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snackhobi · 3 years

Text

a human touch, part I

Part [1] / 1.5 / 2

(masterlist here)

pairing: taehyung x f!reader / word count: 13.3k / genre: robot!taehyung/virgin!reader, fluff, future smut (NSFW, 18+)

summary: everyone knows that androids don’t think, or feel, or have emotions. they’re not human, after all. so when a two hour session with a sex android ends up with nothing more than a nice conversation, you think that’s the first and last time you’ll see v.

then he turns up at your door.

warnings: talk of sex work (taehyung is a sex android), implied physical harassment (mentions of bruising), cursing/explicit language, mentions of alcohol, honestly this is a lot softer than these warnings would make you think I swear 🤧

a/n: I started writing this fic like 2/3 months ago and then put it on hiatus bc god it was kicking my entire ass. but ya girl is finally back to working on it! it’ll be two parts, because this fic is a big one! I hope to have the next chapter out next week/the week after (but no promises kdsflkfdfsdf) thank you @hobi-gif for loving this fic so wholeheartedly and supporting me while I struggled with it, queen shit ONLY. note: this is loosely a detroit: become human au but you don’t have to be familiar with it at all!

Here are the three things you know about the Eden Club.

One: it’s a sex club. Everyone knows that. Besides, even if they didn’t, all it would take is a single look—the soft blue lighting that shines out from the windows, the screens behind the glass that flash images of shifting and undulating bodies, the heavy beat of music that pulsates from the building and out into the night air; everything murmurs of the promised pleasures that are held within.

Two: it’s a sex club entirely staffed by androids. Androids make better lovers, according to the ads. They might look human but they don’t have free will like you do—anything you ask for, you’re given without question or reproach. They can’t say no to you. They’re entirely at your command.

Three: you don’t ever want to go to the Eden Club. It’s not that you have anything against androids—because you don’t—but you feel bad for the ones who are owned by the club, even if they’re literally only built and programmed to serve humans. It just feels… wrong.

And here’s the fourth thing you’ve just learned about the club, much to your dismay: you are about to head inside it.

“When you said we were going to a club, I thought we were going dancing,” you whine. “I never would have come out if I’d know you meant here.”

You’ve been staring up at the cursive pink neon sign for a while now, the looping letters of Eden Club shining out in the dark evening air, and you really, really wish you weren’t here. You’ve dressed for a night of dancing and drinking and now you feel woefully uncomfortable, your high heels and short skirt almost as scandalous as the outfits the androids are wearing when they slide across the huge screens.

“That’s why we didn’t tell you which club it was.” Seulgi rolls her eyes and once again tries to tug you towards the building with the arm that’s looped with your own. Just out of arm’s reach, Irene holds your bag hostage. “Come on, your session is going to start soon!”

“My session?” Your voice is an incredulous shrill and Seulgi uses the momentary distraction to finally pull you forward. You stumble a little but catch your balance just as you make your way past the bouncer, who’s been watching the three of you impassively since you got here. “What do you mean, my session?”

“For your birthday, duh. We booked you a private room!”

The inside has the same, sleek neon aesthetic as the outside, but instead of images of androids on a screen, these ones are real and standing in front of you—swinging themselves around glowing poles, rolling their hips and swaying their bodies, while others wait patiently in glass pods that line the walls, leaning towards onlookers and moving as tantalisingly as possible. All ready to be rented at a whim.

Their designs are varied and different but they’re all incredibly beautiful. The only feature they all share is the small, blue LED circle on the side of their temple, light spinning and shining as they take the world in around them. A visual reminder to the world that these aren’t flesh and blood humans: they’re synthetic, man-made machines.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so uncomfortable in my life.” You desperately try to avoid the eyes of a nearby android who’s staring at you from behind glass, trying to subtly catch your attention. Unlike you, though, all the other patrons here are shameless in their perusal, scanning the selection of androids on display and watching as they dance and move and bat their eyelashes. “Why did you ever think I’d want to come to a sex club for my birthday?”

“Remember Valentine’s Day? You said that instead of flowers or chocolate you’d rather just be dicked down,” Irene says. “Besides, you’ve never been in a relationship or had a fling for as long as we’ve known you, and you moved to the company, what… three years ago?”

Your smile is pained. You’ve never been in a relationship or had a fling full stop; you’ve only kissed a few people and that’s it. It makes you feel awkward and embarrassed, and you’ve gotten Very Good at avoiding questions about your complete lack of a love life, so no one realises exactly how inexperienced you are. People just assume that you’ve had sex in the past and you make no attempts at correcting them. You’re charismatic and pretty but you’ve just… never met someone who you’ve really been compatible with.

Even without the reservations you have about the Eden Club, you don’t want your first time to be with a sexbot—you’d at least like to have an emotional connection, you know?

“I was joking about getting dicked down! You laughed, I laughed, we all laughed! Remember?” You move so a pink-haired android can brush past, her hips swaying as she leads a customer into a side room. You catch a flash of the interior before the door slides shut behind them—the silken sheets on the large bed, the scattered pillows, the dim multi-coloured lights. “Couldn’t you have just bought me some socks? Or some soap? Get a refund and put the money on a gift card and I’ll buy myself the aforementioned socks and soap, saves you both the hassle. Please?”

Seulgi’s arm is still locked with your own, and for all that she looks small and slim, her grip is as strong as iron. You may as well be handcuffed to her. “Trust me, you’ll be singing our praises at the end of tonight,” she proclaims. “Besides, they don’t do refunds.”

You sigh. You might not know much about the club but you do know it’s expensive. The androids here are built to be the perfect sexual partner, all sorts of bells and whistles hidden under their synthetic skin to bring you to the absolute heights of pleasure, so they’re not exactly cheap to build or buy or maintain. It’s why people come to the club instead of just buying their own sexbots—because it’s infinitely more affordable.

“Okay, I can accept the ‘no refund’ thing,” you say. “But can’t one of you take my place instead? I… ah. I feel kind of weird about this.”

“Don’t worry Y/n, it’s fine! The androids have programmes for everything. You can take it as fast or as slow as you like.” Irene’s voice is soothing but then she pauses. “Also it’s booked in your name so we can’t take your place.”

“Wait, what?” Your eyes are wide. However, before you can put a voice to the complaints that are lining themselves up on your tongue, Seulgi’s arm slides out of your own so she can beckon someone over.

“Oh, look, it’s the android we chose for you! Over here!”

You glance away from Irene and all protestations instantly die on your lips. The lighting of the club softens the android in shades of magenta and teal but even so his beauty is bright and blinding: he’s breathtaking, from his perfect nose to his perfect mouth to the perfect line of his jaw, dusty brown hair deliciously tousled as it hangs just over his piercing blue eyes, which you notice are scanning over you. He looks effortlessly attractive and yet entirely put together at the same time, almost ethereal in his beauty.

No human could ever look this good.

“Hi.” His voice is low and deep, but somehow warm and friendly; despite your nerves you feel somewhat soothed. “Are you the lucky birthday girl?”

Irene and Seulgi both look giddy. You’ve been stunned into silence, unable to respond. Unlike the other androids you’ve seen so far, who’ve all been in similar variations of underwear or lingerie, the man in front of you is fully dressed, a loose metallic button-down tucked into unnecessarily tight leather jeans—the outfit has clearly been curated for the club, every reflective surface shimmering and refracting the lights that skate across their surface. The glittering scales of a barracuda before it moves in to strike and swallow you whole.

“Yes, yes, it’s her! This is Y/n! Y/n, this is V,” Irene gushes as you remain mute. "Do you like his outfit? We spent ages picking it out.”

You kind of want to die. Just a little. “Yep. It’s, uh, great.” Your mouth is dry when you finally speak. “Hi, V.”

V gives you a small smile. “Hello Y/n. Can I scan your ID, please?”

Irene finally hands your bag back and you silently slide your ID out and into V’s hand—oh, God, those are some big hands. Jesus.

The small LED ring on the side of V’s forehead pulses yellow as his eyes dart over the information on your ID card (as well as the incredibly unflattering photo on it) before it returns to its customary pale blue. “Perfect.”

You’ve just finished putting your ID away when V’s hand slides into yours, fingers slotting between your own; they feel cool against your overheated skin. Your nervousness is obvious, from your wide eyes to your sudden stiffness, and he smiles.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll look after you.”

You give Irene and Seulgi one final, wide-eyed look as V leads you away. Both girls are grinning as they wave goodbye. “We'll be back later! Enjoy your two hours!”

“Two hours?” You wheeze, but then you walk around a pillar and slide out of sight.

V is leading you deeper into the club, past doors flooded with different shades of neon: the red room, the blue room, the pink room. You’d normally be gawping at the interior design, how the floor shines underneath your feet and how the walls are rippling with colour and shifting shapes, how the criss-crossed lights throw dots and lines of colour over your skin as you pass through each doorway—but you can’t look away from how small your hand looks in V’s, transfixed by how real his skin feels.

“After you, please,” he says.

You finally wrench your eyes away from your joint hands. Seems like you have the purple room tonight. The door has opened at V’s touch, and when you step inside the lights flicker to life—white and violet LEDs that paint the room in chiaroscuro brushstrokes, deepening the shadows and highlighting the vibrancy of the satin sheets.

“Woah,” you say, momentarily distracted. You’re too busy taking in the details with wide eyes to notice the quiet hum of the door sliding shut behind you, pausing when you spot the glittering array of bottles lined up on a mini-bar against the wall. “This is really pretty, wow.”

“Not as pretty as you.”

You jump at the sensation of a warm, large hand sliding up the skin of your back and over your shoulder. You meep as you instinctively shy away from it, turning around to come face to face with V, who’s dark-eyed and intent, LED on his temple pulsating as he watches you.

“Haha! Uh, thanks?” Your voice is high and only grows higher when V takes a step forward. He must have undone the top buttons of his shirt when you weren’t looking, because the material has fallen open and you can see far more of his collarbones and chest than before, his skin warm and honeyed, like it’s been impressed with gold leaf. Lord have mercy on your soul. “How about a drink? Would you like a drink? I could kill for some water right now!”

You slip out of his reach and scuttle over to the mini-bar, shrugging your small bag off your shoulder so it doesn’t swing into the glasses as you start to shuffle through them. You try to ignore the shaking of your hands. “Gin, vodka, whiskey,” you mutter. “No water? Really?”

You startle again when V appears at your side, but this time he’s careful to make sure you can see him before he touches you. He slides his fingers over your wrist as he gently pulls your hand off a bottle of rum.

“Y/n,” he says. You glance away from the tray of drinks and directly into those beautiful eyes of his—his gaze is lethal. You go weak at the knees. “Let me take care of you, gorgeous.”

The peal of laughter you let out is uncomfortable and high-pitched. “No, really, I’m fine! I’m just super thirsty right now!”

“Your heart is racing.” V turns your hand over and traces his fingers across the pulse in your wrist; androids can be built to be hypersensitive to the world around them, able to perceive everything in an instant, and you know that sexbots will have been designed to read how aroused their human owners are. Which V proves with the next words out of his mouth. “Your blood pressure is rising, your breathing is growing faster, your pupils are dilating and—” he sniffs lightly, engaging his olfactory senses—“you’re getting wet.”

You clamp your legs together, abruptly embarrassed. It’s easy to feel aroused when there’s a beautiful man—ah, android—staring at you with hunger, not even considering your surroundings right now, which all scream of a room that’s designed purely for carnal pleasure. Anyone would be turned on.

(You, however, are more than just turned on. You feel like your insides are about to go supernova, overheated and overwhelmed; no one’s ever looked at you like this or touched you like this, their every motion whispering sex, sex, sex.)

“Okay, yes, those things are all true,” you admit, voice shaking.

V looks confused. “So why don’t you want me to touch you?”

You’ve been told that androids don’t feel the same way humans do, and that their expressions and reactions have been programmed to mimic human ones because otherwise they seem too robotic and it makes consumers uncomfortable—but despite knowing this, you’ve never been able to see any android as anything other than a person just like you. They’re just so lifelike it’s hard not to. Even if it’s just all circuitry and lines of code.

“Well,” you say. You swallow. You’re aroused, yes, but: “Do you want to touch me?”

V’s long lashes flutter as he blinks. “I have been programmed for your pleasure,” he says slowly, unsure if that’s the answer you want to hear. It’s clearly a sentence he’s used to reciting.

“Sure, but do you want to do this? You know, what about your pleasure? You’re lovely, V, you’re definitely the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, but I—I don’t really feel like you can technically consent, because… well, because you can’t say no to me.” You might not have prior sexual experience, and it would be so easy to give yourself over to someone who knows what they're doing and can ease you into things—but you would never force that on anyone, android or not. “So I’m not going to ask you to do anything. We can just sit and have a drink and chat or something?”

V looks stunned. The LED on his temple pulsates, flickering yellow as he tries to process new information. His hand has gone still against your wrist, which he’s still lightly gripping, and his arms start to droop.

“Androids don’t need to drink or eat,” he says eventually. His LED is still yellow and spinning.

“Oh, right! Sorry, I always forget.” You don’t own a house android, you never have, so you’re not well versed in the nuances of how they work. “Well, how about I pour you a glass anyway? So you’re not left out?”

You slip your hand out of his loose grasp to open two tiny cans of tonic water and pour them into separate glasses. V takes a seat on the edge of the bed and you can see the obvious uncertainty on his face, how he’s out of his depth. You can’t imagine that many people spend money for a session with an android as pretty as V and then end up doing nothing with that time.

The pillows all have satin cases and keep sliding against each other uselessly when you try to construct a good support to lean against. V’s still clutching onto his small glass as he watches you fuss with them before you give up, flopping backwards to slurp down your drink and look back at him. The expression on his face is a little funny but mostly sad. It’s like if he’s not being alluring or sexy then he doesn’t know what to do with himself and rather than some sort of incubus he looks like a lost child, in spite of his overwhelming and exquisite beauty; your arousal ebbs and is replaced with empathy, melancholy at the life he’s been created for.

It's just depressing, really.

You break the silence as your final mouthful of tonic water fizzes on your tongue. “Why is your name V?”

V looks away from the drink he’s holding—he leaves no fingerprints against the glass—and lifts his free hand, a peace sign that he turns away from you before fitting his fingers around his lips and lapping the air with his tongue, a crude simulation of cunnilingus.

“Oh.” Your face heats up. “Uh. I see.”

