#You should always have the option to bail. Even if its just a question you don't know how to answer | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

justatypicalwizard · 2 months

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Until The End Of The Night | Ch 1

-midnight-

✦ College!au, characters in early twenties, support!reader, slight angst to happy ending

✦ Synopsis: after over three years abroad you come back to continue your education. Despite gaining new friends and living a great life in Europe nothing feels better than home. You are quickly sucked in the everyday drama and everything would be just as you left it if not for Bakugo. Three years ago you two shared a moment, a short and meaningful moment that no one knows or should know about. That is until the situation gets out of control.

✦ Warnings: smut

✦ Word count: 4k

✦ Chapter: Few days until you take of to Europe, UA graduation bonfire party and a conversation with Bakugo you thought you'll never have. The two of you mean nothing to each other, don't you?

Masterlist

“One more round, one more! You’re not bailing out Eiji!” Mina’s clamorous voice echoed out as she pushed shots into her friend’s hands.

The graduation party turned out just as you expected, or maybe even helped out to plan. Midoriya clumsily bumped into Ochako every now and then, genuinely thinking he’s not that obvious, as they both balanced, sitting on a log and recollecting mutual memories as if they were sticking photos into an imagined album. The tipsiness made them a bit more nostalgic. Mina, Sero, Denki and Kirishima, despite losing Bakugo somewhere, were chugging beers and spilling shots, the alcohol soaking into the green grass underneath their feet. Laughs, bickering and Denki’s loud singing disturbed the night’s soothing peace. Shouto and Tokoyami discussed the written exams while Jiro and Yaoyorozu desperately tried to change the subject, even the top class girl was in too good of a mood (due to some fireballs) to give a damn about school.

School, well it was nice while it lasted. Even though you were having a heck of a time at the bonfire UA graduation party, the squeezing feeling in the pitch of your stomach never left. It first grabbed at your intestines when the teachers handed you the graduation certificate. Or maybe even earlier, when you applied for college abroad, chewing on the end of your pencil as you tried to come up with a motivational letter. Or was it later, when you sang the school anthem, neatly lined up with your colleagues from the support class, while looking at the back of Mina’s pink head?

Never mind when it started, what pained you was not regret or sorrow but simply fear of starting a new chapter of your life. It was nice to dream about college in Europe when you were safely tucked away under the covers of your comfy bed, texting Mina and Denki your options. Now, when you were about to face reality head-on in a matter of days your knees trembled a bit. Luckily you felt not only fear but also excitement. What will Europe be like? Will you gain new friends? Are the city centres really as picturesque as they describe them? Will the classes be hard? Will you manage all the household chores by yourself? Can you really cook as good as you think or will you poison yourself?

Questions, questions, questions. They itched under your skin like a nasty rash and spread the second you dwelled on it too much. Now is not the time to make your head bubble up with concerns, it should rather be spinning due to an excessive amount of alcohol in your system.

You took a deep breath and shook your head, taking a step to the side in the meantime, the tipsiness reminding you of its existence.

“Why the fuck are you talking to yourself?” A head of blonde speaking with an irritated voice caught your attention. This guy.

Bakugo was a friend of Kirishima’s and Kirishima was a friend of Mina’s (and Denki’s) so you knew each other. You often saw the blonde in the common room spitting curses at ‘Dunce face’s’ stupid ass, you had him in the periphery of your vision at parties, always a bit to the side of the room, you told him a bunch of unimportant stuff and listened to a solid dose of the same nothing from him, never close enough to hold a meaningful conversation, never far enough to ignore each other completely.

He was mean, got angry quickly, and always had something to complain about. He was also one of the top students, that you found a challenge for yourself rubbing your achievements in his face while he wiped yours with his scholarships. He was also ambitious, hard-working and disciplined. Success poured out of every pore of his body, distilling at the nape of his neck like sweat during his murderous work-outs. He really had it all, every ingredient necessary to create the perfect hero - strength for missions, talent for catching villains, endurance to pain, looks for the fans and a personality worth looking up to (not taking into consideration his mean ass but you were sure his future PR team would take care of it).

But Bakugo was just a colleague of yours, nothing much.

“Because I’m drunk.” You stood in front of the blonde, resting hands on your hips. “Aren’t you?” A cheeky grin sprung up on your face.

“I know how to hold my liquor. I’d rather not look like a pathetic, fun deprived idiot stumbling from left to right, on her journey to fetch some water.” For a newcomer's ears it sounded like venom reforged into words. You on the other hand knew to look for answers not in his bitching around but rather on his face. Even in the omnipresent darkness you were able to catch the smirk plastered on his lips. You could guess that freaky little smile was accompanied by a crooked brow, Bakugo assessing his superiority while also having fun with it.

“You forgot to add I’m talking to myself.” An accusatory finger shot his way and you giggled a bit, taking another step to the side to keep your balance.

“My bad.” The giggle died out in your throat and silence fell upon the two of you.

You were ready for some more bickering but Bakugo decided to cut this conversation short. What were you supposed to talk about now? Would he just prefer to be left alone? Sure, you should just go and grab that water and go back to your idiots by the bonfire, sing some Mr. Worldwide songs and get Denki even more drunk, up to the point where he’ll confess love to anyone and anything. Maybe you could get him to ask Mineta out just to laugh at him in the morning. Or maybe you could stick your nose in something that’s absolutely no business of yours - getting Kirishima and Mina to finally go out. Graduation bonfire would be a great moment to confess, so romantic.

“So what, you’re going abroad for college?” The discourtesy of your actions hit you straight in the face. You already ended this conversation in your head while Bakugo was still standing in front of you. Your lazy seeing focused back on the blonde. Dionizos must be laughing at you right now, reminding you from up in the heavens that you are, in fact, drunk.

“Yeah, sorry.” You rubbed your eyes a few times before looking back at him. “Yes, I got in. The application process was tiring. The schedules in Europe and here are totally different so I had to balance between getting all the shit finalised while assuring the universities abroad that I will get my certificate any day now. But it all paid off and now I’m moving out and that’s with a scholarship from the start!” You giggled once more, the thought of your ground-shaking success made your insides bubble up with joy. Well, maybe it shook only your ground but it was enough to feel self-satisfied.

Somehow you were walking, not standing. When you focused on that you realised that your journey for water hit a detour. Both of your figures disappeared further and further into the darkness of the nearby forest. It was nice and cool, a bit chilly even, with the wetness in the air that stuck to your bare shoulders giving you the chills.

“I’m also getting a scholarship.” Bakugo’s voice was out of place, calm and way more quiet than usual. Somehow on the way he stopped with this superiority shit and you felt like you were trodding the same ground as him.

“That’s nothing new.” He gave you a dissatisfied look that you barely caught in the moonlight. “But I’m not saying you shouldn’t be proud, or I shouldn’t be proud. We all should be proud of you.” You added the last part quickly, getting too caught up in your blabbering.

“So you’re proud of me?” The blonde started to snicker but you cut him short.

“What I mean is, you’re a great student and person, a hard-worker and any other epithet you can think of, but it doesn’t mean anyone should take your success for granted. It’s all your hard work, no matter how many times you do it.” You spoke from experience. When you’re always at the top people tend to think you’re glued to the peak of the mountain while in fact you climb it, all the way up, every single time. No one is born successful.

“Yeah, as if you knew.” That snickering of his will echo in your head for months if he doesn’t stop drilling it into your brain like this.

“Oh come on, cut me some slack. I’m also good, great even!” You threw your hands into the air, gesticulating dramatically. “Just because I don’t sweat my ass in training and prance around with a fancy quirk doesn’t mean I’m worthless.” You sassed at him, or at least in your head it was sass. You go girl, slay. “Besides, you didn’t complain when I improved your gear after spending nights on your samples.”

You and Bakugo were paired up one time during an assignment. Giving your biological specialisation you were able to analyse the samples of his sweat and spice up the storage of extracted explosives in his gear. He on the other hand was supposed to be as unproblematic as he could, and use your findings to the best of his ability. The blonde sure did exceed in at least one of these tasks.

“Cuz they were good.” This boy, why does he play hot n’ cold with you?

“I don’t understand.” You groaned, slapping hands on your cheeks. “Are you praising or criticising me?”

“Both.” He was looking straight ahead so his face was a mystery for you.

“Both! Both. Both.” You parrot him in a squeaky voice. Then you stop in your tracks and laugh quietly.

“What?” He seemed irritated by your sudden halt.

“Nothing, I just never thought a peasant like me could get a compliment from the great Bakugo.” You bowed dramatically and snickered sarcastically.

“Stop shitting around and start walking.” He turned and proceeded straight.

“Where are we even going?” Now that you thought about it you didn’t know where you were. All the trees around looked the same, the grass was covered in dew kissing your exposed ankles and the chatter of the bonfire died out some time ago.

“Doesn’t matter.” Bakugo threw disinterested.

“Objection judge! It does.” You grumbled. “I still need to get Denki a whole lot more drunk. I wanted to make him ask out…”

“Stop talking about fucking Dunce face.” Now it was Bakugo’s turn to groan.

“Denki, Denki, Denki.” You chanted gawking at him with wide-spread eyes.

“Seriously stop.”

“Why?” A cheshire grin entered your face. How come Denki was annoying someone while not even present.

“It’s ruining the mood.”

“Oh so we’re having a moment here?” You gasped theatrically.

“No we’re not. The thought of him is ruining my mood.”

“Are you sure?” You crooked a brow, turning around and walking backwards.

“Stop that idiot, you’re gonna fall and crash your stupid ass.” Bakugo’s face was vague in the dark, the sensation fueled up by your slightly murky vision.

“I know what I’ve heard. The great Bakugo is having a moment with old little me! And poor Denki is ruining it.” You pouted.

“Be delusional all you want.”

“I’m gonna have to tell Mina. Friends don’t keep stuff like that from each other. Wonder what she’ll say?” You hummed as if you were studying some very important samples.

“No you won’t. Or else I’ll smash your stupid ass.”

“Catch me if you can then.”

You turned around and ran for your life. The drunkenness, shaky breathing and uneven path that promised to betray your wobbly knees any moment now didn’t stop you from laughing madly while leaping through the twists and turns of the dark forest. Your fun was short lived as the blonde heroe-to-be was obviously quicker. He crashed into you as if you were a thief running after robbing a jeweller. It took you a few turns to brake but nothing hurt you in the end. After all, you were tackled by the one and only.

“Sorry, sorry.” You laughed apologetically, eyes closed as tears prickled them. You were dizzy after the stumble. “Don’t mind my drunk babbling, I was just joking.” Realisation hit you and maybe you took the act a bit too far, now that you think about it.

Looking up you saw him on all fours, over you. He kept silent, just staring down at you as if you had something on your face.

“What?” You propped yourself up on your elbows but was quickly shoved back down. “The fuck dude?”

His face was more comprehensible now. Moonlight shone down from between the rustling treetops, bouncing from one of his cheeks, the other dark, hiding half of his face. Red tinted the area of his nose, spreading over the whole of his face. Close up he also looked a bit drunk.

“Can you just stay silent?” His voice was not like him once more, low and inches from being a mere whisper.

So you did, looking up at him. Your brain fought a hard battle between trying to understand what was going on and at the same time giving up on clarity, just going with the flow of the strange situation.

Before you could choose a side and undertake appropriate actions Bakugo pressed his lips into yours. Sometimes you thought about how he would be, how he would act? The same you thought that Kirishima was a snack but also a golden retriever so he would most likely be gentle. The same you thought Shouto was good looking but most likely a virgin. The same you thought Denki was the last thing on mother earth you would fuck. In all the scenarios you made up in your head, never have you thought Bakugo would be subtle, or did it feel more like hesitation?

His lips were more like grazing yours than kissing them and quickly moved away as if he burned himself.

“What are you doing?” You asked, realising your voice was laced with irritation. What were you irritated about?

“Dunno, I’m drunk.” He answered, red eyes still caught up in your lower lip.

“Oh so now it’s an explanation.”

“Shut up.” He kissed you once more, firmly pressing his face into yours and pushing your slightly raised head into the moisty ground.

“I’m cold.” You mumbled between sloppy kisses, shivering from how hard the chilly ground pressed into your back. No, it was your back pressing hard into the ground.

Bakugo stood up on his knees and shimmied out of his jacket, grabbing at the front of your strapless shirt to guide you up. After you were laid back down, this time with his warm jacket shielding you from the cold, your brain turned on sluggishly and started to mull over the situation.

Bakugo didn’t explain why he was pressing his chest to yours while moving his lips faster and faster on yours, guiding himself down to your jaw and back up seconds afterwards, as if he didn’t want to lose time. You didn’t explain to yourself why you allowed him to, combing his fair hair with your fingers.

Between the kisses and gasps you managed to ask him one thing. “How far do you wanna take it?”

“Till the end. You okay with that?” His dialled pupils locked on your face and you finally realised he was looking straight at you, straight through you. It was only the two of you, wrapped up in each other's limbs like a tight knot, pressing onto one another as if battling who could do it harder. Were you really about to have sex with him? Did you feel excited about it? Yes, yes you did, you wanted it so bad right now. Why did he want to do it with you? No clue but it’s not important.

“Mhm.” You murmured, placing one of your palms on his cheek and guiding him back down to meet you halfway. “Show me.” You asked quietly, tugging at his shirt. Without objection he pulled it over his head and it was gone, letting you grab his bare shoulders and thread his muscles. You didn’t remain indebted for long, pulling your tight-fitting shirt up, letting your breasts spill out of their constrictions.

Two soft mounds quickly caught Bakugo’s attention but they were only a passageway for his palm to trace down. You nodded your head and pushed up your hips to make it easier for him to pull down your pants and leave them dangling over one of your tights. He straightened up once more and pulled out a condom from his pocket before undoing his own belt.

“You bastard!” Your finger pointed at the condom but Bakugo ignored it, finding his way between your tights.

It wasn’t your first time but it still took a while to get used to feeling him inside. Fortunately he was acting surprisingly nice, staying still with his face buried in the crook of your neck. After a short while when you felt ready you scratched his bare back delicately and murmured an ‘I’m ready’ into his ear.

Suddenly, the world turned around, your dizzy head not catching up with it. The cool breeze hit your back once more as the welcoming warmth of Bakugo’s coat was gone. You were sitting on him, watching his hard breathing, chest rising and falling in a steady but fast rhythm, one that matched your heartbeat.

“What…”

“It’s my first time, can you…” The words were cut short in his throat and he looked to the side, embarrassment grasping him faster than he could formulate his ask.

“It’s your first time?” It sounded a bit louder than you wanted it to.

“I don’t wanna fucking tell you this twice.” His anger rose quickly.

“No, no, that’s not what I mean!” You quickly assured him. “Don’t be embarrassed, it’s just… why do you want to have your first time with me?”

“Why do you have to fucking ask.” His gaze melted with the floor close to his head.

You realised that you were somehow destroying the mood, trying to get that answer out of him.

“You know what, never mind, you don’t have to tell me. I just wanted to, I don’t know, I just want it to be special now.” You whispered the last part and before he got to tell you how you ‘shouldn’t make a big deal out of it’ you were already moving your hips, pressing your chest into his and finding his kiss swollen lips once again. Between making out he remained silent, except for the occasional quiet gasps and hisses. His eyes were closed and hands palmed your ass as if he was holding it for dear life.

“Do you wanna try yourself?” You murmured into his ear and he nodded.

Turning around you were once again hugged by his coat but this time you felt it was unnecessary. Your body was hot, flushed against his burning one. Putting your hand on his lower sides you started to guide him, in and out, rotating his hips slightly to make him hit all the sweet spots and press tightly to the whole of your welcoming tights in the process. He caught it after a while and your help was no longer needed so you let yourself enjoy the moment.

“Not gonna last long like this so you better tell me how to make you cum too or I’ll feel like shit for the rest of the night.” His harsh voice disturbed your trance.

“Don’t worry, ‘m gonna take care of it. Just feel the moment, you look the hottest when you’re enjoying yourself.” You murmured, licking your fingers and guiding them down to help yourself.

After countless hastening gasps of yours you finally came with a soft whine and nails digging into Bakugo’s biceps. He came short after, falling over and crushing you under his weight. There was a short silence before you both started to gather yourself.

You sat wrapped up in his coat, ass slightly wet from the moisty grass. Fuck womens’ shorts, can’t they be slightly longer? Bakugo looked ahead, giving you a view of his pretty profile, with the upturned nose and lips lacking his usual frown. You felt a lot more sober now, the adrenaline evaporating from your veins. You sat in a hole in the dense tree line that gave you a view of the lake down in the valley. You didn’t even realise that you ran up a hill earlier. It was quiet, save for the night critters.

“So are you going to tell me why I got your v-card?” You eyed his still form. “I mean, you already had a condom on you so you either decided it was the big night and you're gonna lose it with whoever or, excuse me jumping to conclusions, you were hunting for me.” Your expertise was always precise when you were not stupid drunk.

“The latter.” Was his only response.

“Well then, did you like it?” You had a hard time comprehending what was going on. On one hand it was nice, sitting in the quiet with him after banging such a hot guy, on the other hand you tried to puzzle out what was his case but it turned out harder than you thought.

“Yes.”

“Great.” You looked to the side, up to the sky and down on your feet, trying to distract yourself from the awkward feeling creeping up your back.

“So you’re going away.” It was more of a statement than a question from him.

You mumbled out something in the lines of ‘yeah’, nodding your head and trying to figure out the sudden change of topic.

“Good for you, you deserve it.”

It was silent mostly and you were really lost. This was all so messy.

“Are you going to keep in contact with Mina?”

“Yes, of course. I think I’ll also keep in contact with the one whose name I shouldn’t pronounce.” Somehow you made him laugh dryly.

“So maybe I’ll pop up in the back sometimes.” He seemed to be speaking more to the grass under his feet than to you with the way he refused to face you.

“What’s up with you?”

“Listen.” He finally turned toward you. A quizzical look covered his features. “I told you I was gonna take it till the end and I’m gonna.” He was speaking another language and it was getting on your worn out nerves. Bakugo was never so elusive but now suddenly he decided to play a maze with you. “Do you want to be my girlfriend till the end of the night? Later you forget about me.”

It took a lot for you to hold your composure. What kind of kindergarten scenario was this? Why should you forget him?

“Just till the end of the night.” His voice was firm but his eyes spoke louder. They were dialled and pleading, locked straight into yours as if you were to disappear if he blinked. “Then you’ll be gone and it won’t matter anymore.”

“Do you have a…” You wanted to ask, you wanted to know. Why did the Bakugo Katsuki act so strange all of a sudden? Why did he play weird romantic scenarios and act as if you were dying and not simply moving to another country. Did he have a crush on you, could you really let such a thought live in your head?

“Don’t ask me that, just answer the question.”

And in the end it was not important because he was right. You will move away for a few years, you will meet new friends, new lovers. You will find a new life and let the old one away. You will grow and hurt and achieve and lose. You can’t be anchored to the past. You saw the answer in his intense eyes and it pained you to realise that you could guess what he would have said if you pushed him. You saw the opportunities fly by and escape into the night. If he only told you earlier you could have a thing, you could change some things… but do you want to change some things? Did he do you good or bad with his decision to keep to himself? It didn’t matter because that time is gone and now is now. Now you have to give him an answer as he is still observing.

“Okay, yes.” You said, blinking a few times trying to wake up from a dream, but it wasn’t a dream. It was his arm snaking around your waist as he pressed you firmly to his side and stole another kiss from your lips.

Bakugo was not your first nor last boyfriend but he was the one that you remembered the most, even if he was yours just for a few hours.

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undiscovered-horizon · 2 years

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"A whole new rodeo" - Rhett Abbott x Reader

[TW: creepy drunk guy, harassment, explicit language, physical violence (like one punch)]

<"Creepy guy at the bar" is a Cheesecake Trope™️: we all know it, there’s no nuance to it and yet it’s always just as lovely>

[1k followers celebration!]

SUMMARY: Rhett just wants to get a drink, not listen to some drunk guy be creepy to a girl. Preston Mabel might have a pretty bad morning, while Rhett Abbott is convinced he scored out of his league.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2k

One of the virtues of The Handsome Gambler was its constant state - always the same clientele, the same cheap beer, the same smell of hay and gasoline. It seemed as if menaces of the real world couldn't put their talons on whoever was spending their night at the bar, for a moment letting people of Amelia County sigh with relief and pretend their hardships were more akin to philosophical questions not mandatory to entertain rather than essential parts of their demanding lives.

It was just another weeknight, the regulars greeted each other with a slight nod or a tip of their hats before sitting down to their beers. One of Kenny Rogers's hits was playing through the speakers.

Rhett was sitting by the bar and had been absentmindedly drinking his beer, thinking of many different troubles that bit at his heels, until a couple didn't become his bar neighbours. Although to clarify, the pair itself wasn't a problem, Rhett had little care for lovebirds, it's rather only the drunk half of it that got on his nerves. He would've recognized that tacky hat with plastic seashells anywhere and at any time. It belonged to none other than Preston Mabel - a man approaching his thirties that hadn't been told 'no' enough times throughout his life. Through his childhood antics, Preston gained the prestige of the guy who throws sand at others and spits in other kids' porridge. Rumour had it, he never quite outgrew one of those habits...

He wouldn't have cared about Preston - worst case scenario, Rhett could have just found another seat and continued his lonely drinking. It was Mabel's companion, however, who changed Abbott's mind. Sitting on Preston's left side, he could get a look at her face and the unmistakeable discomfort she was experiencing:

Giving the man an empty chuckle, you casually brushed his hand away from your shoulder once again. No matter how nice and charming he had seemed, your regret was growing more potent ever since Preston's fourth beer. Although his behaviour was without a doubt criminal you were quite torn about what you should do: part of you was ready to bail at any moment, while the other was gullible enough to downplay your feelings, claiming that you were blowing the situation out of proportion. It was a small southern town, after all - only a fool would expect its citizens to act like the middle-class white-collars from big northern cities. In fact, quite a few people had said that you were 'stuck-up', mostly Tinder dates for the record, so maybe that's what painted your night in the colours of doom: you just couldn't take it easy.

"I'm just gonna get some fresh air, alright?" Your words were accompanied by nervous laughter. Hopefully, a few cold breaths could clear your mind and who knows: maybe you could even laugh at your anxious discomfort. The aftermath of his unwelcomed touch felt hot on your skin like sunburn before the dead epidermis flakes away.

"Just don't run away, sweetie," Preston slurred a little louder than necessary. He was leaning on the bar counter and Rhett was quite convinced it was the only source of his balance. A shiver ran down your spine hearing his words - it was as if he had somehow known it was a viable option in your mind.

In an impressively big gulp, Mabel finished his beer, setting the bottle down loudly against the counter. Hearing that, the bartender watched him closely from underneath his eyebrows - experience taught him that Preston was showing symptoms of trouble.

"Bambi's mine," the man slurred to the ambivalent bartender before burping loudly.

Stepping away from the counter, Mabel swayed for a moment but caught his balance quite swiftly. Then, with a swing to his step, he followed you outside. When the backdoor closed behind him, the bartender sighed to himself and went back to serving beers and drinks.

Although the situation had nothing to do with him, Rhett's gut was telling him that something was bound to happen - and it wasn't going to be Christmas arriving early. Staring through the circular window in the backdoor, he watched Preston force you against the wall. His leg started to nervously bounce as Rhett tried to decide whether it was his problem or not. Whatever decision should he make, it had to come fast.

"Fuck this," Rhett whispered to himself and rushed outside.

You tried turning your head away from Preston as much as you could, suddenly feeling impossibly ashamed of your inability to set your foot down. Keeping your hands on his chest, you tried to keep his away from yourself but not as assertively as you probably should have: the only worse thing than a drunk creepy man was offended drunk creepy man. And there were too many stories of women 'mysteriously' disappearing from small towns.

"How 'bout we go to mine, sunshine?" he offered. His body language, however, was too forward and decisive for the offer to remain an open question - it was more as if he was stating the end result of the night. You were disillusioned that with the state Preston currently was in it was either 'yes' or 'convince me'.

"No, thanks. I should be going home," you answered as certainly as you could. It felt as if your heart was a frenzied beast kept in place only by the confines of your ribcage.

The sound of the backdoor being pushed open directed your attention towards the unexpected stranger. He caught your gaze, for a moment looking at Preston and the anger on his face became only more prominent.

"Come on, girl. Don't be a little prude," Mabel pushed on. It seemed quite funny that he thought calling anyone 'prude' would work in his favour.

"She said no, Pres."

Rhett's voice could hardly be described as calm, it was more of a warning - anger was boiling inside him like a bull waiting for the slightest glimpse of the red cape. Your breathing became ragged, realizing that the ordeal might get a whole new spin as Rhett Abbott didn't seem like a man who backs off easily.

Preston, however, was deaf to Rhett's words: his shaky hand reached for your face but Abbott grabbed his wrist before you could even wince at the incoming unwanted touch.

"She doesn't fuckin' want to, pal."

Only then, when he was physically restrained, did Preston finally acknowledge Rhett's existence:

"Go fuck yourself, Abbott. She's mine."

Without much thinking, Rhett took a swing and landed a punch square to Preston's jaw. Mabel stumbled backwards, visibly struggling to keep his balance. In shock, he touched his face but winced at the smallest touch. For a moment, Preston stood still - in disbelief that someone laid their hands on him.

"Apologize and go home, Preston," Rhett demanded as he moved to stand in front of you. His right fist was clenched, prepared to repeat the offence.

"You-..." Preston stuttered. Words simply wouldn't leave his mouth. "You fuckin'-..."

"I told you to apologize and go home," Rhett repeated. His persistence impressed you, leaving you grateful that it was a man like him who noticed your plight.

Probably still unable to believe he was put in his place, Preston Mabel threw a short 'sorry!' and disappeared around the corner of the building, stumbling over his own drunken feet.

"I've always wanted to do that," Rhett said quietly as he watched Preston Mabel cower away. Then his worried expression was directed at you and, somehow, the shadow of a man throwing fists seemed to be gone. His hand was no longer clenched. "You doin' alright?"

"Yeah, I guess," you answered while averting his gaze. Rhett noticed how you rubbed your arm awkwardly. "I mean, not now. But I will be. Not the worst thing that happened to me." Rhett would have asked about clarification, feeling his anger rise again but your uneasiness was too prominent and so he tried to chase his vigour away. He could ask about things worse than drunk Preston Mabel some other time - should it, hopefully, arrive. "Thank you."

"How'd you even know the guy?"

You felt a blush of embarrassment creep unto your cheeks remembering the events of the morning. Now that you thought about the earlier hours of the day, you couldn't help but feel slightly ashamed of your naivety. How humorously human it was - to be wise and reasonable only in hindsight.

"He stopped me in the streets," you confessed. Feeling your embarrassment only growing stronger, you started to mindlessly pick at your skin. Your statement elicited fairly mixed emotions from Rhett. On one hand, he was beyond bewildered that anyone could take Preston Mabel for a 'nice man' but at the same time, he found it somehow completely expected that you would get asked out in the streets - no matter how cliche the scenario might seem. You did look like that kind of woman: the type that Rhett would never even think of asking out, simply because the possibility of getting rejected was, quite frankly, ridiculously high to the point of being obvious. If he knew he had no chance with someone, there was no point in putting his neck or rather his ego's neck in the noose. "Seemed nice enough and it's not like I know many people 'round here, so I took a gamble. It's stupid, I know."

"No, it's not," he answered quickly. Confused, you look at his face not understanding the unexpected redemption of your actions. "Maybe a little."

His eyes were stuck to your face as you laughed at his words. The anxiety Preston managed to instil in you was fading away and the newfound relief only added to your sudden joy. Feeling how warmth sparkled inside his chest watching your amusement, Rhett began weighing his chances. He was disillusioned about the reality: the only thing he had that Preston didn't have was respect for others and the lack of tacky seashells. Rhett wasn't the type of man to shoot in the dark, taking a risk only when he's fairly certain of the net result but at the moment, standing outside The Handsome Gambler, he naively thought that maybe it was his shooting star of a chance.

"You think I could call you tomorrow?"

"Call me?" you repeated in a shocked tone. Rhett's heart sunk and for a moment he really wanted to slap his own face for ever thinking he could aim outside of his league. "It should be me, bringing a fruit basket to you."

You fished out a pen from your purse and, without warning him or asking, you wrote your phone number on the inside of his forearm. Rhett's hands were rough, littered with callouses and scars - hands of someone who knows the price of an honest and humble life. Rhett's knuckles were hot, and flushed, as the skin started to turn from red to purple. He was quite displeased with how quickly you scribbled the digits on his skin only to leave him cold in the absence of your hands.

"Just don't call before 8AM, I'm not an early bird. And I'm paying for dessert, cowboy."

Rhett's eyes glazed over the quick writing in black pen and a triumphant smile appeared on his face. Aside from the nine digits, you had scribbled something else:

"(Y/N)?" he read the few letters above the phone number. "Pretty name. So, (Y/N), you need a ride home?" Your name sounded quite odd coming from Rhett's mouth as if he was the only person in the world to pronounce it in a certain way - it sounded special.

"Sure, I'd love that."

Rhett Abbott might have known a thing or two about riding bulls but he was certain you were going to be a whole new rodeo for him - and that bull he wasn't falling off.

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horseshoe-bay-ledger · 2 years

Text

Bail Me Out?

Okay, so this post ( @naceistruelove ) wormed its way into my brain, so I had to write it just to get it out of my head.

...

“Really?” Nancy asked, exasperated.

“Hi,” Ace said, like he hadn’t just walked into the cell he was supposed to bail Nancy out of.

He had said ‘hi’ in that casual way he did when he wanted his tone to distract from what was going on so he wouldn’t have to address it immediately. Nancy was having absolutely none of it. She had been sitting on this hard bench for far too long.

“Ace,” Nancy said, “How is it that I asked you to bail me out—and only that—and now you’re sitting in here with me?”

“Well,” Ace shrugged, “I may have done more than that.”

Of course he was being all mysterious and vague. He sat down next to her on the bench bumping her shoulder with his.

Nancy scoffed admonishingly. “Do I want to know?”

Ace turned his whole body to face her, raised his eyebrows slightly. He repeated her question back to her, “Do you want to know?”

Avoidance really was Ace’s strong suit.

She didn’t, but she did. Nancy answered his question by not answering his question, “I knew I should’ve called Carson.”

Avoidance was also one of her skills, particularly when it came to Ace.

“Can’t,” Ace said simply, “he had to drive up to New York for a client, won’t be back until tomorrow morning. Ryan went with him as well I think.”

