#I still dye my hair red because of knuckles but only parts of it lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

oikawa-tuwu · 4 years

Text

🍬 Halloween Candy 🍬

Pairing: Gn!Reader x Tendou Satori

Rating: T

Synopsis: Tendou watches you make Halloween candy and thinks about love and the joys Halloween. Post-time skip, established relationship. (1.8k words)

Warnings: One swear, mentions of past bullying, dealing with insecurity things

(A/N: lol remember when I said I was going on hiatus?? Yeah so I was making hard candy last night and was literally slaughtered in the middle of boiling the sugar when I remembered that Tendou is a chocolatier so my lonely, Halloween-loving, and candy making self wrote this self indulgent thing. Enjoy, but its kind of a mess D: )

Tendou Satori’s favorite holiday is, without a doubt, Halloween.

There’s nothing quite like the buzz in the air of a brisk October 31st, children in costumes, ready to consume ungodly amounts of sugar, teenagers giggling as they leave a haunted house, only to turn right around with more cash in hand. Even adults get into the festivities, using the holiday as an excuse to drink copious amount of booze.

Its indulgent and its creepy and Tendou loves it with all of his heart.

In the past, if someone were to ask him why he liked Halloween so much, he'd just laugh and say he had a sweet tooth, because really, he didn't know how to articulate the joy that he gets from costumes. He could remember, as a kid, gleefully skipping down the aisles of a shop, flipping through the mass produced costumes on the rack until he found the perfect one.

The ones that came with masks were always a plus, too.

He supposes, looking back on it, Halloween was his favorite holiday because it was the one day where being “creepy” benefited him. It was on-brand, in-season, like the pecan pies that sit neglected in the summer months before being sold out by mid-November. And even if his hair or his gaze or his height was still terrifying, it was easier to hide behind a Batman mask. Perhaps it wasn’t a healthy way of coping, but somewhere along the way, he’d learned. He’d grown, and shifted, and costumes weren’t his favorite part of Halloween anymore.

No. This is his favorite part of Halloween. The build up to the day in question, preparing for the hordes of children coming to his apartment door, and you, standing in his kitchen, holding a candy thermometer.

It had been your idea at first, to make the candy at home and give it to the trick or treaters, rather than just handing out store bought. Of course, getting homemade candy from a stranger is usually a red-flag for parents, but not if said stranger is a somewhat C-list celebrity chocolatier, as you so kindly put it.

And it was true. There was some hesitation at first, but after a moment of putting together his face, the name on his apartment door, and the clearly professional design on the bags, parents were much more willing to accept the treats. Now, it’s a tradition of the apartment complex, and last year, he ran out of candy by 7 PM.

“You need to make more next year,” you had said, with a sort of confident finality that made him laugh. “Don’t you feel bad for the kids who got there just a little late?”

Did he feel bad?

Now that was an interesting question.

The thing was, he had been that kid. He’d gotten the short straw in life and it had been up to him to make something of it, even when others decided to cut the straw even shorter just for fun.

With an amused glint in his eye, he watches as you lean down, narrowing your eyes to read the fine print of instructions on your phone.

The kitchen is a mess, there’s no way around it, and although he’s deemed you proficient enough to be trusted with his equipment based on your past attempts at culinary efforts, he can tell you feel out of your league as you stir the molten sugar. Your cheeks are flushed from the heat and he’s certain there’s a few more hairs sticking out of place than there were ten minutes ago. Still, you square your shoulders and crack your knuckles as you read the temperatures, one oven mitt armored hand bracing the handle of the pot, and he idly thinks that the apron is officially his favorite piece of clothing on you.

Apparently, you didn't hear the door open and close, because your eyes are still trained on the soon-to-be caramel, and you let out a frustrated, "Why won't this sugar caramelize already?"

"It's stubborn like that."

He always expects you to jump at his voice. Somehow, you never do. Instead, your eyes flick up to him where he hovers in the entry-way, the barest of a smile gracing your lips.

"Welcome home," you say, pulling your eyes away from him to peek at the candy thermometer's temperature. "I feel like this sugar has been at 240° for way too long, is that normal?"

Tendou clicks his tongue, daring to venture further into the candy coated mess. "You have to be patient."

"Funny, coming from you," you smirk, but he notices the way the tension in your shoulders relax, and deep down, he knows he doesn't have the fight to even try to feel offended.

