to cover half of what they asked for in my presentation, and I forgot my bra on top of it.”

Luka laughed, rocking back on his heels to look up at her. “Seriously?”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “All the time. Even my subconscious won’t cut me any slack.”

Luka shook his head. “Marinette, if that ever happened to you in real life, by the end of it you’d have them convinced that they didn’t need all that stuff anyway and wearing bras would immediately go out of style.”

“What,” said a dry voice, “the hell did I just walk in to?”

Marinette’s head whipped around to look at the door, and her mouth dropped open at the sight of the tall, slender woman standing there with her arms loosely crossed and an amused smirk on her face.

“Hey, Jules,” Luka said, getting up and turning towards her with his arms out. “You made it.”

“Of course I did, idiot,” Juleka mumbled, but Marinette saw her hide her smile in Luka’s shoulder as she hugged him back. Then, to her mild surprise, Juleka peeked over his shoulder. “Hi, Marinette.”

“It’s really good to see you, Juleka,” Marinette said warmly. “You look fantastic,” she added, as Juleka came to take her hands and exchange a bise.

“I have good stylists,” Juleka shrugged. Her hair was still long, but the purple was gone and it was pulled back into a shining French braid, leaving both her amber eyes bare to stare at Marinette. Her makeup was perfect and Marinette remembered that Juleka was a cosmetics model now. Of course she always had to look her best in public. “Luka told me you were opening your own place. I can’t make the opening, but maybe...maybe I could make an appointment to come take a look?” There was something in the old Juleka in the way she asked that question, a slight curl of her shoulders and drop of her head, and the way she pinched one thumb and forefinger tightly together at her side.

Impulsively Marinette said, “Why don’t you just come over now? Everything’s set up and you can get first pick if there’s anything you like. Not that you should feel like you need to buy anything,” Marinette added hurriedly. “Just, if anything catches your eye or—okay I’m shutting up now, you probably don’t even have time, it doesn’t have to be now—just, whenever is good! If you want.” She closed her mouth abruptly before she could trip into another line of babble.

Juleka smiled, her head tilting slightly as if she were still peeking through that curtain of bangs. “I’d love to come over now, if that’s okay.”

“Really?” Marinette brightened, embarrassment forgotten. “Awesome! I’d love to have your opinion on—well, everything, to be honest.”

“I can’t wait to see it.”

“Oh sure,” Luka mocked, and Marinette jumped a little, looking at him. “You said you were coming to see me, but really you just wanted a sneak peek at Marinette’s clothes. I see where I rate.”

“As long as we’re clear,” Juleka huffed, and walked out of the door. Marinette stood gaping like a fish for a moment, and then followed her, shooting Luka an apologetic look over her shoulder.

“I’m sure it won’t take long,” she said, but Luka, smiling, just rolled his eyes and waved her on.

Juleka didn’t exactly gush; she was too collected for that, but her quiet smile and nod of approval as she looked around was more encouraging than a flood of compliments. “It has good energy,” she murmured. “Very you. Gives a sense of your brand from the beginning. I like it.”

“Thank you,” Marinette smiled, sincerely grateful.

“It looks like a lot of work.”

“It was,” Marinette sighed, “But it’s so worth it to see it come together. It’s scary to be doing this all my own, but at least I can make things exactly the way I want them.” She pointed out the curtained dressing rooms, and the pedestal in front of the (very expensive, even second hand) full-length three-way mirror. “I’m planning to do alterations and fittings as well,” Marinette explained, “On anything, not just my clothes. In a limited capacity, of course, so that I still have time to keep the shop stocked. I’m actually hoping to bring in lines from a couple of other independent designers—people I met in school that have an aesthetic that will fit in with mine, just to broaden the range of what I can offer, but...well, I kind of wanted to open with my own things first.” She smiled ruefully and wrinkled her nose. “I don’t want to drag anybody down with me if I go under in the first month.”

Juleka laughed, and Marinette smiled at the sound of it. “I’m sure that won’t happen,” Juleka assured her, still smiling. “These pieces are gorgeous,” she added, motioning to the photographs on the wall.

“It’s nice to see you happy,” Marinette said without thinking, and then bit her lip.

Juleka seemed to freeze for a long moment, and then she took a long breath that reminded Marinette of Luka. “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other, hasn’t it,” Juleka said quietly, that slight curl in her shoulders again. “I—I’m...sorry, that we gave you such a hard time back when we were kids. I...understand better now. This is a tough industry and you have to be dedicated and motivated to succeed. I’m sorry that we...well, I don’t think any of us meant to be holding you back, but I understand how it might have felt that way to you.”

“Oh…” Marinette said lamely, looking away and moving to fiddle with the nearest garment rack. “I didn’t—I mean, I felt bad that I had to bail on you guys so much, but I didn’t feel that way. I just thought, you know, you guys were right and if I wasn’t being the kind of friend you needed...it was okay. You’d have every right to be just as mad at me for choosing my career over you even at such a young age. I was ditching you a lot, and...I could have done things differently. Handled it better.”