Nancy thought Carson would probably come immediately if he knew she was in trouble and asked for his help—it was part of the reason why she called Ace, he was basically the same—but she didn’t want to have to worry him.

It was when she was thinking about Carson she remembered the time he had asked Ace for help when he was behind bars. She wished she remembered that sooner. She really shouldn’t be surprised Ace ended up in here with her. She probably should be thankful things didn’t end up worse. She didn’t even want to begin to imagine what trouble he had gotten himself into over her.

To stop herself spiralling into the depths of blaming herself for the misfortunes of all the people around her she tried to think of who else they could call. You know, to bail them both out.

“Well, what about George? She might be able to leave The Claw for a little bit—”

Aces eyes widened slowly and shook his head. “No, she’s in one of her scary moods at the moment. Also I already owe her like eight times over at last count.”

Nancy sighed. Of course he did. But they were also both currently in jail so they really couldn’t be all that picky, George’s temperament aside.

“That’s gone up by two since I last heard, you might want to get a hold on that.”

Ace just looked at her witheringly like he already knew that but that was just the way it was with George and him.

“Okay, what about Nick then?” Nancy suggested.

Ace shook his head again. Nancy knew asking Nick to do something like this was basically indirectly asking George to come pick them up as well but they were running out of options.

“I couldn’t get a hold of Bess earlier when I was…” Ace trailed off, reluctant to disclose what exactly he had been doing and why he got arrested.

“Okay well when you can suggest something more productive get back to me,” Nancy said slightly frustrated. She continued sarcastically, “You can find me in the same police holding cell that you are also currently locked up in.”

There was silence for a moment. Ace just tilted his head looking at her, considering her.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said. He said it so genuinely Nancy was half surprised by it and half ashamed for snapping at him. Ace only ever tried to help, she knew that. Even if it didn’t always turn out well, he was always well intentioned. She couldn’t blame Ace for being, well, Ace. She sighed, collapsing back onto the wall and closed her eyes.

There was quiet between them for a bit then a sudden burst of laughter came out of Nancy. Her reaction was not what Ace nor Nancy herself expected. She must have been more tired than she thought. But once she started laughing she couldn’t stop. Ace just looked at her with half a smile on his face like he couldn’t help it.

“I’m sorry,” she managed to get out between gasps, “it’s just how do we always end up like this? I mean… it’s just so us.”

“If it helps,” Ace said, still smiling, “I got arrested for trying to steal a traffic cone.”

Oh, Ace.

This just sent Nancy, who had almost got herself under control, into further fits of laughter. Of course he did. She didn’t even want to know why he was doing that. Okay, she did but it was enough to know that was how Ace ended up beside her in his misguided chivalrous attempt to get her out here.

“Did that have anything to do with what you were actually doing?” She asked.

“Nope,” Ace said succinctly and immediately, popping the ‘p’ at the end.

“So what were you doing?” Nancy asked. It was like an itch she couldn’t help but scratch. She couldn’t deal with not knowing—her mind went to dark places.

Ace hesitated. “You’re just going to get mad…” he trailed off, scratching the back of his neck and looking guiltily up at Nancy.

“I promise I won’t,” Nancy said only partly lying.

“Okay, well, I might have been investigating the scary house you were arrested for breaking into—you know the one you told me to avoid—in, ah, not the most legal of ways.”

That was, actually less dramatic and worrisome—well by their standards at least—than she was imagining, but still. Then she remembered what he said about Bess.

“Alone?” She asked, alarmed, “that place is probably haunted.”

“Woah, hold on. Pot. Kettle. Black.” Ace pointed out. “Also you promised not to get mad.”

It was her turn to look guilty then. “Hmm, touché,” she said.

Something in her head didn’t quite add up so she asked, “but then why were you stealing a traffic cone?”

Ace just shrugged.

“Fine, keep your secrets. But we still need a lifeline out of here,” Nancy pointed out.

“It’s going to have to be George, isn’t it?” Ace said, resigned.

Nancy just looked at him, giving him her tight, grimace-like smile of sympathy.

When George finally arrived to bail them out (Nick in tow) she stood waiting for them arms crossed and an angry expression on her face. Her foot was tapping the ground ominously. Ace had been right she was in one of her scary moods.

“Can you guys go one day without getting yourselves into trouble, I have a restaurant to run, you know? And a life to live outside your antics.”

Ace opted for silence and Nancy knew not to make some sarcastic comment about her mothering them. Especially after all the time George had spent here bailing out Victoria, her own mother. Nancy began to feel even more guilty. Also Nancy and Ace had both just been bailed out of jail after all, they didn’t really have much ground to stand on.

“I’ll call you first next time so you don’t have to put up two sets of bail,” Nancy tried to placate.

“Wait you two didn’t get arrested together?” Nick asked.

“Ace, did you not tell them I was here?” Nancy asked turning to him.

“Well, I…” Ace started. He finished that sentence with, “No.” He seemed to have found a spot on the floor particularly interesting.

“I got arrested and asked Ace to bail me out,” Nancy explained. “He told me he was on his way and then next I heard from him he had been arrested and was being locked up in there with me.”

“I thought I had it under control,” Ace added.

“Clearly,” Nancy said sarcastically.

“Okay that’s enough of that. You two owe me big time. That’s nine for you now Ace,” George said, her index finger poking into Ace’s chest.

Ace’s mouth opened like a goldfish, and closed similarly. He just looked at George sheepishly, accepting his fate.

“Okay,” Nick intervened, “we can talk about this later, why don’t we head back to The Claw for now?”

As they went to walk out Nancy whispered to Ace, “want to help me break into that house later? You know, not in broad daylight this time?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” Ace replied. Glancing ahead of him he quickly added, “just don’t tell George.”

#nancy drew #ace [redacted]#nancy drew f #fic #ned nickerson #george fan #nace #nancy x ace #nancy drew fic

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heyhihellowhatsup0 · 3 years

Text

Hooked On Your Feelings - Chapter Two (FWB! Tom Holland x Reader)

SERIES MASTERLIST

Warnings: Some angst, language, eventual smut in future chapters, fluff

Word Count: 5255

Summary: After a bad breakup, making an agreement with your womanizing neighbor, Tom to be friends with added benefits and no strings attached seemed like the perfect idea. Until things become messy, emotions caused your agreement to crumble.

A/N: I am HYPE to post this new chapter! Omg I just love writing this series so much its so fun writing Tom like this lol. Also low key...this chapter has an easter egg to a pervious series of mine and I’m v curious if anyone catches it but probably not because its superrr tiny but either way I hope you guys like this one! Obviously, smut is in this chapter! DM me to be tagged and I cannot wait to hear everyone’s thoughts! (Also .gif is not mine. DM me for credit please, I found on google!) Thank you xx -N

“What happened to that girl you took home the other night from The Lace Rabbit?” Harrison asked as he ordered his lunch before he took a seat at the table with Tom. It was typical for them to meet up during the week on their lunch breaks and catch up when they were not busy being wingmen for the other while bar hopping on the weekends.

Tom shrugged off Harrison’s question as he took a bite of his sandwich, “She got a little clingy so I had Y/N help me get rid of her,” he smiled as he said your name out loud. His friends knew of you as the hot girl who lived next door who bailed him out of sticky situations. Always teasing Tom how he could never actually get you. The irony made it all too funny for him, “How’d it go with that blonde girl?” he asked to change the subject off of him.

He didn’t know if he should bring up the two of you sleeping together with Harrison. Harrison was his best friend and wouldn’t judge but he knew he’d give Tom shit for it. He’d want to know details of your arrangement or how it came about, if you were really that good and Tom didn’t feel comfortable answering that. Not if it was about you. He didn’t want his other friends knowing about you in the way he did. That was personal between you both and he wanted to show you he respected you.

“It didn’t,” Harrison admitted while taking a sip of his water. He let out a chuckle as he felt himself blushing, “Forgot her name and she spilt her drink on me. Can’t say I didn’t deserve that one,” he at least knew when he was in the wrong.

Tom cringed into his sandwich as he let out a cackle, “You definitely deserved it, mate,” he laughed with another bite. His phone vibrated in his pocket but he chose to ignore it, knowing like clock work what it probably was. It was going to ruin the rest of his day and he at least wanted to enjoy lunch with his friend before getting pissed off for the day.

“She’d probably love you,” Harrison teased.

“Fuck off,” Tom rolled his eyes with a laugh. “I’m not taking your angry seconds.”

“Don’t knock angry sex til you try it,” Harrison smirked knowingly.

Tom shook his head as he once again ignored the phone ringing, “I think I’m good, thanks,” he brushed it off with another eyeroll.

He didn’t know why he suddenly felt weird talking about their last venture out at the club. Maybe it was because Tom knew where he ended up after that girl had left and he knew what that meant for the both of you. But Tom wasn’t done with his bachelor days, and even you knew that. Hell, you practically insisted since this was a no strings attached deal.

It just felt strange not telling Harrison about you. Like it was a weird secret. But at the same time, he felt oddly protective of you. Not wanting his friends to see you as some girl he was getting laid with. Or worse, a potential love interest. He knew it wasn’t going to happen. Hell would be freezing over before Tom decided on any sort of long term obligation. But he knew his friends and he knew they wouldn’t see this is a simple agreement between two friends. And he didn’t want to deal with that conversation.

Staying quiet was the better option. For his own sanity. And...well, would you care if he told anyone about this? Tom figured that was another rule he’d have to ask about. He didn’t want to overstep any boundaries and he knew you had a list of rules as well that he was happy to follow. As long as that meant one thing and one thing only: non-exclusive.

Harrison noticed Tom’s phone buzzing for the third time. And Tom ignored it for the third time. He checked the message with a huff of his breath before turning the screen face down on the table, going back to his lunch before he had to get back to work.

“Clingy girl?” Harrison nodded towards Tom’s phone.

Tom shook his head, “My mother was supposed to visit this weekend but you know the routine,” he mumbled into his food, not even wanting to respond to her.

“Let me guess,” Harrison began, knowing exactly where this was going since he knew Tom’s whole story inside and out. Including the bits he hated to discuss which was mainly his family, “Going skiing with Clint in Veil instead?” he questioned knowingly.

Tom scoffed out a laugh at his guess, “Surfing with Clint in Malibu but same shit,” he corrected as he tried not to let it get to him. But even Harrison could tell he was getting bothered by it once again and who could honestly blame him.

Always the same story every time no matter what and Tom grew tired of her antics. He couldn’t even blame Clint for it anymore considering she’d been this way since he was a kid before he was even in the picture. Only now she would just use him as the perfect excuse to get out of coming to visit.

He knew he shouldn’t care anymore but he couldn’t help it. It wasn’t something easy for him to simply let go of. It was his mother. And no matter how many times he’d try she would always give him back the bare minimum and it always made him upset. She was his one final connection to him and she could care less about any of it, so why did Tom? It always got under his skin and he loathed that it did.

But he would still invite her. No matter how miserable it made him.

“Well at least now you’re free this weekend,” Harrison broke his thought while he gathered their garbage before they headed back to work, “The usual at The Lace Rabbit this Saturday then?” he suggested with a knowing smile to try and get Tom out of his mood.

Grabbing his phone, Tom clutched it tightly as he inhaled sharply. Knowing his change of plans meant doing his normal routine even though he was looking forward to the slight change this weekend, which now just seemed bleak to him

“Yeah,” Tom agreed as he tapped your name on his phone but hesitated when he saw his mother trying to call for a fourth time, “The usual this weekend.”

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Your chest tensed as you got into your car after your extremely long day in the office. Everything around you felt heavy and you couldn’t wait to get home as soon as you could but you found yourself still frozen in your car. Unable to move as the moments from earlier this afternoon invaded your thoughts once again while you tried your best to move in. Even though you knew you were completely grief stricken and didn’t know what the hell to do.

The promotion was yours, at least you had thought it was by the way your boss would constantly hint at it. You knew it was never a definite thing, but you were confident in the hard work you had put into your job and knew you were a top contender for the spot. You worked longer hours, took on extra tasks, you even worked on the occasional weekend to get your work done. Taking every precaution necessary to prove that you were the best fit for the role.

Everything felt like it was lining up for you. Co-workers were giving you a pat on the back for your work accomplishments, your boss was taking note of everything you were doing, and you overall felt really good about where you stood for the potential position. So imagine your surprise when you attended the big luncheon and your boss announced his undeserving son was getting the spot instead of you.

It was both nepotism and misogyny rolled into one and it made your stomach turn the longer you had thought about it. None of it made any sense and it was far from fair. You knew you were the one more deserving of the position, the whole office knew it. Even your damn boss knew but he chose his damn son over you and it felt like a stab right to your gut.

You felt so betrayed and beside yourself as you finally decided to head home. Tears streamed down your cheeks while you tried to focus on the road but you just couldn’t ignore the facts. How were you going to be able to show up and take orders now from your boss’ son? You knew the job more than he did and it felt like a huge screw you.

On your drive home, you tried to make yourself feel better by putting on some music to distract yourself but nothing helped. You felt beyond defeated and frustrated right now you didn’t know what was going to make you feel better at the moment. It felt like the world was against you. Between finding Justin with another woman and your job, you were really batting one thousand lately and you weren’t sure when you would catch a break.

Things were not going how you planned at all. The thought of just quitting your job and starting all over again crossed your mind but the fear of the unknown kept haunting you. You didn’t know which direction to go in or who to turn to for advice anymore. You were slowly drowning and you needed someone to throw you a goddamn life jacket already.

You were relieved to finally be home. Maybe some peace and quiet would make you feel a little better, you thought to yourself while you kicked your shoes off and turned some music on for yourself. Trying to put the day behind you and focus on the present moment while you got changed into more comfortable clothes to unwind.

You jumped out of your skin when you heard a knock at your door, not expecting anybody to come by right now. Pulling your hair up into a bun, you headed back towards the door and looked through the peephole. To your surprise, you weren’t really surprised at all. You were actually sort of relieved when you opened the door and saw Tom standing there holding a pizza box.

“That better have extra cheese,” you asked with a narrowed expression while you invited him inside with the pizza that he would always bring you even in normal times.

Placing the box on the kitchen table, Tom opened it with a grin as he showed you the pizza pie with cheese practically oozing from the crusts, “Figured it was an extra toppings sort of day,” he admitted, knowing he really needed the escape from reality. Even if it was just a pizza.

“Tell me about it,” you sighed as you grabbed a piece closest to you as Tom handed you a paper plate. You headed over towards your refrigerator to grab you both a few beers while Tom leaned up against your kitchen counter as he devoured his slice, “I’m guessing you had a bad day judging by your pizza presentation?” knowing there wasn’t really any particular reason he’d be coming over with it today. Unless if he wanted something?

You slowed your pace back from the fridge wondering if he was going to pick up on how you were feeling. You weren’t entirely sure if you wanted him to notice. Whenever you and Tom had a pizza night it was merely to gossip about your lunatic neighbors or watch a game together. You talked about casual things but never really gone into depth or prying into each other’s lives. Why did it feel like suddenly you wanted something different? Would sex change that much in your friendship?

“We can just ignore that...we don’t have to talk about unimportant stuff,” you waved it off. Tom didn’t need to hear about your miserable day. And you didn’t want to pry into his.

He swallowed the last bite of his slice, “If something makes you upset, it’s not unimportant,” he noted. But when he noticed you just looking at him, he raised his hands in surrender. “Ignore my philosophical ass. But I’d like to hear about your day, you know,” he laughed it off.

What the hell was he doing? He thought to himself. Don’t let personal shit ruin this. Enjoy her company. That’s it.

“I didn’t get the promotion,” you told him. You had mentioned to Tom a while ago that your boss was hinting at it but you never went into detail with him about it. You weren’t used to Tom actually wanting to be open or the other way around. And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t slightly surprised Tom even gave a crap about stuff like this.

Tom frowned at your answer and he felt his heart sink a bit when you told him the truth about your bad day. He didn’t know much about your job but he was sure you were a hard worker. He saw how much you loved your job and how passionate you were about it when it would come up. You would share upcoming projects with him from time to time and he would see the look on your face whenever you explained them to him. So hearing that you were passed by for a promotion was upsetting to him.

“I...shit, Y/N,” he put his pizza down as he walked over towards to give you a hug. Sliding his hands around your waist he pulled you into him as he felt you relax against his chest, “You didn’t deserve that,” he added softly.

You allowed Tom to embrace you, his warmness comforting you a bit before you pulled away and started crying when telling him about your boss’ son getting the job instead of you. Making you laugh by calling him every name in the book, you and Tom finally found a common ground as you kept venting to him.

Tom pulled away slowly, his hand resting at your chin while he licked his lips, “You’re boss sounds like a fucking prick, I hope you know that,” he told you reassuringly. The small smile you formed when he spoke made him want to keep making you feel better, “I’m glad you’re smiling,” he blushed at his confession.

Stretching your mouth wider, you flashed Tom a playful yet overly wide grin to deflect the attention he gave to you. The two of you laughed as Tom pulled away with a loud chuckle, shaking his head at your sudden silliness, “That has to be the most hideous smile. But we’ll work on it,” he told you through his laughter.

You rolled your eyes before going back to your pizza, giving Tom a look as you nudged him, “Not gonna tell me about what happened to you?” you finally asked.

Tom tensed as he tried to brush it off with a simple shrug into his pizza. The thought of his mother’s texts and ridiculous apologies and excuses continued to drive him crazy as he mumbled into his bite, “It’s stupid shit,” he told you as he swallowed the crust he was chewing, “Mom stuff, not important,” he added bluntly.

You could see the look on his face and could tell it was important to him but you didn’t want to force him to talk about it. Tom was never one to bring up his family ever to you and that was the first time you had ever heard him even mention his mother. He never spoke of his father, at least to you, so you just assumed both were out of his life for whatever reason and it was none of your business to ask.

And Tom refused to admit it but he wanted you to ask about him. Spending hours upon hours at bars, turning his focus always onto the girl; because he knew no girl would ever want to go home with a self righteous, egotistical guy. It was never something Tom minded to do, especially with complete strangers who he would never open up to in a million years. It might have been the recent development he had with you but there was something refreshing he felt around you and as much as it freaked him out, he didn’t seem to mind.

But diving into his mommy issues with you now seemed too much to deal with right now. You were dealing with more than enough problems with your job and your miserable ex-boyfriend, he figured you didn’t need to hear his bitching right now anyway. He came here to get away from those shitty thoughts, not open those wounds further.

Tom came here for a distraction.

Licking his lips, Tom perked up as he looked at you fervidly, “Wanna have sex?” he asked matter of factly. He figured he didn’t need to beat around the bush since you had your arrangement but maybe he was a bit too direct with his request. Tom cleared his throat as he tried to save the night, “I-I mean, I just figured since we both had shitty days that maybe we could uhm-”

“Thought you’d never ask,” you cut him off with a smirk and you perked up as well, nodding as you smoothed out your hair. Standing back up as you turned your back towards him, removing your shirt in the process, “Let’s go,” you called over your shoulder as you headed towards your room.

“Oh, we’re jumping right in,” Tom mumbled to himself as he practically fell off his chair to follow you into your room, tossing his shirt beside yours as he practically froze already seeing you completely undressed, “Christ…” he breathed out while taking you in.

You rolled your eyes as you walked over to him, bringing your lips to his now bare shoulder, “You’re really acting like you haven’t seen me like this the other day?” You laughed against his skin while you began to suck a bruise against him, hearing him let out a gasp while your hand snaked into his pants sneakily, “Beginning to really like this whole friends with benefits thing we have,” you laughed as you found Tom’s lips.

Practically growling into your kiss, Tom lifted you up and lowered you onto your back on your bed. His lips traveled from yours, to your stomach, dipping his tongue into your belly button as you moaned quietly before he brought himself down between your thighs. His lips peppering your inner thigh before he got straight to the point because this whole arrangement meant no foreplay. Another plus for Tom.

“Darling, I think you may be the best friend I’ve ever had,” Tom breathed out a laugh as he pressed his tongue flatly against your clit. Sliding two of his fingers into your core while he slowly pumped in and out of you, “This is what got me through my day today,” he told you before he brought his mouth back to your core.

You arched your back while your fingers went towards Tom’s curls. His name began to fall from your lips while he lapped his tongue carefully, letting it slip inside of you as he continued to tease you with his mouth. His fingers sliding into you again, adding a third as he moaned against your center; allowing the vibrations to roll throughout your entire body.

“Mmm, oh, fuck...!” you cried out, yanking gently against Tom’s hair as you felt the coil beginning to burn from inside of you. Biting your lip to stifle another moan, “Fuck...yo-you’re really good at that,” you breathed out with a small laugh which turned into a whimper.

With his head peering up at you, Tom flashed you a cocky smile with a playful wink as he licked your folds teasingly, “Did you seriously doubt my abilities to make you cum with my mouth, Y/N?” he raised his eyebrow while pumping his fingers now tantalizingly slow, “You’re gonna pay for that comment,” he said to you.

“Just...shut up and make me cum, Tom,” you told him through another gasp as you felt his teeth drag teasingly against your already throbbing bud. His lips wrapped around it as he sucked more harshly, doing exactly as you had asked him to do, “Ungh...oh god, okay. Yeah, keep doing that,” you instructed as you began to grind your hips against his mouth.

Tom took it as a challenge and picked up his pace, beginning to flick your clit faster while he continuously sucked on it. His three fingers now entirely coated in your warmth as he felt you clenching around them. His pants feeling tighter from his hard on while he knelt at the end of your bed trying to bring you to where he wanted.

His free hand splayed against your stomach, holding you in place while he felt you trying to squirm around from the way he was making you feel. Rubbing your clit in between his breaths, Tom looked up at you as he licked a solid stripe down your center, “Let out how you’re feeling from today and cum for me, Y/N,” Tom commanded.

Your eyes shut as you did exactly what Tom had suggested. Completely coming undone from beneath him while you released as much of the tension from earlier as you possibly could but in the most amazing way. Your eyes rolled back into your head while your back arched as Tom’s tongue continued to work you up while you were at your highest point.

Letting out a breathy laugh as you started to come down from it, feeling Tom begin to kiss his way back up your stomach with a smug look, “Don’t give me that look,” you rolled your eyes at his cockiness as his tongue traced along your neck, “I could do what you just did to myself, you know,” you tried to knock him off his high horse a bit while he pretended to be wounded from your words.

“Ah, but you didn’t. Did you?” Tom reminded you as his lips found yours. His hands still in between your thighs as he brought them between you both, showing you his coated fingers while he tasted you off of them, “Tastes like I made you cum because you wanted me to,” his smugness only elevated as he pushed himself off of you as he laid on his back on your bed.

“Need I remind you that you came to my place like a porno with a pizza looking to get laid,” you retaliated as you shifted so you were now hovering over him. Your hands guiding towards his belt buckle to get him out of his restraintive pants. The pleading look on his face made you just as smug, “Sounds like you want me to do just about the same thing, am I right or am I right?” you sang in his ear.

Tom helped you get the rest of his pants and boxers off, feeling himself spring out as he stared back at you with uncertainty, “Did you...just call me a porn star?” he questioned as the two of you let out a laugh.

“You wish, Tommy,” you teased as you ran your tongue down his abs, placing small and open kisses against his stomach as you made your way down to his legs while your hand carefully gripped his hardened length, your thumb running the pre-cum around his tip while you already heard him gasping for you.

Gripping your bedsheets with one hand, Tom reached around to create a makeshift ponytail to hold your hair. Cussing under his breath as he watched your mouth wrap around his tip, swirling your tongue around it while your eyes searched for his. He was really trying to hold it together but you were already driving him crazy.

“Let’s see what you got, Y/N,” Tom challenged you with a heavy breath as he tightened his grip around your hair, “Sometimes, girls think they know exactly what to do but-OH FUCK!”

His words were lost as soon as your mouth went straight down to his base. Suctioning as hard as you could before coming back up his cock painfully slow. Moaning your name as his chest began to heave, Tom felt his thighs start to quiver from under you. Even just watching the way you were working on him was enough to make him whimper right now.

“Fuck...okay, yeah I take that back,” Tom gasped as his nose crinkled up while his other hand white knuckled the sheets, “God, your mouth is fucking perfect. Why haven’t we done any of this shit before?” he was in such a fucked out haze, he wasn’t even sure if anything he was saying made any sense at all. But he felt his stress from earlier going away finally. Even if this was just a short state of bliss, he was grateful for it anyway.

“You really want me to answer that or would you just prefer me to keep sucking your dick?” you sassed while you kitten licked his tip. You watched from the end of the bed as Tom bucked his hips into your mouth to try and get more contact from your lips but you pulled away from him and just kept licking his tip.

God, you were good, Tom thought to himself.

‘K-keep going,” Tom finally breathed out, flinging his head against the pillow to brace for the impact.

Hollowing your cheeks, you pushed yourself all the way down his cock. Your tongue flicking the base in between as you began to feel him throb inside of your mouth. You could tell he was close so you moaned softly into his cock, watching as Tom shuddered from the sensation you just sent through him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Tom cried out, moaning your name as he rutted his hips into your mouth. His pupils blacked as he felt the heat rising in his body, “Shit...I’m gonna cum, Y/N,” he warned as you pulled away, running your hand down his shaft as he began to come undone for you.

His warmth spilled out into your hand and down his cock while he let go finally. The stress somewhat leaving his body as it did yours while the euphoric high peaked for him. Your lips crashed against his while his tongue parted your lips to find yours, tangling them together as he moaned against your mouth while riding out his high finally.

You waited for Tom to catch his breath before you smiled against his lips, placing a small peck against them as you pulled away with an even bigger grin, “Yeah, you’re welcome,” you gave him the same arrogant tone he gave to you moments earlier before you pecked his lips again.

After taking some time to get yourselves together mixed with the continuous fooling around underneath the sheets, you and Tom finally decided to get up and end the night. Even though he didn’t want to leave, he knew he probably shouldn’t overstay. Primarily, Tom was adamant about never spending the night at a girl’s place that he slept with. That made things complicated and he didn’t want complicated. But since you and him had rules to not make things messy, he wasn’t sure if that applied to you. For now, he wanted to play it safe so he got himself dressed again.

You pulled on an oversized t-shirt, realizing both of your hair looked a mess. Luckily you were already home and Tom was down the hall so it didn’t really matter. You wanted to say something to Tom, that you were thankful he came by tonight. You were thankful even before sex was on the table. It felt nice to have him as an ally to swing by with a pizza when he didn’t even know you needed that.

“...is it weird to say I’m glad you came by?” you gestured towards your bedroom while you walked with him out into the kitchen where the half eaten pizza was left, “I know we haven’t really made too many rules about it but…” you trailed off with a nervous laugh as you smiled at him awkwardly.

“Like we said, zero weirdness,” Tom reminded you as he padded his way over to you. He grabbed a leftover crust from the box and shoved it in his mouth, clearly starving already from the workout you had just given him. He smiled while he chewed lazily, his mouth still filled with pizza crumbs, “But I’m happy to come by when we have shit days...and make you cum as well,” he smirked deviously.

The door opened as you smiled back, “Doesn’t have to be just bad days, you know. We could...screw whenever we feel like it,” you told him, hoping that it wasn’t too much.

“Did you just say screw?” he whipped his head towards you with a loud laugh.

“Alright then, I guess I’ll just leave you to the girls who leave you unsatisfied then,” you fought back.

Tom leaned against the door with his mouth gaped open, “They do not...leave me...unsatisfied?” he questioned himself, knowing that that was true, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

“Then why are you here?” you placed a hand on your hip, feeling the smile pulling at your lips while you messed around with him. You certainly weren’t in this mood earlier before Tom came around.

Pressing his lips together, Tom rolled his eye at you, “Fine...we can screw...whenever,” he leaned in closer to you with his eyes big as he mimicked your voice when you said it, “As long as we keep this thing strictly what we intended, you can use me whenever you need, Y/N,” and he meant it.

You didn’t back away when he sealed his words with a soft kiss, paired with his trademark grin. Tom pulled away slowly, taking in the moment as he wished you a goodnight quietly before kissing you against the cheek, “Like I said, best friend I ever had,” he said softly once again.

“Am I interrupting something?” A voice broke from behind the two of you. Both of your eyes widened towards each other as you both simultaneously pivoted your heads towards the staircase where the voice was coming from.

Tom closed his eyes with a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to ignore Harrison staring at the two of you with a crooked grin. Making it known to Tom that explaining this was going to be a lot tougher than he had imagined.

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#tom holland #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #heyhihellowhatsup0

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stuff-from-the-void-matron · 3 years

Text

Laurel Wreaths & Animal Teeth (6)

(c!Technoblade x fem!Reader)

(some of y’all seemed to like chapter 5! so here’s chapter 6 like promised! and remember, you get chapter 7 if this one is shown some love, so remember to comment and reblog! thanks y’all! <3)

————-

True to their word Tommy and Tubbo came back to see you the very next day, having gotten up early (well early for them) to get ready and head out. Wilbur had wanted to go with them but he’d gotten caught up in presidential matters and couldn’t, much to his dismay. Too bad for him though that neither boy cared to wait on him since according to Tommy,

“It’ll take you hours to handle that stuff, I’m not waitin’ that long!”

So the pair bailed and Wilbur was left to sigh as he continued his work. And the following day he was blindsided by plans for a new public building everyone was wanting to get built in L’manburg. And they couldn’t plan it without Wilbur’s approval and supervision so while he handled that for the next few weeks the two boys would sneak off to spend time in your village.

They were both pretty good workers, at least when they weren’t goofing off and getting into shenanigans. You can’t count how many times you’d caught Tommy trying to build structures out of cobblestone in the village. He’d argued that he was improving the village but you threatened to eat his portion of the day’s lunch if he didn’t get rid of whatever tower or thing he’d started construction on. He’d always kick up a fuss but would take them down before the day was done. A few times Tubbo would run screaming for you, telling on Tommy for whatever new cobble thing he was trying to build in secret. Tommy either rushing to tear the structure down or chasing after his friend and screaming at him for being a ‘little snitch’.

You knew the two were just playing and they never failed to finish the tasks you gave them so you were mostly just amused by the pair. Though that didn’t stop you from scolding them when they inevitably broke something of yours or the villagers’. But thankfully the times when scoldings or lectures were needed were pretty rare. You’re not sure if this is because the two boys were actually taking your words to heart or not though. But regardless, the time spent together was nice.

Which meant when the two boys mentioned them needing to go to the Nether and asked if you wanted to tag along you said sure. You remembered the classic Nether and even saw parts of the Nether update, but you’d never gotten a chance to explore it in depth. You’d planned to before.. well before you’d ended up here. But that never happened. And once you ended up here you could have gone to the Nether but to be honest it just wasn’t on your list of priorities. You’d been too focused on improving the village and then building your home and stuff. But you figured there was no harm to checking it out now.