Still, he scoffs and leans against the counter next to you and puts the effort into looking offended, one hand fingering through the petals of the dying roses in a vase. "I'll have you know, I'm a very patient person."

You just give him a look. That look, specifically, with the skeptical eyebrow and wry tilt in the corner of your mouth. The look that always managed to see right through him, reaching in and sorting through each and every memory and quirk and thought and yet still managed to say I love you at the end of the night with a genuine smile.

Tendou knows you. He knows you, understands you, memorized the posture of your sleep deprivation, the quick bite of your words when you wait too long to eat dinner, the strange laugh that, to be honest, sounds more like a car backfiring, when a joke catches you particularly off your guard.

But also, on a much deeper level, he didn't understand you at all.

Why had you chosen him? Was it for the same reason you brought those half-dead roses home, saying, with a self-conscious flush, that they looked sad, dying all alone in the shop.

Was he those flowers? Bruised and beat-up and something to take pity on?

"You're too quiet," you muse, and Tendou realizes that he had been too quiet for much too long, the only sounds coming from the boiling sugar and the soft music playing over a speaker in the corner. "What's wrong?"

He doesn't know how to phrase his insecurities out loud like that, doesn't know if he even should, so instead, he asks, "Am I the roses?"

For a moment, you're silent, and he can see the way you're processing his words, toying with them until you figure out whatever metaphor or inside joke he's referencing. "I would say you're more of a lily guy, if that's what you're asking."

His next question is more blunt. "Why do you like me?"

This one surprises you. He can tell from the way you blink, just once, but also the slight curvature of your eyebrows. He wonders how long it's been since this expression was used in reaction to him.

"I don't understand," you say, finally. "Love and attraction are virtually indescribable emotions that poets and writers spend their lives trying to capture. I don't know why, exactly, but I do know that I enjoy being around you. You make me laugh, and my heart feels happy when I see you walk through that door. Isn't that enough?"

It should be, but Tendou has bad impulse control, and he can't stop the next words from falling out.

"But I'm weird."

The word weird sounds trivial. Weird is the word that girls who dye their hair and listen to indie music and post cryptic pictures on Instagram call themselves, not him. Maybe freak would have been a better word.

"And I don't like the sound of my laugh. We've all got insecurities, things that the rest of the world doesn't like about us so they force us to not like it about us. I know my voice is fine and there's nothing particularly ugly or abnormal about it when I giggle, but I can't help from hating it."

"I like your laugh," he says, and by speaking it aloud, he knows it's true, like whispering a spell that only makes him fall more in love.

"Exactly. And I like you. Weird bits and all. Keeps things interesting."

And just like that, it's gone. It shouldn't be this easy, to dismiss his fears like that, just a few confident words and a smile and suddenly years of his childhood and upbringing are null in comparison to you.

The sugar boils.

As he watches, you leave the almost-caramel on the stove to search for the pan to put it in to cool, already greased and ready for the molten sugar. It's a significantly bigger pan than last year.

When you notice his gaze, you say, "I wasn't joking about making more this year."

Tendou grins.

In high school, Ushijima briefly had a girlfriend. A cheerleader, if Tendou was remembering correctly. He wouldn't be surprised if he wasn't, he didn't pay much attention to her. But, one day, he walked past the gym and found the two of them. Ushijima was teaching her how to serve. Now, Tendou knew Ushijima was a strange person. The only thing he cared about was volleyball and his comically stoic, social ineptitude is what bonded them in the first place, but still, Tendou remembered thinking that bringing your date on your day off to play volleyball was really weird.

But, he supposed, now he understood, as one of your hands reached over to clasp his, the other, still stirring the sugar. He understood before that want, no, the need to share a passion with the one you love.

He squeezes your hand. Absent-mindedly, you squeeze back. And then he squeezes back and you squeeze back and back and forth and back and forth, until you realize the temperature hit the blessed 340° and now you're swearing like it's a prayer, oven mitt hand clasping the pot handle and pouring and hoping it didn't actually burn and-

The candies last until 8 PM this year.

He watches you hand the last one over to a kid dressed like some vaguely tropey children's superhero, watches that soft smile slowly warning whatever chill leeches in from the open door.

A wave and a nod to the child's mother later, you slowly shut the door, grin lingering still moments later. You turn to him, that determined gleam in your eye, and say, "We're making more next year."

Tendou laughs. "Fuck no."

But then you smile again, and he knows he can't say no, and, internally, he's already working on a timeline to get all the candy ready by the 31st.