“You had a life beyond school and beyond us,” Juleka insisted, folding her arms uncomfortably. “It was wrong of us to try and take that from you. I don’t know, maybe we felt guilty that we weren’t working as hard, or something, but...we could have made it work. We always made exceptions for Adrien because he was working a career outside of school. We should have at least extended the same courtesy to you. Especially when it was obvious even then how talented and driven you were. You’ve got what it takes to really make it, and it was wrong of us to get in the way of that when we should have been cheering you on.”

Marinette’s hands stilled for a moment, and it was her turn to take a slow breath. She felt a twinge of guilt, because Juleka of course didn’t know the whole story. It hadn’t been wholly for the sake of her future career that she’d bailed on her friends so often, and it hadn’t been determination to drive forward at all costs that had caused her to stop trying so hard to meet her friends halfway. Her reasons had neither been selfish nor noble. She just hadn’t had the energy to keep up the front any longer.

But she couldn’t explain it now any more than she could then, so all she could say was a quiet, “Thank you, Juleka.” She took another breath and lifted her head, trying to smile. “You really don’t need to apologize, though. I never held anything against you guys. Besides, we were kids.” Juleka relaxed a little, though she still held herself a bit stiffly.

Time to change the mood. Marinette rallied her spirits and put the most genuine grin on her face that she could muster as she faced Juleka. “Come on,” she said brightly, moving over to one of the other racks and gesturing enthusiastically for Juleka to follow her. “I have some things that I bet will look great on you.”

They already had several outfits laid aside for Juleka to purchase when Luka knocked and came in the door, the little bell Marinette had hung over it chiming cheerfully.

“Hi Luka,” Marinette smiled, looking up from where she was laying another dress across the sales counter. “Sorry, I guess we took up more time than I realized. Did you get bored?”

“Just wondering if my sister is still going to buy me dinner,” Luka grinned. “I’m starving here.”

“Then hurry up and die so we don’t have to listen to you,” Juleka called from the dressing room.

“I’m wasting away slowly ,” he called back. “I’ll continue to exist on spite until you feed me.”

“Do you need any help, Juleka?” Marinette asked, trying to keep her giggles out of her voice.

“No, I think I’ve—there. Oh, I like this one, Marinette!” Juleka pushed the curtain aside and stepped out.

“Hm, needs a little tailoring, but only a little,” Marinette said, eyes fastened on the garment, as Juleka made a slow turn. “Let me just—” She stepped over with a couple of clips in her hand and took the slack out of the dress in a couple of key places, clipping it in place. “There. And of course I can adjust the hem if you need it, but I think this length is pretty good on you actually. What do you think, Luka?” She turned and blinked at the look on his face as he stared at his sister. He looked...happy, but his face was crinkling up in a weird way that she didn’t understand.

“You look beautiful, Juleka,” Luka said, and had to clear his throat.

“Don’t you dare,” Juleka warned, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes. “Don’t you dare get mushy on me again.”

“Better,” Luka continued, as if she hadn’t spoken. “You’re poised and confident and...I’m just so proud of you. Five years ago that dress would have overpowered you and now look at you.”

“You’re not going to cry again, are you?” Juleka asked, rolling her eyes.

“I might,” Luka said, and his voice did sound a little thick. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I swear he’s cried at every single one of the photo shoots I was dumb enough to bring him to,” Juleka grumbled, giving Marinette a look of longsuffering.

Marinette giggled as she stepped close again and adjusted a clip. “He loves you.”

“He’s a sap,” Juleka groaned.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Luka and Marinette said in unison, and Juleka snorted.

“You two are made for each other,” she muttered, and then looked back with concern when Marinette somehow got the web of her thumb pinched in the clip and yelped.

“Fine, I’m fine,” she said hurriedly, fixing the clip. “There. Take a look.”

She helped Juleka up onto the pedestal in front of the three-way mirror, and Juleka sighed. “I love it,” she said, glancing at the two dresses and the suit that were already on the counter. “I better not try on anything else though. It’d be a pain dragging Luka’s corpse out of the shop, and I’m going to go broke if you pull out any more perfect outfits. Can you check me out for these, and we can make an appointment for the tailoring later?”

“Sure! Give me just a second.” Marinette gave her a sheepish smile. “The POS system is new and it might take me a minute to figure it out. Actually you’re doing me an extra favor by letting me try this thing out before I put it through its paces tomorrow.”

“Hey, can I take a look?” Luka asked, moving around the counter at her gesture. “I still haven’t settled on one yet. I’ve got some ancient thing a buddy loaned me, but I’m hoping I can upgrade in a few months.” He leaned on the counter next to her and grinned. “I’m not above profiting from the months of research I’m sure you did before settling on one.”