-0-

“We’ll either have to go back to L’manburg where there’s already nether portals or we’ll have to find a lava pool around here to make a new one,” Tommy said to you and Tubbo, though more specifically to you.

You raised an eyebrow and asked why, and both boys started replying at the same time, Tubbo trying to explain that they didn’t have any obsidian on them so it was the only options and Tommy just saying ‘because that’s the options unless you’ve got obsidian’ in his usual blunt manner.

Without thinking about it you opened your inventory and took out a stack of obsidian and a flint and steel and held them up to the pair. Their eyebrows raised and Tommy started asking you why the hell you had so much obsidian on you! But you just half shrugged and glanced away, saying you kept an approximate assortment of items on you at all times. The boys gave each other a ‘what the hell’ look before Tubbo shrugged and said who cares then asked where they should build the nether portal.

Tommy suggested building it in the village, but you nixed that idea right away. Tommy huffed and asked WHY NOT and you said you weren’t going to open an actual portal to HELL in the middle of your village. Any number of hostile creatures could come waltzing through and kill your villagers or even burn the place down. Tommy winced and softly mumbled that yeah that was a possibility. You rolled your eyes and Tubbo suggested building it outside the bamboo walls surrounding your village. You agreed and then you three set off to find a good spot.

Thankfully finding a spot a safe distance from the village, on a hill too, was pretty easy. And you made the portal as one usually does. At one point you misplaced a block of obsidian and the two boys laughed and Tubbo said that now the portal was going to be all wonky looking. And Tommy was in the middle of saying you sucked at building when you thoughtlessly deleted the block of obsidian before lighting the portal with the flint and steel. All was silent.

. . . .

“WOT!? WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT!?” Tommy practically screeched.

You blinked and looked at the two gobsmacked teens before realizing you’d just pulled some not exactly possible shit. They were giving you two twin Looks that basically screamed for you to explain yourself. But you just stayed silent for a minute before just saying not to worry about it. Internally you winced at that unintentionally dodgy answer but the two boys just kept pestering you, demanding to know how you’d done that. You sighed, knowing they’d keep on pestering you. So you decided to tease them a bit, just for laughs.

“You two can’t expect me to give away all my mystical secrets, can you~?” You said with a sly grin, waggling your fingers when you said ‘mystical’, just to play up the drama.

The two clearly did because Tommy went on a rant about how that was ‘such bullshit!’ and you can’t just ‘pull some weirdo shit like that and expect no questions!’ and more. You laughed and held your hands up in mock surrender before sighing a dramatic sigh and said fine, you’d reveal one of your secrets. But they had to swear not to tell anyone. Like you expected the two agreed without a thought. Then you took a deep breath and laced your fingers together in front of you, telling them to copy you. They did without question, both looking eager to learn. You told them to close their eyes and breathe steadily and listen to your voice. They did and you couldn’t hold back the smile as you continued,

“Alright, keep your eyes closed. Focus on my voice. The key to my master block breaking skills is quite simple really,” you said as you silently inched back, keeping an eye on them both as they stood there, eyes closed and hands clasped in front of them. Your smile grew into a grin as you felt the strange warmth of the nether portal envelop you, purple tinting your vision as you continued,

“The key is to just never reveal your secrets!”

By the time they registered exactly what you said you were almost totally through the portal, and you started laughing your ass off when you heard Tommy scream,

“READER! YOU BASTARD! COME BACK HERE-”

But it got cut off as you were sent through the portal, the last thing you saw was the two boys lunging for you before your view darkened and the almost suffocating heat of the Nether hit you in the face. You stepped forward and yelped as you almost walked right off a cliff into a lava lake. You hurried to put up a wall of obsidian for the boys coming in after you. You didn’t want them to fall, it would have ended poorly for them if they did.

But you couldn’t focus on that shit right now! You had to hide! There wasn’t much around you to hide behind. You were in a large mostly flat area with some flames here and there and a lava lake behind you and a large wall of netherrack in front of you some ways away. You glanced back when you heard the portal activating again, signaling the two coming through. That’s when you glanced up. With a snicker you jumped up onto the top of the portal and laid down on your side, perfectly able to see down. You stayed perfectly still as the portal made its usual strange sound before it spat out the two boys you’d come to care for in a maternal fashion. You’d almost laughed when they smacked right into the wall you put up to keep them from tumbling to their doom. Tommy cursed before following Tubbo to the other side of the portal.

Tommy was definitely fired up, Tubbo laughing as they boys scoured the area for you. They didn’t see a glimpse of you, which felt crazy because you’re in WHITE. In the Nether! You should stick out like a sore thumb! And there was nowhere within running distance to hide so that made Tubbo sputter and ask how fast you were exactly! You bit your tongue to keep from laughing and watched them start walking away from the portal, calling your name and demanding you ‘show yourself this instant!’ as they did. You just watched them go with a grin, deciding to let them wander around a bit before you popped back up.

You laid there as they got further away, heading for what looked to be a crimson forest about 50 or so blocks to the left of the portal. As you laid there you sighed. Breathing in the Nether wasn’t fun. It honestly just made you want to grimace, this place honestly felt like a shitty dry summer day in a desert. Overwhelming and too humid to do anyone any good. You just wished it wasn’t so warm to breathe in. If the air was cooler, at least by a handful of degrees, then you’d probably be able to enjoy this place. But you supposed it could be worse. It could be a suffocating WET heat, like trying to breathe through a bowl of hot soup.

At that point you glanced around and noticed you couldn’t see either Tommy or Tubbo anymore. So you figured it was time to go hunt them down so they could try to interrogate you. You walked along, passing a couple zombified piglins as you did. They each had thousand yard stares like regular zombies so you didn’t pay them much mind. Though you noticed when you passed by the regular non zombie piglins they all looked at you, snorting enviously at your golden jewelry. You couldn’t keep the smile from your face. You had to admit that it was nice to have someone appreciate your accessories. The number had increased since you’d started wearing the bangles. The armorer who first made them saw you liked them and so started making more jewelry.

Now you had the bangles, a couple anklets, more than a couple necklaces (both chokers and longer ones), plenty of rings, and even some pretty dangly earrings coupled with some studs. Your ears shockingly hadn’t been pierced when you’d gone to put them in after getting the gift. Which was weird since they’d been pierced before? But it wasn’t a big deal, you’d pierced your own ears before so you just did it again. And when you’d shown the boys they’d said you looked nice but they just didn’t appreciate jewelry like you did. Though you could see the piglins certainly did, but that was probably just because they were gold. But it was nice to have someone like them regardless.

You were appreciating the gold rings on one piglin’s tusks (and idly wondering if you’d be able to do the same for your antlers?) when suddenly you heard Tommy start shrieking. And not his usual angry shriek but instead one that was full of panic and fear. You jolted when you heard him yelling Tubbo’s name frantically, sprinting towards their cries without even saying a parting goodbye to the nice piglin you’d been standing with. Which was good because without wasting time with pleasantries you were able to find Tubbo and Tommy fairly quickly. Only downside was when you found them it was with them backed against a wall in the crimson forest with nowhere to run with a very angry hoglin ramming its huge tusks against Tubbo’s rapidly breaking shield, Tommy right behind him, both screeching and cursing at each other.

You didn’t even think as you charged at the hoglin. When you got up behind it you acted on pure instinct, desperate to get it away from the two screaming kids. So you grabbed its hind leg and yanked it back, momentarily shocked at how easy it was to do so. But you couldn’t worry about that right now. You pulled the hoglin back then swung it around before tossing it a few yards back. It landed with a heavy THUD, clearly taking damage, squealing in anger as it got back up and shook itself off. Though it snorted angrily it didn’t try to attack you but instead tried to go around you to reach the two boys. But you didn’t give it the chance before you were literally grabbing it by the tusks and spinning your body around before slamming the hoglin into one of the nearby tree sized crimson fungus. It smashed through the trunk, destroying two blocks in the process. The hoglin lay crumpled on the ground, weakly trying to stand only to die shortly after when you stomped on its neck.

It disappeared with a small ‘poof’, leaving behind a hide and some raw pork. You grabbed them up before walking over to the stunned teenage boys by the wall. You started checking them over to see if they’d taken any damage and then once you were sure they were okay you started asking them why on earth they’d come to the nether without shields and weapons! Tubbo said his sword had had lower durability than he’d thought and it broke when he was fighting off the hoglin! And Tommy shamefully admitted to having his sword but… dropping his shield when they were climbing across the crimson fungus. Then he’d apparently fallen and gotten surprised by the hoglin, who had done a good chunk of damage to him before Tubbo jumped down (taking damage in the process) to try and help him. All in all the two looked super embarrassed. You just shook your head and said they were idiots, but you were glad they were alive.

While you grabbed two shields and a sword from your inventory Tommy went nuts, saying that was the coolest shit he’d ever seen anyone do ever! You gave him an amused look and asked what he meant. The killing the hoglin thing? He’d never seen someone kill a pig? He gawped at you and yelled out that NO he’d seen people kill hoglins, but he’d never seen anyone basically fight one with their bare hands! Tubbo cut in and added ‘and live!’ to the blond’s statement, which Tommy nodded along with. You just rolled your eyes and handed them the shields and Tubbo the sword before calling them silly for getting so worked up over you killing a hoglin. Then before they could rant more you pulled them both into a gentle side hug and sighed,

“I’m glad you’re both okay though, you scared me back there. I don’t want either of you getting hurt. So please be more careful, okay? For me?”

The two boys softened at that and each timidly wrapped an arm around you, feeling bad they’d worried you but… oddly happy that you cared enough to even BE worried. Which was a weird train of thought for them. Neither had any parents save for Philza, and he was mostly just a loose dad figure. He was a good guy and helped care for them but he also believed in letting them figure stuff out on their own and didn’t really offer help unless they asked for it. But you felt different. They’d only known you for a few weeks but it felt like longer. They felt safe with you in your village and yeah you had your rules but they strangely didn’t mind following them. It made you happy and when you were happy they were happy too.

Though the touching moment was brought to a sudden halt when Tommy suddenly shrieked. You and the boys looked down to see a baby hogling ramming its tusks against the blond boy’s ankles. You laughed and reached down before smacking it on the haunch, causing it to squeal in shock and run away. Tommy grumbled and cursed the small thing, making you and Tubbo snicker. But then you asked them what they needed from the Nether. Turns out they needed blaze rods and were going to loot a nether fortress. You said that sounded dangerous and asked them if they had any food to restore their health or even fire resistance potions. And well they had food so, not a total facepalm moment. But then they asked you where your weapon was, and your shield! Did YOU have food or fire resistance potions? You blinked and said you’re sure you had some of that stuff yeah.

They pestered you until you pulled out your enchanted axe and shield. You didn’t really need the shield you didn’t think but it seemed to put the two boys at ease so you carried it as you followed them through the nether. Idly you made sure to leave a trail of cobblestone behind you all, so you’d know where you’d come from and could find your way back easier. And it turns out that was a smart move because you all walked a long way, through at least 4 different biomes, before you stumbled across a nether fortress. Said structure loomed over you three, looking utterly massive and low key intimidating. You squinted and told the two boys you could see a couple zombie piglins and wither skeletons up on the landings walking around. Tommy groaned and said the wither skeletons were a pain in the ass but knocking them off the edge was pretty easy.

The rest of the evening was spent following the two around the nether fortress, helping them collect potion ingredients and fend off mobs. And to your utter shock you three had discovered that you just… didn’t take fire damage! Like, at all. You’d been busy helping them knock back a couple wither skeletons when unbeknownst to you three a blaze had approached and shot fireballs at you, hitting you square in the back. You honestly hadn’t even noticed, being too busy with helping Tommy fend off a skeleton. It was only after you knocked them all off and Tubbo yelped about you burning did you pause and ask what he was going on about. You understood when he screamed that you were on fire. And yeah, when you looked down you actually were. But it… didn’t hurt? It wasn’t even burning you or your clothes. You just blinked stupidly before simply patting it out. As you three stood there silently it seemed Tommy became fed up as he shouted,

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU!?”

Which just made you start laughing your ass off, only able to offer him a shrug because honestly you didn’t even know yourself at this point. Tubbo started giggling as well which eventually got Tommy to crack a smile before he broke out into laughter too. You all finished laughing and Tubbo suggested that maybe it was a fluke? Tommy nodded and said maybe you just got lucky or were in shock or something? Though that was disproved when you checked yourself and your skin and clothes were totally fine, no burns at all. Tubbo grinned and suggested testing it. You raised an eyebrow and he pulled out a flint and steel before lighting a patch of the ground on fire. Tommy’s eyes were wide but he was grinning and looking at you, probably wondering if you were actually going to do it. You were anxious, because all your previous life experience told you ‘fire bad’ but… you were curious too.

So you stuck one foot into the fire. And… nothing. It felt warm for sure. Sort of like if you stuck your hand in front of a space heater. Very warm but it didn’t hurt. So you just stepped into the fire and it crawled up your skin until it was licking at your face. But you were totally fine. Tommy and Tubbo laughed incredulously, with the blond saying this whole thing was fucking insane. He asked if you were sure you hadn’t drank any fire resistance potions? You shook your head no and Tubbo pointed out that surely they would have seen the potion particles if that were the case. Tommy hummed but agreed before saying that despite this all being neat and shit that they still had the rest of the fortress to scavenge. Tubbo followed him with you leading the rear and on your way inside the brunet laughingly said he was going to use you as a blaze shield. You just gave a fake offended gasp and just said, “Rude.” which made both boys snicker.

-0-

True to their word they’d used you like a human shield. But since you took no damage you just rolled with it, actually finding all of this pretty amusing by now. And after you’d all gathered more than enough blaze rods you’d separated from them for a bit. Mostly just sticking around the sand path that led back to the portal while they searched the rest of the fortress for nether wart and mined for glowstone dust. And while they did that you sat on a block of sand and pulled out some food to eat, mostly out of boredom than from any real desire to satiate any hunger. But while you were munching on a golden carrot a little piglin child came up to you to admire your golden jewelry. You smiled down at them, inwardly cooing over how adorable they were with their little baby tusks. And you almost died when they let out a happy squeal when you offered them a chunk of your golden carrot. You’re not sure how long you sat there with the baby piglin but after eating a couple carrots together you placed down another block of sand before using your finger to draw pictures in the sand, much to the child’s delight. They copied you and started drawing pictures too. Most of which you couldn’t recognize but they were still cute.

“OI! Reader! C’mon, we’re done!!” yelled the blond boy from up the path a ways.

The baby piglin snorted in distrust and hid a bit behind the sand block, showing they didn’t really trust the two players. You chuckled and said you were coming to the two boys before standing up and dusting yourself off. Then you glanced down at the tiny little piglin and smiled before pulling a gold ingot from your inventory. The baby piglin snorted enviously then squealed loudly when you handed them the ingot. They couldn’t take their wide eyes off of it, making you giggle at how precious they were. But sadly you had to go so you gently patted their head and said goodbye. They managed to tear their eyes away from the gold to snort sadly as you left. Part of you felt bad but the bigger part knew they couldn’t follow you to the Overworld..

After leaving the Nether you broke the portal, not wanting to risk any nether creatures accidentally stumbling through and getting hurt. And with a glance around you saw it was getting late. To the point where Tubbo and Tommy would have to rush to get back to their houses before night fell. So you saw them off, giving them some food for the trip and even giving them another hug goodbye. One you noticed they relaxed into faster than before. Then they were off, calling out goodbyes and saying they’d be back either tomorrow or the next day. You waved bye and said you looked forward to it, calling out your usual ‘be careful!’ before you couldn’t see them anymore. You frowned a little. Despite them having armor and weapons you still worried about them travelling alone at night after they visited you. You think next time you’ll walk them home. Just to make sure they were safe.

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@salinesoot @lady-bee-fechin @kacchasu @putridjoy @lunawritesstories @galaxypankitty3030 @paradigmax @zachariethememerie @killmewithafanfic @trinity-1002107 @hufflepuff-demigod @truthdaze @exorcisms-with-elmo @redbloodtea @heythereimhaylz @olyink @jackalopedoodles @nikkineeky @artsimatsu @hufflepuff-demigod @corpiet @beepa99 @anxiousnarwhale

#technoblade x reader #technoblade #c!techno #dream smp #dsmp #mcyt x reader #c!tommy #c!tubbo #c!wilbur

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taizi · 3 years

Text

the ship sways but the heart is steady

chapter one: the ship sways

the untamed pairing: jiang cheng & wei ying, lan zhan/wei ying word count: 2549 summary: Wei Ying’s friends are at rock-bottom, and Wei Ying puts his life on hold to help them put theirs back together. To absolutely no one’s surprise except Wei Ying’s, his family goes with him. read on ao3

During family dinner, Wei Ying’s phone rings, cutting mother off mid-sentence.

Jiang Cheng cringes inwardly and his brother’s face goes two shades paler. They have guests over, so mother doesn’t do more than glare hatefully in Wei Ying’s direction.

She won’t make a scene in front of Yanli’s husband, or even Wei Ying’s fiancé—Jin Zixuan is everything Yu Ziyuan wants in a match for her daughter, and Lan Zhan’s family is one of the richest on the East Coast.

Lan Zhan is also willing to give as good as he gets. His eyes are already narrowing in mother’s direction, the tentative ceasefire of family dinner wobbling precariously beneath their feet as he perceives the great and unforgivable offense of insult to Wei Ying. A-Li resolutely tries to pick the conversation back up from where it lulled, with all the steely resolve of someone throwing herself into the path of a rampaging bull. Jin Zixuan has graduated from grimacing into his wineglass to gazing hopefully at the clock every three minutes.

Always willing to fall on the grenade, Wei Ying ducks his head meekly.

“Sorry, I thought I silenced it,” he says, the shape of a laugh in his voice even if he can’t manage to drag it all the way out. He’s rummaging his cellphone out of his pocket, presumably to turn it off as a gesture of good faith. “I’ll just…”

But his eyes catch on the screen, and something happens to his expression that Jiang Cheng has never seen before.

Wei Ying stands up, so abruptly his chair sails back with an awful screech, and excuses himself. Lan Zhan follows him out of the dining room without a single word or a backwards glance. That’s all it takes for mother to pick up a scathing tirade against Jiang Cheng’s good-for-nothing, ungrateful, waste-of-space brother.

He joins Jin Zixuan in watching the clock. Worry swims in the back of his mind like a school of startled fish.

Wei Ying’s apartment is really actually Lan Zhan’s apartment, but the two of them have been inseparable since they were fourteen, and it naturally followed that where one of them would live, so would the other. The place is ridiculous, modern and minimalist, and it would look like something out of a magazine if not for Wei Ying’s inevitable clutter. But even the stacks of books and magazines, and haphazard easels, and little jars of paints and loose brushes everywhere manage to make the place seem charming and lived-in instead of the horrible disaster tornado it rightly should be.

Jiang Cheng asked him once what the monthly rent was but Wei Ying looked so haunted by the question that Jiang Cheng decided he didn’t actually want to know.

They’re all crammed into the conversation pit, recovering from family dinner in the usual fashion. Jin Zixuan is much more likable when his tie is loose and he’s nursing a lukewarm beer.

A-Li is clinging to Jiang Cheng’s hand so hard he’s beginning to lose circulation but he’d sooner agree to amputate than he would shake her off.

“You’re on speaker, A-Qing,” Wei Ying says with mock-severity. “Keep it PG for the children in the room, please.”

“So Jiang Cheng and Jin Zixuan are there?” Wen Qing asks rhetorically.

Jin Zixuan sighs but doesn’t rise to it. Jiang Cheng snaps, “Listen, assholes,” partly out of half-hearted irritation, and partly to hear Wen Qing sigh the way she does when she doesn’t want to reward someone with a real laugh.

“Yanli and Lan Zhan are here, too,” Wei Ying says cheerfully. His tone doesn’t match how worried his eyes are. “This is a family-only meeting. So tell us what those texts were about.”

Jiang Cheng realizes right away why Wei Ying bailed on dinner.

There was an apartment fire. The Wens lost everything. Wen Ning is in the hospital with smoke inhalation and second-degree burns because he ran in to make sure their neighbors got out safely. All of their savings are wrapped up in putting Wen Qing through medical school. She’s adrift now in a way that Jiang Cheng has never been.

“There’s... we have an old house, somewhere out in the country. It was sold to my grandparents cheap, but they never got around to renovating it. It’s not even livable, just bare bones.”

A-Li starts crying the second Wen Qing does.

“It’s too much,” Wen Qing forces out. “I can’t do this on my own.”

Wei Ying, to his credit, actually does hesitate. A whole five seconds. And then he says, “I thought you were supposed to be my smart friend. Who said you were doing this on your own?”

He says it as easily as if it was an absolute given that he would turn his whole life around and upside down for her. All she had to do was call.

There is a minor disagreement between Jiang Cheng’s siblings.

“A-Li,” Wei Ying says, holding both of her hands in both of his own and looking deeply, imploringly, into her eyes. “You’re way too pregnant to fly.”

Her face crinkles alarmingly, eyes already red and puffy from recent tears. Jiang Cheng, Jin Zixuan and Lan Zhan tense in exactly the same way, at the same time.

“I won’t have you going all the way to California by yourself,” Yanli says in her most eldest-sibling tone of voice. “I won’t have it, A-Ying.”

“I am a grown-up,” Wei Ying points out gently, with all the wisdom of his twenty-four years. “I pay bills and have a job I hate and everything. And I won’t be by myself, I’ll have A-Qing and A-Ning.”

“And me, obviously,” Jiang Cheng grumbles. Wei Ying whips around to stare at him.

“Oh,” Yanli says, a blanket of relief rolling across her face. “Oh, of course.”

“You can’t,” Wei Ying hisses at him, looking more panicked now than he has all night. “Your mother—”

“Okay, first of all, don’t tell me what I can and can’t do,” Jiang Cheng bites back, prickly with worry for the Wens and worry for his idiot brother. “Secondly, you, going by yourself, is not an option. It’s off the table. It was never on the table. Stupid,” he adds, on principle.

Lan Zhan doesn’t contribute much to the conversation at this point but Jiang Cheng learned a long time ago that that doesn’t mean shit. Lan Zhan has more opinions than any three people combined, whether or not he chooses to voice them. There is no fucking way he doesn’t have thoughts about his fiance picking up and moving nearly three thousand miles away.

Maybe there’s some strange alternate timeline out there where he would be content to stay behind and let Wei Ying go off without him, but Jiang Cheng would bet his entire trust fund that that’s simply not happening here.

If ever there was a world where Wei Ying would be backed into a corner and forced to help the Wens alone, this world isn’t it.

There’s a minor disagreement between his siblings, and there’s a whole fucking nuclear fallout at home.

“I forbid it,” mother snaps. She’s livid, but she’s livid so much of the time that it started losing its edge a few years ago. “Absolutely not. I refuse to allow this family to lose face because you want to gallivant across the country for some charity case.”

Jiang Cheng sees it when Wei Ying’s posture changes. The dreamy raincloud gray of Wei Ying’s eyes hardens into heavy steel, and his spine stiffens, and his shoulders go back; the absolute opposite of his downcast self at dinner earlier. He’s willing to fight any impossible battle as long as it’s for someone else.

Jiang Cheng grew up looking up to him. He spent all of his formative years as Wei Ying’s little brother. That’s why he’s willing, too.

“The Wens aren’t a charity case,” he says. Not very loud, but he says it. It’s a lot more than he could have done when he was a kid.

“You don’t even know them! They’re just some random people on the Internet. They’re probably scamming you, and you’re both idiot enough to fall for it!”

That’s so untrue and unfair that Jiang Cheng doesn’t know how to argue for a moment. They’ve never met the Wens in person, but Wei Ying has been friends with them since he was ten. They mail each other presents for Christmas and birthdays. Jiang Cheng distinctly remembers calling Wen Qing for help with biochem homework, multiple times. Wen Ning always Skyped with Yanli when he was stuck on a recipe, the two of them cooking together from three time zones apart. They’re all tangled up in each other’s lives, comfortably, irrevocably.

Of course we know them, Jiang Cheng thinks, bewildered.

Out loud, he says, “They’re not scamming us. And we already told them we’re coming.”

Mother screeches and storms around the house and throws things, but she hasn’t actually hit either of them since they grew taller than her. She hasn’t been a source of real fear since Jiang Cheng started looking down at her instead of looking up. It’s mostly just miserable to be around her now.

He remembers that fear, though. It sticks to his body like a half-healed scar. It reminds him to flinch.

It’s early enough in the morning that it might as well still be nighttime when Jiang Cheng and his suitcases finally show up at Wei Ying’s building. He leaves his luggage in the lobby under the watchful gaze of the concierge and takes the private elevator up, keying in the code to his brother’s apartment.

The doors roll open to the living room. Lan Zhan is holding a tiny animal carrier in his hands, gazing at Wei Ying in an extremely gross and smitten way while Wei Ying discusses the upcoming trip with their pets. Pidan and Bao are not being particularly attentive, snuffling at his chin and chewing on a piece of his hair respectively.

“Diedie has decided to be stubborn and not listen to good sense,” Wei Ying is telling the rabbits seriously, “so you’re coming with me and ruining your life instead of being safe and comfortable here at home.”

“Baba is being dramatic,” Lan Zhan informs them in turn. “And also foolish, if he doesn’t realize that our home is wherever he goes.”

“This is the weirdest domestic scene I’ve ever walked into,” Jiang Cheng says loudly, since apparently the telltale ding of the elevator wasn’t enough to announce his presence. He has to interrupt before they do something horrible, like make out in front of him. It’s a constant fucking risk with these two. “Are we leaving or what?”

So the rabbits go into their crate with a frankly absurd amount of fanfare and Jiang Cheng helps wrestle the luggage downstairs. By then, the shuttle that Lan Zhan ordered is waiting for them at the curb.

He knows it isn’t going to be a vacation. Wei Ying’s friends are at rock-bottom, and Wei Ying has essentially put his life on hold to help them put theirs back together. It’s going to be hard work. It’s probably going to be painful, and a little bit scary.

Jiang Cheng is only involved because he chose to be, but it never occurs to him to choose anything else.

If this is where his brother is going, it’s probably the right place to go. And if it’s not, if the whole thing turns out to be a horrible mistake and he regrets all of it, then at least he’ll be in good company.

Wen Ning is out of the hospital by the time their plane lands, and he’s waiting with Wen Qing at the airport. Wei Ying, who by all accounts should feel as foggy and queasy as Jiang Cheng definitely does, drops his bags and sprints across the terminal towards them.

Jiang Cheng and Lan Zhan follow at a more reasonable human pace, possibly in part to give the friends a few moments together. The busy airport traffic moves around them like a river flowing around a rock.

Wen Ning is sobbing, almost a full head taller than Wei Ying but buried against him like the little brother he is. Wen Qing is leaning quietly against the two of them with her eyes closed, as if filling her reserves and shoring up her strength.

She’s the type of person who would be able to cow his mother with a single glance, Jiang Cheng thinks admiringly, and more efficiently than Lan Zhan ever could. She must have a spine built out of steel to be able to stand there without crumbling under the weight of what she’s lost.

And Wei Ying stands there holding them up, tireless and steady. He’s talking too quietly for Jiang Cheng to hear, saying something that makes Wen Ning nod against his shoulder. He’ll hold them up until the ground falls out from under his feet if he has to. Thankfully it’s more like three minutes.

Introductions aren’t necessary. They all just trade exhausted looks and move as a cohesive unit towards the doors.

Wen Ning starts to help with the bags, bandaged hands and all. Wen Qing and Jiang Cheng both snap at him before he can so much as touch a suitcase, and then he just waffles in place anxiously, like he doesn’t know how to person if he isn’t actively being helpful.

“Hold the kids,” Wei Ying says in the spirit of compromise, taking the pet crate from Lan Zhan and holding it out to Wen Ning instead.

Somehow, they shuffle everything out of the airport and into a rental car. Lan Zhan’s phone starts to blow up as soon as he turns airplane mode off, so he turns airplane mode back on and returns the phone to his pocket.

“My uncle has checked the credit card statement,” Lan Zhan says calmly. “My brother is handling it.”

“Poor Lan Huan,” Wei Ying murmurs.

“We have to call A-Li,” Jiang Cheng remembers with a jolt. He digs his own phone out. “She wanted us to call as soon as we landed.”

Everyone clusters in close for the FaceTime call with Yanli, who is tearful and hormonal and indignant about being left behind. Jiang Cheng begs her not to get into a fight with their mother over this. Yanli raises her chin and says, “We’ll see.”

It’s a very long drive to the estate. Wei Ying’s head sinks against Lan Zhan’s shoulder in an inevitable, unstoppable act of gravity. He falls asleep within minutes.

“You have to help me thank him,” Wen Qing says quietly, tapping anxious fingers against the steering wheel. “Help me figure out how to thank him.”

Jiang Cheng snorts, not unkindly. “What makes you think I know how?”

An entire childhood spent raising each other, protecting each other, annoying the shit out of each other, and there are still some things Jiang Cheng has no idea how to say to his brother in a way that he’ll understand. Like I’m sorry, and thank you.

Lan Zhan turns his head to the side, so that his cheek is pillowed against Wei Ying’s hair. Outside, the sprawling California countryside sprints past the windows, wild and golden under a relentless summer sun.

#mo dao zu shi #the untamed #mdzs #wangxian #yunmeng shuangjie #jiang cheng #wei ying #lan zhan #wen ning #wen qing #jiang yanli #my writing #mdzs fic #it was only a matter of time fellas #the ship sways

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mirohlixie · 3 years

Text

Never Enough (Hyunlix) Pt. 1

Pairing: Felix x Hyunjin Word Count: 2.4K Genre: AU, love, dystopia

Synopsis: In a world where being different from the conventional gender and sexuality rules means death, the gay youngster Felix struggles to hide his true sexuality. He is doing well until he meets Hyunjin, an undercover hitman hired by the government to get rid of all the "different" people in hiding. The moment the two meet each other, both of their lives change forever, but will it be enough?

Content warnings: AU, homophobia, discrimination against LGBTQ+, explicit language.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~He looked up from his notebook, out of his window. The wind was blowing and rain was falling out of the sky in thick drops. The poor boy got bored from being inside all the time, but the weather wasn’t very forgiving. It had been like this for a couple of days now and it didn’t look like it was going to change soon.