And for some reason, the only thing he can think of is the we in your statement, and it cuts right into his heart faster than a knife as you pull him close and the words just seem to slip out faster than a well-greased cake pan.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

(A/N: Happy Halloween, nerds. Nowwww back to hiatus)

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq #hq!!#hq tendou #tendou x reader #tendou x you #tendou scenario #layne writes

53 notes · View notes

xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx · 4 years

Text

In the Middle of a Gun Fight - Kobra Kid x Reader

Request: Hi!! I really like your writing and wanna make a request, Danger Days AU where the reader is a killjoy and reader and mikey are always arguing and don't get along and in the midst of battle confess they like each other ( gerard nd the others being super annoying and teasing lol sorry I'm bored) Warnings: blood, guns, violence, death, the whole Danger Days load as usual. Word count: 2 435 A/N: First story in the decade of the killjoys…

You did not know what annoyed you more, Kobra himself, or the fact that he seemed to enjoy annoying you. He was a damn good shot, always insisting on training you to get better, when he knew you would never get better than decent. He was a fucking genius when it came to self-defence, knowing his karate moves, or whatever it was he was kicking bad guys to the ground with. He was clever, really clever, knew all the technology stuff, knew how to fix broken electronics, and how to build new weapons from scratch. And the worst was that he was not even arrogant about any of these things.

Most of the time, Kobra sat in a corner of the diner, screwing around on a new weapon, kept to himself, and was quiet. Only when his brother or Fun Ghoul were around would he start talking and warming up. He was adorable when he started telling off his memories, when he recalled stories from before BLI had destroyed your lives. The excitement glistened in his eyes, big and full of life, and occasionally even a smile would pull on his dry and chapped lips.

You loved these moments. Not that you would ever admit this to anyone, especially not to yourself. And in the end you did not really know what it was that made you so angry about Kobra. Maybe the fact that deep inside you knew you liked him, more than you liked your other friends, in a way that was more than friendship; and you were so annoyed because you thought he could never feel the same. So bickering and fighting with him was easier than laying open your feelings. And it entertained the other three.

Party, Jet and Ghoul always had a good laugh when Kobra and you got into yet another heated argument. Sometimes it was about how he thought you had stolen his screwdriver, sometimes you were shouting at him to give you some space during training with the ray guns, or for kicking you too hard when he showed you some of the close combat moves. He got annoyed with you if you were not quick enough to tune the radio to the right frequency, but couldn’t have done it better himself either, and sometimes you just argued over the most idiotic things; over the weather, the new strategy of the Dracs, or PowerPup.

In fact hardly a day passed by without the rest of the Fabulous Killjoys hearing Kobra and you fighting about something. Over time it had even become one of their favourite parts of the day, being able to forget about their fate in the desert for a few minutes when they listened to the heated and completely illogical and irrational discussions you had.

But now they hardly noticed that Kobra and you were about to get into another fight; they were too busy avoiding the blazing rays from the Dracs’ guns that were directed at them.

“Touch me again, and I’ll-“

“You what?”

Challengingly you started Kobra in the face, who, equally challengingly, stared back.

“I’ll- Oh, shut up,” he hissed, turning around.

“Next time I’ll just let them run you over,” you barked, quickly hiding behind a huge rock, taking cover from two Dracs who were trying to ghost you. Just seconds prior you had pulled Kobra out of the way of a BLI car that had raced at him.

“I said: shut up,” Kobra hissed again.

“You both shut up!” Jet fell in the sand next to you, “safe your breath for the battle.”

And with that the tall Killjoy had already jumped up again, and made a run towards the closest Drac, tackling the enemy, and throwing it to the ground before shooting it.

You took a careful look out from behind your cover. The Trans AM was close by. If you could make it there, and get into the car, you could collect the others one by one, and hopefully outrun these white monsters with their ugly masks on a chase through the desert.

Taking another glance, you decided it was now or never.

Kobra saw you from the corner of his eyes, just in the same moment as he realised that the Drac that had come dangerously close to your hideout, had pulled the pin off a grenade. These creatures had absolutely no care for their own life. They would blow themselves up if it meant to take a Killjoy to death with them. And that was what this Drac was about to do.

Completely forgetting everything else, the sand that made running hard, the blasts of the ray guns around him, the shout of his brother, Kobra leapt forwards, just reaching you in time before the shock wave of the explosion threw him and you several meters through the air.