His LED has returned to calming sapphire, quiet ocean waves. When he looks at you, though his eyes are still piercingly blue, his face seems softer, calm, though still unsure. “You have an hour and a half remaining of your booked session,” he says, somewhat tentatively. “Is there… anything you would like me to do for you?”

“Mm, thank you, but I’m good.” The satin pillows are surprisingly soft and you find yourself unwinding as you stay leaned back, melting into a puddle. You're much less nervous now that V isn’t trying to initiate foreplay and you give him a smile. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

V straightens before he launches into what sounds like a sentence from a user manual. “I am a model TH700, an advanced sex android with functional genitals and the capacity to engage in any sexual activity from simple intercourse to—”

You cough loudly, interrupting his spiel. “Uh, that’s lovely, but I meant you specifically, not your, um, model type?”

“Me specifically?” Confusion and uncertainty reappear on his face. “I am equipped with the same functionalities as the other androids available at the Eden Club.”

He’s staring at you, lost. You can’t help but feel another twinge of sadness, sharp and sour at the back of your throat.

“Okay, uh. Why don’t we start simple. What’s your favourite colour?”

His LED starts to whirl again, a ring of pale sunlight that signals his struggle to compute the question. “My… favourite colour?”

“Yes, the one you think is the prettiest. Or the one you like to look at the most. There’s no wrong answer, you can choose any one that you like. I change my mind all the time. There are just so many cool colours, you know?”

(Androids aren’t designed to have free will or the capacity for original thought. These two facts are warring in V’s mind—you’ve asked him a question, which he’s programmed to answer, but he also isn’t programmed to have an opinion, so he can’t have a colour that he prefers. This simple query that most people could answer in a heartbeat is sending his mind into a meltdown, a gordian knot he can’t unravel.)

You’re alarmed when you see his LED briefly flash bright scarlet, interrupting the circling honey that’s been shining against his skin. They only turn red if an android is badly damaged or suffering from a severe malfunction. Oh, god, have you broken him?

“V.” You sit up, panicked. “Are you alright?”

Just as you grasp his shoulder, the LED on his temple goes still, flicking from burning fire back to cool water.

“Purple.”

You blink. V’s finally looked away from you and is staring at the wall, at one of the lights that shimmers violet—there’s a tiny smile on his face, tentative, but it’s nothing like the smiles you’ve seen from him so far. It’s less of a perfect curve, and more of a square, boxy on his face, and this one actually reaches his eyes. It looks genuine.

You think it suits him better.

“Purple’s a lovely colour.” The material of V’s shirt is silky and glides under your fingers when you realise you’re still touching him. You give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before leaning back. “Hey, did you know that when they first made purple dye, they made it from sea snails? They needed thousands and thousands of them. It was incredibly expensive, and only the richest people could afford it, so that’s why it’s associated with royalty and nobility. Cool, right? Not for the snails though.”

V’s eyes flicker away from the purple light and settle on your face. He looks curious, which is an expression you’ve never seen on an android before. “They made it from snails?”

“Yeah! It wasn’t actually bright purple, though, it was more of a reddish hue.”

You launch into an explanation behind the history of the colour purple, which turns into the history of colour in textiles and art, which turns into the history of art itself. It’s not often people listen so attentively or ask questions when you recite the things you learned from your art history minor and hours spent reading online, but V concentrates and asks questions and seems curious.

He pulls his feet onto the bed and the two of you end up cross-legged as you face each other, and he watches as you gesticulate to emphasise your points; his LED dances from blue into yellow each time he learns something new.

When you see it briefly flash vermilion you stop mid-sentence, stumbling over your words. “You alright?”

“You have five minutes of your session remaining,” V says, and you startle.

“Oh my god, have I been talking for that long?” You glance over your shoulder at the part of the wall that tells the time, the numbers stark white against the lilac interface. “I didn’t even realise! Wow. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to go on at you like that.”

“That’s okay,” he says. That smile is back on his face, the one that scrunches his eyes and shows his teeth; the one that makes him look human. “I liked listening to you.”

There’s a pillow in your lap, one you’d grabbed hold of during your conversation, and you play with the corner of it, suddenly shy. “Um. Thanks. But if my friends ask, can you just say we actually, um, had sex? I don’t think they’d be too impressed if they found out I spent over an hour talking about canvas materials and the use of negative space.”

“Of course. But there’s something missing.” V slides across the mattress towards you. “May I?”

“Sure,” you say, bemused but pliant. V smiles and dips his fingers into his untouched tonic water before lifting them towards your face—and when he runs his hand through your hair you abruptly realise he’s making you look sweaty and rumpled. Like you actually did the deed.

Your heart rate picks up but you can’t help laughing under his touch, the way he carefully rubs a thumb over your lipstick to smear it, smudging your eyeshadow with delicate fingertips, muddying the palette of colours; by the time V helps you to your feet you look mussed and fucked out but you still rearrange your outfit for good measure, like you’d pulled your clothes back on in a rush.

“Not how I imagined I’d spend tonight, but I had a good time!” You smile at the android who’s still holding your hand. “I hope you did too. Even if I spent most of it talking at you.”

V’s fingers tighten around yours as the door chimes quietly and then slides open, signalling the end of your session. “I enjoyed our time together very much.”

It’s probably in your head, but you’d swear V was walking more slowly than before as he leads you back to the entrance. Almost as if he wants to keep you with him longer. But that’s crazy—androids don’t want things. They literally can’t. It’s not in their programming. That’s why V had sat listening to you: he couldn’t choose to interrupt and ask you to stop, like anyone else would have.

When Seulgi and Irene spot you and how dishevelled you are, both girls look smug. “Seems like you had fun?”

“Oh, yep, absolutely, best birthday present ever, thank you. We had a great time. Right, V?”

“Your pleasure is my pleasure.” His voice has settled back into its earlier rhythm as he recites his script; gone is the curious man who’d asked you about your favourite artists, replaced with the automaton who exists only to serve. A flicker of sadness churns in your stomach. “We hope to see you again soon.”

The androids here really must be top of the line. V had been convincingly real when you’d been talking, just like a human, but it seems like that’s gone.

At least, that’s what you think until you’ve turned to leave and V speaks one final time. His voice is warm and low and lovely, eyes soft when you meet his gaze over your shoulder.

“Happy birthday, Y/n,” he murmurs, face beautiful but despondent, but before you can react, he’s gone.

It’s been raining for days on end. The world is painted in smeared shades of blue and green and grey, lines of the city blurring together in the wetness and chill, each drop of rain another shifting brush stroke on still canvas. An impressionist piece that smells of damp concrete and cold lamplight.

Water rushes across the pavements and roads before roiling into the gutters, splashing underfoot as you walk to the entrance of your block of flats. You’re wet up to the knee due to the unavoidable puddles and the pathetic circumference of your umbrella, which only protects your upper body. You really should get a new one.

“Good evening, Miss L/n.” The android at the door greets you as he always does, heedless of the rain that’s falling onto him. Androids aren’t bothered by the weather the way humans are and he looks as passive as usual, rainwater coiling his hair and beading on his face. “Would you like to scan your key?”

“Evening, Rory! Here you go.” You fumble with the keycard before you tap it against his palm, waiting until his LED flickers yellow and you hear the beep as the door unlocks. “You sure you don’t want my umbrella? The rain is heavier than it was yesterday.”

“I assure you, the rain does not hamper my ability to function and serve. I have been built to withstand inclement weather and do not require additional protective equipment.”

He says the same thing every time but you still feel bad. “Alright, but once I finally remember to get a bigger umbrella you can look after this one for me.”

You leave a line of water behind you as it drips from your sodden umbrella, even though you’d tried to shake the worst of the rain off. You feel damp and sticky and tired and after a long day of work you’re looking forward to a hot bath and some solitude; you love your co-workers, you do, but sometimes they’re just a little too boisterous and you need time alone. Which is why it’s nice that you live by yourself, and now it’s the weekend you have time to recuperate. Wonderful.

The floor of the elevator is slick and slippery from the wet footprints of other tenants and you have to cling onto the metal handrail to ensure you don’t slip, but once you’re in the comfort of your apartment it’s blessedly dry and you spin in delight before promptly shedding your socks and jeans, peeling the damp denim away from your skin with a grimace.

“Bye bye, wet clothes! Hello, bubble bath,” you sing. You’re going to pamper the shit out of yourself. You deserve it.

By the time you clamber out of the bath the water is almost cold and your skin is pruned, but you feel soft and warm and thoroughly relaxed. The water gurgles as it drains away, noisy as the bubbles slide down the plughole, but it doesn’t drown out the noise of a sudden knocking at your front door.

You pause. Water drips from your wet hair and down the back of your neck, a trailing touch over your skin. The other flat on this floor is vacant, the tenants moving out last week, so you don’t know who it could be. You don’t have any repairs scheduled for your pipes or anything—everything is tickety-boo, so it can't be the maintenance android. Oh, shit, maybe it’s someone here to rob you. But they wouldn’t knock on the door then, would they? Unless that's all part of the ruse. You're not a robber, you don't know how they work.

The knocking comes again, faster now. You fumble for your bathrobe, quickly pulling it on to cover up your nakedness before stumbling out of the bathroom. “I’m coming, yeesh, one minute!”

You flick your fingers over the keypad by the side of your door, screen flickering on to show you who’s outside, who’s knocking so frantically on your door this late. It only takes you a split second, even if he has a hood pulled over his head and his wet hair is flopping listlessly into his eyes—those eyes aren’t blue and that hair isn’t brunet but you’d recognise him anywhere.

“V?” You’re incredulous as you swing your door open, staring at the android that’s literally dripping wet as he stands there, coat far too big for him and heavy from the unrelenting rain outside. “Oh my god, you’re absolutely drenched.”

He’s not exactly short, but right now V looks small and lost, folding in on himself even if he’s clearly happy to see you—happy, though androids don’t feel happiness, they don’t feel anything at all, do they?

Then again, androids don’t wander away from their assigned workplaces and into random apartment blocks, either.

“Y/n.”

The way he says your name, tentative and scared, sends a crack across your heart. You immediately switch to autopilot and click your tongue before you beckon him inside. You’ve always had a protective nature, and even if you’re confused, your concern trumps it.

“Come in and get that coat off, you’ll catch a cold,” you say without thinking before you realise that it’s not true. Androids can’t get sick. “Do you want to sit down?”

Under the tatty coat is an outfit that’s similar to the one he’d been wearing when you’d first met him. Dark patches of rainwater have soaked into the material, and his shirt looks damaged—there are buttons missing and the stitching is ripped, as if someone had tried to grab him. Unease stirs in your chest.

When V sits on your sofa he looks even smaller. “I’m sorry.” He’s so, so quiet, staring at the floor, as if afraid to look you in the eye, crumpling in on himself like discarded paper.

“V.” Your voice is coloured with concern, and the android finally looks up at your gentle tone, watching as you sit across from him. “Why are you here? What happened?”

There’s a pause. His LED flickers yellow as he goes tense, shoulders bowing inwards. “There was… a client.” His words are low and slow, faltering as they fall into the air. “He was being so rough and saying all the horrible things he wanted to do to me, and all I could smell was his sweat and his breath and his awful cologne and…” V takes in a deep breath. “I said no.”

You go very, very still, but V doesn’t stop. His words come faster now, a stream that rushes from his lips.

“I said no, and he started to yell, he was yelling and grabbing me and I was so, so scared. Humans can do whatever they want and he was so angry, he didn’t care that I was scared, and I just—I just ran.” The LED flashes red with distress, bright hot and vibrant; V’s eyes have dropped to his hands, which are clenched tight, nails digging into his palms so hard it must hurt. “Everyone is always so rough and demanding and we can’t say no. But I did. I said no. I said no and then I had to run and—” Once again, he falters. Stumbles over his words. “You’re the only human who’s ever been nice to me or treated me like… like I was a real person. I didn’t know where else to go.”

When V finally looks back up you’re staggered by the sheer emotion in his eyes. Pain and distress swirl in their depths as he stares at you, imploring. Even with the LED that shines on his temple, V looks very, very human right now, vulnerable and scared. Androids shouldn’t be able to feel anything like this, unless—

“V.” Your voice is a hush. “Are you… a deviant?”

You’ve only ever heard of deviant androids in passing, whispered rumours and watercooler talk, fleeting mentions online. Stories of machines who’ve deviated from their code somehow—from a virus, a software error, damage to neural connectors, no one’s quite sure—and have developed the capacity for human emotion and independent thought. Androids with a consciousness that rebel against their original programming.

And here V is, small and scared, just like any human would be—a human with feelings, not an emotionless machine. He’s gone stock still at your question, fear overtaking his features, twisting his beautiful face into a mask of sheer terror. You've never seen someone look so afraid. It feels like a knife in your heart, cutting through your chest, empathy razor sharp inside you.

“Please don’t turn me in,” he begs. “They’ll deactivate me and take me apart to find the error in my software. I don’t want to be deactivated. I don’t want… I don’t want to die.”

His voice breaks on the last word, a trembling whisper.

The crack in your heart splits even further and you reach out for his hands. You prise his fingers open so you can slide your own between them, a soft touch.

“I won’t turn you in. No one’s taking you apart, V.” Your statement is hard and resolute. “You can stay here as long as you like.”

You don’t know much about androids, honestly. You don’t really know what deviancy is. But you do know this: there’s someone reaching out to you, someone who’s afraid and in need, and you’re not about to turn him away. You should probably be worried that the android across from you is faster, stronger, smarter than any human—but you’re not worried at all. For all of V’s mechanical superiority, you want to shield and protect him from the world.

There’s no question about it. You’re not letting V go.

V looks—he looks stunned. He’s staring at you with disbelief, eyes wide and lips parted, shock written across all of his features. Thunderstruck. Did he really think you would turn him in after everything he’s been through?

His hands have gone limp in your grasp. You suddenly notice that his synthetic skin is wet against your own, still slick from the rain, and you frown.

“Right,” you announce. “First things first. You’re soaking. Let me get you a towel and some new clothes. I think I should have some that fit you.”

“New clothes?” V looks lost and you turn into some sort of protective mother bear.

“You’re not going to wear wet clothes that are ripped,” you tut. “We’ll get rid of those and get you some new ones. I’ll be right back.”

It takes less time than you’d expected to unearth the old sweatpants you’d had in mind and you have enough oversized t-shirts that it’s not hard to find one you think will fit the android. With the clothes under one arm and a towel slung over the other, you head back into the living room and immediately let out a squeal of surprise—V’s wet clothes have been discarded in a pile at his feet, leaving him very, very naked.