“Felix,” a soft voice called from downstairs. “Do you want to come down for tea?” It was the same old story every day. He’d be in his room, usually reading or working on song lyrics all day. Some time afternoon his mother would start to wonder what he was doing up there all the time, and call him down for tea. He always said no, like he was going to do now. He simply didn’t feel like being among other humans.

All Felix longed for was to take a long walk, anywhere. Just him and nature and no other people. A place where he could be alone with his thoughts without feeling like it was a sin to even have them cross his mind. Because that was what his thoughts were: a sin. A boy like him should not be thinking about the things he thought of. Even better, it was forbidden. If anyone ever found out about the words dancing in his mind, he’d have to pay with his life.

At first, Felix had been pretty good at hiding his thoughts. He’d be among his family and laugh and have fun with them. However, as he grew up, he found it harder and harder not to let the words slip his mind. The safe storage that was once his head slowly began to deteriorate. His subconscious longed for the freedom that would come with the exposure of his secret. However, that moment could never exist. He didn’t want to die. Not because of this.

“Please Lix,” his mother called again. “You’re never downstairs anymore. You’re withering away in that room of yours. Wouldn’t you like to be with us just for a little? Just one cup of tea?” Felix knew his mother would keep asking until he’d give in, and he couldn’t give in.

Especially today his mind had been like a time bomb. Every time he looked in the mirror he had to withhold himself from saying those forbidden words. From saying those words that would essentially cost him his life. He could not even imagine what it would be like if he was among others. If his reflection alone was already enough to make him break, then what would a living human being do to him? How would he ever be able to resist their curiosity?

“No,” he called down. “I’m about to go on a walk,” it was an impulsive excuse and he hadn’t known why exactly he’d thought it would be the perfect one. However, now he’d already said it and had to follow through with the plan. He hopped from his bed and quickly put on a pair of shoes. He looked out the window, sighing when he saw the rain, and sprinted down the stairs to put on a coat.

“In this kind of weather?” His mother questioned, raising an eyebrow as she saw her son appear in the hallway. “It’s raining cats and dogs.”

“I know, but I like the rain,” Felix lied. “So I’m going on a walk. I’ll be back before dark, mom,” he zipped his coat and gave his mother a kiss on the cheek before walking out the front door.

The cold wind hit him in the face like a brick and he had to take a deep breath before he could find the courage to actually walk down the driveway and leave the perimeters of his parents’ house.

“I like the rain,” he muttered to himself as he pulled the hood of his coat closer to his face and started to conquer the strong winds fighting for dominance over him. “I’m such a bad liar.”

It was empty in the streets, which was perfect. The last thing Felix needed now was encountering someone he knew. He wanted to be alone. Completely alone. The rain started to get less intense the more he walked, which was a welcome change. The wind still stayed the same, pulling at his clothes and trying to push him back towards his home.

He loved the thundering sounds the moving air brought with it. It completely masked any other sound coming from him and his surroundings. It made him feel safe; safer than he was at home. Safer than he was anywhere.

Here he’d be able to speak his mind without care. Here he’d be able to be himself just for a second. He took a deep breath, looked around him, and smiled a little before uttering the dangerous words.

“I am different,” he whispered at first. Fear grabbed him by the throat as he checked his surroundings again, afraid someone would’ve caught him anyway, but there was nobody there. “I like men,” he elaborated. “I am a sinner because I like men instead of women,”

To Felix, it was hideous that this detail about himself could cost him his life. Unfortunately, it was the truth. Having a sexual and romantic attraction to people of the same sex was not allowed. Falling for or having a relationship with someone of the same sex was not allowed.

It was crazily old-fashioned and absolutely the highest form of discrimination, but yes; your sexuality could get you killed. If you were pleaded guilty of being "different", it meant immediate death, as ridiculous as that may sound. No trial, no bail. If there were enough grounds to convince the government you were gay, you were done for.

Not only men loving men or women loving women suffered this tragic and brutal fate, but every person who was different. Every person who didn't fit the standard boxes of society, the standard boxes being women loving men and men loving women. There was no room for nuisance.

Why these rules existed in today’s day and age? Nobody knew. The simple answer was that it had always been like that. People who were different were a threat. People who were different didn't have a right to walk this earth. To them, the lives lost did not matter, which was absolutely disgusting in Felix’s opinion.

To them, it was merely a way to make sure the earth wouldn’t get overcrowded. The way Felix saw it, they were just scared of change. In ancient times it had been normal to be a man romantically involved with another man. It was the modern-day society that had made it into a sin. The few people who rejected this idea and showed resistance awaited the same fate as these "different" people. Nobody was safe, so it was better to pretend you agreed with it.

Felix's parents also lived by these rules, so ever since Felix found out his preference wasn't towards women, he'd hidden from them. They couldn't find out, or they would probably report him to the state. Their own son meant nothing to them if he was different.

Of course, tracking down every single "different" person was difficult, and seemed nearly impossible, since you’re not exactly born with a sign on your head that says you’re different. However, the government had its ways to track you down, may it be legal or illegal. These ways were sneaky and far from agreeable. You never knew who you could trust and who not. Living in this world was a true hell for people like Felix, but there was nothing they could do.

“I’m fucking different!” Felix shouted into the wind, knowing nobody could hear him here with the wind raging around him. “I like men and there’s nothing I can do!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you sure you accept the terms and conditions of this task?” The lady on the phone had asked him for the tenth time. “Are you sure you are willing to take this task upon you and deal with the consequences that may come with it?” Hyunjin had nodded before realizing she would not be able to see that.

“Yes, ma’am,” he’d said. “I accept all of it. I am ready, I promise,” he’d looked at the booklet that had fallen onto the doormat this morning. He’d been waiting for it for a while now and today had been the day it had finally arrived. He’d almost jumped when he’d heard the sound of the booklet hitting the fabric. It was dumb and he knew that, but to him, this seemed like the only option.

It was fucked up, Hyunjin knew that and would never try to deny it. However, he needed the money he’d get out of it. Not for himself, but for his mother. His dear mother, the woman who’d raised him to be the man he was today, was a sickly woman now. She’d been diagnosed with a rare disease that could only be helped with expensive treatment. Without the treatment, the chances she’d not see the end of the year were very big. If she did get the treatment, it would give her the rest of her life back.

That’s all Hyunjin wanted for her; She had to see him grow up. She had to see her grandchildren grow up. He couldn’t lose her, not in a society like this one.

“Ten grant,” he’d whispered to himself. That was what he’d receive if he went through with this. It was enough to pay for his mother’s treatment and her medicine. It would be enough to keep her alive. It would cost him a part of himself, but that would be worth it if he was able to save the woman who meant the most to him. But was ten grant enough in exchange for a life? Because that was what this task entailed…

The task he was about to accept, was that of a hitman. The government granted rewards of ten thousand dollars to those who were willing to go undercover and find out which members of their society did not follow the law concerning sexuality. Well, those who found them received only three thousand. Those who then also managed to end those so-called moles would receive the full ten grant. His job would be to be among the people and find out who was hiding their true, forbidden sexuality and to simply end their lives.

The government needed undercover hitmen like this because there were way too many moles for their normal police forces. The standard procedure was execution in the name of the state, according to the legal methods, like they to criminals who got the death sentence

These hitmen were different. Their methods were technically illegal, but if they got caught, they would be let off again before they could even go into trial. The government would close their eyes for crimes like the murder of these moles as long as the hit-man had an official permit given to them by the state. These hitmen were highly necessary since there was no way the government could punish every single mole, and other than that they'd gotten better at hiding their true nature as well.

“Then I would like to congratulate you with your permit,” the lady on the phone had said. “You know how it works. Find someone you think is suspicious, figure out whether they genuinely are or not, and then eventually end their life. Send the body over to the morgue and receive your ten grant. Try not to get caught. It's such a hassle to make them drop the charges,” she’d explained once more. “If you have any questions, do call us. The last thing I would like to add, is that the most important aspect of this job is instinct. Make sure you follow it. Don’t be a fool. Don’t ignore the signs.”

“But how will I be certain if it’s one of them?” Hyunjin had questioned. That’s what the moles were often referred to: them. Not us, but the other.

“You will know,” the lady had assured him. “I promise. I have to move on to the next call now. I wish you much wisdom and luck, Hwang Hyunjin. We are looking forward to seeing your first catch soon,” and with that, she’d ended the call. Hyunjin had sat on the couch and contemplated the idea for the rest of the morning, fumbling around with the permit that had just been activated in his hands.

Was he actually going to kill someone only because of their sexuality? He knew they were deemed evil. They were different, that's what everyone had always been told over the past centuries. They didn’t deserve a place in this society, according to the government. It was never completely explained why this difference from the rest was such a bad thing. They were still people, weren't they? Was he really capable of taking another human’s life?

He shook the thought off as he was walking outside in the rain with his hood pulled over his hair a couple of hours after the call. He needed the money, so he was going to succeed. He didn’t care how much it would cost him, or how long it was going to take him to find someone. He was going to try the best he could and that was all he could promise right now. After all, it would take a while before he’d find the first person, wouldn’t it? They were called moles for a reason.

That’s what Hyunjin thought before he saw him; the person who would change his life forever. The person that truly caught his attention. At first, he thought he was just looking at the back someone who had lost his mind, yelling meaningless words into the wind, but when he listened more closely, alarms should’ve started to ring immediately in the back of his head.

“I’m fucking different!” The figure with the blonde hair yelled into the wind, probably thinking nobody would be able to hear him over the loud thundering of the air. “I like men and there’s nothing I can do!” Hyunjin bit his lip. Bingo, he thought. This was going to be easier than he’d expected.

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vickylamore · 3 years

Text

Tuebor | I

Summary: You didn't regret it. If the same option was given to you again in the future, you'd do it without question for the people of Orian. However, what you did did not help your current situation at all, especially now that you're babysitting a literal outsider all the while trying to make amends with the gods.

Pairing: ??? x Female! Reader, NCT (127, Dream, WayV) x Female! Reader (with appearances of other idols under SM).

Genre: Magic Realism, Fantasy, Slight Comedy

WC: 11.7k

Warnings: Mentions of killing, mentions of torture, blood, slight injury, swearing, mentions of toxic relationships, death, mentions of death, violence, attempted murder (sorta), mentions of religion (name drops like archangel Micheal, Azarel), mentions of lynching, toxicity, sexism (slight), misogyny (if you squint), too much foreshadowing lol.

Notes: This is a very quick post before I vanish for another month lol. My favourite fic I've written for far and I have so much more planned for it. This will be a trilogy, the first part being the shortest and last being the longest (one of, it depends on which route I'm choosing for the ending). I hope that you enjoy this just as much as I did! There will be a tag list for this so feel free to send an ask/leave a comment!

Disclaimer: This is a work of FICTION. The idols used in this fic are solely for character use only. I do not condone any actions committed in this fic. The pairings are for lore purposes ONLY and are not real in real life because again, this is fiction. Thank you.

Tag List: @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l (mwah)

Someone was going to die tonight.

It wasn’t the best way to start your morning, to start your day, but the ache in your chest was climbing up your throat and pressing onto your vocal cords, almost suffocating your entire body. You couldn’t move, nor could you speak in the hallowed room. It was so damn quiet that you could hear the little pitter-patter drizzle of rain from your window.

Someone was going to die tonight, your intuition was telling you as much. The phrase was banging in your head like a loose screw in a cookie jar. Constant sounds bouncing from one end of your head to another, and it was getting unbearable.

You flicked your wrist to the side, the curtains automatically pulling back only to reveal the dead and quiet neighbourhood you recently moved into. The solemn high-rise apartments were gloomy and the dirty chocolate-coloured brick walls looked disgusting in this weather, especially since the sun wasn’t out— which is almost every day. Even the plants that were on the window seal were dying, fawning out and losing their green hue. No birds were out, no chirping or singing. It was eerie, almost like it was setting up your day.

Your mother always said that nature was connected to the bad vibes of the atmosphere, that they were connected to the future. You didn’t know how much you believed that however, you were never connected to the elemental lineage of your family tree.

You let out a heavy breath, your throat finally relaxed after the minutes of the dreadful ache and managed to swallow the lump in your throat. Your feet dragged themselves out the door to your nearly empty bedroom and immediately walked into the kitchen seconds later. A hot mug of the darkest coffee beans you could find in Athlar was now in their liquid form, swirling in the mug in your hand. Yet, even then, the taste wasn’t as strong as you’d like it, and you’d probably end up throwing the entire bag of coffee beans down the portal back to Larizmar and shove it down the throat of the shopkeeper that sold them for à whopping three hundred crystallines.

A waste of money. You let out a laugh, a sharp sound of annoyance before placing the mug on the counter. Six days before the council made their decision about what the hell they were going to do with you, it was only a matter of time that they got rid of you. You didn’t understand why Taeyong made you leave your villa in Khisfire just to live here… in Athlar; the city of demons and dark angels, the city where you wouldn’t dare step into unless you wanted to be devoured by the first demon who laid an eye on your weak, power-deprived figure.

It wasn’t even that bad compared to the rumours that spread about the city. Alright, maybe they weren’t exaggerating when they said the entire city was depressing and lacked life and the king of Athlar was a total asshole that you’d love to pluck his eyes out and shove them down his disgusting rotten mouth, but you were already in enough trouble with the council as it was, there’s no way you’d survive if the king of Athlar had something to say about you.

Stupid, it was stupid. The entire council would’ve been in coffins six feet under if you didn’t do what you did. And instead of being the grateful bastards they are, they threw you in jail with a ten thousand gold bail on your head. It was rising to twelve thousand just because you shouted, abolish the fucking council, in Medrain, Khisfire’s square while they tried dragging you to the jail cell. Bunch of misogynistic entitled fucking assholes. Except like two of them, but still.

A knock on your door disrupted your thoughts, and it was only increasingly frantic the more you stayed in your kitchen, debating on whether you should open the door or not. It’s not like you had anything better to do except mope around the literal empty space that was given to you as a little hideout.

You walked towards, sighing before opening the door with a blank expression, only to groan and close it, locking it with a lock spell.

You waited, and waited, probably a good ten seconds before the door burst open, revealing an angry-looking archangel with his black wings sprawled in the hallway glaring at you with less-than-impressed eyes. You raised an eyebrow.

“It’s seven in the morning.” The archangel merely rolled his eyes and dispersed of his wings, closing the door before him with a loud clack. “It’s seven in the morning.”

“Does it look like I have time for your shit?” The black-haired man boar his ink turned eyes into your skull, veins turning black at the sudden frustration that overcame his senses. You merely shrugged and moved towards the couch, leaning against its back with your hands stuffed in your hoodie’s pouch. “I should be asleep right now.”

“Well, you’re here are you not?” You asked with a raised eyebrow, nudging your head towards the end of the hall, “there’s a bed in the bedroom, shocking I know. Use it if you must.”

“Get dressed.” Jaehyun looked at you impatiently, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were back to their original brown colour, but his veins were now grey, meaning he was still frustrated with you at the moment. “Taeyong got you a deal with the council.”

You squinted before letting out a laugh, “Taeyong literally is the council.” You got up and walked towards your bedroom, slamming the door shut. “He’s the supreme archangel, the hell you mean he got me a deal? You guys should buy me a way out of here.”

“The council is made of four other members,” Jaehyun’s voice echoed through the small apartment complex, his voice a lot closer which told you he was right outside your door. “You’re even lucky he got you a deal before they behead you in front of the entire population of Orian.”

“Not the entire realm," you scoffed. "And you know that’s not true; they're just abiding orders from the king,” you laughed and finished getting dressed into your garments. “Even if they did want to behead me, there are so many ways that will go wrong.” You turned and opened the door, sending a small grin at the man in front of your door, “you forgot I’m quite popular with the people of Khisfire, and the many allies I had will make the entire council shake in their boots.”

“You’re not wearing that.”

You raised an eyebrow and stared down at your outfit, “why not?” you asked. “Isn’t it appropriate that the supreme sorceress of Khisfire wear this outfit that was gifted by the council oh-so-many years ago to her beautiful demise?” He could tell you were mocking your title, ex-title if you plead guilty, which you will. The council aren't a bunch of sympathetic saints.

Jaehyun clenched his jaw, seemingly rethinking his entire decision of helping you in the first place. “I genuinely do not have time for your shit; you know exactly why you can’t.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you ignored his complaints, “it’s the whole ‘I only listen to and serve Taeyong so please don’t get me in trouble’ crap. I’m not changing.” The black-winged creature inhaled deeply, probably counting his lucky stars to possibly avoid an infuriated archangel, that is if he had any left.

“You think the death of a man will stop me from wearing my favourite outfit?” You brought your hands to your hips. “A man at that, if he was a she, maybe I’d reconsider.”

He whispered under his breath and shut his eyes, “angels give me strength.”

“The angels don’t like you.”

“Will you please shut up?”

You shrugged and walked around the archangel, your heels softly clicking through the empty hallway. You waved your hand to close the curtains and with another flick, you close the door to your room, causing Jaehyun to turn around with a heavy sigh, sounding more like a low growl.

Let’s just say that you and the archangel went as far back as your fucking birth. Always in and out of your life, never with you for longs periods of time as he, Taeyong, had his shit with the council and you had your business. You were rather a young sorceress; your kind could live to hundreds of years before dying and going back to the elements of the world. The man in front of you was an archangel that had close ties with your family. You were one of few warlock families that helped the different species in Orian when the great war broke out between the council and the faes, the angels, archangels, demons and so many more. Hell, even the supreme archangel and the warriors and vampires were helped during the war. The archangels and a few different groups were extremely grateful for the help brought to them. Although you weren’t alive during the time of the war, you were born sometime later barely twenty years ago.

Let’s just say that some archangels owned a lot to your family and what better way to repay them than to take care of their now orphan daughter?

Long story.

Anyway, despite the shit your family did for half the council, they’re still a bunch of ungrateful and unappreciated grade-A assholes. There is no sense of loyalty except if it is for their own, and even they’re a bunch of two-faced, backstabbing pricks.

“Okay and so what if I killed someone in this outfit? It wouldn’t be the first time.” And honestly, it was your favourite dress you had. It was a two-piece jumpsuit that had a cape-like piece that attached to your lower back and flowed as you walk. The colour changing from a deep blue to an emerald colour from the top to the bottom, except the white belt and white lace flowers that ran from your torso to the baseline of your neck.

All of that said, it was a gorgeous dress. A dress that was handcrafted by the council as a gift for becoming one of the most powerful and youngest sorceresses in the city. Guess they’d want it back now.

“You killed the commissioner.”

You opened the front door to your temporary house, “I’ve dealt with plenty of commissioners.”

Jaehyun was behind you in less than a sec, slamming the door shut again. You let out a heavy breath and turned to him in annoyance, a spark lightly grazing your fingertips. “It’s seven in the morning.”

Jaehyun held his gaze with his hand still pressing against the closed door, his much taller figure looming over your own by more than a few inches because of those overanxious boots the archangel wore. The look on his face made you look at him; as it was grim and twisted with a serious aura that, given the circumstances, made you feel uneasy. “You don’t get it, do you?” he asked in a low, serious voice. “You killed one of the head commissioners of the Celestial Army who happens to be a pureblood angel and the Orian king’s son.”

The angels were never ones to mess with, not with their soldiers, not with their full-bloods and most definitely not with their children or their royal line. The only difference between full-bloods and purebloods of any species was that one of them wasn’t a part of the royal line. The angels cared immensely for their pure bloodline of royals; they’d raised Hell for both the prince and princess of Orian. The purebloods angels; gold eyes when upset and red when livid, blue when sad and purple when in mourning. The colour code was excruciatingly long and unnecessary to remember; you didn’t need to know what shade of blue means they’re starving and what shade of orange means they’re tired. You genuinely did not care enough to make an effort to memorize the stupid colour list.

The purebloods angels were one of the highest-ranking species when it came to the power they possessed, second right behind their father; the Orian king, also known as the almighty angel. Technically, the almighty angel and the supreme archangel had incredible amounts of strength and power that either came from the high peaks of the divine regions or the darkest pits of the abyss. No one really knew which one of the two was stronger, most didn’t want to know. As for the purebloods angels and pureblood archangels, there isn’t a comparison; there aren't any pureblood archangels, only half breeds. And although they were quite powerful and stronger than some full-blood faes and vampires, they were nothing compared to the angels. The mother of the pureblood angels was weaker than them and other purebloods like the pureblood faes, pureblood wolves, pureblood vampires and so many more. The purebloods, any kind, were legit pains in the ass. Stuck-up, spoiled royal rich kids.

The sky only knows how they react when upset.

“Like I told you, the council and the fucking royal family; Liu Yangyang was not the beloved prince they thought he was.” Your eyes pierced his and, for a moment, one of the leading archangel soldiers of the Uriel region felt inferior under the cold gaze dethroned from a very powerful and young sorceress. If looks could kill, Jaehyun would’ve been in the tower’s sanctuary for the umpteenth time this year. “I still don’t understand why exactly I’m being hauled for doing the entire realm a fucking favour.”

A conspiracy was what started your investigation. A conspiracy against the oh-so-beloved angel prince, one of the greatest leaders of the entire realm. Those who didn’t know his true intentions would say that. The angel was an amazing deceiver, you’ll give him that; a manipulator, a narcissist. He was greedy, wanted many things for him. He had the power to wipe out cities upon cities if he really wanted to. And he nearly managed to do so, your own kind probably wouldn’t have survived the attack if he was successful. There was no way the faes or the wolves would have survived, the mermaids? Maybe. The sorcerers? Not so much. The council, except for the few, would have survived, and it would’ve been the worse ones too; the angels only know how much the Athlar king despises you for just being in his realm.

“I did what I had to do, you guys are just trying to find someone to blame.” You cocked an eyebrow and crossed your arms, watching as Jaehyun slowly removed his hand from the door. “Instead of taking responsibility for their son’s actions, the almighty angel is having the council kill me.”

“They haven’t decided yet.”

“So what?” The smallest lump appeared in your throat at the mere thought of being executed for doing everyone a favour. Unappreciative jerks for sure. “Taeyong might have negotiated some type of deal with them but it doesn’t mean I’m gonna walk later today.”

“He’s not going to let that happen,” murmured Jaehyun, opening the door. “He isn’t going to let them kill you, not with all the history between your family and us.”

Confusing. It was all confusing, the link between the archangels and our family fucking tree. Your parents lived for centuries before they succumbed to their age a lot faster than planned a few years ago. However, before they died, they did a lot for the archangels. One great deed was the help during the war that started nearly two centuries ago and only ended a few decades before you were born. Sorcerers and archangels usually don’t mix, hell, a great portion of them are legitimately terrified of them. Again, except a few. So when Jaehyun said that Taeyong wasn’t going to let them kill you, you believed it.

The archangels had a knack for keeping their word and allegiance to any family whether it be years or centuries or millennials in the future. The bond was that strong. Your parents never told you what exactly they did to have an entire colony of archangels fight for your survival, whether those archangels were forced or not, you didn’t care. You befriended some without them knowing who you were. And the supreme archangel, as well as your most acquainted friends, blatantly refused to tell you so you just gave up after years of trying.

“I feel so much better.” He could practically hear the sarcasm slip from your tongue as you walked out of the apartment, heels softly clinging once more. “This is a fucking death wish.”

“A lot of things you do are death wishes.” The archangel said with a scoff, “now you’re worried?”

“Yeah, well,” you put your foot in the doorway right before Jaehyun was able to close the door, sticking your arm through the small entrance space and flicking your wrist and fingers, “the after-dawn activities I have are always in my control.”

Jaehyun looked at you and leaned against the wall, tongue poking the side of his cheek and a contemptuous expression danced on his face, “you summoned Azrael two weeks ago?”

“Azrael is a very nice demon, thank you,” you defended the archangel of death in a split second, looking back at the man in front of you, “just needed a few things from him, that’s all— where the fuck is it?”

A clutter of noises emerged from inside your temporary home, from keys being thrown to the floor to glass shattering made Jaehyun wince. You really gotta practise your magic in Athlar, the elemental resistance is ridiculous in this realm.

“The hell are you looking for?”

Finally, you brought your hand out of the apartment complex, the last hues and sparks of purple and silver disintegrating in the air. Before the door closed, two items flew out. The first was a double-layered silver choker with a black obsidian pendant hanging from the first layer. The last was a gold rhinestone glove bracelet, enveloping your entire forearm and had a black onyx pendant that rested on your index finger.

Jaehyun’s mouth curled upwards, “you’re bringing your shield?” You turned towards the older male flexing your fingers until they cracked and the black onyx glistened under the dull light in the hallway.

“Of course I’m bringing Soteria’s bracelet if that’s what you’re asking,” you said it as if it was the most obvious thing to anyone. Jaehyun only huffed, you added, “the Athlar king is going to be there right?” A nod. “Exactly, that man hates my guts and does not care if the council is present or not. He will kill me if I piss him off enough or anyone else— am I missing anything?”

“Phone?” You opened your door again and fetched your phone the same way you got Soteria’s bracelet and the collar. You locked the door soon after.

Soteria’s bracelet was a gift from the eldest sorcerer, the bracelet in the form of a glove that cuffed around your wrist and half of your forearm. A protective seal, alerting you of any possible threat that might act on their vicious actions. An energy enhancer, enhancing all your magic if needed.

Jaehyun got off the wall and stretched, looking from left to right before chuckling under his breath. You raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything, you practically read his mind. You keep summoning his demons (Y/n), doesn’t mean he can be a bitch about it.

Jaehyun was one of the first archangels you’ve ever met, Taeyong being the first. Archangels you knew existed, archangels that were feared in multiple cities for their reputation and history with the angels and demons. It was bloody and treacherous, the tales and stories of what their kind did to others, to elderly to children. The deals they had to stay in power, how they’d manipulate the weakest to stay on the top of the food chain.

Predators, the archangels were the predators of Orian. The lions of the Savanna, the sharks of the ocean. Archangels aren’t ones to be messed with, it doesn't matter if you’re a demon or angel. Even Micheal wouldn’t deal with his own fucking people, which is why he left all the responsibility to Taeyong.

It’s funny how you met the most important people at funerals and memorials. The people you didn’t think ever even heard of your name making a grand yet subtle entrance at your parents’ funerals years ago when you were only sixteen. Funny, really, how the supreme archangel said his condolences and even gave a eulogy in honour of your parents. People you didn’t know but knew what their kind was were surrounding the room. Offering condolences was one thing, it was a bigger issue when the archangels are actually present. Again, your parents never really talked about them, never really spoke about their friendship with the archangels. Nothing was left behind, no explanation of the sudden interest after their deaths or what exactly they did to be honoured in such a way.

They were just gone and left you in a state of mourning for months.

“So,” you started walking down the hallway, Jaehyun right beside you, hands stuffed in his dress pants. Only then did you notice how well-dressed he was. “Where are we going?”

Jaehyun nudged his head towards the staircase, and while climbing up, he whispered the location. Your heart fell to the pit of your stomach. Of course, this was where you were headed.

No wonder Jaehyun tried convincing you to change your outfit.

To the Orian palace, you go.

Any mentally sane person would’ve taken a portal, hell would’ve teleported to the palace. Something normal, something that wasn’t over the top, especially after assassinating the prince of the entire world. You didn’t know if Jaehyun thought this through, obviously, he didn’t think a lot of things through because as of right now, you laid on his back while he flew in the air. People were staring, and they were staring hard; whether because the prince’s assassin was in the air or if the archangel’s figure was that damn attractive. He was such an attention whore, my god.

The sky was a beautiful orange and blue hue, the pinkish-purple clouds were clearing as the sun was now coming up, the clouds that were once filled with water and cast a light drizzle on the corner of Athlar had long been gone and dispersed elsewhere. Khisfire’s weather was always the nicest in the morning, you still can’t believe that Taeyong made you move into that dump to ensure your safety.

Ensure your safety my ass.

Jaehyun gazed in the air for a second, and it was then you realized that you were just above the gates to the palace. You sighed into his shirt, closing your eyes, nausea overcoming your senses. “Next time we do this, can you not go so fast, I get motion-sickness easily you know.”

“I’m sorry princess,” he mocked with a curt laugh, “I can drop you off right here—”

“Don’t your fucking dare.”

Jaehyun laughed again and swopped down towards the ground, a series of laughs ripping through his throat while you tried your best to keep your eyes shut and avoid hurling the half cup of coffee you drank this morning. Archangels and their fucking thrill for heights will never not confuse you. Nor will their history with the demons but that was truly a story for another day or hour. It depends on how today’s meeting will go.

He finally landed on the square, concrete pavement right in front of the looming silver gates. You got off his back and hunched forward, dizziness clouding your head. “I think I’m going to hurl.”

“Great first impression.”

“I killed the prince, that’s enough of a first impression.”

The Orian palace was located on one of the three floating cities right above Khisfire but under the clouds. The floatings cities were the homes to the angels, some creatures live there as well like faes, nymphs, pixies and any flying species in the realm who were exiled by the Seelie queen. Octavia, home to the Orian palace and the Orian royals, was the city in the middle of the other two, Tarrin and Ellesmere. The other two were also homes to water, fire, air and earth spirits, the basic elemental elements of the realm.

The palace was a giant white castle with angel warriors and guards flying around the premieres. The palace nearly reached the top of the clouds, a white aura radiating from angel to angel. The sun beamed down on the city like a spotlight, the trees from the fruit in the crates brimming in gold hues. There were a bunch of markets surrounding the castle, a handful of angels walking and discussing among themselves. It was so different from Athlar, not too far off from Khisfire. The main difference was the atmosphere surrounding this place; it reeked of pure magic. Not that you hated it, but it was so damn overwhelming that it made you want to hurl— again.

“Come on,” ushered Jaehyun as you got back up, lightly touching your arm. “It’s not safe out here.”

You raised an eyebrow and were about to question why exactly landing in Octavia was already dangerous to both of you, but you straighten your back and almost immediately felt the laser beam stars and knife-throwing glares that bored into your skull. The whispers were so quiet yet so loud, a clutter of them mettled into à pot and you were able to hear the gist of most. Murderer. You shivered slightly, feeling the unwelcoming chills from nearly every angel, you were spared by those who haven’t spotted you yet.

You followed Jaehyun towards the main entrance. You played with the collar around your neck, the dull thud of your heart bounced in your head. You and Jaehyun continued walking towards the entrance of the palace, where a bunch of guards were standing, wings spread and brown and gold garments lingered on their bodies. You sighed heavily and glanced at Jaehyun, who only stared back in return but didn’t say anything.