He was partially aware that he had blocked most of the splinters from the grenade with his body, effectively shielding you, and also that he now landed with almost his complete body weight on you. Kobra’s ears were ringing, and his back hurt badly from where the shockwave had hit him. Doubtlessly there were thousands of small metal pieces boring into his thick leather jacket, and his hands were burning from the way he had tried to lower the impact on you.

You, in contrary to Kobra, were not at all aware of what had happened. One moment you had started making a run for the car, the next you got thrown through the air, Kobra landing on top of you.

“Get off,” you hissed, not yet aware of what had happened.

Angrily you pushed Kobra away, but instead of getting to his feet, like usually, he rolled to the side groaning.

“Next time I’ll just let them blow you up,” he groaned, curling into himself.

All your anger and annoyance evaporated within a beat of your heart. Kobra was injured, badly, if he didn’t even get up anymore. Panic rose in you, and ignoring everything around you, just like Kobra had done seconds ago, you leant over him, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. Blood was running over his temple, and dripped into the sand.

“Kobra!”

Your voice was several octaves higher than usually, and you did not even care that the cry that left your lips was clearly full of worry.

“Great, rip my ear-drums, I’m not injured enough already,” Kobra coughed, and tried to sit up, but his pathetic attempt only resulted in his head forcefully bumping against the ground.

“Get up, come on,” you tried to encourage him, pulling helplessly on his arm, but he was too heavy, and made no attempt in moving, “hey asshole, come on!”

“Nah.”

Blood was rushing in your ears, as you took a closer look at the Killjoy. His face was pale, except for the blood that ran out from under his hairline, dyeing the blond locks red.

The sounds of the battle around you stepped into the background, and you fell to your knees again.

“Shit, come on, Kobra, don’t fucking do this, you coward,” you screamed at him, gently pushing your one hand to the back of his head, and lifting it up, using the other one to pull the sleeve of your shirt over your knuckles to dipping away the blood. “Fuck, come on!”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Kobra’s voice was weak, and shaky as he answered, his eyes not quite focusing on your face. By now tears were streaming down your face, and dripped to his cheeks, leaving traces in the dirt and dust on your faces. “Oh no, little one, don’t cry.”

With all the force he could find, he managed to lift his hand up to your face, the backs of his fingers trying to wipe away the tears.

“Then don’t fucking die, you idiot!”

Your screams had decreased into sobs, and desperately you were cradling Kobra’s face in your hands, trying to get him to look at you. But he just coughed, his hand falling back next to him.

“Why not, I’d do you a favour, I suppose,” he mumbled, but he sounded bitter, instead of amused as you wanted him to sound.

“Because I love you, you dumbass, okay? And I can’t do this without you, so stop being so fucking selfish and just-“ you choked on your words, and helplessly you let your head fall to Kobra’s shoulder.

For a few moments he was quiet, but you could feel his heart beat against your chest, and his breath against your ear.

“Oh well,” he finally managed, “that does change a couple of things, actually.”

Before you were able to look up, to ask him what that meant, you got pulled away from him by strong hands. Immediately you reached for your ray gun, which you expected to find at your side, but you had lost it when the blast of the explosion had thrown your through the air. And luckily it was no Drac either who had grabbed you; it was Ghoul.

“Kobra?”

It was clear that Jet tried to keep his voice calm, as he fell to his knees next to Kobra and you, Party following him closely.

“Oh, I’m fine, just being overdramatic,” Kobra joked, and coughed up blood.

“You’re far from fine, get him to the car,” Jet ordered, and together with Party they picked up the injured Killjoy, leaving it to Ghoul to calm you down.

~*~

While you had been busy screaming and crying at and over Kobra, the other three had effectively taken care of the remaining Dracs, as Party explained to you while you were sitting in the diner. Jet had strictly forbidden both Party and you to enter the Kobra’s room, where he patched up the poor guy. Ghoul had been ordered to help Jet, and a couple of minutes ago he had appeared in the door, letting you know that Kobra would make it.

He had suffered a couple of bad wounds, mostly on his back where splinters from the grenade had cut through the jacket, and he had a bad concussion, but other than that he would be fine. Kobra’s inability to communicate properly or to coordinate his motions earlier on the battlefield were a result of the head injury, but Ghoul had said Kobra was already managing again. Still Jet would not allow you to see Kobra for several hours, and even Party was allowed to talk to him only shortly.