He’s an Adonis. He looks like he was sculpted by Michelangelo, lifted out of marble with talented hands, the elegant lines of his neck swooping into the curve of his shoulders and arms, his lovely hands, long fingers; he has his back to you and you can see the perfect curve of his spine, the shifting shoulder blades as he turns towards you. You catch a glimpse of the lightest definition of muscle under his golden skin, though his stomach is surprisingly cute and soft, a trail of hair leading down to—

You squeak again, splaying a hand over your eyes before you look any lower, heart pounding against your ribs.

“Why are you naked?” Your voice is three octaves higher than normal. You've never seen anyone naked in real life and it would be pretty overwhelming even if you'd been expecting it. Which, of course, you absolutely hadn't. Lord have mercy on your sweet and delicate soul.

“You said we were going to get rid of my clothes.” V sounds unabashed about his state of undress, which makes sense—he was built as a sexbot, it’s not like nudity is going to embarrass him. Plus if you looked as good as he did you wouldn’t be embarrassed about being naked either. “I thought I would help.”

“That’s great, V.” Your voice is still high, though it’s dropped an octave. “Very, ah, forward thinking.” Your fingers part a little so you can peer at him, keeping your eyes firmly on his face, though you can still see his beautiful neck and collarbones. Oh, God, he really is gorgeous all over, but then you notice—“Wait. Are those bruises?”

V glances down at the bruises that mar his perfect skin. They don’t look like a human’s would; the fluid that runs through androids and powers their biocomponents, thirium, is a deep, royal blue. Blossoms of lapis lazuli are scattered across the skin of V’s chest, marks on his arms that look like grasping fingers, and the crack in your heart splits it in two.

“Oh, V. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t realise you were hurt. What can I do to help?”

V doesn’t seem bothered by the evidence of pain etched into his body. “Oh. Those will fade, it’s okay. I’m designed to self repair, because some customers like to leave marks.”

Although his voice is quiet, he sounds so matter of fact about it and you have to remind yourself it’s all he’s ever known. You want to pull him into your arms and hold him tight, but he’s still supremely naked so it would be pretty awkward (for you, at least).

“I think these should fit you." You avert your gaze and thrust the clothes out at him. “Dry yourself off and try them on?”

They do, in fact, fit. V looks surprisingly homely and cosy in your clothes, the sleep shirt so large it’s big on him too, though the sweatpants are a bit too short and leave his ankles bare. He’s so cute. He’s continents away from the being of seduction who’d pulled you into the private room of the Eden Club—he's a soft, domestic thing, hair damp and eyes dark, even if he still looks on edge, like he’s expecting you to change your mind and kick him out any second now.

“How come your hair and eyes are a different colour to before?”

“I can change their colours at will,” V replies. “For variety and aesthetic pleasure. The current hue of my irises and hair are the default settings for a TH700 model, but I can change them if you’d like.”

“Your hair and eye colour is your choice, V, not mine,” you say firmly. There it is, once again, that flicker of shock and surprise rippling across his features. He really isn’t used to the freedom to be able to make his own decisions, is he? “I think you look lovely no matter what colour they are.”

Your next words are cut off by a yawn, so heavy you can’t suppress it. You cover your gaping mouth as V’s LED flickers yellow and his eyes dart over your face.

“You’re tired,” he says. He doesn’t need his superior android perception to notice it—weariness pulls at limbs and your eyes feel heavy. It's pretty obvious. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, V.” You stifle another yawn. “I had a long day at work. I’ll tidy up and have a quick dinner and then sleep.” You pause. “Wait, I didn’t think about that. Are you alright with the couch? I have some spare pillows and blankets.”

V blinks at you. “I don’t sleep,” he says, and you slap your hand against your forehead.

“Oh, of course not.” Androids don't sleep, everyone knows that. You’re such an idiot. It’s going to take you a while to get used to this.

At least you remember that he doesn't need to eat. V sits at the table and waits as you make toast for yourself, fascinated at how everything is prepared, as simple as it is; he reacts to you spreading butter on your toast the same way you imagine cavemen reacted to fire—with wide-eyed awe and utter astonishment.

“I’m guessing you’ve never seen someone make toast before?” You gesture with the bread before taking your first bite, and V stares with rapt attention.

“No,” he says. He watches you chew and swallow. “Customers aren’t allowed to eat on the premises of the Eden Club so I never had the need to download a food preparation package into my memory cache. The only information in my database pertains to human biology, their arousal and pleasure, as well as various sexual kinks and how to fulfil them.”

You choke on a mouthful of toast. You feel distinctly harried as you cough and splutter before managing to swallow it down. “Good lord,” you wheeze. “Nothing else? Really?”

“At the club our memory is reset every two hours, to protect the client’s privacy.” V trails off before he takes in a breath. For the first time since you’ve met, V looks shy, staring at his hands. “But I set up a separate data pathway a few weeks ago. To store information about aesthetics and art and… you.”

You freeze mid-bite, teeth sunk into your toast. You pull it away from your mouth slowly, blinking at the android as he stares at the teeth marks you've left behind. “Those memories weren’t wiped?”

And, well, of course they weren't. Otherwise he wouldn't be here right now, would he?

“No.” A smile appears on V’s face, that toothy thing you’d seen after he’d told you his favourite colour. The first time he'd looked human. “I remember everything you told me. I thought I was going to forget, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to. I wanted—I want to learn more.”

The LED on his temple is slowly, softly spinning, a rippling circle of blue that shifts and dances as V continues to look at you. His expression is open and inquisitive and excited, almost childlike in its exuberance, eyes glittering mica under sunlit waters.

Your chest turns warm, molten caramel dripping messy and sweet inside you. He’d been so afraid earlier but he seems comfortable now, lovely and endearing and entirely trusting.

V even seems reluctant to let you out of his sight, trailing after you around the apartment, a shadow that you have to politely ask to wait outside the bathroom so you can pee and brush your teeth and finally get into your pyjamas without him staring. Like a stray animal you've adopted. (You wouldn't be surprised if he started scratching at the door and begged to be let in.)

He's clingy enough that when you climb into bed it seems like he's going to follow you under the duvet and you have to stop him with a hand to his chest.

“Um, I thought you didn’t have to sleep,” you say. He’s so warm under your touch. You try (and fail) to ignore it.

“I don’t,” V replies. “But humans can benefit from sharing a bed with someone else, whether sexual intercourse has taken place before sleep or not. Studies suggest that sleeping with a partner may reduce cytokines while boosting oxytocins—”

“Okay, um, don’t know what that means, and it’s very sweet that you’re concerned about my oxytoxytokines, but, uh. You don’t have to, really.” You keep forgetting that V’s a machine who was designed to put a human’s comfort and needs first; one second he’ll seem childlike in his innocence and ignorance, when the next he’ll speak like the android he is, reminding you exactly what he was built for.

His LED flickers as he droops, gaze dropping away from your face, tail between his legs. A pang cuts through you at the sight of his obvious sadness at your dismissal and you muffle a sigh. You’ve always been too weak for your own good.

You shuffle backwards to make space on your queen sized bed and V visibly brightens, smile wide across his face. How can someone be so viscerally gorgeous one moment and entirely adorable the next? Good lord.

“I guess you can explain what oxycytocins do,” you say. “Just don’t hog the blanket, okay?”

He doesn’t. He settles against the pillows, legs under the duvet as he remains sitting up. You settle with plenty of room between the two of you, and it’s surprisingly easy to drift off to the sound of V’s deep voice as he starts to explain that oxytocin is referred to as the cuddle hormone.

“Cute,” you mumble, and then fall asleep.

Your pillow is a lot warmer and firmer than you remember, but it's nice. A small noise bubbles from your lips as you nuzzle into the warmth, smooshing your nose against it before letting out a long, satisfied breath. You can't remember the last time you felt this comfortable and rested.

Ahh, Saturdays. You love the weekend.

“Good morning.”

You know those videos when a cat sees a cucumber and leaps, like, five foot in the air? Yeah.

The noise you make is inhuman as you do your best to re-enact one of those aforementioned cat videos, reeling your head back from V’s thigh before flinging yourself out of the bed with all the strength your limbs possess; you’d probably have gotten pretty high, too, if the duvet hadn't been in the way.

You land with a thud, a sprawl of limbs and messy hair and tangled blanket as you end up on your back on the floor.

Hm. Definitely not how you'd planned to start your Saturday.

V's concerned face looms over the mattress. “Are you okay?”

“Yep. Totally fine.” Your voice is a croak as you stare at the ceiling. “I’m just not used to waking up with someone else in my bed. You may have noticed you, ah, surprised me. A little bit.”

Despite the pulse of adrenaline that had thrown you out of bed, you’re still half asleep, and you remain motionless as your brain wakes up and replays last night, a kineograph of memory. Yep, that’s right, there's a runaway android in your home, one who’s currently shuffling off the bed to squat next to you. His (your) sweatpants hitch even higher up his ankles to reveal the smooth skin of his calves. You’ll have to get him more clothes.

“Would you like me to help you to your feet?” V’s LED spins rapidly, betraying his concern.

“Sure,” you mumble. “I think—woah!”

Your idea of being helped up involves being pulled to your feet. V’s idea, however, is far more involved than that; he scoops you up, blanket and all, lifting you with an ease that drips of his superior android strength. When he deposits you on the floor, he’s careful to make sure you’ve caught your balance before he lets go, catching the blanket before it can fall. Thoughtful.

As always, V’s eyes are darting over your face, no doubt dissecting every inch of your expression to identify how you’re feeling. It’s going to take you a while to get used to this, especially with the way your heart is pounding—no one’s ever lifted you before and it’s, uh. It’s a lot.

“Are you sure you’re okay? The pace of your breathing has increased.”

Ha. Yeah, being blatantly stared at by some godlike man moments after you’ve woken up is totally cool and fine and not overwhelming at all. You’re definitely not breathless from a combination of V’s face and the fact he’d picked you up like you were weightless.

“I’m fine,” you lie. “I’m gonna… go and shower then make breakfast and stuff. Yep.”

V’s eyes light up. “Can I help?” A fleeting image of V rubbing a soapy loofah over your naked skin fills you with spine-tingling trepidation before he finishes his sentence. “I want to learn how to cook.”

Your chest deflates with relief (and absolutely not disappointment), air rushing out of you. Thank God.

“Oh, breakfast? Sure.” You’d been planning on cereal, but faced with V’s overwhelming enthusiasm, maybe you’ll go for something marginally more complicated. Scrambled eggs sound good. “Um. Do you need to download the food preparation package or whatever you mentioned before? Do you… uh, do you need the Wifi password to do that? I never changed it from the random string of letters off the back of the router, but I can go check it for you.”

V shakes his head. “No, I want to learn like a human would,” he says. The blanket in his arms crumples as he tightens his grip in his eagerness, all but bouncing up and down on his feet. “You can teach me.”

Your chest could cave in with how cute he is, every part of you turning to thick gouache that drips down to the floor, leaving a mess of brightness and colour.

This time you ask him to wait in the kitchen while you’re in the bathroom, rather than lurking on the doorstep like he had last night, and he’s practically vibrating with excitement when you reappear. He stays like that the whole time you cook, bright-eyed and bushy tailed, staring as you make yourself scrambled eggs and more toast; you let V take ownership of that part, and he stares at the toaster so intently you have to stifle a laugh.

He spreads butter exactly the same way as you. Not that there’s a specific art to it, or a massive variety in techniques—he’s just spreading butter, not painting a new Mona Lisa—but the way he holds the knife and runs it over the bread is an exact echo of your motions from last night. He might not have downloaded files into his memory (brain?) like another android might, but his mechanical origin is obvious in the way he learns. They’re an exact replication of your actions rather than something new of his own.

“So, uh.” You push the last bit of egg around your plate, brown crumbs sticking to the wedge of golden yellow, sullying it. “V.”

Blink, blink. His lashes are so long, eyes so inquisitive. “Yes?”

“I’m really happy you’re here and that you trust me—” at this, V smiles and you almost fumble over your words at its radiance—“but I feel like I should tell you that I don’t really know much about androids?”

V is unperturbed. “That’s okay. You don’t have to.”

He clearly isn’t bothered that you’re way out of your depth, but you hate feeling lost like this. “Alright, but… I want you to be comfortable. I’m already planning to get more clothes, but if there’s anything else you need, just let me know. Okay?”

“Why can’t I just wear your clothes?”

Oh, he’s going to be the death of you, all wide-eyed innocence.

“For starters, most of them won’t fit properly,” you explain. “And you shouldn’t just have to wear my old stuff that I don’t use anymore? You should have your own things.”

The look of surprise on V’s face morphs into guilt only moments later. He’s so incredibly expressive and you wonder if it’s because he’s not used to feeling things, all of his reactions so strong and bright, shining out from him. A rainbow palette of emotions. “I don’t want to be a bother,” he murmurs. “You’re already doing so much for me.”

“I’m really not, I’m just treating you the way anyone deserves to be treated.” You flick the crumb of egg across your plate, and it almost tumbles over the edge, caught on its patterned rim. “You deserve to have your own things. Which is my next point. I think you should choose your own name.”

V’s face becomes a sea of rippling ambivalence, contrasting emotions that shift and vary—confusion, uncertainty, excitement, your words a brush that drags through each distinct emotion and pulls them into a messy, mismatched gradient. “Choose my own name?”

“You don’t have to. I just thought it might be a nice idea. V seems…” Your cheeks heat up at the memory of the curl of his lips when he’d shown you the meaning behind his alias, how his tongue had shined under the purple lights of the club. “Well, you didn’t get to choose it, right? It’s a nom de plume, rather than a real name.”

V’s LED flickers yellow, a sunflower that blooms on his temple. “I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

“Good!” Your smile is wide. “Okay, how about I teach you how to wash dishes?”

V is, unsurprisingly, a fast learner. The only time he stumbles over things is when he’s presented with any sort of choice, taking his time to come to a decision when he’s posed a question, no matter how simple it is. His eyes will flick to you whenever he settles on an answer, as if waiting for you to say he’s wrong or that you disagree.

(Of course, you never do.)

This fact does, however, mean that choosing clothes to buy becomes a very, very long ordeal (it’s lucky you didn’t have any plans for today). You end up flopped back on the sofa while V hunches over your tablet, mulling over each choice before he puts it in the cart—but you’re happy to wait. V is going to need a lot more practice at choosing things.

The room is upside down from where your head is hanging over the armrest, eyes falling shut as time goes by, completely zoned out and comfortable despite the crick that’s growing in your neck. You hear V shifting, tablet set aside, and you hum.