It was either go one of two ways; either they know that you’ve been invited to the castle for a deal or they have no idea why archangels are in their city and kill you on the spot. You wouldn’t be surprised if the second of the two scenarios were to occur; the angels were known for their looks and not their brains, one of them was going to pull their spear to your face.

As you approached the group of archangels, you felt a certain gaze glaring at you— not that no one else was excessively staring you down, but this one was different. This one felt menacing, and it was coming from above. You refrained from looking upwards because you neared the station of diving winged saints but you knew that the same gaze would bore into your skull as soon as you stepped foot in the castle.

You settled in front of the guards, the guards eyeing you both suspiciously. You bit back a groan as Jaehyun spoke first, “here for the meeting with the council.” God, you could feel the hostility towards Jaehyun, your own was borderline unbearable at this point. The stares from the guards, who were supposed to be expressionless while on duty were practically giving the middle finger as soon as you stepped foot in their city. Guess the angels and the Athlar king have something in common; they both despise you, one of them wasn’t even justified.

“You can pass,” the guard told Jaehyun but his blue eyes pierced your own in a matter of seconds. With à deep, gruff voice, he growled, “this one doesn’t have permission to enter.”

“The meeting revolves around me dipshit—” you bit your words as soon as Jaehyun let out a cough. You would’ve kept going if the situations were any different, Jaehyun couldn’t just boss you around if he wanted to. The only reason you stopped was… everything was against you right now and because the glare the angel shared with Jaehyun was absolutely terrifying.

Angels and archangels, a simple case of cat and mouse except it had a millennium's worth of history and bad blood that no agreement could ever put an end to the war before the fallen angel and divine angel. Both were equally as petty, one was just as stubborn as the other and just as vicious. If you had to choose who’d within a fistfight, you’re biased and would pick the archangel. But the way the tension was thick and suffocating, you weren’t so sure.

Not that you had no faith in Jaehyun, but it was one against eight with each of them having spears and stones that worked so much better in Octavia than they would in Khisfire. Just like how your powers work immensely well in Khisfire compared to Athlar.

“She’s coming with me, whether you want to or not,” Jaehyun said with a shrug, eyebrow cocked to the side. “Check with the royals if you need to. In the meantime, we’ll be entering now.” Oh, if things were just as easy, life would be a piece of cake.

Jaehyun was always a cocky son of a bitch, Jaehyun was always an overconfident asshole. It was one of the reasons you liked him so much; the man had an excessive way to show his power over others, whether, with a glare or cocked eyebrow, any facial expression will do. It was easy to get whatever he wanted, he was one of the most powerful archangels in Orian, no one would dare cross him.

You? Huh, not so much.

If everything was that easy, you would’ve gotten away with the prince’s assassination. If life was that easy, you would’ve been one of the most powerful people in all of Orian.

But of course, something had to go wrong.

As soon as you even attempted to move, the swift movement of the guard who denied you entry did not go unnoticed. In a split second, a spear nearly caught your neck, the tip light grazing your skin; it would trigger a bled if he moved it just a bit more. “Well,” you laughed, pinching the bridge of your nose, and glanced at Jaehyun, “this is awkward.”

“I told you,” the angel looked at Jaehyun again, spear still laser-focused on your neck. “We don’t accept murderers in our palace.”

You wonder what he’d say if the prince was alive and well while half the realms mourned their people and loved ones. You wonder just how much the angels knew of the entire situation, how much anyone knew what the prince intended to do unless the Orian king kept quiet. Liu Yangyang’s death was a necessary one, his life was eliminated to keep the peace between the realms. You scoffed and looked at the spear, the sharp end grazing your collar a little more. You’d honestly love to hear all the beautiful rumours spread about you.

Like every mistake, there’s some sort of solution. To everything, to ever fuck up, there’s always something to hold it in place and fix it before it completely blows over. Every action has its consequences and although you didn’t know what it was, Jaehyun’s sudden head tilt and smirk told you everything you needed to know.

Lighting thundered in the sky, black bolts lingering in the sky one after another. The warm weather suddenly chilled and nearly everyone was shivering from the bitter and sudden cold. The sky was no longer a bright blue colour, instead, it was now a filthy black and purple, as if a storm was quickly approaching. The lightning bolts became more and more constant, bigger and shorter-lasting in the sky. The sound emitted from the sky sounded like loud cracking noises and came closer and closer to the floor. Thunder roared across the sky, the last much more focused than the first. Every angel stopped staring at you and focused on the sky, dreadful expressions on their faces and flew away as fast as they could.

And finally, four huge black orbs of energy that spurt silver lighting swirled closer and closer to the ground before crashing onto the gravel, denting it in the process, right on your left, a few feet away from you. The black fog lasted for only a few seconds before four figures slowly got up from the floor, the side of their faces lingered with visible silver veins that looked straight out of a mutant experiment movie.

They sprawled their ink-black wings and their ink-black eyes looked around them, taking in their surroundings. Every angel knew better than to glance in their direction, even the children looked away when one of them started. They wore what any archangel would; having a very similar attire to Jaehyun, whether it was for the meeting or regular clothing, you didn’t know. The one in the front groaned once he clicked his feet on the pavement, noticing the caved-in stone.

“They’ll have to send me the bill later.”

“We all know you aren’t going to pay for it.”

The man fixed the cuffs of his dress shirt, looking as unbothered as the now minding-their-own business angels who'd flown as soon as he made his appearance known. With a side look, his voice came out as a sort of chant, like a warning, “soldier, I suggest you put that spear down.” His eyes turned black for a split second as he fully glared at the soldier, whose spear was now far, far away from your neck.

The power of this man was unimaginable.

He dispersed his white fading black wings and rolled his head and shoulders, blonde hair reaching the back of his ears and brimmed against the sun of the now normal sky. The men around him are doing the same. They made their way towards you and Jaehyun, less than impressed expressions lingered on their faces.

The colony of angels that blocked the entrance fully froze in their movements, eyes whining slightly yet some were literally shaking. You raised an eyebrow at the angel in front of you, “not so tough now huh?” you whispered under your breath, smirk tugging your lips. The angel clenched his jaw and closed his eyes. “Mh-hm, that’s what I thought.”

Funny how the angels were almighty and powerful until an archangel step in the proximity of them. Shaking in their boots like a bunch of children scared of a clown. The difference between their auras was overwhelming as well, the blond-haired archangel’s aura was black littered with darkness, death and abyss property that you wanted nothing to do with. The angels’ aura was white and reeked of pure and divine magic, their auras clashed against the archangels, a true fight between black and white.

However, the archangels greatly outweighed the angels, even if they were less numerous than the latter. The power system was an interesting one.

“This was inconvenient, pray to the skies that it doesn’t happen again.” The man was truly a menace to society. He might not be the buffest or tallest archangel, but his power was immense, it couldn’t be measured on scales. He knew that too, for his eyes flicked from one end of the line of angels to the outside. “Gentleman, if you would.”

Again, if it was that easy, you wouldn’t be in this damn predicament fighting your life. The angels moved into two groups, creating a clear pathway and letting you walk as freely as you could until you’d eventually reach the entrance of the palace. Commanding the angels in their own city, embarrassing. The man motioned for you to walk into the field of stone pavement, beyond the gates first and he followed suit after, the rest of them, including Jaehyun, followed from the sides.

The man right next to you didn’t even wait half a second into walking to let out a low, menacing growl. “You make my job one hundred times harder with that fucking outfit.”

“Good morning Taeyong,” you exasperated and looked over your shoulder to the other archangels, “Doyoung, Johnny, Yuta. Haven’t seen any of you in a couple years.”

“Tell me about it,” Johnny laughed bitterly, his hands in his front pockets, “wish we could’ve seen each other under better circumstances.”

Doyoung hummed from beside him, “hmph, all that protection and you can’t use it properly?” You rolled your eyes and twisted the black obsidian around your neck, the pendant glistening and a purple hue encased the stone.

“I didn’t think I’d be attacked at the gates,” you defended. “It’s activated now, happy?

“Anyways, we’ve been busy,” Yuta sent a subtle glare at Taeyong. “We’ve got debts to pay.”

The debt system wasn’t uncommon between archangels. Usually, a fae or vampire would have to pay their debt toward an archangel for a favour the latter has done. You can buy protection, wishes, money, nearly anything except freedom. Once you pledge your soul to an archangel, you have to pay debts over the years. An example would be a warlock who made a deal with an archangel for money. The archangel now had the power to summon the warlock for spells, information and any of the sort. Other fallen angels will acquire a pension from their clients. It was also common for archangels to have a debt towards another archangel.

The Venom Guard. The “council” of archangels. You’d describe it more as a group of the most powerful archangels that lived in Uriel as well as the deepest parts of the abyss. The Venom Guard was a group of seven archangels that reigned over Uriel, the realm of dark beings. From chimeras to skinwalkers, the land was filled with being with black to grey auras. The Venom Guard pledged allegiance to the supreme archangel long before the war broke out. They had an endless list of debts to pay if they ever wanted to be free again. It was how the debt system worked. You never asked what kind of things they’d have to do to clear their debt, but you had a few ideas.

“And how’s that going for you?”

It was genuinely a harmless question, poking fun at an archangel could go one of two ways. When Yuta’s glare went from Taeyong to your neck, you shut your mouth and climbed the last steps to the palace. You’ve been to the palace once in your entire life, and that was to receive congratulations from the royal about your title a few years back. At the time, the prince was a year older than you and the princess had just turned fourteen. Five years. It’s been five years since that happened.

You reached the entrance and looked down the hallway of the unbearable white and light silver walls and white and gold marbled pavement. It truly was a huge cathedral if you were honest, especially if you went up to the third and fourth levels. Two angels stood as guards at either side of the door. Taeyong nudged his head forward, the rest of the archangels continuing forward into the palace.

You raised an eyebrow, “what?”

You couldn’t tell if Taeyong was completely tired of your bullshit or if he didn’t want anything to do with today’s meeting. You can tell by the way his face was tight and his eyebrows were scrunched that something was on his mind. “How much did Jaehyun tell you?”

“Not a lot,” you replied and followed suit after him when he started walking into the palace, the archangels far in front of you. Your heels clicked on the marbled floor and you turned the corner. “Something about a deal you made with the council.”

“Nothing else?”

You shook your head and flexed your fingers slightly, the dull ache from the bracelet cramped them for a split second, rippling impulse shot through your arm. Taeyong glanced at your bracelet but you shook your head, shaking your arm to get rid of the tingling sensations. He didn’t say anything else, only moved the strand of blond hair that lightly skimmed his eyebrow to the side. “Don’t say anything rash.”

You scoffed, “I’ll try.”

“Don’t try, act on it,” he said sharply, voice low and menacing. “Keep the games outside the banquet room. If you don’t think you can control yourself, Jaehyun can bring you back to Athlar or the soldiers can bring you down to the dungeon.”

Your surprised face altered into a sly smirk and your fingers met your pendant around your neck once more. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Something was on his mind and it was nagging to the point where you had to ask. The supreme archangel glanced at you for a second before staring straight ahead. “I’m telling you everything you need to know.”

“Which is nothing at all?” He didn’t reply.

Mysterious. Incomplusive. Obscure. The entire deal was still a mystery to you and it didn’t help that the man who struck it refused to tell you anything. The less you know, the better it is for everyone. Taeyong’s words rang in your head after you had asked him what exactly happened between the archangels and your parents to have infinite protection the first time you met. The archangel had a smirk on his ring and fingers to his lips, dismissing the questions as soon as it had risen. Odd how someone could be so powerful yet so secretive and kept to himself.

He loved to make himself known, state his presence in the room and had a sort of carefree nature. But when it came to matters of the council or his own business, he kept quiet; like a shadow in the dusk, unable to be seen by the eyes of many.

You finally made it to the antic banquet room at the end of the hall after rounding the last corner. The white door, covered in black angel encrypted writing, was closed and guarded by an angel servant dressed in all white. The heirlooms hung on the wall of the hallway and various artifacts such as paintings and swords decorated the halls. The rest of the angels were gathered in the hallway to the left, Taeyong leaving your side to brief them for whatever reason. He had told you that you could enter the room and wait for him there. You nodded with a less-than-interested expression on your face. With nothing better to do than mope and sit around, you twirled towards the angels, skirt flowing in the air and watched as the door opened before you.

Slowly, the door opened. And the more it did, the faster your expression went from bored to alert and hostile. You felt it, you felt the same orbs who stared you down outside the palace return to haunt your surroundings and they— rather, she glared with deep blood-red eyes. A battlecry left the young woman’s throat, despite the yell from the man behind her. Her entire arm’s veins turned to gold and an arrow of pure, white divine magic shot its way out of her palm and towards you like a bullet.

Honestly, maybe she could’ve done some damage. She had the guts and certainly had the spirit.

But the arrow ricocheted off your body and flew right towards the group of archangels who were emulsified in the sudden attack. Taeyong’s hand caught the arrow before it could’ve done any initial damage to Jaehyun’s face and, it slowly disintegrated into white sand-like dust.

Ugh, you just gotta love having protection. You’d have to thank the angel who nearly slit your throat at the entrance, and Doyoung as well— if you hadn’t activated the obsidian around your neck, you would’ve succumbed to your injuries moments after acquiring them. The woman in the room certainly wasn’t happy though, not with her eyes still blood red.

“I appreciate the welcome gift,” you chuckled, staring from the white dust to the angel, your own eyes glinting sparks of purple and silver. You shared a heinous glare with her. “Next time, keep the present for yourself, princess.”

The room was unbelievably quiet, so quiet that you could hear the gritting teeth of the angel across the long, brown table. The archangels were outside of the banquet, at the end of the hallway to be specific. Direct guests are only allowed to participate in today’s discussion. Unless you were in the royal family, no one could intervene, even in the case of emergencies. You averted your gaze from your lilac faded white nails back to the woman who was only looking down at the table, red hair as intense as the internal hatred she kept for you. You scoffed.

Ridiculous. Imagine attacking the person you invited— forced to or not— to talk about this so-called meeting you still had no clue of. And she still had the nerve to sit at the other end of the table, her bodyguard sitting next to her.

“Control your face,” the archangel chirped, mimicking your movements. Your head quirked to the side and you clenched your jaw. “Not a good look on you.”

“Tell princess to control her fucking anger then,” you smiled and locked eyes with Taeyong. The archangel found this amusing, you could tell by the slightly twitched corner of his lip. “We wouldn’t be so hostile if she learned to act civil.”

She scoffed from the other end of the table, head snapping up, “did you act civil when you brutally murdered my brother?”

She loved pushing buttons, hitting nerves and sticking her nose in places it doesn’t belong. It was either listen to her and succumb to all her worthless babbling or she’d make your life a living hell, pun intended. It took everything in you to not turn the entire banquet on its head, and you would; an army of angels didn’t scare you. But an archangel who would not hesitate to stop your dumb shit? You wouldn’t try unless you choose to die.

If YangYang was the heavens’ warrior and protector, NingNing was their divine grace, pride and joy. The Liu siblings, snakes disguised in divine glory and pure magic. Usually, female pureblood angels would take after their mother’s last name, but Orian’s pride and joy loved power a little more than her mother, finally switching her name to Liu nearly seven years ago, at the fucking age of eleven.

Yeah. It should be enough to give everyone an idea on how spoiled the little brat actually is.

YangYang was most definitely a mama’s boy, and NingNing was her father’s precious gem. They were both close to their respective parent, yet argued with the other like the world would end the next day. If only their people knew how manipulative the siblings were.

Sinking further into the chair, you rubbed your fingers against your temples, eyes shutting to block out her gaze. “If she doesn’t shut up, I’ll be on trial for two pureblood deaths.”

“Excuse me?”

“Enough, NingNing,” the man beside her, probably a lesser threat than her— at the moment—, jabbed from under his breath, leaning in the chair next to her. She scoffed but sat back, angrily crossing her arms over her chest like à toddler that was refused their favourite toy. The black-haired man sighed. “Save the arguing for later.”

“There won’t be any arguing,” Taeyong spoke up, looking between both angel and the warrior. “It’s just a matter of agreement.”

“You got it all figured out huh?” Hendery said leaning onto the table, a small smirk tugging his lips, snarking tone and jabbing comments followed, “you really think the council will agree to whatever deal you have planned?”

“I’d watch your tone if I were you,” the archangel merely laughed, his smile only getting wider, “in any case, keep your thoughts to yourself, members of the council ideas only.”

The doors to the banquet opened and two people walked in, a man and a woman, although the woman was advancing further into the room compared to the other. She looked around, displeased eyes scanning item to item, either out of disgust or disinterested. Her heels clicked against the floor while she clicked her tongue. Your seat was facing the door, but you didn’t bother looking back, you noticed those footsteps from anywhere.

“Your mother never knew how to decorate this room.” The woman caught eyes with the princess, and with an already annoyed tone, she hissed with a curt laugh, “you also look displeased— where is she?”

You raised your hand over the chair, eyes still shut but a smile fully planted across your lips. “My queen, I am right here.”

You could practically feel the smirk as she walked closer to her, her probably six-inch heels skimmed the floor. Her dark, elegant yet malicious aura went from one corner of the room to another before her presence was right behind you. With a tap to the shoulders, you felt her many rings and the top of her long nails. She ushered, “fix your posture love,” and chuckled, her hands on your upper back. You groaned. “Queens don’t slouch in chairs.”

“Are you fixing her posture for the execution in a couple days, your highness?”

God, it would take one second to shut her up. You snapped your eyes open, glaring at the princess but didn’t say anything. At least, you wanted to, but the Seelie queen beat you to it.

“We don’t listen to the wrong patch of eggs,” she quipped without even glancing in the angel’s direction, and ushered you to sit back up and straight, “know your place when in my presence; snakes belong in cages after all.”

She didn’t even whisper or talk in a low tone— no. The Seelie queen practically chanted the words aloud, making sure the angel pureblood understood where exactly she was coming. You couldn’t help but smirk, tongue skimming your back teeth while swallowing your mocking laughs.

“Taeyong,” she rested her hands on the top of your head and glanced at the archangel with cautious eyes, “you will not disappoint me, right?”

“Irene,” Taeyong used the same tone as the Seelie queen and fully turned his attention to her, head resting on the palm of his hand. With a smug smirk, he twitched his eyebrows. “Do you think I’m stupid enough to let anything happen to her?”

“Debatable.”

“Reconsider.”

You looked between both immortals, a questionable look bouncing between your eyes. “You guys talking as if I’m not right here.”

“Ssh,” Irene tapped the side of your head and let out a soft chuckle, “love, the immortals are talking.”

The Seelie queen had unique characteristics compared to the other member of the council; dark green and brown vine-like-veins ran from the left side of her face staring from her ear and covered the entire left side of her body. Bright brown eyes under the rays of the sun that turned a dark orange whenever upset and threatening. She always wore her crown when in her realm, but today, she was wearing her classic long-sleeved dark brown jumpsuit with beads running against her sides, silver jewelry— from earrings to bracelets to rings— enhanced the beauty she already held.

How were you so lucky to be friends with one of the coldest leaders? The Seelie queen, whose name remains unknown apart from Irene, ruled over all seelies, fairies, nymphs, pixies, earth and wind spirits alike in Veritas, land of nature and divine creation. The most powerful fae in all of Orian, the most cunning leader and probably the most cold-heart out of the council.

Not towards you— you were a completely different story when it came to your well beings. Just like the archangels, the faes owned a lot to your family, however, the Seelie queen took interest in you ever since you’ve been a child. Whether she knew how powerful you were at a young age or because she knew you’d be a powerful ally in the future, you didn’t know and you honestly— just like with the archangels— didn’t care.

You had the Seelie queen on your side, that’s all you had to know.

“Love the family reunion and all but the Seelie queen isn’t what’s most important right now.” You turned around upon hearing the deep, growl-like voice. The man that entered beside Irene exclaimed, one hand stuffed in his front pocket and his pinky skimming against his front teeth, moonshine ring glimmering under the gold light. “Which one of you cowards decided to have this meeting on a full moon?”

“There are sticks outside, Alpha,” Irene shivered in disgust, her eyes roaming him up and down while he dug his nail further into the crevices of his teeth. “Use a toothpick if you must.”

“A piece of thin, dull and old wood won’t get dinner out of my teeth,” he growled and gave up soon after, “no point in doing it now.”

“Junmyeon please,” the archangel bellowed, crinkling his nose, “take it outside.”

There are the seelies, faes, pixies as well as the angels, archangels and sorceresses. The werewolves were the canines of the realm. The alphas to put it. Egotistical, self-centred and highly sexist wolves who always had to have the last word, even if wrong. Of course, not all werewolves were horrible. You were friends with some of them,.some of the best people in your life. But Junmyeon's pack? The worse decision if ever someone tried crossing them.

The de La Lune pack was vicious, power-hungry and narcissistic assholes that every time you had a conversation with at least one of them, you wanted to pluck your eardrums out to stop hearing the bullshit that littered their mouths. It was even worse when the alphas walked and talked in pairs— horrible if it was all nine of them.

Their leader wasn't any better but you did like him a lot more than the Athlar king— who has yet to arrive— for obvious reasons. Yes, the de La Lune back are conservative and play by their old laws, they were at least civil about it. For the most part; some of them needed a good slap, or four, to get their gears turning again.

You did pray for the women in their pack, especially the younger ones who didn't give two shits about the law. May the sky help them.

"Alpha Junmyeon," the pureblood angel smiled upon seeing the werewolf. "Thank you for arriving, it won't take too long."

"I wouldn't get my hopes up princess," he scoffed lightly and switched his gaze towards you. "This one always had a trick up her sleeve."

Was he wrong? Right now, yes he was. But you didn't dare go against his words, challenge him in a city where no doctor would heal you if he decides to rip you to shreds right now. Sorcerers and werewolves don't exactly mix; it's like physical strength versus magical ability, it already puts both parties at odds. Faes and sorcerers, archangels and demons, werewolves and vampires would mix. Only in a few cases, like your own, would faes, archangels and sorceresses would be seen remotely close together.

But the werewolves would do anything to disassociate with witches. The de La Lune pack was no different.

You rolled your eyes and mumbled under your breath, "I fucking hate wolves."

"We feel the same about you, you aren't damn special."

Fuck alpha werewolves and their stupid fucking enhanced and ultra-sensitive fucking ears. Nothing could go past them, more of a curse than a blessing if you were honest. Hearing everything, especially in the dead quiet of night would be a nightmare. Forget hearing crickets singing, what about the owls’ miles away? A hard pass.

And technically, he was wrong. Not all the wolves felt the same about you. They wouldn’t say it aloud but you knew a certain pack always had your back. And you theirs. But were you going to say it? No. Of course not.

"Your kind isn’t the only one that despises sorcerers," the door to the banquet opened and as soon as the voice ran through the room, the Seelie queen's hands tensed on your shoulders. A small noise, like hiss, escaped her throat. Taeyong and Irene caught eyes, and for a moment, hatred swam in their eyes. “Especially those who commit such vile actions.”

The room suddenly dropped in temperature, you could’ve sworn that the hairs on your arms stood straight and fixed their posture. The room leaked with ice and venom, blood-reeked clothes had an odd sweet scent to them but the eyes that skimmed their gaze through the room were less than kind. You caught eyes with NingNing, for who smirked with a mischievous gaze and stood up.

“Empress,” the princess bowed, “so glad you could make it, things would’ve been out of hand if it weren’t for you.”

“Given the guests in the room, I’m not surprised.”

Why was she so close? Disgustingly close that made your skin crawl and you wanted to sink back into your chair. But with the Seelie queen’s nails practically digging into your shoulders that they felt like nails ramming through a hard concrete wall. You couldn’t even bear to move, at this rate if you tried moving in the slightest, the sudden jolt would rupture all the nerves in your shoulder. You swallowed back a yelp when you felt the skin break underneath your clothing, ever-growing cool blood seeping down your back. At this point, you’re more glad that your outfit is dark enough to hide the streaks of red.

Taeyong must’ve noticed though. “Fingers on the chair, less into her shoulders.”

“Who would’ve thought that the Seelie queen hated the Lamia empress so much that she injured her favourite playtoy,” Junmyeon whistled while smirking, his toothpick logged into his two side teeth and was set across from you. “Just like a dog picking his favourite bone.”

The empress laughed mockingly, “Seelies do betray their own kind, are we shocked?”

“Do not mistake me for a bloodsucker.”

Slowly but surely, the wounds started to heal; Irene’s palms glowed a light green and the veins on the left side of her neck glowed, her energy transferring to you. Seelies had interesting powers, from camouflage to talking to wildlife. The Seelie Queen had many abilities; communicating from water, talking to the wildlife, transferring and gaining energy and strength, and healing. You’re sure there’s so much more you didn’t know. Finally, the wounds healed. “Sorry, love,” she whispered, comfortably rubbing your shoulders, “I tend to see red when someone I dislike gets too close to me.”

“I tend to see red when I’m feasting,” the empress expressed playfully, “but I guess I have that effect either way.” She finally walked past you, her long and overly ink-black dress dragged behind her before merging with the lace-coloured red corset at her torso and ended with blood-red sleeves and ruby red jewelry.

Stereotypical. Vampires that wore red and black as their go-to colours were stereotypical. If you voiced it out, you’d earn a hum of agreement from Irene, a small laugh from Taeyong and a glare from the Lamia empress herself. Lamia, vampire in Latin. Bloodsucking demon, monster of the night, nosferatu, or whatever the fuck other names they had— vampires suck— not only blood.

And the empress was truly the worst of the worse.

She sat right next to NingNing, nodding her head to Hendery as a form of acknowledgement before turning in her seat, moonlight brown hair tied back and braided, gaze piercing yours. Now if you really could sink into your chair, you would.

“It’s been a while since I fed on sorcerers,” her tongue skimmed her lips, a smirk tugging them upwards. “What time does the meeting end?”

“Worry more about your minions lurking in my realm than someone’s neck Taeyeon,” the archangel deadpanned, “they’ve pestered my market and my soldiers, call them out before I make them.”

Taeyeon sadly sighed, exaggerating it to no end and tapped her long black nails in order on the table, palm holding her head up. Puppy eyes. You didn’t think you’d see the Lamia empress give someone puppy eyes but there’s a first time for everything. “If I knew you’d talk to me in that tone, I wouldn't have been with you in the first place.”

There’s definitely a first time for everything and it’s definitely the very first time you’re hearing of an archangel and vampire relationship— let alone Taeyong and Taeyeon. You should really be up to date with the council drama but never you would've thought that they were ever a thing— especially with the way the archangel is boring bullets into the other’s skull.

And if you thought you were shocked, the princess had to close her mouth before she caught flies. For a moment, you understood her shock, both of you making eye contact to address your surprise but quickly stopped when you realized who exactly you were looking at.

The Lamia empress was manipulative and a seducer. Anything she’d want, she’d get; giving out empty promises to those suffering in her realm for intel or convincing some leaders to turn on each other was her specialty. If anything, she always knew what was going on before it was ever spoken by anyone. Which made you think…

Did she know about the prince? Either answer would shock you if you were honest, whether she knew or she kept quiet didn’t matter now; the council was slowly turning into each other and benefiting her, in some way, in the end.

She’d do anything to get what she wanted or disperse of anything or anyone that got in her way.

Though she isn't afraid to cross anyone, there are only a few who she wouldn't dare upset, not when her entire realm dwells on the protection of a certain king of Athlar. You watched as her eyes widened slightly before she sat up, her lips pressed in a thin line. Her eyes grew cloudy, a mist of red swam in her pupils before the door opened once more.

Now, if the room grew cold because of the Lamia empress then the room, as of right now, is freezing and feels like you were caught in a winter blizzard. The walls grew small ice crystals and the jewelry nearly everyone was wearing we're covered by a harsh cloud of ice-cold mist.

The banquet echoed, the floor vibrating under the weight of his footsteps. The air grew tense, as thick as blood and as heavy as the humid summer air. Your skin crawled at the sudden change, a pit forming at the bottom of your stomach. No one said a word, no one dared to speak or mutter anything aloud.

God, your throat was tightening, as if being choked by the wrath of the king himself. Even the Seelie queen's fingers tightened on your shoulders, refusing to tremble out of fear and discomfort. The supreme archangel didn't say a word, nor looked interested in the arrival of the king. Instead, he simply sighed and closed his eyes.

Demons and archangels, best of allies yet the worst of foes.

The footsteps ceased. The air stopped moving. A curt, short and brisk chuckle bounced from one wall to another. "Hmph, tough crowd." His voice boomed so much louder than your heartbeat. His scent was overbearing and overloaded your senses. It was putrid, awful and horrifying.

The difference between archangels and demons was simple; one was created by the heavens and the other was created by the deepest abyss of darkness. Taeyong’s scent— rather, his aura — was not as potent or as dark. He still had some sort of divine element that merely morphed with the elements of Uriel and the abyss. The king's aura was authentic; the true product of the abyss and was overloaded with sin and corruption.

You felt his eyes skimming the room, pupils piercing every head and everybody before settling on the Seelie queen's neck. Somehow, in some way, his glare went through her body and attacked yours in the blink of an eye. You shut your eyes, anxiety climbing up your throat like acid coming from your stomach.

The princess got up with shaking booths and an uncomfortable smile tugging her lips. For someone who wanted the Athlar king at the meeting, NingNing isn't as welcoming as she should be. "My lord, welcome." If the situation was any different, you'd laugh at her quivering voice.

The princess took a deep breath, "I hope your travel was well—"

“This place stinks.”

May the skies have mercy on your soul. May they find some way to forgive because it took everything in you not to let out a loud, mocking cackle while the banquet was dead silent. You might despise the Athlar king but you must admit that the man has a great sense of humour and boldness you can't help but admire.

A smile didn't stop itself from tugging your lips and as hard as you bit them down, the smile just grew larger by the second. The Seelie queen's fingers tapped on your shoulders, seemingly sensing the laughter in your throat. They were warnings— to be careful of how you act in front of others, especially those who disliked you.

"I find it a bit ironic how you're the one complaining about the stench." Those warnings weren't applied to her, not with the unpleasant tone that dripped through her words. "You practically reek."

"Seemed you built the courage to speak," the empress cut in, leaning on the table and glaring at Irene. "Although, I don't think you're in the right position to be talking."

"Because I'm going to listen to someone whose breath smells of mundane blood half the time."

"Don’t be mistaken, I'm a woman of modesty."

"Where's your father?"

The Athlar king didn't boom out the words or even say them at normal speaking volume. He merely had to whisper the word father to gain everyone's attention. And suddenly, everyone's gaze was glued to the princess, including your own, awaiting an answer. Where is the almighty angel? With that kind of title, it'll be quite unprofessional to not appear in the meeting, then again, the same could be said about your outfit.