It was already in the middle of the night, the air outside had cooled down drastically from the heat of the day, and the sky was clear and filled with stars. You had fallen asleep with your head resting on the table in front of you, when someone tapped on your shoulder.

“He wants to talk to you.”

Slowly you sat up, brushing hair out of your eyes, and took a long look at Jet. He looked tired, worn out, but relieved. Blood was sprinkled over his clothes, and his nails were rimmed dark red, but other than that he looked like always.

“Go on, he’s been asking for you,” he encouraged, and slowly you got up, suddenly feeling sick.

Quietly you made your way through the dark diner, and to Kobra’s room, where you gently knocked on the door before entering.

A small lamp dimly lit up the room, spreading orange light, and painting long shadows over the walls. Kobra was lying in bed, on his side, one arm tucked under his head. Even in the bad light you saw his eyes sparkling.

“How are you?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that,” you asked back, hesitantly stopping by the door.

“You were pretty shaken up, if I remember correctly,” Kobra reminded you.

You just shrugged.

“Come here?”

Invitingly he patted the spot on the bed next to him, and slowly you walked over, not sure what he was up to.

“How are you feeling,” you finally managed to ask, not daring to sit down as you had been invited.

“Sore, mostly,” Kobra answered, “and confused, curious maybe.”

You already felt like turning around and walking out, not ready to be faced with what you had told him while you thought he was dying. But you did not, instead you just held his gaze.

“Did you mean it?”

“Would I lie to a dying man?”

“Well-“

You shook your head.

“I did. Okay? Happy now? Can we end this conversation?”

Much to your confusion Kobra started smiling.

“Oh no, we can’t,” he told you.

Fantastic how just a couple of hours ago he had been close to death, and now he already managed to annoy you beyond belief again. But before you had the chance to disagree, he had suddenly taken hold of your hand. Careful, but firmly, he pulled you closer until you had no other choice but to sit down on his bed next to him.

“Oh, I’m never gonna let this go, you conf-“

“You-“

“For other reasons than you might think!”

Kobra was still smiling mysteriously, obviously enjoy you being annoyed at him again.

“I’m bad with words, and worse with feelings, but…” slowly his smile faded and he looked serious again, “if I’m not gonna let you forget that it’s because it’s the one thing I’ve wanted to hear since I met you, the one thing that has kept me going all this time, the hope, no matter how unlikely, that you would one day feel that way for me, because I’ve loved you from the first-“

Kobra did not get to finish his sentence. Still overly confused and entirely uncertain if you were doing the right thing, you had leant down, and pressed your lips against his, desperate both to finally feel him close as well as to shut him up.

Kobra gasped quietly in surprise, and let go of your hand, placing his in your neck instead to pull you closer and closer, until he had successfully pulled you down into bed next to him, you following his lead hesitantly. But once you had settled next to him, you gave up all self-control, and scooted as closely to him as possible without pressing against his wounds.

In the room next doors, Party, Ghoul and Jet shook their heads, knowing what the sudden stop of your bickering meant. After all Kobra and you had been the only ones who had not known about the feelings the other was harbouring for you.

And while the sun slowly rose over the desert, you fell asleep, safely cuddled against Kobra.

Taglist (if you want to be added or taken off, please let me know):

General: @robinruns @justawriterinprogress @jayloverthe3rd @lookalivefrosty @butterfly-writes @angelevansfalls @rene-royale @500240

MCR: @deadlovers

#kobra kid x reader #kobra kid fluff #kobra kid #kobra kid x reader fluff #kobra kid x reader angst #kobra kid angst #kobra kid imagine #mcr #my chemical romance #my chemical romance imagines #my chemical romance angst #my chemical romance imagine #my chemical romance fanfiction #kobra kid fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #Danger Days #Danger Days AU

110 notes · View notes

tesvskyrim · 7 years

Text

i don’t draw so i can’t draw my oc claudia but i can write sort of so i wrote her meeting with julian for the first time but added her personality to it lol. i hope u like it. i kept julian’s dialogue mostly the same. also here is claudia’s pinterest board if anyone is interested

Arms crossed against her chest, Claudia nodded toward the door, not willing to open it for the Countess. Barging in like that—how rude. Even if she was the all mighty Countess, what gave her the right to force herself in when Claudia could be getting the sleep she so desperately needed? With Asra gone off to who knows where, Claudia had been the one to sweep the floors and tend to angry customers and get the rats out of the walls. It made her want to rip her hair out.