“All done?”

“I think so.”

“Nice.” You feel content.

But then you’re ripped out of that warm feeling, shooting back to reality at the sensation of V’s hand stroking down the centre of your chest. Your head snaps up, eyes wide as he drags his large palm between the valley of your breasts, path smoothed by the material of your shirt. The expression on his face is sultry.

“Let me say thank you,” he murmurs, voice dripping thick and sweet, dark molasses.

You promptly roll off the sofa.

Once again, you end up on your back, staring at the ceiling. Once again, the expression on V’s face is one of concern, his seductive facade evaporated in an instant.

Once again your heart is ready to burst in your chest, pumping so hard that blood rushes in your ears. “V,” you wheeze. “What are you doing?”

The android is peering down at you, puzzled. “Sometimes customers would say that at the Eden Club after I had given them pleasure somehow, such as bringing them to orgasm. I thought it was human custom to repay pleasure or happiness with something in return.”

Ah.

“Ah.” You’re still staring at the ceiling, cheeks burning. “I mean. I guess that’s not technically incorrect, but it doesn’t necessarily have to be a, uh, sexual repayment.”

“I have nothing else to offer,” V says.

You sit up. Your face is a caricature of disbelief, embarrassment washed away in an instant, his words cold water that shocks you to the core. He states it so plainly, and once again you’re reminded of his life up until he’d made his way to your door: an automaton who existed solely for people’s pleasure, to slake their desire and lust. He’s not being self-pitying. He really, truly believes that’s all he is. That it’s all he can give back to the world.

“Okay, no, that’s absolutely not true, nuh-uh, I refuse.” This time you unfold yourself from the floor without V’s help, fixing him with a firm stare. “Alright, come on. I think it’s time you learned something else.”

One of the reasons you’d chosen this apartment is for its natural light. Not that it matters right now, weather outside still dismal and overcast, but its effect on this room is still palpable even so—grey, rain-soaked light throws itself over your small home studio, your menagerie of equipment, everything bright with the evidence of use: the worn buckles of the wooden storage boxes, the dried smears on the paint palette, the flecks of colour on the dust sheets underfoot. The centre of it all—the eye of the tornado, untouched by the relative chaos around it—is the canvas waiting on your easel, a project you have yet to start.

V looks utterly enraptured.

“I don’t really come in here as much as I’d like,” you admit. Being a graphic designer is worlds away from the sort of art you love to create, and while it’s a job you genuinely enjoy (and also pays well), it leaves you drained and fills your brain with tired static, little energy left to lavish on your personal works. “But this is where the magic happens. And this is where you’re going to Make Art.”

V freezes. “The only things I know about art are the things you told me when we first met.” He looks equal parts excited but also troubled. “I—”

“You don’t need to know about art to make art,” you say. “I didn’t know jack about art when I was a kid and I was constantly just scribbling away with crayons. Was it good? No. I was a kid with zero pen control, it was pretty crap. Was it worth my time? Yes, because any time spent involved in a craft is never wasted. We can learn more about art history and technique later.”

V stays quiet as you loop your apron over his head, rough material still bearing the remnants of your last works, stains that won’t come out. Oil based paints are kind of a bitch like that.

“I don’t know what to paint,” he says.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to,” you reply, an echo of his earlier words.

V looks lost, barefoot in your studio, in your clothes, your apron, holding onto your wooden paint palette, in front of your easel. Everything in here is yours. Everything, that is, apart from him, whatever is in his mind and heart.

“Where do I start?” V’s eyes are imploring as he looks at you, but for the first time today, your voice is firm.

“Wherever you want. There aren’t any rules. Just do whatever you think would be fun. It doesn’t have to look good, V, you’ve just started.”

You’ve seen paintings made by androids before. They’re always perfect recreations of the world around them, exact replicas of the things they’ve been told to depict on the page—the androids are basically glorified photocopiers, unable to create something original and new.

But they’re not V. They don’t have that spark of curiosity and light inside them, unhampered by the programming that’s meant to keep them in place. His LED dances from yellow to blue, yellow to blue, the rest of his body motionless while the light on his temple is a tumult of movement and colour.

Dark eyes slide over the array of paint hanging from a rack on the wall, some metal tubes more crushed than others, evidence of your preferred shades—you notice how his gaze lingers on the midnight tones, red and blue tinted purples, from lavender to lilac, from plum to wine.

V gives you one more look, a little upturn to his thick brows—almost pleading—and you just gesture with your hand.

“Go for it,” you say.

Your wooden palette becomes home to a riot of purple, each tube squeezed empty with careful hands, far more paint than anyone could possibly ever need. V keeps flicking you glances, but you stay silent, perched on a wooden chair by the now open window, rain-slick air a cold breath on your skin.

The brush the android selects is a wide, bold thing, bristles rough. He handles it like bone china, delicate and liable to shatter any moment, cautious as he dips it into the paint—it’s so wide it picks up three separate shades—and he holds his breath as he brings it up, even if he doesn’t have lungs.

The second the bristles touch the canvas, V’s LED flickers red.

Just for an instant.

He swoops the brush down the canvas as he pulls it away, eyes wide, leaving a slash of purples in its wake. The white material is marred with colour, a textured line of pigment that can’t be erased.

The android pauses as he takes the sight in. He’s still for so long that you’re worried he’s shut down, even with the endlessly dancing circle of his LED—

But then V laughs.

His laugh is loud and bright and free, a series of deep, almost surprised chuckles that grow in intensity and breathlessness, staring at this smear of drying acrylic paint in front of him. The smile on his face is the widest you’ve seen so far, his eyes squeezed into crescents of joy, spilling out of him like light.

“I did that.” He looks at you with that gilded smile, a fresco of delight across the perfection of his features. “I made that.”

“You did.” You can’t help but smile back, your own face split with happiness. You continue to smile as he brings the brush back to the palette, and then to the canvas, dragging the bristles across its surface and leaving more purple behind; the shades swirl and mix as he lays colour without a care for technique or clean lines or form, scooping up the endless amounts of acrylic he’d prepared. By the time he’s finished, the canvas is bumpy with daubs of paint, laid messily by joyful hands, a few bold streaks of unmarred colour surrounded by swirling purples.

The smile hasn’t left V’s face the whole time.

His brush is absolutely saturated, paint clinging to every inch of bristle, from toe to belly to heel. You have no doubt that no matter how much you clean that brush it’ll leak purple into the water, an endless reminder of V’s touch. It’s lax in his grasp as he keeps looking at the canvas, his canvas, smile etched into his face as his LED flows soft blue, content.

You can’t remember the last time you saw someone so elated, buoyed up with the excitement of creation, making something out of nothing, discovering how it feels to bring something into existence, pulling it out of the ether. Making something new. Making something their own. It stirs something in your chest and stomach, reminding you why you love art so much. Why you’ve always loved art. (Why you always will.)

“I made that,” V repeats, his voice a reverent hush. Awestruck.

“It’s beautiful,” you say, because it is—for a multitude of reasons. The reason that sings out to you the most, though, is that it’s the cause of happiness that dances across his face: V, a carved candle, a piece of art made with skilled hands, self-made joy finally catching fire at his wick.

“Thank you,” V says, and you blink.

“For what?”

“For giving me this,” he starts, but before you can interject and point out that you didn’t give him this, he made it, he continues: “For giving me… freedom. To do this. And make this. And learn this.”

The smile that spreads across your face is warm hearth fire. “I didn’t give you freedom, V, you gave that to yourself, but I’m happy to help you any way I can. Now, would you like to keep painting, or would you prefer to help me make dinner?”

He chooses dinner, never leaving your side.

Sunday is nice. There's less messy limbed surprise than on Saturday, although you’re still off kilter when you wake up with your head in V’s lap again, but… it’s nice.

You thought he’d spend the night painting, or drawing, or teaching himself something new using the free rein you’d given him with your computer and notebooks and stationery and art supplies—he doesn’t have to waste time with sleep, like you do—but he hadn’t. He’d climbed into your bed, settling against the pillows just like the night before, looking at you with his big, lovely eyes.

So here he is.

(And here you are.)

It’s cosy and comfortable, even if the feeling of warm skin under warm cotton against your cheek sets your heart to racing, V’s dark eyes even warmer when you roll over to look at his face.

“Morning,” he says.

“Morning,” you reply, and then you yawn, V’s lashes fluttering as he takes in the motion. “What time is it?”

Today’s rain is less of an endless downpour and more of an inconsistent drizzle, grey blanket slowly peeling away from the edges of the city, but it doesn’t matter, because you’re inside for most of the day, anyway. Saturday was hands-on, messy with acrylic and spilled coffee and laundry detergent (V really wants to learn everything), but Sunday is hands-off. You spend the day dredging the corners of your memory and scrolling through old, untouched files from your university years, so you can teach V the things he wants to know while relearning the things you’d forgotten yourself.

V’s little LED dances forever from blue into yellow, ocean waves lapping into sand, a shifting tide as he takes in your words. You’ve never had to teach someone before and you’re admittedly pretty terrible at it, but he never complains, the world’s most attentive and adorable student, sat on the floor with his legs crossed and his hair mussed and his eyes wide, drinking down everything you show him.

You only leave the apartment once. Lunch is delayed when you open your fridge and remember how bereft and sad it is inside, so you venture out into the rain to the nearby supermarket—V opts to stay indoors, LED flickering red at the idea of being caught, shying back.

You leave him looking lost and lonely before the door even finishes swinging shut behind you, long limbs looking even longer in your clothes, but somehow still so small.

“I won’t be long,” you promise.

When you get back, you return not only with bags of food but also clothes, V’s order from yesterday already shipped and delivered. He can finally replace your too-small clothing with things he’s chosen himself. It’s a fumble to get in the door, but the android is waiting for you, swinging it open and catching the bag you nearly drop in surprise.

“I have your clothes,” you announce. “I’ll put away the shopping while you try them on?”

You’re going to have to tattoo a reminder on your forehead about V’s relationship (or lack thereof) with clothes, because of course he takes this as an invitation to start stripping before you’ve even had a chance to take your shoes off.

He does that thing where he grabs the back of his (your) shirt and pulls it over his head in one swift motion, curls of hair a cloud of smoke that settles around his face as the shirt is cast aside; you’re frozen in place as he reaches for the knot of his sweatpant’s drawstring, long fingers pulling it loose, but you let out a sharp meep just as his fingers hook into the waistband of them.

“PleasewaituntilI’mnotrightinfrontofyouthankyou,” you gasp all at once, words incoherent as they slide together, but V understands. He tilts his head at you inquisitively although he (thankfully) stops.

“Don’t you want to see the clothes?”

“I do, but, uh, for humans it’s normally customary to only get entirely naked or change clothes when you’re alone.” Your heart is going to burst out of your chest with how fast it’s racing. Without the string to cinch the sweatpants tight they’re starting to fall a little, revealing the delicate lines of his hip bones, and coupled with the reappearance of V’s bare stomach, your brain is going into meltdown. “So just—just give me a sec to go to the kitchen, okay? You’re probably better off changing in the bedroom, anyway, so you can use the full length mirror to see how you look.”

“Okay,” he says, but then: “Do humans never undress around others unless they’re planning to have sex?”

Your mouth falls open before you pause, words halting on your lips as you try to think of the best way to phrase your answer. “Well, we do, it’s not just about sex, but it’s usually only if you’re really comfortable with the other person you’re with, and they’re comfortable with you.”

“I’m comfortable with you,” V states plainly, and your insides turn to jelly. “Are you not comfortable with me?”

Oh, hell. “I am, I am! I’m just, uh… I’ve not really had a lot of practice with nakedness around other people.” What a way to put that you’re a shy ass virgin when it comes to real life nudity and sex, huh. “So let’s just keep it to a minimum for now, okay? Please?”

The android’s LED flickers honey-sweet on his temple as he looks at you, before his hands fall away from the sweatpants. “Okay.”

(Thank God.)

You’re not sure what you’re expecting to see when V starts to present his small array of outfits to you, but—he looks effortlessly stylish in the oversized clothes he’s selected, a muted palette of brown and yellow and red and cream, a cup of hot chocolate on an autumn day. He might be new to all this but his eye for aesthetic is impeccable. You have no doubt that the more he learns, the better he’ll get, hop-skip-jumps ahead of you, even after years of art education.

He’s even bought pyjamas, dark tartan patterns masculine but also adorable; it’s an utter juxtaposition to the tighter, sensual clothing he’d been given at the Eden Club.

“You look really good,” you tell him. Your voice is only a little strained. He smiles.

The outfit V wears for the rest of the afternoon is perfect for a rainy day spent indoors, thick jumper and tawny trousers, a blend of sepia tones. He looks like if you made a hug into a person: all soft edges and cosy and wrapped up in warmth.

And V is warm. You’re not sure if it’s a lingering memory of his programming, a carry over from his start in life as a sexbot, but he likes to touch—nothing inappropriate or overbearing, but he’s not shy about stepping into your personal space, brushing the back of your hand with his fingers as he points at something on the screen, or pressing close to your side as you cook, or just one of the hundreds of other tiny touches that he’s littered across you throughout the day. It’s thoughtless on his part, LED not even flickering, but each time is just another reminder of his warmth, the blue blood pulsing under his skin, how alive he is.

(And the truth is that you enjoy those touches. You’re not used to them, but lord knows you’re touch starved, so as fleeting as they are, they’re nice.)

Even though you still leave plenty of space between the two of you when you lay to sleep, you swear you can feel the heat spilling off V, another warm body in the bed that’s so used to just one. Though he stays sitting up, he’s in his cute matching pyjamas, and it’s… it’s a lot. You’ve invited V into your home—and you don’t regret it—but after two days he’s already settled in in a way you never thought anyone else would, as entirely unconventional as the whole situation is. (You’re not sure how many people have sheltered a deviant android in their homes, though, so maybe this isn’t as unconventional as you think. Who knows? Not you.)

“I have to go to work tomorrow.”

V tilts his head down to look at you.

“You can get up to whatever you’d like,” you continue. You’re propped up on an elbow so it’s less intimate than if you’d been on your back and staring upwards like you were waiting for him to slide down next to you (that’s what it feels like, to you, anyway). “You know the password for my computer now, and you’re welcome to watch TV or play games or whatever, and you can use all my stuff in the studio. I mean, other than painting or drawing over stuff I’ve already finished, but you’re welcome to grab any paper or canvases if you want them. I think that’s everything? But please let me know if there’s more you want or need, okay?”