NingNing seemed to stare off in the distance as if remembering something for her gaze was unfocused. You raised an eyebrow and looked at Taeyong, you simply shrugged and leaned the temple off his fingers. Your already quirked eyebrow only rose when Hendery gently touched her hand and gave her a reassuring squeeze.

"My father cannot make it today, nor can my mother as they are both grieving for the loss of their only son and finalizing the arrangements for the Adieu Ceremony. Which is why I’m here."

Oh. They're actually doing it. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. You couldn't blame them; losing your only murderous and highly destructive son to a sorceress that did a huge favour to the city? Must be hard. It did make sense now that you think about it, NingNing isn’t even part of the council and yet, she’s here as a representative.

“Is he now?” NingNing nodded at the King’s question. “Can’t say I’m impressed.”

The table went silent, everyone’s eyes either glued to the table or in front of them— anywhere except the Ruler of Demons. As the King walks towards a seat far, far away from you, a loud and dragged-on sigh echoed through the room. Your eyes widened like saucers and not-so-gently threw your head to the side, glaring at Taeyong.

Sometimes, you didn’t understand the nerves the man had, especially since one would think they’d rebel against the angels.

But Taeyong looked up at the Athlar king and said in a tired breath, “let’s get this over with, I don’t have time for your little feud with the almighty angel.”

“And you think I have time for this meeting?”

“Please,” Taeyong had scoffed under his breath, his fingers drawing figure eights on the wooden table, “the only real reason you’re here Onew, is because you want to see what kind of punishment (Y/n) is going to receive. We both know you’ll say no to whatever deal I have to offer.”

Both men seemed to glare at each other, for the room sat in silence for a few moments. You glanced between both leaders but cleared your throat and caught eyes with the ceiling when the demon king locked eyes with your own. Taeyong certainly had the balls to stand up to him but good for him— you, however, will stay far, far away from the man that wants you killed.

“Gentlemen!” Both Taeyong and the Athlar king broke eye contact with each other and gazed at NingNing. “We will now start the meeting. My lord, if you may take a seat.”

The Athlar king took a seat next to the Lamia empress, specifically to her left and sat a few chairs away from Junmyeon, who was still very uninterested in the topic at hand. The alpha sat near no one, a couple of chairs vacant to each of his sides.

To your left was the Seelie Queen and to your left was the supreme archangel. You, in the middle of both of the leaders, sat directly facing the princess while her guard and brother's best friend sat on her right.

The air was dense, whether because you held your breath for so long or because everyone had some sort of grudge with someone in the room. You only and genuinely hope that their hidden-pretty-baldy hatred and signs for one another don’t interfere with the fate that bestows soon.

But like you said, someone was going to die tonight but you sure as hell know it wasn't going to be you.

19 notes · View notes

averykedavra · 4 years

Text

Love Runs Its Course

Is it clear yet that I’m just using this as an excuse to write sappy, indulgent human AUs with queerplatonic relationships? Because if not, I need to try harder. Anyway, commence coffee shop AU.

(Tagging @tsshipmonth2020! Title is from Call My Name by the Unlikely Candidates! You can find this story on Ao3 here.)

Prompt: Everyone has a timer that counts down to when you will meet your soulmate. 

Pairing: Pre-relationship Anxceit.

Words: 9501

Warnings: death and murder mentions but nothing actually occurs, anxiety, minor panic attack, cursing, self-deprecation, scars, mention of a car accident

If there was one thing Virgil hated about people—which there wasn’t, he hated a ton of things about people, from their annoying voices, to their questions about what he was going to do with his life, to the way they always stepped a little too close to him, to the fact that they generally existed and that put a cramp in Virgil’s style, but if he had to pick one thing—it’d be that they always asked about his soulmate.

He kept his timer covered. Countdowns freaked him out, and he’d rather not be staring at his wrist all day. He had a general idea of when he was going to meet his soulmate—probably in the next year or so, or maybe he should have met them by now, or maybe something had gone wrong and he’d never meet them ever and that was why he didn’t look at the goddamn timer. He tried not to think about soulmates in general. It was easy enough. He just focused on panicking over the things he could control, like his college courses and remembering his coffee order and not destroying every friendship in his life.

Soulmates were an enigma, an unknown, and Virgil did not do well with unknowns. They promised a person—or persons—who would understand you, complete you, show you a path you’d never even considered.

That was a terrifying concept. Virgil did not like to be known, for starters. He’d perfected the angry-emo look over the years, complete with shredded jeans and liberally-applied eyeshadow, so he would be the exact opposite. Intimidating. Off-putting. People looked once and looked away, and that was just what Virgil wanted.

He didn’t need a soulmate coming in and prying him open.

He was doing just fine on his own.

Except everyone kept asking. They’d glance down at his wrist, covered by his favorite purple hoodie, and ask if he’d met his soulmate yet. If they were dating. If they planned to get married. Apparently, by the age of twenty-one Virgil was supposed to have met his soulmate, even though he hated going outside and the world had literally billions of people in it. And planning to get married? Virgil wasn’t out of college.

Fuck people.

Sometimes, Virgil would just growl a noncommittal noise and ignore the question. If he was in a talkative mood, he’d say “Haven’t met them.”

Some people took that as a cue to change the subject. But others immediately started reassuring Virgil that he’d find them soon, that the universe would bring them together, and how long did he have left anyway? And Virgil was stuck in the conversation until he could find a polite way to leave, or his friends could bail him out.

They didn’t seem to get that he didn’t want reassurance. That being without his soulmate wasn’t a terrible isolation. He had friends—shocking but true, and something Virgil was still getting used to—and he had a life. He wasn’t going to drop everything to chase some mystical match. He had exams coming up. And soulmates were bullshit, anyway.

Roman would probably take offense to that. But they were. Virgil wasn’t about to trust fucking fate to pick out his missing piece or whatever. God might not play dice with the universe, but it was still a pretty weird matching game—or it was like when the whole class got gift bags and they tossed different gifts randomly into each one. Some people got toy trains or glitter pens. Virgil got a small wooden duck.

Yeah, that was what soulmates were like. Surprise gift bags filled with good toys and bad toys, and some people lucked out and some people didn’t, and some people’s gift bags got lost in the mail, and it was really fucking stupid to have gift bags anyway because who even asked? They’d just been handed them, sparkly and crinkly and leaking confetti, and been told “Here, you get this, take care of it.” No opt-out program. No “thanks, but no thanks” option. Just a heavy gift-bag filled with stuff nobody wanted, being told that they were special for having it.

And of course there were timers.

Because it wasn’t horror-movie enough to have a person specifically assigned to your soul. There were timers, and the numbers counted down, thick and black and rolling through the years, then the months, then the days and minutes. It was like being branded. Virgil had tried to scrub his off in ninth grade, just to see if he could, and the skin around it was left raw but the numbers never disappeared.

Virgil hated numbers. He’d never liked math, and numbers usually came in statistics about death or statistics about poverty or algebra he didn’t understand. And timers. Numbers came in timers and counted down to the moment where Virgil would be stuck with someone for the rest of his miserable existence.

Great.

Fucking fantastic.

Yay, soulmates.

Virgil guessed he should count himself lucky that he hadn’t met his yet. It wasn’t all luck, though—like he said, he barely left the house. But his soulmate wasn’t in his college, either. He’d been worried about that. Or maybe his soulmate was just as antisocial as he was. Maybe that’d be alright. They could avoid each other for the rest of their lives.

He covered up his timer, tried not to think about soulmates, and let the anxiety hum in his chest as a constant low-grade buzz. He’d made it this far. Everything was fine right now, no matter what his wrist said, itching under his hoodie and a black smudge in the mirror.

Everything was fine and Virgil was going to graduate college and become a graphic designer and live with several pet spiders and die at a ripe old age from colon cancer. Soulmate-less and perfectly happy.

Well, as happy as he could ever get, which wasn’t very.

People said that was because he didn’t have his soulmate yet. As if diagnosed anxiety and low self-esteem would be magically fixed by some asshole walking into his life and smiling at him. And they wondered why Virgil hated soulmates.

So yeah. Maybe Virgil wasn’t happy happy. But he was alright, and he was alive, and he had friends and a life and some kind of future. He’d stayed on his feet, which was more than he or his therapist really expected, and he had a job, too—at a coffee shop, but a job. It didn’t pay well and each shift was a nightmare and Remy the manager wasn’t the hugest asshole but was still a little bitch, and Virgil hated it utterly. But it was a job. And fucking student loans weren’t going to magically vanish if he just ignored them. Much as he wished that was possible.

He wished the universe spent less magic on soulmates and more magic on paying off student debt. Now that would be useful.

“Student debt,” he’d recite to himself after the third customer called him a name.

“Student debt,” he’d mutter as he mopped up a spilled caramel machiatto.

“Student debt,” he’d remind himself when Remy popped out to talk with his soulmate, which left Virgil with extra shifts he couldn’t say no to, because student debt and also crippling social anxiety.

“Student debt,” he’d groan into his pillow as he collapsed in his bed, surrounded by textbooks he didn’t know well enough to avoid studying the next morning, wondering whether he should just quit school and become a mime. At least it didn’t involve talking to people. Or studying. Or spilled caramel machiattos.

On nights like that, he wondered if he’d even manage to get up the next morning.

But he always did.

Here, queer, and full of fear. Alone, on his own, and fine with never being known.

And working at a coffee shop at three in the afternoon, trying to memorize his science notes in-between orders, the day cloudy and soupy and making Virgil’s purple hair frizz up under his hoodie. His nametag had broken mid-morning, forcing him to duct-tape it in place. And he’d ran out for some groceries during his lunch break, and the groceries had fallen out and now he had to buy new ones in the time he didn’t have, and he hadn’t actually had lunch and was running on three shots of espresso that made him even more jittery than usual, and in general Virgil was about three seconds from curling into a ball on the counter and waiting for the world to stop existing.

That was when he walked in.

Afterwards, Virgil figured he probably should have had some huge moment of shock. A love-at-first-sight thing. Or at least, he should have noticed the guy before he was at the front of the line.

But he didn’t, and even when the dude was right in front of him, he’d just nodded and asked “What can I get for you?” in his best I’m-a-helpful-employee-and-three-seconds-from-killing-everything voice. Vaguely, he noted that the guy had a black beanie and dyed blond tips and a bored smirk like he was also three seconds from killing everything but in less denial about it.

Guy rattled off his order, Virgil nodded and tossed it over to Remy, told the guy to have a seat, the dude nodded and adjusted his beanie, shaking out his wrists--

And froze.

The next person in line bumped into him. He just stood there, staring at his hands, then back up at Virgil.

“Um, you can sit down,” Virgil said awkwardly. He’d been joking about the killing everything--ugh, if this was gonna be a scene, Remy would kill him. And he really wasn’t in the mood to shepherd some customer out the door.

The guy kept staring at Virgil. Virgil decided to stare right back with his patented don’t-fuck-with-me glare. That didn’t send him packing. Guy just kept on staring, and Virgil looked back at dark brown eyes and an old scar on a tan cheek, and blond curls and a flannel shirt and a mouth dropped open.

“Dude,” Virgil said, trying to crack a joke to deflect from his growing discomfort, “stop staring. I get that I’m awesome, but we do have other customers.”

Other customers who were starting to whisper. Remy was shooting Virgil a glare over the coffee machine. Shit. Some asshole was definitely making a scene on Virgil’s shift, and fucking dammit, of course he was.

“Hello?” Virgil waved a hand. “Dude, hello? Why are you just standing there like a deer in headlights?”

He hated himself the minute he said those words. Now the asshole was gonna snap and kill him or something.

“You--” Asshole pointed at him. He seemed to lose his words as soon as they came, just pointing a few more times. Then he turned his wrist over.

A black zero. It shone in neat ink on the skin.

“Um, good for you?” Virgil said hesitantly. “Sure your soulmate is very lucky. I don’t get what--”

Then it hit him.

Oh.

Oh, no.

Fuck. Fuck, piss, shit, goddammit, why.

Almost automatically, Virgil pulled up the sleeve of his hoodie.

A zero.

Virgil opened his eyes and closed them again, shook his wrist like it was a flashlight with an iffy battery, turned his wrist over and back again, rubbed at the skin. The number refused to change.

He’d met his soulmate.

Virgil looked up slowly. Asshole was still standing there, looking both patient and somewhat terrified all at once, with his stupid beanie and stupid flannel and stupid, stupid timer.

Fuck.

This.

Shit.

“We’re soulmates?” Asshole asked, as if it wasn’t abundently clear.

Virgil opened his mouth to snark “Yeah, apparently, and fuck this” or say “Maybe, who knows?” or ask the dude if he was ever going to sit down and let Virgil do his goddamn job.

He swallowed and closed it again.

His hands started to shake.

“We’re soulmates,” Asshole said, sounding not entirely pleased but not completely disappointed. It was like a package he’d long expected had finally delivered, but the edges were scuffed up and a few pieces were missing. Which was pretty fucking accurate. Poor guy--he might be an asshole, but he didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve Virgil.

Or maybe he did. Virgil knew literally nothing about him, not even his name.

Just that they were soulmates.

A gift in a gift bag, shoved into his hands in the middle of his shift, dropped on his doorstep with no return policy.

Here. You’re meant to get this. Keep it.

Virgil tried to take a deep breath and found his chest was too tight to allow it.

Shit, fuck, shit.

“Hey,” said Asshole Soulmate, stepping forward. “Are you...you look like you’re definitely taking this well.”

Oh, really? Virgil would have snapped if he wasn’t busy hyperventilating. Can’t imagine why my soulmate showing up out of the blue and ruining my shift wouldn’t be fucking ideal!

“I--” he stammered out instead. He looked wildly for an exit. He couldn’t be here anymore. Asshole was going to start asking questions, and he didn’t have answers or explanations, couldn’t piece together anything that explained how terrified he felt--

Breathing exercises. He used to know them. They’d all gone from his head. Fuck, shit, fuck. The whole place was too small. Too loud. The air was too hot and too still and brown eyes watched him, too concerned, too close--

“I have to go,” Virgil burst out.

And he pushed his way out from behind the counter, grabbed his backpack, and bolted out of the shop.

The door slammed shut behind him.

The last thing he saw was the face of his soulmate, staring after him, looking like he was three seconds from swearing as much as Virgil currently was.

In his head, of course. He didn’t think he could speak if he wanted to.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Virgil ran. He tore down the sidewalk, sprinting around corners and skidding away from the road. People were probably staring. He couldn’t see their faces, though. They blurred around him. Too many colors, the air was thick and heavy and pressing onto him and he couldn’t breathe--

Virgil ducked into the nearest subway entrance. He stumbled his way down the steps, sure he was going to fall. Somehow he managed to get all the way to the bottom. A few people were gathered at the edges. It was blissfully cool.

Virgil’s feet rung out against the tiles. He rushed over to the turnstile and tried to push through. Fuck. His card. Fuck, fuck--Virgil yanked on his zipper, breaking it, and practically tore his way into his backpack. It took him three tries to scan his card. He slammed open the turnstile and sprinted into the station, took the first turn he saw, and ended up next to an empty track with a glowing sign proclaiming that the next subway was in fifteen minutes.

Perfect. He’d just stay here for fourteen, then. Subways themselves freaked him out--too loud, too sudden, and the people on them always sent Virgil shuddering--but the cool underground darkness of the station was a relief. No one was here to stare as he sunk to the ground, pulling his legs to his chest, stuttering his way through his breathing.

Five things he could see.

The dim yellow glow of the lights far above him, the dark tunnel, the dirty stairs covered in gum, the old mosaic walls, his smudged sneakers.

Four things he could feel.

His hoodie, soft and comfortable around him. The strap of his backpack around his arm. The cool floor below him--probably filled with disease and germs, but Virgil was past thinking about that. His bangs falling over his face.

Three things he could hear.

The scuttling of a rat--ew--the whistle of a subway far above him, the distant strains of a street performer strumming their way through Stairway to Heaven.

Two things he could smell.

He could smell a lot of things, all of them very bad and most of them unidentifiable. He took another deep breath. His own sweat, and moldy pizza. Maybe. It could be moldy anything.

One thing he could taste.

Virgil ran his tongue over his lips. The remains of this morning’s espresso.

His heart was hammering just a little bit less.

Virgil took one more deep breath, leaned back, and kicked out his legs. The pavement was cold and rough under his hands but helped pull him back into his body a little more. The rat shimmied into a hole and disappeared.

Ten minutes until that subway came.

So.

He’d met his soulmate.

“Fuck,” Virgil said out loud to the empty tracks and the lurking darkness around him.

Nobody responded.

Okay. Virgil met his soulmate. This was fine. This was fine! He’d just never talk to the guy again. They’d go on their own way and never have to interact again. The dude probably wouldn’t want to see Virgil again, after Virgil had run out of the coffee shop like he’d been lit on fire.

That was another problem.

“Shit,” Virgil said, more quietly. He didn’t think he’d be fired for it. Remy would be pissed, but Remy liked Virgil well enough, and Remy wouldn’t fire him over a panic attack. Still, it was really fucking embarrassing. And he’d have to go back. He had a shift to complete today--

Virgil paused and shook out his hands. His whole body felt like it had been wrung through the wash. Or run over by a subway.

He pulled out his phone.

One text from Remy: girl u ok?

Virgil rolled his eyes and huffed.

It took him three minutes to compose a text back.

taking the day off. u dont have 2 pay me. sry.

Virgil tapped on the ground to the rhythm of Remy’s little dots, trying and failing not to overthink what Remy was typing.

paying u anyway, but u owe me a cappucino tmrw, bitch

And then:

soulmate guy is still here btw. says he’s waiting to see if u want to come back

Virgil’s heartbeat, which had just reached a relatively normal resting rate, skyrocketed again.

The guy was still there? Didn’t he have stuff to do? A life? Why was he waiting around for some dude who’d stared at him then run out of the shop like a fucking weirdo?

Well, they were soulmates, weren’t they? That was the sort of romantic shit soulmates were supposed to do.

God, he hoped the guy wasn’t a fucking romantic. That’d be the worst. Virgil didn’t do romance, period. If Asshole Soulmate was looking for someone to smooch and bring flowers, he was out of luck.

Except it didn’t matter. They would never see each other again.

Virgil didn’t want to see him ever again.

He read Remy’s text again.

The sign above the tracks read three minutes left. If he didn’t hurry, he’d get caught off guard. He needed to go back up and walk home, then spend the rest of the day playing video games and eating snacks and practicing some fucking self-care.

He read Remy’s text a third time.

“Fuck,” Virgil remarked, just because he could, and because he hated everything about this.

He stood up, adjusted his backpack, and walked back up the steps.

The hot air hit him like a wall when he stepped outside. He shook himself and wished for a second that he could be comfortable meeting people without his hoodie. But he hated life without it, and he looked fucking awesome in it, so now he had to suffer.

Virgil pushed through the crowds, head low, and made his way back to the coffee shop.

It was still crowded when he peeked through the glass windows. Remy and the others were bustling around in their aprons--that’s when Virgil realized he hadn’t taken his apron off. Fuck. He untied it and shoved it mercilessly into his bag. Then he straightened.

A small tap sounded on the window.

Virgil looked over and almost spiraled into a second panic attack.

Asshole Soulmate was staring straight at him.

Virgil looked at him, gave him a little salute, and started to back away.

Asshole Soulmate gave him a piercing look. He was sitting at a small table, his laptop in front of him. He looked about Virgil’s age, Virgil figured, and he had a few piercings in one ear. That scar Virgil noticed earlier dipped into the curve of his mouth and made him look perpetually smirking. His beanie was lopsided like he’d been pulling at it. For some reason, Virgil found that kind of endearing. He had a firm nose and those deep brown eyes and long fingers that tapped at his laptop even as he watched Virgil--

And it didn’t matter what he looked like, because Virgil was leaving.

Something twisted in Asshole Soulmate’s expression when Virgil turned to walk away. Virgil pushed down the guilt in his chest. This was better for both of them. His soulmate would see that too, eventually.

Another tap on the window.

Virgil looked back despite himself. Asshole Soulmate was scribbling something on his notebook. He held up one finger as he wrote, clearly telling Virgil to give him a second.

Virgil gave him that second, shifting from foot to foot, hands deep in his pockets. It was a mistake coming here, it just made him look weird, he needed to go--

Asshole Soulmate pressed his notebook against the window.

In neat black cursive were the words I will be here for twenty-four hours. If you’re interested in stopping by, I can make room for you on my schedule. The coffee here is mediocre, and tell your boss to add more sugar to the scones.

-Janus

Virgil stared at him.

Asshole Soulmate winked--actually winked, what planet was this guy from--and gave Virgil a secretive smirk. As if they were in on the joke together.

Virgil had never been more fucking confused in his entire life.

He’d met his soulmate, stared at his soulmate, and ran away. And said soulmate was waiting for him. Said soulmate was a dyed-hair college student with a smirk that screamed hide your wallet and neat cursive handwriting and glittering brown eyes.

His soulmate.

Janus.

J-A-N-U-S. Clear and dark against the window.

Virgil swallowed.

Janus. A weird name, but not bad, and it definitely matched the general weirdness of this guy. He swung the notebook away from the window and returned to typing, somehow completely ignoring Virgil and yet making it perfectly clear he knew Virgil was still standing there. Like a lost duck. Alone on the sidewalk, watching his soulmate tap at his computer at the smallest table in the coffee shop.

Another chair was pulled up on the other side. Room for two.

If Virgil wanted.

Virgil didn’t want.

Virgil turned away. Virgil walked home, backpack swinging from his shoulder, and didn’t go back because he didn’t want a soulmate. Virgil spent the rest of the afternoon watching TV and eating ice cream, and didn’t go back because he didn’t want trouble. Virgil ate reheated chicken and old celery for dinner, and didn’t go back because he didn’t want a relationship. Virgil curled up on the couch and listened to his music, and didn’t go back because he didn’t want someone to complete him, someone to be stuck with him, someone who was a perfect match for Virgil according to the universe, but who knew what that actually meant in practice. He knew nothing about this guy.

And he didn’t want to learn.

Because he knew how this went. Love would run its course, and then there would be heartbreak, because Janus would learn that Virgil was just a screwup with dark clothes and anxiety and trust issues and a life with no trajectory.

Janus would stop waiting. No matter if the guy was a romantic or really nice or just stubborn, eventually he would give up.

Everyone always did.

Including Virgil.

Virgil didn’t want Janus, and he knew Janus wouldn’t want him, and the smartest thing to was just to move on with his life.

The zero on his wrist itched.

Fuck soulmates. Fuck Janus. Fuck the whole entire fucking universe.

It was eleven o’clock, and Virgil couldn’t sleep.

He wondered if Janus liked hugs. He wondered if Janus liked old, weird costumes. He wondered if Janus liked makeup and horror movies and drawing and coffee. He wondered if Janus was his age. Maybe they went to the same college. He wondered if Janus used the same hair dye he did, and if they could help each other with their hair, because Virgil always did it on his own and ended up staining his hands and his face and the whole kitchen sink.

He wondered if he was a fucking idiot for even considering this.

No, he knew that. Virgil was an idiot. Virgil was a complete fucking moron who looked at a dark hole, knew how to avoid it, and thought about falling in anyway just to see what it was like.

Just to see what he was like.

Janus, with his stupid smirk and stupid cursive and stupid hat.

It was a really stupid hat. Only Janus could even pull it off, and he barely did. It was just on the edge of charming and if Virgil was being really uncharitable, it was crossing that edge into straight-up ridiculous.

Virgil wondered how he got his scar. Where he got his shirt. What he was working on in the coffee shop, whether he’d been there before, who told him. He’d ordered a scone. He had complaints. Maybe he liked to cook and bake. That’d be pretty cool, Virgil missed home-cooked food, he usually just microwaved some takeout--

What was he even thinking?

Virgil groaned and turned over on the couch, grabbing one cushion and pulling it over his head. Fuck home-cooked meals. Fucking beanies. Fucking domestic little scenes that he now found playing out in his head, as if that was realistic, as if he hadn’t just met the guy and immediately ruined it and decided he’d never see him again.

Soulmates.

Fucking soulmates.

Fucking soulmates who were probably still at the coffee shop. He’d said twenty-four hours. He’d still be there. It was a twenty four-hour shop and he’d still be sitting there, maybe working on whatever he was working on, smirking with that smirk of his and waiting for Virgil.

Stubborn. Kind of stupid. Maybe a little desperate, too.

Virgil was all three, so he had to respect that.

It was midnight now. Virgil should be sleeping. Sleep deprivation was bad for his anxiety, which was already a thick mass in his chest. If he wasn’t careful, he’d have his second panic attack of the day, and that’d be a fucking nightmare.

Virgil sighed and curled up tighter on the couch. He wasn’t tired. His brain was running at the speed of light and kept circling back to Janus, Janus waiting, Janus his soulmate and bound to be disappointed but what if--what if--

Virgil wasn’t a hopeful person. He liked being either pessimistic or downright cynical--it left less room for disappointment.

He was hoping now, though, and it terrified him.

“Fuck!” he yelled into his empty apartment.

The only response was the dull throb of a party downstairs, a steady beat that made Virgil’s head swim.

He’d never wanted to be stuck in the city. But he hadn’t thought he could handle the college dorms, so he’d grabbed an apartment, and found he could handle that even less.

Virgil was a mess. A failure. A twenty-one-year-old disappointment with a test tomorrow and a brain that wouldn’t shut up and a bunch of pipe dreams he knew would never come true. This was just one of them. Soulmates, lucrative jobs, moving to Venus and becoming a planetary god--they all seemed like crap in the light of day.

It wasn’t day, though. It was late at night and Virgil’s brain was fried and the heat had finally died down. It would be nice outside. Walking around the city at late wasn’t super safe, but he’d take a switchblade and some pepper spray, and the coffee shop was just down the street.

He was actually considering this, wasn’t he?

Fuck.

Janus was waiting for him. Janus wouldn’t leave for twenty-four hours, and at the very least, he should give Janus an excuse to stop waiting. Janus would need some sleep.

Virgil needed some sleep too, and Janus was the thing keeping him from it, the face in his mind when he closed his eyes.

He should at least apologize.

Virgil sighed, rolled off the couch, pulled on his hoodie, and slipped into his shoes. He double-checked the lock on the apartment door, ran his hands over his pepper spray, and took the stairs because the elevator might get stuck or catch on fire. He walked as fast as he could down the sidewalk, avoiding the crowds of people under the neon lights, clouds drifting over the sky and skyscrapers gleaming in the distance.

The coffee shop was lit up when he approached. He told himself Janus was probably gone. He was fucking with Virgil, maybe, or he’d just gotten bored and went home. This was stupid, this whole thing was stupid, and Virgil could just turn around and go home--

Janus was still sitting there. He was nursing a huge cup of coffee and a plate next to him with a half-finished croissant. His chin was in his hand and he kept yawning, but he was still blinking blearily at his laptop screen.

Well, fuck.

Virgil sighed. He’d come too far to turn back now, and any minute Janus would look up and see Virgil standing outside the coffee shop again.

Okay. He was...he was going to order some coffee. And he’d sit down and if Janus motioned him over, he’d sit with Janus. But he wouldn’t make the first move. That meant he’d have plausible deniability if...well, he didn’t know exactly what, but maybe if Janus was trying to argue with him or kill him. How would he know?

Midnight coffee shop. The perfect place for a murder.

Virgil shook himself. It wasn’t empty. Remy was right there. And if shit got real, Virgil had pepper spray and could bolt out of there again.

This was fine.

This was completely fucking fine.

Virgil took a deep breath, buried his hands tight in his hoodie, and opened the door.

Virgil barely ever took late-night shifts at the shop. They weirded him the fuck out--he preferred to stay inside when it was dark. And when it was too sunny, and when it was crowded, and just generally, but especially at night. Night was filled with murderers and vampires and shadow demons. Weirdass people got coffee at midnight and Virgil didn’t want to ever have to deal with them.

And now he’d become one of those weirdass people.

And he was seeing the coffee shop in a whole new light, the floor gleaming with yellow, the windows practically opaque except for pricks of red and white lights from the city around them. It was dead quiet except for the low hum of music, the occasional shifting of one of the only customers, and Remy wiping down the counter.

Virgil let the door swing shut behind him. It thudded way too loud and he jumped. All the customers looked up. Old dude with a salt-and-pepper beard, younger woman with long blue hair and more piercings than skin, and Janus. Janus. Janus looked up at Virgil and raised one eyebrow.

Virgil pointed to the counter, hoping it conveyed “I’m gonna get a coffee and decide whether or not I’m gonna bolt again. Stay there.”

Janus nodded and turned away. The light from his laptop illuminated the planes of his face and the way his eyes kept flickering up to Virgil. Virgil hunched into his hoodie and pointedly ignored him.

Remy gave Virgil a searching look when Virgil reached the counter. “Hey, babes.”

“Hey, Remy.” Virgil looked around at the menu. “Espresso with--”

“Hold on, no way.” Remy tipped his sunglasses down and shook his head. “You had one this morning, girl, and that stuff ain’t good for you.”

“Says you,” Virgil pointed out.

“Shut up, this stuff is my lifeblood. But there’s still hope for you.” Remy took a swig of his own coffee. “Anyway, you won’t sleep for a week if I give you more espresso, so nah, girl, try again.”

“It’s midnight,” Virgil complained. “And Rem, I’m not gonna get through this conversation without it.”

Remy paused and sighed. “I guess the customer is always right. One espresso, double shot--”

“Triple shot.”

“Double shot, bitch, or I’ll throw it at your head.” Remy slid over to the coffee machine and started it up. “So...you’ve got a boyf.”

Virgil almost hissed. “I do not!”

“Fine, you’ve got a pre-boyf.” Remy popped up and began filling a coffee cup. He glanced at Janus, who was studiedly not looking at them, though Virgil was pretty sure he was listening. “He’s alright, kinda fine, the hat is stupid.”

“The hat is stupid,” Virgil agreed.

Janus stopped typing. Virgil watched to see what he would do.

He turned around and flipped them both off.

Well. That was more entertaining than expected. Virgil smirked and returned the gesture, and Janus snorted before returning to his work.

“You’re made for each other,” Remy drawled.

Virgil growled, the smile immediately falling off his face. “Give me the fucking coffee.”

“Yikes, girl, would a ‘please’ kill you?” Remy slid Virgil’s coffee over. “Now pay up.”

“I’m an employee.”

“And I’m fabulous and don’t want to be here. Tough tits, emo.”

Virgil groaned and slapped a five on the counter. “One of these days I’m quitting.”