The Countess gave Claudia a smile that read of impression. The moonlight streaming in from the windows danced off of her dark skin as she flipped her hood up. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Magician.” With that, she was out the door and into the night.

With a sigh, Claudia ran a hand down her purple hair. It was fading quickly, now a graying pink. Tomorrow she was going to dye her hair again; of course that had to wait another day, because of the Countess. Hm…

The Countess’s words echoed in her head, her rich and stern voice loud and clear. Claudia’s “reputation”, her magician career. Apparently, Claudia’s name was on everyone’s lips… could she had thought that Claudia was…

“Strange hours for a shop to keep.”

“Shit!” Claudia jumped, the same way her cat did when he was startled. She spun on her heel, toward the direction of the voice.

Nothing.

Her eyes zipped across the store, trying to locate the intruder. She was only met with the cobwebs she forgot to sweep and the candles she needed to put out. Her heart pumped a mile a minute; she wasn’t equipped to deal with intruders. She knew a few magic spells, but unless the intruder could be countered with her sarcastic comments and glares, she was out of luck.

“…Behind you.”

As Claudia turned, she used her peripheral vision to look for any weapons to defend herself. The man leaning against the doorframe towered above her 5’3” frame, she couldn’t defend herself with fists alone. An empty wine bottle caught her attention, her finished bottle gleamed from the candle light. She mentally tacked that down.

“Now, sources say this is the witch’s lair,” the man said, voice muffled by his bird mask. She had to be honest, this wasn’t the attire for a burglar. This man was of dramatics—like her. His black cape dragged on the floor as he stepped closer to her, bird mask dangerously close to touching her own face. He wore boots up to his knees, and leather gloves up to his elbows. He must have noticed her stares, as he flexed his fingers through his gloves. “So,” he said, voice deep, “who might you be?”

Anxiety flooded her body, knees weak and fingers shaking. Her face morphed into a scowl; how dare he make her so scared? The only thing that made her this scared is when her cat Goblin runs into the market place. Without a second of hesitation, Claudia’s manicured hand crumbled into a fist, and she swung at the masked man.

She didn’t even register the pain in her knuckles as the trespasser stumbled backward. His hand found the side of the mask she hit, and suddenly a guttural laugh filled her ears.

“You’ve got guts!” He purred. Claudia’s frown deepened in response. He bowed slightly. “En garde, then. Let’s see what else you’ve got.”

Ah, so now it was a challenge. Claudia loved challenges.

Her eyes flickered to the wine bottle for half a second, a plan forming in her mind already. A wicked smile played on her face, and a blast of force came out of her open palms. The trespasser stumbled back into the wooden door, the wood creaking under his weight.

“Oh,” he gasped after the air came back to his chest, “has he been teaching you his tricks?” Cockiness oozed out of his voice. “Unfortunately for you, I’ve see them all befo-”

Another pull of force, and the empty red wine bottle cracked against his skull. Bits of glass connected with her tan skin, something that wouldn’t be hard to heal. The mask concealing his face flew onto the wood panels, finally revealing the face he was so desperate to hide.

The first thing Claudia noticed was the eye patch over his right eye, his other one grey like the clouds that plagued outside. Blood, the color of his hair, trickled down his face, running down his good eye and into his parted lips. He looked so familiar, yet she couldn’t quite place it.

The man brought a hand to his wound, his glove coming back wet and shining. A look of impression played on his face. His grey eyes locked onto Claudia’s brown ones, and he gave her a full tooth smile. “You do have guts.”

She stifled a smile.

He wiped his bloody glove on his pants, and suddenly Claudia knew who he was. On the run for how long, and yet never caught. Everyone knew his name.

“Doctor Jules?” Claudia gasped, mouth working faster than her brain. “I don’t usually get fugitives in my shop.” Claudia crossed her arms over her chest, laced sleeves rubbing against each other.

Another laugh. “Haven’t heard that name in years.” He paused, perhaps remembering memories from the past. Grey eyes snapping open, his face turned grim. “Quickly now. Where is the witch?”

Claudia snarled. “Eat shit.” Even if she did know where Asra went, she would never tell this stranger. She would never rat out her one loyal friend.

A humph fell out of his mouth, and he shook his head. “I thought you might say that.” Doctor Jules wiped the blood off his face with his glove, and narrowed his eyes at Claudia. “Well, no sense in wasting a visit. You’re a fortune teller, aren’t you?”