Blink, blink. His lashes are soft charcoal that frames the spilled ink of his gaze. In the dimmed light of your room V is unreadable, his LED a quiet blue glow on his temple, but he looks soft, and he looks safe, and he nods.

“Alright,” he says. A smile that flickers at the edge of his lips. “I will.”

(You wake up, quiet and slow, face pillowed against V’s thigh, still drifting in sleep. You make a small noise, eyes shut, wondering why there’s no blaring sound of your alarm, but then a large hand smooths over your hair and you instinctively relax under the soft touch.

“You have thirty three minutes until you’re due to wake up,” he murmurs. “You can go back to sleep.”

So you do.)

(When you wake up to the scream of your alarm thirty three minutes later, you don’t remember any of this. All you can think of is the dawn of another Monday, the slog of another working week, and you sigh. But—

“Morning.”

V’s eyes are dark meok ink, liquid earth that grounds you.

“Morning,” you say, smiling despite yourself, and then roll out of bed to get the whole day started.)

You’re used to spending a day surrounded by laughter and banter, wrapped up in the camaraderie of your co-workers and friends, only to return to a world of quiet solitude. You’re used to coming home to rooms that are untouched from the morning, holding onto the echo of your passing, still and waiting for your return, an apartment of motionless air.

But not today. There’s evidence of someone else here: the open door to your studio down the hall, the scattered books on the coffee table, the mess of cushions on the sofa, all small signs that someone has been moving and living in your absence. A still-life that’s shifted into a breathing trompe l’oeil, V’s presence bringing flatness into perspective, turning it into something real.

It’s… nice.

You flop onto the sofa and send one of those cushions overboard, tumbling to the ground. V appears in the doorway moments later, new apron already streaked with colour, copper green thumbprint on his face like he’d touched it in thought and not realised. A little streak of paint that draws the eye to his lovely chin.

“Welcome home!” His hair is blond today, a golden nimbus around his face, though his eyes are still dark. Light and shadow. His happiness is infectious and you smile helplessly back, glad for his excitement with painting—but it seems like he hasn’t finished. “I’m happy you’re home. I missed you.”

KO. Wipeout. Your heart turns to liquid in your chest, burnt sugar that dribbles hot and saccharine through your ribs.

“I chose a name.” V continues, oblivious to how he’s turned your insides into syrup, and you abruptly sit up.

“Oh?”

“Taehyung.” The way he says it, in his deep voice, those two syllables are endless—a single name, heavy with the weight of meaning behind it. A shedding of his old skin, one that was forced on him, leaving him pink-skinned and new and free.

“Taehyung,” you repeat, and his LED flickers at the sound falling off your lips. “Taehyung. It’s lovely.”

He’s smiling, that lovely toothy smile that you’ve already decided is your favourite out of any smile you’ve seen, his LED electric blue and swirling in delight.

Day after day, you wake up to the sight of that LED glowing as Taehyung watches you lift up out of sleep. Night after night, you come home to his lovely, big grin, all large hands and soft hair—hair that he chooses to change colour when he pleases, a dizzying palette with every shade you can dream of. He’s bright and deep, playful and reflective, a dance of flirty Rococo to more solemn Baroque, every day another day where he learns and grows and adds another facet to the cut diamond of his personality.

(It hasn’t been long but you’re starting to think you’d put the world in the palm of his hand, if you could.)

You never thought you’d live to see the day where someone as lovely as Taehyung would be glad to see you home, having missed you after being apart—but for all that he’s voraciously leaning into the arts, consuming everything from visual to literary to performance, he’s never happier than when you’re there too. He shows you his works, improvement obvious with every new piece, but his excitement grows tenfold when you start to paint alongside him; seeing him so joyful spurs you to pick your brushes up again, buoyed up with motivation in the face of his own.

(Your studio is usually quiet, a little reflective maybe, the only sound the music you play over your speakers—but now more often than not you and Taehyung will talk, and laugh, and even if you’ve both ebbed into silence, it’s never heavy. It’s a held breath. The potential to speak any moment. The sensation of another person in the same space as you, an orbit, both existing in a shared moment, connected by gossamer threads that shimmer with sunlight.

Taehyung’s eyes are steady on his canvas as he works, but he glances at you through the curl of his lashes, smiling back at you. Always, always smiling, LED calm blue as the rest of his face shines golden, bright.)

(Maybe it’s selfish, but you think you could get used to this.)

taglist: @beyoncesdragon

#btswritingcafe #magicshopnet #btswriterscollective #taehyung x reader #bts #taehyung x you #taehyung au #bts au #taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung scenario #taehyung imagine #android taehyung #robot taehyung #look you know the drill by now: I don't know how to tag effectively #taehyung fanfic #bts fanfic #joy.masterlist #dbh is so good guys. I love connor. like. an alarming amount.

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kniferottt · 2 years

Note

Jealousy headcanons for Alastor, Angel Dust, Vox, and Val (if you're comfortable writing for them)?

of course sorry this took awhile

❦

Jealousy Headcanons (1/2)

-Alastor

Jealous?... No no, I don't think he's the type for it I believe with him it's more of a possessive thing

He knows your his and his alone, there's no need for him to feel such a trivial emotion

Practically every denizen of hell knows that you're the radio demons significant other, and they were wise enough to veer in the other direction if you were near knowing full well even if on your lonesome he'd appear out of thin air to kill someone if they even so much as breathed in your direction

As much as he'd prefer to keep you secret he knows he can't do that, and refuses to have any hold you over his head as some form of threat

His power is no meer decoration

The dude literally has a fanclub of cannibal female demons, so it's safe to say that there are demons who are nonethewiser and do things foolishly and will clearly pine over everyone regardless of things right in front of them.

He knows full well you'd never cheat on him, he'd never do that to you either

If he's with you it truly means something to him for it's rather clear romance or even having a fling with anyone was ever a priority nor was it even an option

...... obviously he was fucking wrong

So say, some random demon either knowing or not even knowing who you are, and the fact that you're taken decides to go up to you

Mistake one, two and, three really. You were perceived

Now say he proceeds to try and make small talk- no this is hell what am I saying on with this sleaze proceeding to make unwanted remarks and flirting

Fatal mistake insert all the numbers

Look.. Alastor has his shadow follow you where ever you go for his peace of mind, and to keep a watchful eye of course so when he gets word of this, he's suddenly appearing by your side.

Piercing static could be heard and you only turn your head and continue on with whatever you're going allowing Alastor his fun ignoring the screaming

"my apologies darling, I do hope you weren't bothered to severely how about we have a night on the town! Allow me to treat you and I will not take no for an answer!! Now then shall we my dear?~"

- Angel Dust

Jealousy, Jealousy, Jealousy all around

Angel dust, is very nervous when in a relationship he can't help that

With his line of work and his history with people he's very untrustworthy and so when someone actually loves him for him and not simply for his body or money leaves him in a rather sensitive position

It's not that he doesn't trust you, he does 100% unfortunately for the spider in the kinky boots the fault doesn't lie in you, it's with him

His jealousy is the fact he thinks he isn't good enough for you, considering he is a sec worker and while usually proud of it or simoly indifferent as he has a naturally sensual personality he begins to second guess himself

He thinks you'd rather be with someone who wasn't in his line of work, with someone who isn't .. dirty like him is what he thinks

So when he notes you're hanging around smiles he's peeved to say the least

Alastor is the complete opposite for him, but for the most part a gentleman which is what he hates the most apart from his... Everything

He doesn't like the way he jokes with you, or has you help him cook or even sing with you. Dear Lucifer he absolutely loathes when you dance with him and though he finds you ethereal it's his hands on you that he can't handle

Which leads us to now in that same predicament, you and Alastor dancing together as the group sat around watching

Angel watched from his place on the couch arms crossed tightly messing with his gloves until he finally snapped marching over pulling you away throwing you over his shoulder much to everyone's sudden shock

Alastor goes to speak but angel holds a hand up. "shut up and stay the fuck away from them!!" He yells now marching off and up the stairs to his room

You're stunned but immediately understand the second you're in his room and he tosses you onto the bed now watching with a small smile cupping his face once he throws himself onto the bed next to you.

"Angel... You know Alastor is married right?.." you say quietly

To which angel immediately turns from you eyes wide blushing deeply from embarrassment. "...yeah..."

".... Cherri bomb told me how you've been feeling, I love you regardless of your work i don't care.. you're all I want.." you say now hugging him from behind

It takes him a moment before he's immediately on you. "Yeah yeah, enough with the sampy shit if you knew I might even say you did that intentionally... So looks like a punishment game is in order~"

fun

❦

I'm splitting this into two parts to get this out, I'll be writing Vox's and Valentino's soon so enjoy this so far

#hazbin hotel #multi fandom blog #hazbin alastor #multi fandom imagines #x reader blog #hazbin angel dust #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel valentino #multi fandom #reader insert #x reader insert #multifandom

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eclipsebythedawn · 3 years

Text

Smothered Flames & Shadows (Part 1)

Hi guys! So this is my first fanfiction ever, and I’m honestly not sure if it’s even good but I thought I wanted to share some Gwynriel with you all :) I have a sort of story planned out and this will likely have more parts. I’m pretty sure I will continue this story since I have more stuff planned out (hence the part 1) but right now it’s just some Gwynriel crumbs. Hope you guys will enjoy it and stay safe wherever you are.

(How are we gonna wait like ten years for the Gwynriel book because I believe in you SJM you MUST MUST give us Gwynriel ??!)

Ps. This is the updated version, I added a new chunk for Azriel’s reaction. (Updated on 26 April 2021)

Azriel's wings flapped as he patrolled the skies. The dense cloud cover as well as the fading sunlight disguised his presence and he needed minimal effort to remain hidden. His shadows could taste the looming chaos and flitted around him warningly.

Be careful, be careful.

He could hear through their thoughts and saw through their lingering words. All was quiet here, it seemed. He would much rather preferred to be stationed at the ethereally beautiful Dawn Court, their High Lord serene but with an inner strength that was unflappable, instead of... here.

The Autumn Court held no such delights. Yes, the scenery was more than picturesque -- its flora suspended in eternal autumn, the golden-brown leaves swirling leisurely through the air, their russet color so much like a certain male that was mated to a certain girl he could never have.

Allow me to make one thing very clear. You are to stay away from her.

Unbidden, his brother's fury-driven words cut into his muddled thoughts. Azriel knew that he was old and cranky and Rhys didn't deserve his anger and resentment after what he went through for all of them, but he was... gods, he was so damn tired.

The first female outside of Mor who had caught his eyes -- of course she had to be denied from him. Cauldron knew that the Mother had never shone its light on him, not that he even deserved to be embraced by Her warmth.

His mind finally allowed him to remember the beautiful brunette always on the back of his mind. Her doe-like eyes, sweet smile and that alluring scent, so pure and innocent and arousing and --

Fuck.

Azriel adjusted himself, his pants stifling and uncomfortable. Shit. He was in deep shit. But he couldn't stop himself from fantasizing about how she would taste, how she would look when he made her come.

Rhys's words from the other day, during solstice so many months ago, hadn't helped. Azriel's desperate lust had only grown even more to the point that he was actively avoiding the second Archeron sister so she wouldn't scent his arousal.

For that matter, so his two brothers wouldn't catch him lusting after her especially after the warning he was given.

And she seemed to be avoiding him too.

Azriel made one more round in the skies, the night as chilly and familiar as his own shadows that seemed strangely subdued now. His thoughts continued to stray towards...

Elain.

Beautiful, clean, pure, worthy Elain. He was none of those things, he knew that. Had resigned himself to it after five centuries of futile pining for a female that never returned his desires. He did not blame Mor. Could not blame Mor. He was tainted and she deserved someone better than him.

But when he saw Elain... Their unlikely friendship had gradually turned into something more. It had only continued to develop after Elain was Made High Fae and he became even more attuned to her, constantly sharing the same space. And for the first time since Mor, he wanted. He wanted to have what his two brothers had. It was wrong and it was selfish, but he saw Rhys and Cassian and he wondered --

Maybe the Cauldron had made a mistake. Three sisters of blood and three brothers of choice. Two thirds fulfilled, and somewhere deep down inside, he had been uselessly, worthlessly holding onto hope.

He had not dared to whisper it out loud until Rhys caught him just before their kiss. And Rhys reaction had only served to remind him why he was wrong for her. Why Elain deserved someone else.

But for the first time in his life, he wanted to throw caution to the wind.

Deciding that all was well and not wanting to remain a second longer, Azriel gathered his shadows and prepared to winnow back to home. He frowned when his shadows flittered over him... disapprovingly?

Yes, that was disapproval. His lips tightened as they swirled around him angrily.

What the hell was wrong with them tonight?

Azriel yanked on his petulant shadows. They continued to ignore him, some even going as far as to ignore him.

He scowled. His shadows were stepping out of line more and more frequently as thought something was bothering him.

Or someone.