“Sure, babes.” Remy slipped the bill into the register and gave Virgil a little wave. “Say hi to your pre-boyf. And don’t worry,” he added, smile growing a little softer, “I’ll kick his ass if necessary.”

“You couldn’t fight your way out of a coffee cup,” Virgil said, but he gave Remy a little salute anyway.

And with coffee in hand, he took another deep breath and walked over to Janus.

Janus had already moved his things off the table, which meant there were several stacks of binders and textbooks by his feet. He shuffled a few papers, stuck them under the lid of his laptop, and closed it slowly. Virgil nodded at him and sat in the other chair, kicking at the ground, taking a sip of the coffee. It wasn’t espresso. It was a pumpkin spice latte. Goddammit, Remy.

“Hello,” Janus said slowly, and Virgil looked up.

There was a good three inches of space between them. It wasn’t enough to make Virgil feel less trapped, less gutted under Janus’ gaze.

Virgil fidgeted with his coffee and kicked at the table leg instead. It made the whole table wobble. Janus gave him a look and steadied his notebooks.

“Lot of stuff,” Virgil remarked, trying to keep his voice from cracking. “Do you usually bring the Amazon Rainforest to a coffee shop?”

“Yes, I carry it upon my back as penance for my many crimes.” Janus snorted. “Patton dropped it off later, after I decided I was staying.”

“Patton?”

“My roommate.” Janus waved a hand. “I figured I would get some studying done while I waited.”

“You’re in school?” Virgil asked. He wished he’d brought his fidget toy or something. Instead, he was left sipping a pumpkin spice latte and staring out the window instead of at Janus. Janus didn’t seem to mind, but still, Virgil wished he could curl up in his hoodie and disappear.

“College,” Janus said. “You?”

“College.” Virgil shifted. “I’m--assuming the same one?”

Janus shook his head. “I actually live in Britain. I just teleport here for the coffee.”

Virgil stared at him for a second before his tired brain realized the sarcasm. He snorted in surprise. Janus looked weirdly pleased with himself.

“What do you study?” Janus asked after a few seconds.

“Oh, um--” Virgil shifted. “Graphic design.”

“Graphic design,” Janus repeated, a smile playing around his lips. “So your career aspirations are poverty and well-designed party invitations.”

Usually, that would make Virgil angry. He didn't like when people made fun of his major. But the obvious tease in Janus’ voice, plus the way he laid it all out on the table, made Virgil weirdly relaxed. Janus could bite back. And that was kind of a relief. He wasn’t just a bland nice guy, which meant maybe--just maybe--he was a little bit equipped to handle Virgil.

“What about you?” Virgil asked.

“Double major,” Janus said. “Theater and psychology.”

“Got it.” Virgil smirked and decided to take a risk. “So your career aspiration is being a super villain.”

And Janus laughed, bringing his hand up to his mouth, eyes crinkling.

It was a nice laugh.

Not that Virgil cared, of course.

“Of course, can’t you tell?” Janus asked, still chuckling. “I think I could pull off a cape.”

“Sure,” Virgil said, a little bubble of confidence forming. “Just like you pull off the hat.”

“I don’t understand all the hat hate!” Janus exclaimed, a twitch at the corner of his mouth showing he was teasing again, and Virgil usually hated sarcasm and in-jokes. Too confusing. Too double-edged and shifty. Except with Janus, it was so blatantly obvious every time, and Virgil didn't have to worry about hidden meanings. He just got to...talk. And tease back.

He almost never got to do that.

“Surely you’ve worn a hat once,” Janus continued, folding his arms. “You must understand the art if you’re to judge me. Have you worn a hat?”

“Wow, pretty quick with the personal questions there,” Virgil said. “You don’t even know my name.”

“It’s Samantha.”

“Fuck you.” Virgil paused. “Um, not literally. I’m ace. And--aro.”

And Janus looked ridiculously relieved. “Oh, thank fuck, you’re sensible. I was worried about that.”

A flicker of hope in Virgil’s chest. “You’re--”

“Aro too.” Janus waved a hand. “And sexuality is a quagmire that baffles me. We’re on the same page.”

Virgil almost smiled.

“What is your name?” Janus asked idly, stirring a spoon in his coffee and watching Virgil with that same piercing look. “I've been calling you Emo Soulmate in my head and it’s not at all annoying.”

“Well, you were Asshole Soulmate,” Virgil said, and enjoyed another laugh from Janus. “But no, I’m not telling you my name. You’re a stranger.”

Janus gave an offended little gasp and pressed a hand to his heart. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Nope.”

“That’s fucking rude, Emo Soulmate.” Janus shook his head sorrowfully. “No manners at all.”

“Deal with it.” Virgil gave up on his pumpkin spice latte entirely. He shot Remy a glare. Remy was cleaning the counter again, humming to himself and occasionally giving Virgil finger guns. Virgil flipped him off and Remy cackled.

“So,” Janus said finally, “if names are off-limits, is there anything I do get to know about you?”

“I told you my major.”

“Lots of idiots are graphic designers, you’re not special.” Janus paused. “I...I feel like we got off on a less-than-great foot--”

“Yeah, you think?” Virgil caught himself before he could continue. “It, um--wasn’t your fault though. Um. Go on.”

“Thank you,” Janus said smoothly. It was unfair that he got to be so poised and Virgil was still trembling under the table. One of the customers left, the door thudding shut behind them, a blast of night air whipping Virgil’s bangs and making him shiver in his hoodie. “As I was saying, I’d--I’d like to get to know you.”

“Creepy,” Virgil said. “What do you want, an ice-breaker session? What color matches your soul?”

“Yellow,” Janus said immediately.

“What--” Virgil laughed. “You actually have an answer?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” Janus spread his hands. “What about you?”

“I don’t--” Virgil covered his mouth as he laughed harder. “Dude, no. Just--no.”

“You’re probably black,” Janus said, undeterred.

“To match my coffee and my soul?”

“And the emo aesthetic, of course.” Janus paused. “Actually, I think you'd be more purple. Since you like purple.”

“I like purple?”

“I would hope so, since you’re wearing that hoodie and fidgeting with the sleeve like it’s your only lifeboat in a sea of insanity.”

Virgil flushed. “Um. Yeah. I do like purple. I--made this hoodie, actually. Back in high school. It’s a comfort thing, makes it easier to feel like I’m hiding, which makes my brain shut up for a bit.”

Then Virgil decided he was going to die in a hole, because why had he said all that, Janus was gonna be weirded out--wait, since when did he care about that--

“It looks good on you,” Janus said, and Virgil almost choked on thin air. “It’s stitched quite well--edgy yet strangely charming.”

Virgil recovered himself enough to smirk. “That’s what I was going for.”

“Why am I not surprised.” Janus glanced out the window. A car careened past them on the street, headlights swirling in the darkness.

“It’s late,” Virgil said idly, because he might as well just dig himself deeper at this point.

“You were the one who chose to meet at this time,” Janus pointed out.

“What would you do if I didn’t?” Virgil asked. They were entering dangerous territory, but he clenched his fists and soldiered on. “Fall asleep on your mountains of paper, alone and bereft?”

“Oh, darling, no.” Janus swirled his coffee. “You see this? Seven espresso shots. If I want to stay awake, I do.”

“Remy let you have seven?” Virgil blurted out. “Not fair!”

“It’s because I seduced him,” Janus said with a poker face.

Virgil snorted. He didn’t like his laugh much, which wasn’t usually a problem because he didn’t laugh very often. Now, though--maybe it was the late night, but he almost couldn’t stop himself.

“Anyway, it’s not like I’m new to this,” Janus added, taking a sip of coffee. “I am double-majoring, after all.”

“Yeah, and that’s fucking impressive,” Virgil said. “I think I’d die of stress.”

“The jury’s still out on me,” Janus admitted.

Silence again. Virgil tapped his fingers against the glass. It was cold beneath his touch and he shivered.

“I still like the question idea,” Janus finally said.

“Then shoot,” Virgil said, shrugging. “I don’t bite.”

“I doubt that.”

Virgil grinned and bared his teeth. Janus hissed back, his nose wrinkled. It was actually really adorable.

Janus composed himself quickly, though. “What’s your favorite animal?”

“Spiders,” Virgil said without hesitation. “Favorite food?”

“The souls of the innocent.” Janus snickered when Virgil did. “I suppose...caviar?”

“Caviar,” Virgil repeated, shaking his head. “You can’t be real, you pretentious little fuckwad.”

“Charming, do you treat all your acquaintances this way?” Janus didn’t sound mad at all. “And I’m most certainly real. Unless I’m not.”

“Dude, don’t give me an existential crisis, c’mon.” Virgil bit his lip. “Your turn for questions.”

“Favorite book?”

“Black Cauldron. Favorite movie?”

“The Godfather. Favorite musical?”

“Um, Heathers.” Janus gave Virgil an of course look and Virgil swatted at him. “Favorite show?”

“Pride and Prejudice miniseries, 1995.” Janus paused. “I’m simultaneously learning nothing and everything about you.”

“Yeah, that’s ‘cause this is shallow shit,” Virgil said. “If you wanna actually know what I’m like beneath the eyeliner, you have to dig deeper.”

“Am I allowed to?” Janus asked.

Virgil opened his mouth to say no, of course not, vulnerability was his kryptonite and trust was his poison, and in fact he really had to go.

“Yes,” Virgil said.

Janus looked surprised. He couldn’t possibly be more surprised than Virgil felt. Virgil, who figured he’d lost control of his brain or something, because he was talking to a stranger who was his soulmate and it was midnight in a coffee shop and Janus glowed golden against the dark windows.

“Well, then.” Janus tapped on the table. “Where did you grow up?”

“Stalker,” Virgil muttered.

“You did say--”

“I know, I know.” Virgil hunched his shoulders. Honestly, that wasn’t as bad as he expected. “Outside of the city, actually. Few miles out. Suburbs.”

“You in suburbia? Perish the thought.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t a good match.” Virgil chewed on his lip. “Do I? Get to ask you questions too?”

“Yes. My turn.”

“Hey!” Virgil complained. Janus laughed.

“Who’s your best friend?” Virgil blurted out before Janus stole his question.

“Look who’s the stalker now,” Janus drawled. “I...Patton, my roommate, I suppose. I don’t--have many close friends.”

“Yeah,” Virgil said, “me neither.”

There was a long moment of silence. Remy had gone in the back and all the customers except for them were gone. The tables and floors gleamed in the light. Somewhere in the distance a siren wailed, muted by the gentle hum of music and the bubbling roar of traffic. It felt surreal. Too polished, too bright, too sharp to be real. Like Virgil would wake up tomorrow and know he’d never met his soulmate, his timer still counting down, Janus just a figment of his imagination.

Virgil looked down at his wrist for confirmation. A zero, in black ink, outlined in yellow by the harsh lights of the shop

“What do you want?”

Virgil looked up at Janus, who had that penetrating expression again, like he was trying to commit every bit of Virgil to memory. Virgil didn’t get what was so interesting. He had purple hair and purple patches on his jacket and messy eyeliner and probably some sort of scowl. But Janus looked at him like Virgil had all the secrets of the universe and Janus was decoding them, one by one.

Again, it should have been scary.

Virgil wasn’t scared.

And that, in itself, scared him.

“Be more specific,” Virgil said. “Like, right now? Right now I want some real coffee, for starters.”

“Not that,” Janus said, waving a hand. “From...life, I suppose. What’s your biggest dream?”

Virgil shifted. “I dunno. I don’t think about it much.”“You don’t?”

“Nah, anxiety makes it pretty freaky to think about the future.” Virgil thought for a second. “Um. I guess...I wanted to be a fashion designer, when I was little.”

Janus tilted his head. “What changed?”

“Didn’t have the time or materials.” Virgil shrugged and looked at the table. “Or...the drive, I guess. High school was rough and I needed a career path that gave me a quick buck.”

Janus snorted. “So you chose graphic design?”

“Shut up!” Virgil complained, swatting at Janus again. Janus dodged out of reach, grinning. “They both have design in them!”

“Whatever you say,” Janus chuckled.

“Anyway, yeah.” Virgil fidgeted with his sleeve. “Making clothes, making stuff--I still like to do it. So I guess that’s my dream, maybe.”

Janus looked thoughtful for a second, and Virgil felt like an idiot. Being a fashion designer was stupid. And here he was, dumping his life and regrets on a stranger. Fucking idiot.

“You’d be a good one,” Janus said, and once again, Virgil was thrown completely and utterly off guard. How did someone so surprising still set him at ease? “Of course I haven’t seen your work, but I like your jacket, and I think you’d be good at it. However, you have to promise to make me any outfit I want when you become famous.”

“Oh really,” Virgil said, feeling completely fucking exhilarated by the compliment. Which was pathetic, but it also gave him another burst of confidence, so worth it. “Let me guess, a cape, a red-and-black tunic with gold trim, a supportive uncle and firebending powers--”

“Scar jokes,” Janus said, his mouth twitching. “Bold.”

Virgil’s confidence immediately left him. “I--yeah, sorry--that was--”

“Funny,” Janus interrupted. “And it’s better than just ignoring it. I have a scar, it looks incredible if I do say so myself, and Avatar is a great show.”

Virgil smiled sheepishly. “You sure?”

“You’re fine.” Janus was silent for a long time, twisting his fingers together. Lights played across his face. The scar was old, Virgil noticed, and ugly, like it had never gotten properly stitched back together. Virgil rubbed at a grease spot on the edge of the table and let the quiet stretch between them.

“It was a car accident,” Janus said, his voice soft. “I was seven."

“Oh,” Virgil said, hating himself for not thinking of anything else. “That sucks.”

“Yes, it did.” Janus folded his hands on the table. “Your turn to ask a question, Emo Soulmate.”

“Oh! Yeah. Right.” Virgil bit his lip. “Um. Greatest fear?”

“Coming for me psychologically, I see. Excellent plan.” Janus shrugged. “Government control, I suppose. Or dying in obscurity.”

“Yeah, for me it’s just dying,” Virgil said, “but good for you.”

“Thank you.” Janus laughed and was silent again for a few more seconds. And Virgil usually hated the quiet, but this quiet was nice and comforting and felt more like a lull than an awkward pause, and why was this guy taking everything that usually made him anxious and somehow making it fine?

“Why did you run?”

Virgil’s fingers spasmed on the table. Well. So much for that.

“It’s alright if you don’t want to respond,” Janus said slowly, “but I’m curious.”

“I--” The words stuck in Virgil’s throat. “I was scared.”

“Of what?” Janus’ voice dipped. “Me?”

“No!” Virgil was surprised by the vehemence in his voice. “You’re--you were fine. A little awkward, but that made sense, and...yeah. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Good,” Janus said, and Virgil was surprised by the relief in his voice. He’d been worried about that, hadn’t he? He’d thought Virgil saw him and didn’t like him, or maybe he was even worried about his scar, and yet he’d still waited just in case Virgil came back and changed his mind.

God, Virgil didn’t deserve this soulmate.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Virgil said. “I’m sorry, I--”

“I’m not asking for an apology.” Janus’ face was achingly soft. “I’d just like to know.”

“Yeah. I--” Virgil curled his fingers. “I was just--scared. I was scared of...soulmates. Having one. Being one. I guess I--I never really wanted one, and you just showed up, and I know you didn’t ask for me as your soulmate but--”

Janus didn’t prod Virgil or push him to continue, which weirdly, made him gain the courage he needed to keep going.

“I’m not--” Virgil waved at himself. “And you’re--ugh, I just, I hate what everyone says about soulmates, that they’re supposed to complete each other, to fix it each other. You--I’m not--you can’t fix me. I’m not--I’m anxious, I’m a mess, I’m not going to be good enough for you and you’ll be stuck with me for the rest of your life! That’s not--” Virgil swallowed. “That’s not fair to you.”

Janus was quiet. Virgil slammed his mouth shut, sat on his hands, and decided he was going to leave the city and become a strawberry farmer. Strawberry farmers didn’t have to talk to their soulmates and brace themselves for inevitable rejection, because Janus got it now, and now he was going to leave--

“I don’t like people,” Janus said.

Okay, yeah, Virgil didn’t expect that. He looked up hesitantly. Janus looked more determined than ever.

“Society is an illusion and the world is corrupt,” Janus continued. “Most people I meet are either mindless, dull, or sickeningly sweet. It’s a very rare person who actually manages to entertain me, and even rarer for them to be kind and funny and intelligent and very clearly a good person.”

Virgil stared at him. He thought he knew where Janus was going, but that couldn’t be right--why was he--

“And I’m a liar.” Janus shrugged. “It’s a defense mechanism. I’ve barely trusted anyone in my life, I lash out when people antagonize me, and I’m such a fan of vulnerability in general.”

“Mood,” Virgil said, his brain still screaming what the fuck is happening.

“So I’m not perfect,” Janus said. “And I must admit...I hoped, for a while, that a soulmate would magically erase those problems. It’s what society tells us. I had higher hopes than were healthy. I projected a lot of things onto that soulmate--trust and honesty and a chance to be--more than myself. To be, to use your word, fixed.” Janus laughed a bit. “But then I actually met you. And...no.”

“Rude,” Virgil muttered.

“No, I don’t mean it like that.” Janus leaned forward. “You’re not--you’re a person. You’re edgy and snarky and a little nervous but it’s incredibly adorable, and you make me laugh, and even though you were clearly terrified you came back and gave me a second chance. It’s hard to project anything onto you when you’re actually here, sitting in front of me, and that’s when I actually realized--” Janus shook his head. “You are not my soulmate because you’re supposed to fix me. And I am not your soulmate because I’m supposed to solve your problems. We’re soulmates because we make each other laugh, and because I think your hoodie is cute, and because you didn’t make any comments about my scar. We’re soulmates because we make each other feel better. Not perfect, not ‘fixed,’ just a little bit better. The rest of the work we have to do on our own.”

Virgil stared at him, mouth open.

“So.” Janus swallowed. “I completely understand your reservations, but...it’s getting late, and I think we both need some sleep. So I’d like to request your number?”

Virgil pressed a hand to his mouth and laughed. “That whole dramatic speech was just a ploy to get my number? Shame on you.”

“You caught me,” Janus said. His face softened. “If you’re not ready, that’s okay. I just...it’s hard to let go of all the expectations. But how about we try? How about we be you and me for a while, and see how that goes?”

“But--” Virgil shook his head. “Soulmates--they’re supposed to be your whole life--”

“Supposed to be. As I said, society is a sham.” Janus reached out a hand and laid it on the table, palm up. “I’m not asking for your whole life, and I never will. I’d--I’d just like to be a part of it.”

Virgil tried to catch his breath. His eyes were stinging. He giggled a little, because he couldn’t help it, and because Janus was staring at him with such open hesitation and fuck, he was cute.

He was cute.

He was Janus.

Janus was his soulmate--and Janus was Janus, and that was more important.

Virgil looked at the zero on his wrist, turned it over, and took Janus’ hand.

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “That--that sounds great. Actually.”

“Lovely, darling.” Janus smiled, bright and beautiful, and Virgil was dizzy with affection. “In that case, may I have your number and your name?”

“Whoa, two at once? Easy there.” Virgil chuckled and tightened his grip on Janus’ hand. “Um. My name’s Virgil.”

“Virgil,” Janus repeated.

“Yeah.” Janus smiled wider. “It’s lovely to meet you, Virgil.”

Virgil looked back, at the guy he’d been so afraid of, the soulmate he’d hoped he’d never meet. Who wanted him. Who knew who he was and wanted him anyway.

Virgil’d had it wrong and also right, which pretty much added up. Yeah, he’d been wrong about the whole running thing. Janus wanted him. Janus waited, and Janus smiled, and Janus thought he was funny. Janus wanted his number.

Yeah, Virgil thought he’d been fine on his own. But he was so much better than fine with Janus across from him, holding his hand.

He’d been right, too. Soulmates didn’t matter. Not that much. Janus was his soulmate, and who the fuck knew what that meant? Not Virgil. It was just some gift bag dumped randomly on his doorstep, a timer clicking down to zero.It didn’t matter that Janus was his soulmate.

Because Janus was Janus, and Virgil’s skin was on fire where Janus touched it, and suddenly his wild dreams of a roommate and home-cooked meals and dyed hair didn’t seem too far off at all.

It didn’t matter that Janus was his soulmate, because even if he wasn’t, Virgil would stay.

Meant for each other? Maybe. Destined? Apparently. Supposed to complete each other? Yeah, only in the loosest of terms. Virgil was still Virgil and Janus was still Janus, soulmates or no.

And for some reason--for some incredible reason--that just made things better.

It didn’t matter that Janus was his soulmate.

Virgil liked him no matter what.

“Nice to meet you, Virgil,” Janus said again, as if he was repeating it to himself, rolling Virgil’s name around in his mouth. It sounded beautiful in his voice. Janus had a beautiful voice--thick and smooth and deep, like a river Virgil would gladly drown in.

And he glowed bright in the yellow lights of the coffee shop, the world rushing outside, the darkness kept at bay and the world polished and gleaming and on fire.

“Yeah,” Virgil said, finding that he was smiling wider than he ever had. “Yeah, it’s nice to meet you too.”

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stillness-in-green · 3 years

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I saw speculation on this going around & I’m curious to get your thoughts on it: where do you think Geten’s story might be going in the future, & do u think it’s possible Dabi will kill him? I saw ppl talking about Dabi’s noted distaste for him & how the PLF seems more of a temporary alliance in the LoV’s mind (Compress’ noted rejection of the name in his thoughts, Dabi’s use of Skeptic against his will, etc), & w/ AFO back in the picture they theorized Dabi may get his quirk & kill Geten.

Okay, so, it took me a while to grapple with this one, and in the end, I'm going to have to break my reply up into two parts. Because you asked a very simple question, anon, and my answer to the question you actually asked is pretty simple (if characteristically rambly)! But you also provided a bunch of contextualizing information about what prompted your ask, and I have a lot to say about that contextualizing information, stuff that is only tangentially related to your actual question.

Note that some of this is going to get pretty salty, but I assume you wouldn't have brought a Known MLA Stan a question like this if you didn't want at least a bit of that. Most of the salt will be in the second part, though! This first part is pretty safe!

So, to answer the actual question: I don't have a lot of solid thoughts on where Geten's story is going, because from the looks of the way the series as a whole is going, it may well be that the MLA’s story is already done. I have previously expressed concerns about the current status of the MLA mainly because of all the speculation that Horikoshi is trying to rush to get to the ending, and if Hori’s rushing the ending, I don’t know that I’d bet on Geten coming back at all. In fact, given what I can guess about the scenario, I’d kind of rather he not.

The thing is, the MLA have always been far more relevant to the League than they have been to anyone else in the cast. They’re Tomura's victory spoils; their plot beats were established to connect to the League, not the heroes, the students, or even All For One. There’s just no personal connection there, and lacking a personal connection, all they’d do is be fodder for background fights to fill page space and give the side characters something to do.

And there’s just no drama in that! Not even any tension! We've already seen the MLA characters beaten--first by the villains, and then by the heroes. Hell, we've seen Re-Destro beaten three times!(1) Based on how the raid went, there are maybe three people in the entire MLA that present a credible threat--Hose Face, whose name we don’t even know, Re-Destro, who has a repeatedly-illustrated weak point in the form of his new legs, and Geten.

While I definitely think Geten could give any of the students save Deku a run for their money,(2) what would be the point? Who would he be slotted in to have a dramatic fight with? Geten hurt Cementoss, but he didn't kill him, and none of the students are uniquely close to Cementoss anyway. Geten has never personally offended or harmed any of the kids directly. There was a time people theorized that Shouto's end game boss would be a combination of Geten and Dabi, but with the PLF scattered, that looks less likely.

From the other side of things, Geten himself has no particular beef with the kids. If he'd been on the front lines to witness the opening moments of the battle, maybe he'd have a bone to pick with Kaminari, Kinoko, Juzo, and particularly Tokoyami, but it took Geten a bit to get to the front; he has no particular way of knowing about those four, and at the moment, he certainly has more pressing matters on his mind.

Geten's primary interest, when it comes right down to it, is Re-Destro. He talks a big game about the MLA's goals, but when the pivotal moment comes in Deika, he bails on the battle that was assigned to him to try and help RD instead. He claims that pure strength is to be valued above all else, but his loyalties don’t change when Gigantomachia bats him aside like a fly or when Shigaraki proves himself to be An Strongest. Even up to Jakku, Geten is still concerned solely with Re-Destro. With no real reason to pit RD against the kids, there’s no reason to throw Geten against them, either.

The only person Geten has an established rivalry with is, of course, Dabi, but getting the two of them even in the same vicinity again is going to require breaking the MLA leaders out of jail, which clearly isn't a priority of AFO's, and he's the one running the show right now. Would Shigaraki bother? He might, particularly if RD, Trumpet and Geten all get shipped to whatever Tartarus Lite Mr. Compress and Machia are likewise bound for. But if the story is headed to its conclusion, is Shigaraki ever going to get that option?

Is AFO the final boss? If so, it doesn't seem to leave much of an opening for the MLA to become relevant again, because, again, the MLA are all about Tomura's victory, Tomura’s ascendant arc as a villain, his status as a hero to other villains (namely RD). If Deku "saving" Shigaraki from All For One is going to magically resolve all of Tomura's issues with society as a whole, because hey, at least this kid is a good person, so his society can't be so bad after all! (GAG), that doesn't seem to leave much room to get into the myriad issues with society that all of Tomura's followers have. Frankly, the only thing the MLA has to offer Deku right now that's remotely relevant to his current goals is Re-Destro's starry-eyed explanation about why he's fallen so hard for Shigaraki, and Spinner is better suited for that role on basically every level.

So that’s all been one big if. The other alternative is the ending I'm hoping we get, in which Deku and Shigaraki join forces to put an end to AFO, only for Shigaraki to thank Deku cordially and then get right back to destroying things because, surprise surprise, Midoriya Izuku being a good person doesn't absolve Hero Society of all of its many, many sins. Then I can see there being room for the MLA to return. At that point, not only is there RD’s devotion to Shigaraki on offer, but also the MLA’s ideology of Liberation, what it is, what it offers, along with, for example, more on whatever Harima Oji’s complaints were about heroes, more on what has to change systemically to satisfy Shigaraki’s grudge. That’s a story the MLA can meaningfully contribute to, and therefore a story in which Geten and his quirk supremacist beliefs are more likely to be addressed.

However, I’m not optimistic that we’re going to get that ending, and until we find out whether Shigaraki will be satisfied with being rescued from AFO (if, indeed, he survives the process at all), or whether he and his compatriots’ societal issues will be left by the wayside, I’m not yet prepared to spend a lot of time theorizing on how the MLA’s role in it would look.

As to the specific question of Dabi killing Geten--honestly? I think that moment is past. While I said earlier that Dabi is Geten’s only established rivalry, that is frankly being more generous than their relationship actually warrants. After all, we haven’t seen them interact since Deika, and literally the only time one of them has so much as thought of the other in that period was Dabi grumbling, “That icy punk sure knows how to let loose,” after Geten’s big wall of ice attack allows Tokoyami to get away with Hawks. If their continued animosity were going to be a plot point, and especially if Dabi were going to murder him in cold blood eventually, Horikoshi should have shown us the two of them antagonizing each other as co-lieutenants of the Violet Regiment.

At this point, Dabi has made his big play, revealed his identity to the world. I think he's pretty locked into the Todoroki Drama now; he has bigger concerns than going back and winning a grudge match against Geten. Also too, given the point he's trying to prove about the strength of his/Endeavor's flames, would he even want Geten's quirk? If he were to get it, would he get the "evolved" version or just the basic one?(3) Because given the precedent set by both the mechanics of Monoma's Copy and AFO's comments about Jeanist's Fiber Master, I'd be inclined to think the latter, and Geten's ice powers are way less badass without the temperature control, especially for a dude trying to wield them in concert with flames of the temperature Dabi uses.

From a narrative standpoint, Geten has already been punished for his hubris with a personal defeat, the humbling of his leader, a loss of pride in his organization, and then a second, much more damning defeat and subsequent capture at the hands of heroes. Dabi taking his quirk and killing him at this point would just be kicking--indeed, killing--him when he’s already down. It doesn’t feel like karma; it just feels malicious.

That said, in the rather dubiously scaffolded scenario that the MLA gets free and finds their way back to the League and AFO/Shigaraki takes Geten's quirk(4) and Dabi accepts it, would Dabi then kill Geten with it?

…I mean, maybe? Do people think that Dabi is that much of a sadist? Because it would be the act of a sadist, to murder a kid who's almost certainly younger than he is and might even still be a teenager, one who has just been violently stripped of any ability to defend himself, all out of a desire for petty revenge over a months-old slight--a slight consisting of Geten parroting rhetoric he learned from the weird cult he grew up in, and which Dabi has very possibly been working with Skeptic long enough to know is maybe not all that accurate a characterization of the cult's ideals anyway!

And that brings me to Part 2. ---------------------------------------

(1) Four, if you count the clone’s destruction.

(2) Even 1-A's two remaining powerhouses don't present any more of a threat to Geten's ice than Dabi did, and Shouto will only give him more of it to work with. Their advantage over Dabi is that they can both sort of fly, which might well tip the balance--one of Geten's major advantages is his ability to manipulate ice from a considerable distance away, farther away than Dabi's flames can reach, but flying opponents deprive him of that advantage. Now, Shouto's flying is fairly unstable, so I suspect Geten is more maneuverable in the air, but his maneuverability wouldn't save him from Bakugou, the human equivalent of the anger-powered jetpack.

(3) Set aside the Doylist explanations about anyone who stole Geten's quirk getting the version the audience already knows purely out of laziness, forgetfulness, or authorial fiat.

(4) And look me dead in the eye and tell me Geten would just let Shigaraki Tomura or anything currently inhabiting his body just casually stroll up and lay hands on him without protest. Not to say I think AFOmura couldn't do it, but doing it in a "cool," dramatic way would probably involve some lightning movements we have not seen him make thus far.

#bnha #stillness answers #geten #meta liberation army #dabi

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straymackerel · 4 years

Note

idk if your requests are open but if they’re not then feel free to ignore this. 😅 id like to request an imagine with dazai having a long, deep conversation with his new co-worker who happens to be a former member of the port mafia but she left for obvious reasons and only fukuzawa knows for now but ofc dazai being dazai, he’s sharp af so he decided to talk to her bc one, he understands her and second he developed feelings for her shortly after she joined ada. thanks in advance! 🥰

➽─{done! they were actually closed, but this was such a fun request i made it 2k long (✿´ ꒳ ` )}─❥

You often wonder if it was something you said.