Marinette giggled, shoving him with her elbow. “Off the counter,” she ordered. “You have no idea how many practice runs I had to do with the resin to get good enough to do a project this size.”

“I can tell,” Luka said, straightening. ”It looks really cool.”

“You’ve really made the shop yours in such a short time,” Juleka said, looking at the countertop. “Everything about it just screams Marinette.”

Marinette blushed, and picked up the tablet, tried to focus on walking Luka through the steps of the POS system, explaining the features that had made her go with this system as he leaned close to watch. He smelled different than he used to, she thought absently. Not so much sunscreen and fresh air and teenage boy. He wore cologne now, pleasantly subtle, and only noticeable when he was close like this. It was a more mature scent but it suited him.

“And then Juleka can put her card in here,” Marinette said, pointing to the slot in a stand on the counter. Juleka did so, and after a moment the machine beeped. “And...there we go.” She showed Luka the screen.

“Huh. Do you use it for inventory management much?” Luka asked, leaning one hand on the counter next to her as he watched her navigate the menus. She jumped a little when her shoulder brushed his chest, but he didn’t seem to notice.

Marinette cleared her throat. “W-well like you, I don’t really have standard inventory, everything is unique, so it’s a bit more work to keep the system updated, but—uh—” He was looking at her and not the screen, attentive, and Marinette’s thoughts began to scatter.

“Shameless,” Juleka sighed, shaking her head, and they both looked up at her. She smirked at Luka, and Marinette felt her face redden though she couldn’t have said why.

“Me?” Luka said innocently, straightening away from Marinette and putting his hand on his chest. Marinette was surprised to see his ears were red, and it only made her feel more flustered.

Juleka snorted. “I can’t believe you’re taking advantage of Marinette like this, you lazy jerk. I bet you cheated on your tests at school too.”

“I sat next to Dingo ,” Luka reminded her, rolling his eyes. “Believe me, I wasn’t the one cheating.”

“Whatever,” Juleka rolled her eyes. “So can we go now? I thought you were so—” Her lips curled in a smirk. “Hungry. Or was it thirsty?”

“I’m ready when you are,” Luka said quickly, coming back around the counter. “Thanks, Marinette.”

Marinette moved quickly to get a garment bag and package up Juleka’s purchases. It was Luka, though who took them from her with a warm smile. “Congrats on your first sale,” he told her with a wink, and Marinette felt that blush again.

“It’s hardly her first sale,” Juleka pointed out, picking up a small stack of Marinette’s business cards from the holder on the counter and slipping them into her pocket. “She’s been selling since collége.”

Luka rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “First sale from your first shop—first brick and mortar shop,” he hastily corrected, when Juleka opened her mouth again. “Juleka, you’re such a pain.”

“I’m just saying, if you’re going to compliment a girl, you need to be accurate,” Juleka smirked, as Luka began shoving her toward the door. “Good luck with your grand opening, Marinette,” she called back. “I’ll pass your info around the next time I’m in the studio!”

“That would be great. Thanks for coming by, Juleka!” Marinette called, waving.

“Why do you have to make everything weird?” she heard Luka mutter as he pushed the door open for his sister and nearly shoved her out of it.

“It’s not my fault you just are weird,” Juleka retorted, and gave Marinette one more wave before the door closed behind them. “Especially around—” The door cut her off, and Marinette turned and buried her face in her hands, not at all relaxed by the giggling that began in several hidden corners of the shop.

“Traitors,” she mumbled, and took a deep breath.

“It’s okay, Marinette,” Pollen said kindly, coming to light on her arm. “You should be proud!”

“Yes!” Tikki agreed, popping out of Marinette’s purse and coming to sit next to Pollen. “That was your first client consult for your brand new shop! And it went amazing! Four outfits!”

“And you impressed Luka,” Mullo pointed out, emerging from one of the garment racks. “He seemed to think you were very knowledgeable. ” The kwami giggled and poked Marinette’s blushing cheek. Marinette swatted at him, pouting, but he just phased through her hand with a toothy grin.

“Luka just needed some information,” Marinette countered, ignoring the snorting giggles that came from all three kwamis. “And Juleka was just being nice. “Though...I suppose she could have been nice without spending quite so much money,” she conceded. “It’ll be great for business if she wears the clothes, too...she works in exactly the kind of circles where word of mouth will be really valuable.” Marinette picked up her tablet and smiled as she punched up her sales history, and looked at the transaction there. “Well...I guess this does make us official, doesn’t it.” She held out her fist and Tikki, Pollen, and Mullo bumped it all in turn. “Come on, let’s get back to work and see how much we can finish up. I want to try and take it easy tonight. I can’t show up at the big opening looking like death.”

Fiction Master Post | LBSC 2021 Exchange Collection

#quickspins #guard my heart #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #lbsc 2021 exchange #rated: m

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