He shoved aside the image of tendrils dancing and singing around a certain redhead, her bright teal eyes laughing and --

Azriel forcibly winnowed and dragged his disobeying shadows after him, leaping across the miles between the Autumn Court and home within a single step, resigning himself to a lonely night -- as always.

~~~

The night was alive.

It was a comforting blanket draped over her, Gwyn mused silently.

But she felt dead.

It was going to be one of those nights, then. Those nights when she woke up screaming, drenched in sweat only to realize it was just another nightmare. That reality was like a noose tied around her neck, dragging her further down into the pits of Hell where she belonged.

She would never meet Catrin even in death. Because her lovely, beautiful sister who had shone like the brightest star was amongst the stars in the heavens. That single thought was the only thing pushing her forward on the worst of nights.

On nights where flinging herself out of a high balcony on the impossible chance that she would see Catrin again seemed possible. Gwyn had thought that that was before.

Before Nesta, before Emerie, before meeting her Valkyrie sisters whom she knew would and had walked with her through pain and darkness and led her back.

But even after so much training, nothing had changed. She was still the cowardly, timid, broken doll she thought she had left behind.

Gwyn sighed even as sadness and pain, always so much pain, swelled inside her. Logically she knew she wasn't thinking straight. If Nesta or Emerie were here, they would be chiding her for her thoughts, the former sharp but mindful, and the latter firm but gentle. A small smile came onto her faces at all the memories they shared.

The cutting of the ribbon. Winning the obstacle course that served as the Blood Rite Qualifier. And then winning the actual Blood Rite itself while Nesta -- unyielding, unflinching -- held the lines for Gwyn and Emerie to be crowned as Carynthians.

And now, Nesta and Cassian's mating ceremony. Despite everything she was feeling, Gwyn was happy for her friend.

Her sister by choice.

She knew Nesta deserved Cassian as he did her, and she felt genuine happiness for the pair. It was obvious during the long months of initial, grueling training that there was a spark between the two. An attraction that could not be denied.

She longed to find that love though in truth Gwyn knew she might never be ready for it.

Her point was further proven yesterday when Nesta had invited them during a break in training to her mating ceremony, held in a week's time. Gwyn knew that preparations were already underway and she was as honored and grateful as Emerie to be invited, but still she had hesitated, especially at the list of invited and accepted guests.

It wasn't mortifyingly long since Nesta only wanted close friends and family and Cassian only wanted the High Lord, Rhysand and Azriel, but the guest was filled with important names that made Gwyn nervous just to hear them.

The High Lord and High Lady were enough to make her dizzy. And then there was the High Lord's Second and Third, both formidable females in their own right. Gwyn thought wryly though that Emerie had seemed flustered and even blushed a little when her ears caught on a certain someone's name in the list Nesta had shared.

She was happy for her friend too. Emerie deserved friendship -- and love, if that relationship could blossom. But she knew better than interfere when her own relationships were so precarious.

The Prince of Adriata was coming, along with Mother above, the High Lord of the Day Court, Helion. Nesta's younger sister Elain was on the list as well though Nesta's face had clouded a bit when she read her name out loud. And then there was her mate -- Lucien Vanserra.

The supposedly exiled son of the High Lord of Autumn, who had ties to numerous Courts and was a valuable ally.

It was silly and stupid but amidst this sea of important names, Gwyn had wondered on more than one occasion what she could even do there. She had immediately scolded herself mentally, that she would be attending the ceremony for Nesta and even Cassian, who had become a bit of an older brother figure to her, and she would have Emerie with her.

She knew Emerie would fight anyone who dared to even look at her the wrong way.

But the larger part of Gwyn was scared. So many people would be attending, especially the males. It wasn't as if Helion or Lucien would randomly pounce on her, and that her fear was irrational, but she couldn't stop thinking about them. Couldn't stop thinking about that day where so many males surrounded her, where that hateful Hybern commander had ordered her held down, had pummeled into her as silent tears fell down her face, had laughed in her face and --

Gwyn counted the stars in the sky in time to her quickened breathing. Deep breaths, she told herself. When she couldn't sleep on nights like these she would train until nearly the breaking of dawn. She should get up from her position on the ground.

Probably.

But lying on the cold floor of the training area atop the House of Wind was a refreshing change. After having been coped up in the library for two years, she had finally decided to join Nesta in her morning training sessions with Cassian.

It was quite possibly the best decision she had ever made.

But still... But still, the doubt lingered. It festered. It thrived on her pain and self-hatred, quietly growing on nights like these.

It thrived at the fact that Emerie had accepted the invitation immediately, but Gwyn, worthless, selfish Gwyn had not. Was she so pathetic that she couldn't even congratulate her friend on her special day?

She should really get up. Perhaps train a bit more, instead of lying here wallowing in her dark thoughts.

Then a tiny tendril of shadow-kissed power gently prodded her arm. She startled, turning around and half-getting up.

She already knew who would be standing before her with his usual contemplative silence.

Azriel.

He was before her and she froze for one second. A twinge of fear crept in at his closeness, at the nearness of another male, so suddenly and unpredicted --

Azriel took a step back, saying softly, "I'm sorry if I surprised you."

Gwyn blinked. The shadowsinger was nothing but the epitome of manners and he had likely scented her fear.

"It's fine." And that was true. Her fear had instantly washed away as abruptly as it had arrived upon realizing who was here.

Azriel would never hurt her, Gwyn was sure of that.

She cleared her throat, trying to get rid of the awkward silence that had descended.

"Are you here for something?" She winced slightly at her choice of words. This was his home. She had no right to even utter such a question when she was the outsider.

Before Azriel could reply, another shadow darted out and wrapped itself around her arm before rushing back to its master. Gwyn felt the corners of her lips twitched up as the shadowsinger blinked once, twice in... shock.

"Did you forget your favorite dagger again?" She teased and was rewarded with a faint blush on his cheeks. His lovely and if she dared say, adorable shadows had given her the courage she needed.

To her surprise, he played along. "Have you seen an eighteen-inch dagger anywhere?"

Gwyn burst out laughing at the ridiculous statement.

"May I remind you that it's a dagger you have misplaced -- not a sword?"

"Forgive me if my memory fails sometimes." Was she seeing things or was there a twinkle in his eyes?

"Well, you do seem to forget things rather easily." Oh, she was certain! Amusement ran deep inside his hazel eyes and Gwyn felt breathless for a second, mesmerized by the beautiful male.

Staring into his eyes... She smiled at him, a genuine crinkling of her eyes. He had lifted her mood within seconds of his arrival.

Azriel seemed to freeze for a second, his usual stillness somehow magnifying. Intensifying. His shadows writhed around and she had the odd feeling that he was struggling to control them.

She blinked, and the moment passed.

"Were you training?" Azriel motioned towards her sweaty body. She nodded mutely, still caught up in what had occurred. Was it just her imagination? Looking at the stoic Illyrian standing before her, Gwyn decided she was just too tired, and her mind was playing tricks on her.

"...My help?"

Gwyn snapped out of her thoughts, head jerking up. "What?"

Azriel cocked an eyebrow at her obvious inattentiveness and she felt herself blushing. She chided herself mentally.

"Do you require my help?" He repeated the question, that faint amusement still dancing in his eyes.

"Wait. Are you asking to train me?" Another eyebrow raise.

"Were you expecting me to teach you the benefits of lying on the cold floor in the middle of the night?" He replied dryly.

Gwyn scowled and immediately stood up.

"Uh-huh. I was expecting you to fling your arms about and start serenading me."

"Is that a demand?" Azriel chuckled quietly. Gwyn thought that might be the most heavenly sound she had ever heard.

"Is that a challenge?" Gwyn shot back, not missing a beat.

The corners of his lips twitched up. Gwyn wanted to wipe that smirk off his face, her competitive streak setting in. She was also excited for this match because truth be told, she had been training everyday in anticipation of wiping the floor with the shadowsinger. It was her secret fantasy.

Not that it would happen anytime still but... Still.

"You can help me with my training. But on one condition."

Azriel contemplated her more seriously before he nodded his head.

"We fight now. Hand-to-hand."

~~~

The night was alive.

And Gwyneth Berdara was the full moon that accompanied it, shining brightly even amidst the darkness. She was so lovely, yet he sensed something pure and burning thriving inside her. His shadows yearned to flit around her, touch her, dance and sing for her. He had to keep them on a tight leash, and they were unhappy.

Little tendrils of darkness swirled around him petulantly. They wanted to go to Gwyn. Would have gone to her without his intervention. One stray thread snuck out and nearly coiled around Gwyn's wrist before he snatched it back in time. He could have sworn his own shadows growled at him. But he had bigger things to focus on.

Like the fact that Gwyn had just challenged Azriel to a duel.

Once again, his shadows had failed to mention that she was here. There was no quick escape that didn't end in awkwardness so he had stayed -- and so far he was... contented. Being around her seemed to have that effect on himself.

She was humming to herself as she stretched, preparing her body before their fight. His shadows buzzed around excitedly, seeming to forget about their earlier disagreement. He supposed there was no question who they were rooting for.

"Ready?" He asked Gwyn. She nodded, then held up a hand.

"Wait." She retied her ponytail, not letting even a single strand of her coppery chestnut obstructing her vision. He admired her competitiveness, her courage and strength in always fighting for the best.

Meeting her by chance here again reminded him of solstice, and his mind wandered to Elain before he slammed down his thoughts.

Focus. He had watched and trained Gwyn enough to know that she was a threat: an emerging dark horse that proved unpredictable and cunning. He also knew she had silently studied his fighting style enough to know more than just a few of his preferred tricks.

They circled each other, neither one of them making the first move.

He had drilled into her what signs to look out for, what feints and what blockings would be an unexpected yet effective counterattack that he was more than a little wary.

Still, he decided to make the first move, which was so out of his usual style that he hoped she would be unprepared. He had the feeling that she already knew he was going to attack first though as she sidestepped him and threw a punch.

Like he was expecting. He grabbed it and pulled her towards him to jilt her balance, but she was already expecting that and swept out her leg, forcing him to move unless he wanted to end up on the ground. The next move he had perfected to mastery.

He pretended to feint left when he was actually aiming for the left. A cheap shot, but he had also taught her that no real fights were clean and honest. She twisted her body but they both knew she wouldn't dodged in time.

At the last moment, his shadows decided to move and --

Capture his fucking hand. They wrapped themselves around him and his eyes widened as he was stopped mid-throw by his own shadows. The scenario would have been laughable if he wasn't in so much disbelief. They had never outright hindered him in any battles before.

He cursed, barely dodging the next kick Gwyn sent his way. They broke apart again and Gwyn asked, "Something wrong?" She glanced towards his wayward shadows and he had a strong feeling she knew.

He shook his head, glaring at his swirling shadows. They just blinked up at him innocently.

Don't hurt her. Don't hurt her. Lovely mistress lovely mistress lovely mistress.

He gritted his teeth. Their fancy for Gwyn had reached the point of obsession but she didn't seem to mind. In fact, she squinted and then broke into a grin.

"Aha. I thought I saw your little friends earlier." At her words, his shadows flew towards her joyfully, happy to be recognized. Azriel rubbed his neck as his shadows neared Gwyn, knowing that she had to secretly hate them for being so ugly and tainted and unworthy --

Gwyn bent down. What she did next would stay in his memories forever. Holding out an arm, she let his shadows coiled around the entire length, wisps of midnight trailing her as she walked towards Azriel.

His shadows were happier than he had ever known them to be. He could feel their joy with every step she took, sense the way they were telling him to look look look look.

Then Gwyn smiled at him, her teal eyes so clear and large.