Ever since you joined the Armed Detective Agency, all of your new coworkers have been nothing short of friendly and accommodating. All of them––except for the bandaged mystery who can’t quite take his eyes off of you.

At first you thought it was just your imagination. When he answered your questions dismissively, you thought maybe he didn’t have a way with words. When he bailed on group trips to Café Uzumaki––but only when you were going too––you brushed it off as a coincidence. And when you first ‘caught’ him fixated on you, looking you square in the face from his own desk, you hoped he was actually looking at something above your head or next to you.

After all, in the Port Mafia, you always felt as if you were being watched, precisely because you were being watched. Your every move was silently documented, your behavior acutely observed within a larger culture of distrust and suspicion. You wondered if maybe you carried that instinctive unease with you to your new day job. (The only proper day job you’ve ever held.)

But there was no need for deft maneuvers to realize that this intimidating brunette was, indeed, staring you down in silence. He has no intention of hiding it; he’s openly tracking your movements, peering into your essence. And the most unnerving part of all: he’s smirking half of the time. If you didn’t know any better, you would confront him the first chance you got; but your situation is precarious, delicate. You have no business drawing attention to yourself, a former member of the Port Mafia. Sure, the President is already aware of your circumstances, but the Mafia has engrained the virtues of secrecy into you. You hope to keep your past on the down low.

Besides, there’s something off about this brown-haired detective. Something you realized at the beginning of your employment, way before he started staring into your soul. Something you hope you’re wrong about.

So you wait it out, anxiously. Drained by the presence of your colleagues, you find yourself in Café Uzumaki alone one slow-moving afternoon. The paperwork was piling up, the tension in the air almost tangible as Dazai declined yet another offer to do actual field-work with the others in favor of keeping tabs on you (unbeknownst to anyone else). You’d left the office at your earliest convenience, hoping to relax in the corner with your favorite beverage.

It is all you can do to keep from spewing the profane as he invites himself to your table, waltzing in without a care in the world.

You’re trapped.

Ordering himself a double shot espresso, your coworker ignores your apparent apprehension as he gets comfy in his booth seat. Downing his drink while you’ve barely touched yours, he glances behind him to check out the waitstaff. No words are exchanged until the baristas are out of earshot.

“Well, you certainly seem to have a vested interest in me,” you say in the most nonchalant manner manageable––nervous because of his constant surveillance, but also because he’s quite handsome for a borderline stalker.

“You can drop the tight-lipped smile,” Dazai replies, eyes darkened.

You lower your voice, hackles raised. “How much do you know?”

“I suppose it’s all speculation, but my hunches are rarely wrong. You chose to work at a detective agency after all.” Though he’s avoided your question, the look on his face tells you everything you need to know. Eyes narrowed, the corners of his mouth upturned, he most definitely has your former occupation pegged.

“What gave it away?” is the only thing you can think to say.

“Are you sure you want to know?”

“Perhaps it will aid me in playing detective,” you quip. He chuckles dryly.

“Oh, where to start. That concealed weapon you carry––it’s not issued by the Agency. Though its outline is comparable to our standard Beretta 92FS Inox sidearm, there are some subtle differences, even when it’s tucked away and wrapped in cloth.” You raise your eyebrows, surprised that anyone would notice.

“The way you move soundlessly and seamlessly,” he continues, not bothering to pause. “It’s obviously second nature. You hardly make a sound if you can help it. And then there’s your understanding of the underworld, even though you try to hide it. You obviously know much more than you let on; your knowledge is too convenient. You claim to know just the perfect tidbit or two for a case, having overheard a street vendor or a barkeep, but the expression on your face is all too telling of a certain sense of pride. Such a seemingly mild-mannered sweetheart as yourself. Did you know that when you flinch at violence, you always react a hair slower than everyone else, as if you’re simply following suit? Also––”

“Okay, OK, I get it,” you say, defeated. “So that’s the reason why you’re leering at me every day? To add to this never-ending list of yours?”

“Well...” Dazai’s voice trails off. His features relax for the briefest moment, more alarming than reassuring to you. And then that nagging thought resurfaces. That is, the very first thing that came to mind when you were first introduced to him. Again: something you hope you’re wrong about.

“You’re quite suspicious yourself,” you interject. “Let alone your little stalker habit... you have the same name as him.” The corners of his eyes crease.

“That’s an odd way of putting it,” he says with a hint of mirth in his voice, and not a smidgen of denial. Fuck.

Logic dictates that you should be scared shitless right now, sitting across from one of the most dangerous men in Mafia history. Logic dictates that you should’ve used more covert methods of uncovering his past. Straightening up, you tell yourself not to think about it.

“Well, I was under the impression that Dazai Osamu was only a legend and nothing more. I mean, a teenage orphan prodigy who threw their life as a Mafia exec away, only to disappear forever? Sounds like bullshit,” you state with as much cool-headedness as you can muster.

“I take that personally!” he gasps, twisting his arms every which way in mock offense, as if to shield himself from your harsh commentary.

“You didn’t consider changing your name?”

“Not even once.” He winks, to which your heart may or may not skip a beat. Are you scared, or oddly enamored?

You push your cup along your side of the table. “How come you turned tail too? You had the status to do literally anything you wanted.” He brushes it off.

“What is this, my interview? The last time I checked, you were the one on trial,” he says, waving his hand like he’s batting your assertion out of the air.

“I’m on trial?” you ask, the cup coming to a stop. “Do the others have suspicions as well?”

“Oh no, nothing in particular to go on. Though Ranpo most definitely has you figured out,” he says, to which you startle. “...but he couldn’t care less, so don’t worry.” You unintentionally sigh relief as he continues: “My colleagues have this peculiar way of testing their new recruits. We call it an ‘entrance exam.’ And before you ask, I’m not responsible for administering yours, but I might be able to push you in the right direction.”

“Any hints?”

He shakes his head, “Not really. No general tips or tricks. I need some more information,” he says, leaning in a bit. “So tell me about yourself. Why leave the Mafia for the ADA?”

You press your lips together, realizing he’s asking you the very same question he himself dodged moments ago. “I needed a change of atmosphere. And scenery. I wasn’t quite taken up with the constant death threats and daily bloodshed.”

“Oh, death threats? And bloodshed? I don’t suppose you were on the receiving end?” Dazai asks, one eyebrow cocked.

You laugh a restrained laugh, nodding. “I wasn’t. But those kinds of tactics... they aren’t in my nature. Everything about that job was suffocating, and I just couldn’t do it anymore.” Dazai looks at you thoughtfully.

“It’s interesting, though. You carry your past line of work in all of your mannerisms. Any chance you were born into it?”

You nod again, “Not my choice.”

“What a coincidence.” He flashes a toothy smile, silence thickening the air. You scramble to break it, eager to talk about something else.

“...So? Any advice for my test?”

“I’d be a little more forthcoming if only you’d tell me the full truth,” Dazai responds, and your face falls.

“What do you mean?” Your strained voice comes out meeker than you’d like, and it’s Dazai’s turn to sigh. He leans back into his booth seat, as if a little distance might solve your unease.

“I lost someone. The best friend I’ve ever had. He told me I wouldn’t find what I was looking for in the Mafia, so here I am. And I’m pretty sure you have someone like that too.” How does he know? Why is he telling you this? Your hands––they’re clammy. You turn your gaze to your lap, realizing that he’d dismantle anything but the truth. There are no options but one.

“It was... a family member.” More silence. Is your nose getting red? You hope your nose isn’t getting red.

“The Mafia threatened them?” he prods.

“They were collateral,” you say slowly. You hadn’t expected to talk about them today. You hadn’t expected any of this from a coworker who kept you at several arms’ lengths for days. Another coworker might respond “that’s horrible,” or “I’m sorry for your loss,” but not Dazai.

“Dazai, do you ever wonder if it’s our fault they got hurt?”

“No,” he replies immediately. Then he hesitates. “I mean, yes, and for a very long time, but not anymore. Evil will do evil; if not to our loved ones, then to someone else.”

He’s right. Of course he’s right.

“But does it make it any easier?” You peer at him, hopeful, and he dismisses your expectations with a quick shake of the head. “Right.” Pause.

“But you’ve come to the right place. Unlike the Mafia, this is an environment where you can heal. Sometimes the wounds reopen,” he says, “but I promise you that your feelings will go towards something productive.” You swallow, blinking back would-be teardrops. The salty marinade seeps back into you.

Then, under your breath: “Okay.” “Thank you.”

“Of course. I could talk about this all day.” The tightness in your throat dissipates, the water in your eyes no longer threatening to spill.

“So, the entrance exam? I’ve told you everything now,” you pry. He thrums his fingers, amused.

“Oh, that won’t be necessary. I figured pretty early on that you would be okay. You’re gonna pass just fine without my help––I only wanted to get to know my new coworker better.” His fingers stop as he gauges your response.

“Wha–?” This guy! He played you, straight to the verge of tears..! Shoulder tense, you jump to your feet.

“Sorry to deceive you. I’ll see you upstairs, then.” Jeez, the bandaged bastard’s already heading out!

“Wait!” Cheeks flushed, you’re unsure why you’re calling out to him, but it makes him stops in his tracks.

“...Yes?”

“...You’re not gonna tell anyone, right?”

“I’ll think about it.” Dazai’s coy voice is all but reassuring.

“No, seriously,” you plead, eyes wide. “I really need this. God forbid someone else prompts a retelling of my life story.” He turns to face you.

“Then let’s make a deal.”

“What kind of deal?”

He steps towards you, leaning in to whisper in your ear: “Meet me in front of this building tomorrow at 10 PM. There’s a restaurant I want to take you.” You feel your mouth open, then close by itself.

This is it. This is why he can’t look away from you. If he was only observing you, he could, would do it without being so obvious. You’re sure of it now. You replay each once-menacing occurrence of eye contact from the past few days in your head, and you notice something new. Hunger? Want? Even greed? You can see it in his eyes right now. Those eyes, they threaten to dance around, maybe even travel a bit... lower.

(You jest yourself. ‘Once-menacing?’ He’s still menace, still a danger.) He turns away, heading for the door again, not waiting for a response:

“Don’t be late.”

A chill runs up your spine. It’s a mix of fear, and bitterness, and panic, but most of all...

A growing anticipation.

#Dazai Osamu #bsd fanfic #bsd fic #dazai fic #dazai imagine #bsd x reader #bsd oneshot #dazai oneshot #armed detective agency #dazai fanfiction

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duxhess-kryzewan · 4 years

Note

Obi-Wan preparing some surprise for Satine and her being curious, so she's following him and then try to sneak in only to get caught

-thief in the night -

She trusts him.

There was never a doubt about that, she trusted him with her life. Hardly a soul in the galaxy would ever be granted such faith in them by her. It's an honor she doesn't bestow upon many.

That being said, he had lied to her.

When she had arrived on Coruscant on a diplomatic summit, she was just as delighted by the opportunity to see him as much as she was to speak on the progress her peaceful ways had made on Mandalore. It had been too long since the galaxy had been war torn and she hadn't yet seen him since peace had been declared. Despite the absence of battle, the universe still dictated where their priorities must be, and seeing each other was not on the forefront of those duties.

She would be on Coruscant for nine days, four of which were free of any summit meetings and Senate visits. Her staff had made sure to stagger her commitments and she could not have been more appreciative. The more time she had to slip away, the longer she could be with him.

Which is why she was beyond disappointed when her second night of freedom had came and he informed her that he had a prior engagement with the temple and wouldn't be able to see her. And while she understood, it didn't alleviate the pang of sadness in her chest upon hearing it.

"I'm all yours on your next free night." He assured her, "I'll be in your company as long as you'll have me, my dear."

"You better." She told him.

There wasn't much to be done about the situation though, and she understood that. It was another unfortunate caveat that came with the separate paths they chose to walk. Never will their duties be put on hold for each other. He had duties to perform at the temple that take precedence over her.

Which would be fine, had he not been lying to her about it.

She had just finished up a quick visit with Padme and Bail Organa when she caught the faintest glimpse of him ducking around a corner and down a corridor, cloak pulled up over his head. If she didn't know every inch of him as well as she did she could have mistaken him for someone else. But no, there was no hiding that auburn hair from her. The flash of auburn hair was all she needed to confirm his identity.

"Glad to see he's at the temple." She mutters to herself, and in a split second decision she pulls her own hood up and is headed in his direction.

Rarely is she without the company of her guards, and she wasn't about to let the opportunity go to waste. Navigating her way around the city wasn't the easiest of tasks, and trying to keep an eye on Obi-Wan while maintaining a distance was proving to be a challenge. But she was determined to figure out just why he had lied to her.

She stops a few yards away from him and watches as he walks into a small dilapidated shop in the back end of an alleyway, the sign so time worn that she can't make out the writing.

"What are you up to, Obi-Wan?" She whispers to herself, "He best have a good reason for lying to me."

And so she waits, watching as people come and go around her. The darkness - thank force - provided her with enough cover that no one would be able to recognize her.

Her focus soon becomes entirely lost in the crowd bustles around her, so much so that she almost misses him slipping out the door of the shop entirely and she has to quicken her pace to try and keep him in her sight, but when he takes a sharp turn down another ally she looses him completely.

"You should know better than to try and follow a Jedi."

His voice spooks her more than she would like to admit. How had he gotten behind her? He was ahead of her only moments ago.

When she turns she finds him standing with his arms crossed, hood still pulled over his head and a bemused smile on his face.

"You saw me?"

He snorts, "I've told you before, everyone has a force signature, I know yours quiet intimately. I could sense you not long after I left."

She curses herself under her breath. How could she forget? He only spent hours explaining how the force is in all living things when they were on the run.

"Right, that."

He nods his head in the direction of the Senate building, beckoning her to follow him. Not that she had any other option, she barely knows her way around the city. Another detail she hadn't thought of when she left after him.

"Care to explain?"

She stares blankly at him for a moment. He wanted her to explain? She certainly wasn't the one who lied.

"Perhaps, if you explain why you lied to me." She counters.

He frowns, "I certainly hope you don't think I was committing any type of adulterous affairs."

There were many scenarios that ran through her head but that wasn't one of them. He might have lied to her about his whereabouts, but she would never believe that he was seeing another person. He barely has the nerve to go against the code he holds so close just to see her, let alone another woman.

"Of course not," she answers, "I would never."

He smiles at her briefly, before frowning once again, "Then why follow me?"

She narrows her eyes, "Why lie to me?"

He stops walking when she poses the question again. There's something about the look in his eyes that gives him a pause; confliction, perhaps?

"I told you I was at the temple because I didn't want you to ruin the surprise."

She freezes, "Pardon?"

He sighs and runs a hand over his face. She's waiting for him to become upset with her, but instead of angered words he simply chuckles.

"I had intended to give it to you tomorrow evening after your session with the Senate. Unfortunately this was the only time I could slip away, which happen to come at the expense of one less evening with you, though I was hoping what I got you would make up for it."

She opens her mouth to responds, but can't quite form the words she's looking for. Had she really been so cross at the fact that he wasn't where he said he was that she completely ruined what surely must be something meaningful enough for him to sneak away from the temple? It seemed that way.

"I'm sorry." Is the only thing she manages to come up with.

Despite what should be a very keen opportunity to be angry with her, he smiles warmly.

"No, I'm sorry for lying to you. I shouldn't have done so despite my good intentions."

The crowd swells around them, bustling bodies brushing against their own and he has to tug on her wrist to move her out of the way of a particularly large swarm of people. Not that she's complaining, the last thing she needed was her guards finding out she snuck away from them.

"Come on," he tells her, "Lets get you back to the Senate building before they send your guards on a man hunt."

She nods and follows wordlessly behind him. Every so often he would glance over his shoulder to make sure she was still there. Over protective as always. Perhaps it was an instinct that hadn't faded from their time on the run, even though she insisted she could take of herself.

It wasn't like she was about to voice that however, she did just ruin what clearly is a very personal surprise. Another thing to add to the ever growing list of guilt she has. It was bad enough that he violates the code for her, something she knows he struggles with even if he wont voice it.

Why did she think following him would be a good idea?

"Do you wish to be alone?" He asked her - rather sheepishly, she would add - once they arrived at the Senate guest suite.

She stares at him for a moment, "I presume you're rather upset at my ruining of your surprise. If you'd rather spend the night separately I understand; you don't have to stay." She paused before adding, "Or ever have to ask, for that matter."

Her head drops shamefully, the guilt for following him only manifesting with each passing moment and she's certain he won't want to be around her. She wouldn't want to be around her, not after questioning her trust in him.

But he only smiles and opens the door, gently weaving their fingers together enough to tug her inside.

He kicks the door shut and kisses her. Its the first time he's truly touched her in almost a year and the sensation is so overwhelming that all she can do is wonder how she could ever, ever doubt his loyalty to her.

"I'd like to give you your gift now, if that's alright." He says just as he pulls away.

She finally grants him a smile. How could she not smile at such a wonderful man?

"If you wish."

He grins and kisses her again before reaching into his robe and pulling out a small blue pouch, its silken fabric shimmering in the dull light of the room and she's entranced by the color alone.

He holds it out to her, beckoning her to pull on the tightly knotted string. She does, and lets the small ribbon fall to the floor before he tips the bag over and lets its contents slide onto her open palm.

"Padme had some input, I confess." He tells her, "I'm not the leading expert on women's jewelry."

It wasn't anything grand; a simple silver chain wrapped around a bright blue crystal. She's sure that Padme steered him in the right direction of what she would and wouldn't wear.

"You don't have to wear it if you don't like it," He says quickly, likely a response to the blank expression she's wearing. Not for a lack of liking it - quite the opposite, in fact - but because she was entranced by both the gesture and the object in her hand.

"It's the Kyber crystal from my last lightsaber," He explains, "The lightsabers itself was broken, having been kicked down a shaft on Naboo, but I managed to salvage the crystal. I know it's not to the caliber of your normal attire but I hope-"

She doesn't give him a chance to finish. She's too impatient to let him say anything else about how she may or may not like it and overwhelmed by just how much she loves him. Every time she fears that he has allowed his affection for her to fade he turns around and proves her wrong.

So she kisses him, because it's the only thing that she could possibly do to show how much she loves it and him.

"I want to wear it." She tells him, "It's wonderful and I want to wear it."

He smiles, "You're sure?"

How could she not be?

"I'm sure."

She slips the necklace back into his awaiting hand and turns, letting him do the honors of brushing her hair to the side. Not that she was incapable, but she relishes in the chill that runs down her spine every time he touches her.

The crystal is cold against her bare skin but she loves it all the same. It's easily one of the most thoughtful things she had ever received.

Hell, he could have given her anything and she would love it all the same so long as it came from him.

A kiss is pressed against the back of her neck and she sighs.

"Thank you, Obi-Wan."

He nuzzles her exposed skin before dropping his chin against her shoulder, "Next time I make an attempt at surprising you, could you reconsider following me all around the city?"

She grins.

"I'll consider it."

#obi wan kenobi #obi wan x satine #obi wan and satine #obitine #obitine fanfiction #obitine fanfic #obitine fluff

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timelordthirteen · 3 years

Text

In All Things 25/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit (eventually)

Summary: A Rumbelle arranged marriage AU.

Chapter Summary: The morning after the party, Gold and Lady Ella have a talk over breakfast, Lady Ella is a goddamn delight, and I do some blatant foreshadowing. :)

Notes: The conversation in this chapter was intended to be a bridge to what I really wanted to get to, but Ella ran away with things because she is so fun to write. Apologies that this chapter isn't longer, this is probably a huge mess because it was edited late. I'm curious if anyone will notice the blink and you'll miss it thing I slid in here...

[AO3]

Gold went to bed not long after Belle left him in the library, having waited several minutes, until he was sure that she had made it all the way upstairs to her room.

The evening had been much more enjoyable than he’d anticipated, and indeed more than it had been for him in some time. He could only attribute that to Belle’s presence. Most people who lived in the area were no doubt as excited to see the new Lady Gold as they were for a party. Of course once they met her in person, she won them over as easily as she had him with her charm, grace, and beauty. It only made what he’d done worse.

His thoughts had kept him from falling asleep for some time, but he had, unfortunately, awoke early to an agonizing pain in his leg. He felt he rather deserved it, both for dancing quite a bit more than he should have, and for his having committed Belle to a life she would likely come to resent.

If they had been simply indifferent to each other, it might have been more manageable. He could have accepted their marriage as a useful and satisfactory association for both of them, but she had been so determined to be kind and to befriend him. He’d told her she was the most beautiful woman in the room, and he’d meant every word of it. Last evening, with her twirling and smiling so radiantly, he could only admit that his plans made him the worst sort of man. In truth, he might end up being seen as no better than the likes of Milton in her eyes, and the idea of it pained him far more than his leg.

Countess de Vil came into the room as Gold shifted in his seat, trying in vain to find a position that would relieve his aches. She made a face at the windows beyond the breakfast table, her eyes narrowing in the morning light and her face contorting as if in pain.

“Feeling a bit worse for wear?” he asked.

Lady Ella waved a hand at him and walked around the table to take a seat with her back to the double doors leading to the patio. “I’m perfectly fine, dear.”

He let out a short, bemused scoff. “Clearly. I’m sure it’s just the morning sun reflecting off the snow and ice, and not at all your enthusiasm for my wine last night.”

She shot him a glare and reached for the teapot, filling her cup almost to the brim and forgoing any milk or sugar. “So, about your lovely bride...”

“I’m sure she’ll be down soon.”

Ella selected a pastry with peach jam and sat back in her seat with a smirk. “That’s not what I was going to say.” He looked at her sideways, busying himself with spreading butter over a piece of wheat toast. “Truthfully, Gold, when did you become a fan of matrimony again? Lady Belle is pretty to be sure, but -”

Gold rolled his eyes. “My reasons are my own, thank you.”

“- was she really that bad off that she needed your money?” Ella continued, ignoring Gold’s interruption entirely.

She took a large bite of her pastry, pausing to lick some of the peach from her thumb, and then kept talking. “Of course that’s what everyone has been saying, but I think there’s more to it. Are you afraid you’ll need someone to look after your son? If so, you could have hired a governess to do that, and for far less than bailing out old Maurice I should think.”

“Ella...” he warned. “Please, this is not the time or place.”

Ella popped the last bit of fluffy pasty in her mouth, her eyes narrowing at Gold as she chewed. “Well, there has to be some reason you’ve suddenly married after spurning every other option available to you, and why you’ve chosen a woman fresh out of an engagement of her own, which, I will add, was rather abruptly - and possibly scandalously - ended.”

The lid of the teapot rattled sharply as Gold brought his fist down on the table. “That’s enough!”

The Countess sighed, not the least bit startled by his outburst and lifted her tea. “I don’t give any of that nonsense with Sir Gaston any credit,” she said, gesturing with the cup, “and I don’t mean to pry, but -”

“Oh, yes you do mean to,” he said wearily, sagging back against the chair as he rubbed at his knee.

“I don’t like to hear my friend’s name being raked through the mud by the gossips.” A moment later her hand, warm from holding her cup, covered his, and he sighed, finally meeting her eyes. “Just put my mind at ease and tell me there’s nothing to it.”

He flashed her a smile and nodded. “I promise, there’s nothing to it. And I’ve heard enough of it to know what they’re probably saying.”

“Good,” she answered with a tight squeeze of his fingers and a smile. “Because I rather like your Lady Belle. She’s delightful, and I’d be very disappointed if I had to hate her on your behalf.”

Then she took two slices of bacon, sliding them onto her plate with a fork, and sat back in her seat. “I heard you were at the palace last month. What was that about?”

Gold waved a hand and made a face. “Just some business with the King.”

“Like paying off Lord Maurice’s debts?”

He shook his head. “Countess, I believe you’re about to overstay your welcome.”

Lady Ella threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, when do I not, darling?”

“When do you not.... what?”

Gold and Lady Ella looked to the doorway to see Belle, who smiled at them as she entered and took the seat across from Gold.

“Put her foot in her mouth,” Gold said with a smirk.

Belle’s eyebrows lifted, but she said nothing as she poured herself some tea.

The Countess gave Gold yet another glare, and then smiled sweetly at Belle. “When do I not make a marvelous spectacle of myself, of course.”

“Is this a trick question?” Jefferson asked.

Everyone turned to look at him, and he pushed off the doorframe to saunter into the room. He was without his usual jacket, and seemed to be fighting to get the cuffs of his shirt buttoned. Lady Ella, Gold, and Jefferson shared a hearty laugh, and Belle sat back in her chair, holding her teacup to her lips as she looked on.

Jefferson joined them at the table, and there was the usual light conversation that had filled their mornings for the last few weeks. Belle was keen for the Countess’ opinion on the matter of a woman running an estate, which Lady Ella was all too eager to lay out for her in detail. She went so far as to relay the story of having to sort out her late husband’s investments and the problems with some accounting irregularities.

“I’m afraid I know how you feel in that regard,” Belle said, exchanging a look with Gold. “Seems we’ve both had our share of irresponsible finances.”

“That’s men for you,” Ella sighed, “can’t be trusted.”

Gold rolled his eyes. “Present company accepted, of course.”

Ella laughed again and then pushed to her feet. “Well, thank you for a lovely celebration as always, but I should be off. It’s a long ride back home.”

Belle’s eyes widened at Lady Ella’s attire. Long gone was the elegant gown of the previous evening, or the day dress she’d been expecting, and in its place was a set of well fitted riding leathers, complete with knee high boots.

Belle stood slowly, the surprise almost making her forget her manners. “You’re riding, Lady Ella?”

“Oh, yes,” Ella said, grinning. “I always do. Best cure for what ails me after a party is fresh air.” Then she paused and gave Belle a wistful look. “And I adore it.”

Belle smiled widely. “As do I.”

Ella’s face lit up and she moved around the end of the table to take Belle’s hands in hers. “Oh, well then, when you visit we must go for a ride together! I have a gray gelding named Jasper, just turned four. He’ll be perfect for you this spring, very docile.”

Belle could feel Gold’s eyes on her as her lips curved. “If it’s all the same to you, Countess, I’d prefer to ride my own horse.”

“Of course!” Ella said, giving her hands a squeeze. “As you wish, darling, you’d be my guest after all, and I am never deficient in what is owed to my guests, am I, Gold?”

“I would never suggest such a thing,” he replied, hiding a wince as he pushed to his feet, leaning heavily on his cane. “Come, Ella, let me see you out.”

Ella gave him a short nod and then stepped back from Belle.. “It was lovely to meet you, Lady Belle.”

Then she offered a short bow, in the manner of a gentleman rather than the curtsy expected of a lady, much less a Countess, and Belle’s amusement grew. Though she did not know Countess de Vil all that well yet, the blatant eschewing of societal norms in such a way, and her intent to ride her own horse back to an estate she rightfully owned, could only be described as delightful.

In turn, Belle inclined her head towards the Countess, and smiled. “And you as well.”

Gold exchanged a look with Jefferson, that was bemused to say the least, and then followed Lady Ella out of the room. Jefferson and Belle went back to their breakfast, which suddenly seemed much more reserved and sedate than before. Her intention to ask Jefferson why he seemed so rushed this morning, was forgotten as her mind whirled with thoughts of Lady Ella.

Belle had always been frustrated by the role impressed on her by the world, and the lack of agency and freedom that came with it. The Countess was a woman who seemed to care for none of it and to do exactly as she pleased, while maintaining the whole of her title and power in the process. Lady Ella de Vil was definitely someone with whom she wanted to become better acquainted.

Gold and the Countess walked in silence to the wide front entrance of Thornhill.

The cold winter air felt pleasant against his face, and though he did enjoy Lady Ella’s company, this seemed to be one of the times where he was anxious for her to be on her way and to have his home back to normal again.

“Look, Ella,” he said quietly, “you’re not entirely wrong in your assumptions, but there are - there are other things in play right now. I need to keep things close, do you understand?”

Ella waved a hand at him. “Oh, you know I just enjoy teasing you, Gold. I know full well you’re scheming something, you always are, just be careful.”

He gave her a wry smile. “I know how to handle the royal court, and the King.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Her look was pointed, making his eyes narrow as he regarded her. “I’m talking about your Lady Belle.”

Gold frowned and planted his cane in front of him. “What about Belle?”

Lady Ella sighed and looked over to where the coachmen were loading the last of her things into the carriage “Just - just make sure you know what you’re doing,” she said finally. Then she turned back to Gold. “She’s a delightful young woman and it would pain me to see her hurt. Or you for that matter.”

He huffed and tipped his head back. “Ella...”

“I’m serious!” she insisted, taking him by the arm as she came closer. “The heart is a volatile thing, Gold. You know that.”

His eyebrows lifted as he fixed her with a flat look. “There is little danger of any hearts being broken, I assure you.”

A soft snort escaped her and she patted his arm before letting go. “I’ll remember you said that.”

He smiled. “You always do.”

The coachmen brought over Lady Ella’s horse as they talked, and stood holding the reigns at the bottom of the front steps until she came down. The horse, a broad, jet black Friesian mare, nudged the Countess, and she gave her muzzle an affectionate rub. She moved to the side and mounted the beast in one, rather elegant, motion, and Gold found himself wondering at how Belle might look on such a horse. He had the fleeting idea that he might buy her one if she wanted it, but then she had her own horse, which she was no doubt missing, and he determined that bringing it to Thornhill would be a far better option. He would write to Desmond about it, and see if it were possible to do before within the next fortnight.

The clack of hooves on the stones shook Gold from his thoughts, and he noticed Ella staring down at him with a bemused expression. “I’ll be back at court in two weeks,” she said, “for the New Year’s ball. If I hear anything interesting, I’ll let you know.”

Gold tilted his head and started to smirk as another idea came to mind. “Perhaps I’ll be there as well.”

The Countess grinned devilishly as her horse pranced impatiently next to the steps. “Well, you do have a new wife to show off...”

He shook his head and raised his hand, giving her a small wave. “Good bye, Lady Ella.”

Her head dipped as she flashed him one last cheeky smile. “Gold.”

He stayed outside for several minutes after the Countess and her carriage had passed through the gates of Thornhill. The contrast of the warm, bright sun and the cold, crisp air was oddly soothing. The heart is a volatile thing, Gold. You know that. And he did, all too well, just as he knew the pain of it being broken. It was why he had decided to marry the way he did. It would ensure his son’s future without any other entanglements on his part. Lady Ella might be perceptive, and she liked to tease now and then, but on this he had decided that she was simply wrong.

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #belle x mr. gold #arranged marriage au #in all things #my rumbelle fic #fic

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