Claudia’s eyebrows raised. “How could you tell?”

He ignored her. “Tell my fortune, and I’ll leave you in peace.”

“Are you going to pay or are you going to stiff me like the Countess?”

“That depends on whether I like my fortune.”

Claudia rolled her eyes and motioned over to the backroom. The anxiety that invaded her body minutes’ prior left her system, whether it be because he was to leave soon, or the fact that he didn’t have intentions to hurt her.

Jules took a seat first, his eyes never leaving Claudia’s petite frame. Her brain was fighting on being angry or annoyed as she took a seat across from the doctor. Small droplets of blood still fell on face, but he didn’t wipe them away.

Finally, his eyes trailed across the décor and furniture of the room. It was mostly things Asra had picked up on his travels. Scarves from this place, books from another. If you looked closer, however, you could find a picture of Claudia with her parents and little sister. She liked it better in here than her room.

Shifting uncomfortably, Jules cleared his throat. “You know, I used to love places like this.”

“Oh?”

He simply nodded, and gestured to the cards left out on the table. Whatever part of him was uncomfortable left his system, and his frown was replaced with a sly grin. “Go on, don’t be shy.” If he hadn’t broken into her shop, Claudia might have swooned.

Claudia exhaled loudly through her nose, before shuffling her tarots. She hated to touch them, always found she wasn’t ever good. Though, Asra said the complete opposite. Soon, he said, soon she would be competing against him.

Claudia cleared her mind, and flipped a card over. It felt like air was punched out of her chest, and suddenly the mood in the room got very cold.

“Well?”

Claudia glanced up, the doctor’s face showing nothing but interest. “…Death.”

His eyes widened, and a wide smile formed on his face. “Death?” A chuckle fell out of his mouth. “Death?” That chuckle turned into full out laughter, blood and tears falling down his face. With each bark of laughter, icicles pierced her heart.

“Yes.”

The laughter seized, and his piercing eyes locked onto hers. “You have to be joking.”

Claudia shook her head. “I take my work very seriously, Doctor. As do you, I suspect.”

Using a finger to wipe the tears away, Jules growled. “Death cast her gaze on this wretch and turned away. She has no interest in an abomination like me.”

What a cryptic thing to say, Claudia thought. Of course, she shouldn’t be surprised. He looked like how villains were described in all those books Asra liked to read.

Jules large hands slammed against the table, making Claudia jump yet again. The sound echoed throughout the room as he got up, yet Claudia stayed seated.

“I wouldn’t be so surprised.”

Jules turned to her with a raised eyebrow.

“Your outfit says it all.”

He looked down at his attire, then back at Claudia, then back at his clothes. A blush spread across his face, coloring his bird-like nose crimson. Without a word, he left the backroom, and Claudia followed him.

“You’ve been hospitable,” he said after clearing his throat, “so I’ll let you in on a secret.”

Secrets. Always secrets with the men in her life.

“Go on,” Claudia muttered, inspecting her black painted nails. This better be good, he was taking up to much of her time.

“Your witch friend will be back for you. He’s taught you his tricks.” This piqued her interest, and her head shot up. “You may even say he… cares about you.”

“I know he does,” she snapped. This earned a smile from the red head.

“When he comes to get you, seek me out,“ he bent down to sweep his bloodied mask of the floor, “for your own sake.”

“What—“

“That creature is far more dangerous that you know.”

Confusion clouded her brain as Doctor Jules secured the mask back on his face. She wanted to know more, needed to, but he already had one foot out the door.

“Well then. The hour is late, and I’m out of time.” No, he couldn’t leave. Not when he gave her a warning message and nothing else to fall back on. “Don’t let him fool you, shopkeep.”

He was gone before Claudia could find a grip on that damn coat. The door slammed shut behind him, whether it be by the wind or his own doing.

“Wait!” Claudia cried out, yanking the door open. Gone. He was gone. “Doctor Jules! Shit!”

Tears of frustration brewed in her eyes as she shut the door. She gave it a good kick, imagining it was Jule’s shin she was kicking instead. A shaky breath left her, and she leaned against the counter.

A lone candle shone brightly in the night, and she stared at the tiny fire until her eyes burned. The next time she saw Doctor Jules, she’d get answers. She had to get answers.

With a puff of her breath, the fire went out.

#the arcana #ta: claudia #ta: julian #the arcana julian #the arcana game #hannah writes

9 notes · View notes