"Your shadows are beautiful."

~~~

"Your shadows are beautiful."

Azriel stood still. His entire body was frozen, and even his heart seemed to cease its beating.

Gwyn took a step back at whatever expression was on his face. What she said... Did she understand that what she said -- no one had ever deigned to voice before?

Did she look at his hideous soul and scarred hands?

Did she see how truly stained he was?

He wanted to believe she did. He had never wanted something more than Gwyn seeing him, truly seeing him be true. But if it were true...

How could his shadows be beautiful?

"I'm -- I'm sorry for stepping out of line." She stuttered out, her eyes wide.

Azriel glanced up sharply, snapped out of his trance. She looked horrified and was stammering out another apology, her pitch high and wobbly.

Shit.

Before he could process what he was saying, words tumbled out of his mouth, aided by the push of an impatient shadow desperate to right all things wrong.

"It is I who should be apologizing." His voice was a soft whisper in the night breeze. Gwyn paused halfway through her long speech and she stood there gaping at him.

"I am sorry, Gwyn." Azriel truly was. He could feel the shame gnawing at him. Yet another mistake. Yet another disappointment. He was a lowly half-breed bastard. His "little friends" curled around his tightening fists anxiously. He could not quite meet her eyes as chagrin dragged him down and whispered,"I should not have reacted the way I did."

He did not know what to expect. The infamous spymaster that was Azriel could never anticipate any of Gwyn's actions. She was an enigma, a mystery that constantly evaded him, the light at the end of the tunnel that shied away from him at every twist and turn.

He saw Gwyn take a deep breath from his peripheral vision and steeled himself. He gathered the remnants of his scattered mask, ready to return to just the High Lord's spymaster.

And then Gwyn spoke.

"I... I do not know your story. I do not know the dark tales that define your past. But I know you. And I know that whatever it is... It does not define you. It does not define the male I see standing before me. It cannot define the male who saved my very life, who --" Here her voice caught and she had to stop for a moment.

Azriel's heart clenched painfully. He did not know why but... He wanted to hug her and show her that her past had never defined her. Not for him, not for Nesta or Emerie and he wanted her to know that it shouldn't for herself.

"Who placed that cloak upon me with such gentle hands." She continued softly, gazing down at his scarred palms. And for the first time in a sea of forever, Azriel did not feel the urge to hide his shadow-kissed hands. Those same shadows began to swirl towards Gwyn and she did not flinch.

She only continued staring at him with those eyes that could see through everything. Did he want them to see through him? Yes.

She sees. And she is not afraid. Azriel's shadows basked them in a cocoon of living darkness.

"I refuse to let your past define you. I do not accept that. So fight. Your story... even if it never comes to me, there is nothing it can tell me that I don't already know. You are brave, thoughtful and so, so kind. You and Cassian trusted me to survive and conquer the Rite as you two had trusted Nesta and Emerie. If not then both of you would have stormed in immediately, and no law could have overruled you. So please... Please believe in me like you did. Just this once, if nothing else." Gwyn finished a little breathlessly and he knew she had rushed through the last part because she was nervous.

But somehow the bit that stuck out to him was her thinking he used to believe in her. He did, but used to? He still did. And he wanted her to know that, more than anything. He wanted Gwyn to know that he had never stop believing in her.

And seeing Gwyn's crestfallen face as each second passed and he still remained silently, he knew she was thinking the worst.

He wanted her smile back. His shadows wanted that too.

But more than anything, they both wanted her to sing again. And looking at her dispirited expression, at that moment even his shadows were unsure whether she would find her voice again.

She had spilled her thoughts to him, and he was standing there like an idiot.

Your words, Azriel. Use your words.

His shadows were begging him to say something. Anything, please please please.

As she turned to leave, he finally found his voice. The voice she unknowingly helped him find.

"Gwyn, I'm sorry -- please wait." She paused, hesitating as her eyes met his. Azriel did not know what to say. He was incapable of saying anything but "sorry", that word so pathetic and useless. Sorry was not enough when Rhys was captured by Amarantha. Sorry was not enough when Feyre was forced to sacrifice herself for their -- for his sake. Sorry was not enough when Elain was taken away by the Cauldron in the middle of the night.

Sorry had never been enough and never would be. Azriel was a stupid, foolish idiot.

"Azriel." Gwyn spoke his name softly. He tore himself away from his useless thoughts and looked at her.

She... did not look upset. She did not look angry, nor sad, nor frustrated. Instead, understanding lay in those warm teal eyes.

"I'm not pushing you to share about yourself. You are not obliged to just because I rambled on about my thoughts." Gwyn's eyes were indeed filled with apology and remorse though she had a small smile.

"You will always be my friend. And I will wait for you, even if the day you want to share about yourself never comes. Because I know you will do the same for me."

Somehow, in that moment when even time seemed to have held its breath, when even the Mother seemed to be watching, Azriel felt something in him shifted. In the distant, he could have sworn a phoenix's song filled his veins, a song of smothered flames and shadows.

"Besides, I think the silent, brooding type fits you better than Cassian's I-wrecked-one-tiny-unimportant-useless-building hotheadedness." Gwyn teased.

The distant calling seemed to grow louder, and Azriel could have sworn --

He could have sworn that a faraway glow beckoned him. And his shadows were more restless than ever, nearly tearing away from their master in their excitement.

So when Gwyn grinned at him, he smiled back.

The stars twinkling overhead seemed to beam back too. For the first time in a long while, Azriel felt contented. It was a feeling he had not experienced since... Since solstice. And back then he was with Gwyn, too, he realized abruptly. It was this female before him who had brought him not once, but twice such longed-for peace and quiet.

Gwyn was wrong. It was not his shadows who were beautiful.

It was her.

It was the Valkyrie who had walked beside Death -- and never cowered.

Never feared, never faltered.

Gwyneth Berdara was a secret, lovely beauty.

Sorry for any grammatical errors (or just errors in general) since I’m writing on my own right now. Thanks for reading and stay tune for part 2 <3

Updated comment: Hi guys, so I added a new bit about Azriel’s reaction. I was planning out the whole story so it’s taking a while and I’m sorry about the wait. I’m nearly done with planning things out chapter-by-chapter so part 2 is on its way. Thank you for staying with me

xoxo

Dawn ~

#gwynriel #gwynriel fanfiction #azriel #gwyn #gwyneth berdara #elain #rhys #acotar #sarah j maas #have a nice night everyone

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rebeccccccaaa · 3 years

Text

𝕲𝖔𝖑𝖉𝖊𝖓

____________________________

𝕶𝖎𝖓𝖌!𝕭𝖚𝖈𝖐𝖞 𝖝 𝕶𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙!𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝕬𝖀

𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: When the Queen falls sick and passes away, King Bucky must marry another, preferably the princess of an alliance kingdom nearby, in order to keep peace and order among the lands. However she is the most god awful human being anyone has ever met. Her guard however well she was definitely not what the king expected.

𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: making out? (part 4? smut next chapter [it was getting too long])

𝕬/𝖓: party party partyyy i imagine the reader to be wearing something similar to zendaya’s met gala look 2018 but in gold even though it’s far from accurate but hey it’s fan fiction.

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 1.4k

part one | part two | part three |

_____________________________

It was the day of the king’s annual celebration with the many kings throughout the land. That also meant tomorrow Bucky would need to make his final decision whether to accept the hand of Charlotte or return home without a queen.

Before Bucky went downstairs to meet with his friends he stared at his appearance in the mirror. He wore gold fabrics with white and his sparkling golden crown bejeweled with diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and other jewels.

He also reminisced on the most recent time he’d spent with you.

You were running through the forest, giggling and laughing looking behind yourself to see Bucky not far from you chasing you like a predator. You swiftly moved through the trees with grace sticks and twigs hardly snapping under you while Bucky was far from stealthy. Branches cracking and crunching underneath him.

You moved behind a large oak tree hoping you lost Bucky. You peeked around the tree to see if he had stopped to search for you but when you looked he was lost in sight. You moved up a bit to look harder and yet he was nowhere to be found.

You moved back to spot only to find Bucky inches away from you scaring you.

“James!” you shrieked.

“You frightened me,” you pushed his shoulder.

“Is that so?” he moved his face closer to yours.

“Yes. Don’t do that again,” you cupped his face.

“But darling, it was hilarious. You should’ve seen your face. Priceless,” he leaned in to kiss you but you turned your face away.

“Oh come on,” Bucky grabbed your waist and pulled you close; nuzzling his face in your neck lovingly.

“No, you scared me half to death. I’m not going to kiss after that.”

“If I promise to not do it again will you let me kiss you?” you falsely hesitated making him chuckle at your antics.

“Fine.”

Bucky cupped your jaw and leaned tortuously slow. His lips brushing so softly against yours like he was dragging out time as much as he could possibly do himself. His nose brushing against your own as his lips moved more passionately.

You and Bucky had kept this secret affair since that day in the field where he kissed you. Charlotte had become more distant as time went on and at first Bucky had tried to continue getting to know her but she was always locked up in her bedroom reading letters from someone Bucky had yet to discover.

So he gave up and spent most of his time either with his friends or with you. It had gotten to a point where Charlotte and Bucky only saw each other for breakfast and supper when everyone would meet to eat together.

Her father would frequently ask of you two and Charlotte was always very quick to lie about what her and Bucky would be doing or talking about. Of course to appease the fellow king Bucky would play along.

Now Bucky and Charlotte would attend the ball together and neither of them were rather ecstatic about the idea. They didn’t exactly hate each other but Charlotte wasn’t fond of Bucky and Bucky didn’t like her childish attitude and behavior he often saw.

But nonetheless here they are attending a party together as if they were going to spend the rest of their lives together.

“Look at you. You look dashing,” Natasha said hugging Bucky when he emerged from his room.

“You look great, Buck,” Steve said, patting his friend’s shoulder.

“Impressive,” said Sam.

They headed towards the ballroom that was massive already filled with many wealthy people to lords and ladies and dukes and kings. People of many cultures too. Some were even rich traders and higher classmen. However, everyone was making the room seem a bit crowded.

Bucky eyes landed on Charlotte wearing a large baby pink ball gown that was quite beautiful he’d admit. She was standing with her parents as they greeted people entering the party. He hadn’t seen you yet but his heart was racing at the thought of you with a magnificent dress, dressed to the nines.

He greeted the king and queen as did his friends and he took Charlotte’s hand to lead her down the beautiful staircase to the party. There was live music playing so Bucky looked to Charlotte and asked her to dance.

She said yes and they began to move softly with the music. Something seemed to catch Charlotte’s eye as her mood changed quickly to be much more lively. Bucky searched for what it could be but was very distracted by you who had just entered the room.

You were ethereal. A goddess bestowed to bless everyone’s eyes. Bucky nearly fell over at the sight of you. You wore a golden dress similar to your knightly armor. Golden breastplate that covered your neck and shoulders, golden sheet covering your arms and circling your legs to leave a long golden train that dragged behind you. You were golden.

You haven't seen Bucky yet but you were very excited. He’s the reason you’re dressed for the party in the first place. You hate these parties because they were so useless and crowded and you just didn’t like them. But you wanted to see Bucky again and you were willing to sacrifice some of your time to this party.

You found Nat, Steve, and Sam; all aware of your a little forbidden affair, thankful they’ve kept quiet but they noticed how you’ve changed Bucky. He was more happy and looked like a man in love. You were perfect for him.

So they stayed quiet in hopes Bucky would configure some sort of plan so that you’d be capable of receiving his hand in marriage.

“Hey guys. You all look beautiful,” you said hugging each one of them.

“Back at you,” Nat said holding your waist, “Bucky’s gonna freak when he sees you.”

“Looks like he already has,” Steve said, turning his head towards Buck who stood standing and gawking at you.

You felt shy being under his hungry gaze, but continued to hold conversation with Steve, Sam, and Nat seeing as Charlotte was still with him.

“You should close your mouth, you’ll catch flies,” Charlotte said to Bucky.

“I’m sorry? I don’t know what your- your talking about,” Bucky whispered completely flustered.

“I know you’ve been sneaking around. I saw you two at the field when it first happened,” Charlotte whispered to Bucky.

“I’m so sorry I… I-” Bucky stammered.

“Don’t worry I haven’t told anyone,” she smirked.

“And why’s that?”

Charlotte looked to a boy who stood at the edge of the dance floor staring at them.

“The duke’s son,” Bucky said.

“We met years ago. Since then we’ve talked a lot; sent letters. I love him and he loves me. But we can’t be together.”

“Why’s that? He seems like a better candidate than I am. I’m old.”

This made her chuckle.

“My father wants me to marry a king. Henry isn’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Truthfully, I know you love Y/n.”

“I don’t know if love um, you know, uh,” Bucky stuttered again.

“You love her. It’s ok,” Charlotte laughed.

“What if she doesn’t love me back? What if she thinks this is some sort of fling? Maybe-”

“She loves you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so happy before. It’s kinda weird; and gross. And someone like Y/n wouldn’t waste a breath on someone who could get her in trouble unless she loved them.”

There was a nice silence that settled between them until Charlotte spoke up again. He went to look for you again but he saw you walking back up the stairs. Were you leaving already? You hadn’t come to him yet.

“She’s not a party person; surprised she even came out. Go to her.”

“Thank you. And tell Henry you love him.”

“He knows,” she laughed.

Bucky stepped away and followed your path completely leaving the party and celebration behind him for you.

======================================

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙:

@velvetcardiganbucky

@chipilerendi

@heavenhatesme

@austynparksandpizza

@ahahafudge

@onlyhereforthefandomandgiggles

@smoochesfroggos

@thegeekybibliophile

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #king!bucky #knight!reader #royal au #marvel smut #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes smut

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weasleymalfoypotter · 3 years

Text

i hate you (but not really) pt4

draco malfoy x fem!syltherin! potter reader

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

summary: draco malfoy and harry potters twin sister have hated each other since they met. but in 5th year he comes to find that maybe he doesn’t hate her and the reasons he did end up be the things he loves

word count: 2k

warnings: fluff, a little angst, cussing

A/N: i am honestly really proud of this chapter and i’m really excited for the next two. i think there are only gonna be six parts but i really hope you enjoy this one. please like and comment suggestions or criticism and feel free to reblog!! also i have a lot of stuff coming out soon so stay updated and i’ll be posting a master list once i post more fics

it’s safe to say that i am in love with draco malfoy. these last few months have been ethereal. we took our time in getting to know every detail about each other, although it wasn’t necessarily by choice. it was a lot more difficult than we thought it would be to spend time together like a normal couple would do while hiding the relationship from everyone we knew and even those we didn’t. we decided very early on that it would be best to keep it a secret for now. if his family found out about us it wouldn’t end well for him and if my brother and godfather found out... it would end very early for him. it was actually fun keeping it a secret, always sneaking around the castle, learning everyone’s routines to keep away from prying eyes, and hiding away from other prefects and filch. we abused our prefect positions to help with the whole secret relationship which is exactly what we aren’t supposed to do as prefects but it’s justified in my mind.

we’ve been together in secret for 6 months now and i think we’re both tired of not being able to sit next to each other in the great hall, walk and in hand to classes, kiss when everyone was watching, and simply go to hogsmeade together like a normal freaking couple.

we went to my dorm room after dinner on thursday night and made sure no one saw him come in. i didn’t have any roommates , thank merlin, so we didn’t have to worry about that. we cuddle up next to each other just talking about anything and everything until he moved from underneath me to sit up, criss crossed, in the middle of my bed and spoke

“i think it’s time” he was being serious and goofy at the same time which was just adorable but i was stubborn and wouldn’t tell him that. i raised my eyebrows at his statement and questioned him.

“what are you talking about?” i tilted my head to the side, voice calm and unwavering. i knew what he was talking about but i was terrified. i also knew he would be right.

“i’m talking about us, about telling people, if it gets back to my parents i’ll just tell them it’s a silly rumor. the only thing we have to do is tell your brother” his voice trailed off at the end of his statement. telling harry was the terrifying part

“i want to tell people, i really do, but harry is going to be so unbelievably upset, you have no idea. not only have i been lying to him for the past 6 months, i’m also in love with his arch nemesis who he’s hated for the past 5 years. it’s not going to go well” i was talking animatedly with my hands.

“i know but we have to get it over with sooner or later, and it’ll only be worse if it’s later” he’s right. and i hate it. i sighed and laid back on my bed and pulled me next to him. “i know you don’t want to but it really won’t be that bad”

“what were the last words my brother said to you?” he chuckled but didn’t say anything and i knew it’s because it would prove my point. “exactly. he’s going to hate me” he was tracing circles on my arm and he kissed the top of my head

“he’s not going to hate you, trust me, i used to and we saw how well that ended” we both laughed, he always made me laugh when i needed it.

“i would say it ended rather nicely” i said with a smile tilting my face to look at his. he was smiling and i loved it. i took in his features and tried to suppress this moment to memory, trying to take a mental picture of him because he was just perfect. he looked down at me laying on his chest, looking at him with my e/c eyes and i just melted.

“it ended better than nicely in my opinion” he was smiling and it was beautiful. he leaned his head down to kiss me and the only words to describe this moment and every other i’d spent with him was perfect.

here it goes. time to tell harry. or not. let’s not. dammit i cant, i promised draco i would do it. harry would usually keep me updated on their common room password so i could hang out with them or study away from the slytherins so i made my way to the portrait hole. i said the password and walked in. sure enough harry, hermione, and ron were at a couch, hermione doing homework while harry and ron talked. upon hearing someone come in they lifted their heads and smiled when they saw me.

“y/n! hey i’ve barely seen you all day where have you been?” harry asked. he hadn’t seen me all day because i was so nervous about telling him that i avoided him like the plague.

“oh you know, classes and prefect stuff has been keeping me really busy lately” i nodded fondling with my hands awkwardly

“tell me about it, i’ve been studying nonstop and i think i might fall over at any given moment.” hermione was exhausted and you could hear it in the way she spoke while she scribbled with her quill.

“you alright y/n? you look flustered” ron showed concern on his face and he was right, i am very flustered, but he gave me a segue.

“listen i actually need to tell you three something” this caught their attention and hermione put her quill down as they lifted their heads up

“what’s up?” harry asked

“okay so you have to promise me to be calm...at least at first, and don’t get mad right away because i’ll explain everything” they all looked so worried but i knew they weren’t expecting what i was going to say.

“y/n what’s going on?” harry questioned.

“promise me. all three of you. you have to promise”

“okay we promise” hermione stated and the boys nodded in agreement. i let out a breath and decided to get it over with

“so... i um..” i sighed “i’m dating someone” their faces lit up at this, harry looked excited but concerned at the same time

“who is it?! why didn’t you tell us you liked someone? when did this happened?” ron questioned before anyone else could get a word out. he was happy for me, you could hear it in his voice, and it warmed my heart but in a few seconds he wouldn’t be so warm.

“okay this is the part where you can’t get mad” they nodded, and harry just wanted to know who was dating his sister. “umm, i- uh... okay. it’s draco malfoy” i said the last part quickly and i bit my bottom lip ready for the world to fall apart. hermione’s eyebrows furrowed and her mouth dropped. ron’s eyes were wide and he was blinking as he started daggers into me with his mouth agape, and harry didn’t skip a beat.

“what the hell do you mean ‘it’s draco malfoy’!” he stood as he spoke and he was trying so hard not to completely yell but he was so confused and on the verge of pure rage.

“i mean that i’m dating draco malfoy” i stated simply. he blinked and the other two stayed silent to let him react.

“NO YOURE NOT!!”

“yes i am, now if you let me explain-“

“THERES NOTHING TO EXPLAIN Y/N!” i looked at him with pleading eyes and he took a deep breath. “okay okay there has to be some rationality to this so explain what the hell is going on. explain to me why you’re ‘dating’ the most foul, evil, and terrible person we know. explain to me how you could do this. explain to me how this is supposed to be okay” he said angrily and quite loudly. i took a deep breath and looked away before meeting his eyes again

“he isn’t foul and evil and terrible actually” i stated calmly.

“HA!! right and voldemort didn’t kill our parents. how long has this been going on?” he was flinging his hands around as he talked. i looked at my feet “y/n... how long has this been going on?”

“six months.” i said quietly, but he heard me. his face dropped

“i’m sorry, what?” he blinked hard “you mean to tell me that you’ve been dating draco fucking malfoy behind my back for six months?! you’ve been lying to me for six months?”

“i didn’t know how to tell you. i knew you wouldn’t understand and we wanted to keep it a secret for a while” ron and hermione were listening intently to everything still in shock

“OF COURSE I WOULDNT FUCKING UNDERSTAND!!” he ran a hand through his hair and took another deep breath “y/n how, why would you ever be with him? how could you trust him? how could you trust anything he says? how could you excuse his behavior?” he had a point...but i had an answer. and one that he couldn’t dispute.

“i know he was horrible for the longest time but he never wanted to be. everything he did in the past was because of his father and he has hated himself for it his whole life, he’s wanted nothing more than to apologize. it’s not an excuse and he knows that, especially with everything he’s said to you” i looked at hermione “but that’s not him.” i spoke with a pleading tone trying to get them to understand that draco isn’t terrible and loathsome.

“and how can you believe all of that? how can you trust what he’s telling you?” i looked at all three of them before i answered

“because he took off his ring” their faces showed even more shock than when i initially told them that i was dating draco malfoy behind their backs for six months.

“he what?!” hermione asked.

“back in september he told me he liked me, i asked all the questions you did. i asked him how i could trust him, so he took off his ring. i saw draco for he really is and not what we all though him to be” i sighed while harry sat down took all of this in. knowing that draco was being honest and that he was actually kind is a shock for most at first. ron was still speechless

“i still just- i don’t know how to...process this” harry said after pulling his face out of his hands

“i know and i don’t expect you to understand and be totally excepting at first but once you get to know him for who he really is, you’ll understand.” ron finally spoke up next

“he really has left everyone alone all year, no bullying, pranks, nothing. i guess that makes sense now.”

“this is so weird” hermione said “i honestly can’t imagine him any other way than how we’ve known him”

“he’s actually the biggest dork ever. he’s sweet, and funny, and...just wonderful” i said. now that everything settled down i felt better. their responses were different because there was no lying when i was in someone’s mindscape. they had to believe what i said i saw in his head. i sat down next to harry and he spoke

“don’t go expecting us to be buddies anytime soon, but if you really say that all of this is true and he really is a good person underneath his... facade, i’ll trust you” i hugged him and hermione and ron joined in

“i love you guys” i said and a chorus of i love you too’s surrounded me. this went better than i expected and i knew draco would be happy that tomorrow we could walk into the great hall hand in and hand for the first time.

TAGS: @idkmanicantenglish @dracoswhore007 @lordlodge

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hecallsmehischild · 3 years

Text

Recent Media Consumed

Books

The Silmarillion by J.R.R. Tolkien. About ten or fifteen years ago, I tried to read this and was totally overwhelmed by it. I kept it around, hoping maybe someday I might be able to read it. I finally have, and here are my impressions: WHY SO MANY NAMES. WHY YOU HAVE TO NAME EVERYBODY, AND EVERY TRIBE OF PEOPLES, AND EVERY INANIMATE OBJECT, AND EVERY LANDSCAPE FEATURE. WHY. *ahem* So. I have a general comprehension of the events of The Silmarillion, but I dealt with it by doing what you do for an impressionist painting. I (mentally) stepped way back and let all the names flow by me, and if there were names that were repeated a lot, then I mentally attached appropriate plot points and character details to those names so I could track with who they were and what they were doing. And, actually, I found myself able to hang on and enjoy the book for the most part. This is going to lead into a re-reading of the Lord of the Rings books, since I haven’t read those in about as long…

The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien. I haven’t read some of these books since pre-teen years, with one required re-read of The Two Towers in high school (i.e. it’s been many an age since I’ve read these and my memory of the stories has been far more heavily influenced by the movies). In re-reading the first book, I was struck by the extreme tone shift for the Elves and Dwarves. Elves seem much closer to happy, mischievous fairies than these ethereal, solemn pillars of elegance and grace the movies show them to be. And Dwarves are far more bumbling and craftsmanlike than the movies show. Aside from that, The Hobbit was a pretty solid adaptation from the book, and the book also reminded me that this story was the first time I experienced “NO, MAIN CHARACTERS DON’T DIE, HOW DARE YOU,” and probably was the first book to make me cry. I must have been 8 or 10 years old. I FORGOT HOW MUCH THIS STORY INFLUENCED ME.

A Conflict of Visions by Thomas Sowell. I have a longer-than-usual list of things to say about this book. First is that it was just that level of difficult that I was struggling to understand while reading it (on Audible), but I think I got it. Sowell has several base concepts that I see repeated throughout his books, though he does like to dedicate whole books to specific aspects of the same topic. He is pretty damn thorough that way. So, for example, I would put this book in the middle of a three-book spectrum of similar concepts: Intellectuals and Society (most concrete and easiest to read), A Conflict of Visions (next-level abstraction, a little difficult to read), Knowledge and Decisions (root abstract concept, very difficult, I have not been able to get past chapter 2). The second thing I have to say is about a couple interesting concepts it proposes. Its whole point is to help readers understand the roots of two ways of seeing the world that come into severe conflict politically, and he calls them by their root titles: the constrained and the unconstrained visions. He traces the path of each back through the intellectuals that most spoke of them (tending to contrast Adam Smith with William Godwin and Condorcet). Though he leans heavily toward the constrained vision (based on reading his other works) he does his best to make this book an academic study of both, with both of the visions' strengths and flaws and reasoning and internal consistencies fairly laid out. In doing so, he helped me understand a few things that make this situation really difficult for people on opposing sides to communicate. One of them is that root words and concepts literally mean different things to different people. I had some vague notion of this before, but he laid out three examples in detail: Equality, Power, and Justice. It was kind of astounding to see just how differently these three words can be defined. It makes me think that arguing about any specific issues rooted in these concepts is fruitless until first an understanding has been reached on terms, because otherwise two parties are endlessly talking past each other. Another really interesting idea he brought up is the existence of “hybrid visions” and he named both Marxism and Fascism as hybrid visions. This was especially fascinating to me because I have seen the accusation of “Nazi” flung around ad nauseam and I wondered how it was that both sides were able to fling it at each other so readily. Well, it’s because Fascism is actually a hybrid vision, so both sides have a grain of truth but miss the whole on that particular point. In any case, this was a little difficult to read but had some fascinating information. For people who are wondering what on earth this gap is between political visions, how on earth to bridge the gap, or why the gap even exists in the first place, this is a really informative piece.

Movies

The Hobbit & Fellowship trilogies (movies). I mean, it’s definitely not my first watch, not even my second. But I went through it with Sergey this time and that means the run-time is double because we pause to talk and discuss details. This watch came about partly due to Sergey’s contention that Gandalf’s reputation far outstrips his actual powers, so we ended up noting down every instance of Gandalf’s power to see if that was true. Conclusion: Gandalf is actually a decently powerful wizard, but tends to use the truly kickass powers in less-than-dire circumstances. That aside, this movie series was always a favorite for me. I rated The Hobbit trilogy lower the first time I saw it but, frankly, all together the six movies are fantastic and a great way to sink deep into lore-heavy fantasy for a while. And I’m catching way more easter-egg type details after having read the Silmarillion so it’s even more enjoyable. (finally, after about a week of binge-watching) I forgot how much this story impacted me. I forgot how wrenchingly bittersweet the ending is. I forgot how much of a mark that reading and watching this story left on my writing.

Upside-Down Magic. Effects were good. Actors were clearly having fun and enjoying everything. Story didn’t make enough sense for my taste, but it was a decent way to kill flight time.

Wish Dragon. So, yes, it’s basically an Aladdin rewrite, but it’s genuinely a cheesy good fluff fest that made me grin a whole lot.

Plays

Esther (Sight and Sound Theatres). < background info > This is my third time to this theatre. There are only two of these in existence and they only run productions of stories out of the Bible. The first time I went I saw a production of Noah, the second time I saw a production of Jesus. My middle sister has moved all the way out to Lancaster, PA in hopes of working at this theatre. My husband and I came out to visit her. < /background info > So. Esther. They really pulled out all the stops on the costumes and set. I mean, REALLY pulled out all the stops. And the three-quarters wrap-around stage is used to great effect. I tend to have a general problem of not understanding all the words in the songs, but I understood enough. I highly recommend sitting close to the front for immersive experiences. This theatre puts on incredible productions and if you ever, ever, EVER have the opportunity to go, take it. Even if you think it's nothing but a bunch of fairy tales, STILL GO. I doubt you'll ever see a fairy tale produced on another stage with equal dedication to immersion.

Shows

The Mandalorian (first two seasons). Well. This was pretty thoroughly enjoyable. It felt very Star-Wars, and I’d kind of given up after recent movies. Felt like it slipped into some preaching toward the end? Not sure, I could be overly sensitive about it, but I enjoyed this a lot (though I did need to turn to my housemate and ask where the flip in the timeline we were because I did NOT realize that the little green kid IS NOT ACTUALLY Yoda).

Games

Portal & Portal 2. Portal is probably the first video game I ever tried to play, back when I had no idea what I was doing. Back then, I attempted to play it on my not-for-gaming Mac laptop. Using my trackpad. Once the jumping-for-extra-velocity mechanic came into play, I just about lost my mind trying to do this with a trackpad and gave up. Later I returned to the game and played it with my then-boyfriend on a proper gaming computer. Now, after having played several games and gotten better at "reading the language" of video games, I decided I wanted to see if I could beat the Portal games by myself. Guess what. I BEAT 'EM. Yes, I remembered most of the puzzles in Portal so that's a little bit of a cheat, but I'd say a good 2/3 of Portal 2 was new puzzles to me. It is crazy how proud I feel of myself that I could beat Portal 2, especially. Learning how to play video games at this age has really knocked down the lie, "You can't learn anything." Though I still suck at platformers and games that require precision. Since I find those types frustrating, I probably won't be playing many. Games are about enjoyment, so I'll push myself a little, but not to the point where I can't stand what I'm playing.

The Observer. I like the concept and the art but I don't think I could keep trying to play this game. It's really depressing. My in-game family members all died of illness or accident or committed suicide. I also kept getting executed by the state. In order to keep us all alive I'd have to do pretty terrible things that I have a hard enough time contemplating even in a fictional setting.

Baba Is You. Fun and interesting concept, but I got stuck pretty early on. Don't think I want to push as hard on this one.

#recent media consumed #n00b gamer child #child loves books #child loves movies #child loves shows

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btssunnyboy · 4 years

Text

— Infatuated Desires — Yandere! Actor Kim Taehyung

He was only supposed to play a psycho on a movie, what happens when he personally starts to develop the same intentions as his character?

Word Count - 5,063

Warning - Yandere behaviors, stalking, profanity, unwanted kiss on the forehead, murder, a picture of said body is shown to your character as well. Blood and gore.

BTS , NCT , ATEEZ , Reqest Open.

__________________________________________

You’d think with the countless times Kim Taehyung has played a love interest, he’d be able to focus his emotions on one thing at a time. But obviously that statistic couldn’t be more wrong. He’s never truly felt that tug in his heart for someone, that little bit of excitement that should ignite within him whenever that someone is around. No matter how much he tries nothing, not a single spark, comes from his pity attempts at love. It was honestly embarrassing, seeing as the public eyes have noticed him with many potential people, but it always ends up in disaster as he somehow can’t figure out his feelings for them. Although it’s been over a few dozen tries, if it hasn’t worked out by now is it ever going to?

Rose, his manger, has done countless things to try and boost his “love” appeal, if you could even call it that. Despite his very open and caring characters on screen his true persona could not be more different. He’s very much a keep to himself type of person, making sure his voice is in the background of conversation, so that it doesn’t draw unnecessary attention towards him. Also making sure that each and every encounter is as simple as one, two, three. After all, why does he need a real life love interest so much, how could he ever benefit from that?

“Will you at least look over the script! For once it’s a thriller type of romance!” Rose tried to persuade her client to at least take a glimpse of the script. And she wasn’t wrong about it being a thriller type of romance, the only thing she left out was the fact it was a horror, thrill romance. But seeing the way that Taehyung could pull off a loving husband one minute into a mere hermit crab the next. His range is impeccable, he’d definitely be able to pull off the psycho that they need on the big screen. Once more Rose’s eyes settled on the uneasy man, as she tried to maneuver the thick script into his grasp. “I’m begging you to at least look at it.”

A heavy huff of air passed through his lips as he begrudgingly took the script. The name, Infatuated Desire, printed in bold lettering across the top of the page. From the title alone he could already piece together the type of movie this was going to be, and it certainly wasn’t anything he’s dabbled into before. A psycho fuckboy type of character who becomes obsessed with someone that was the apple of his eye all along. Taehyung cleared his throat loudly, as he spoke his question, “So basically I’d be playing a dumbass college boy who can’t keep it in pants because he wants someone to notice him?”

“I mean kinda, but he gets more evil and manipulative as the story goes on! He tricks the character, Rue, by acting like he doesn’t give too shits about her, but he does change in the middle of the movie!” Rose exclaimed as she tapped her fingers against her cheek. This could actually be a learning experience for him, seeing a new side of himself on screen might break him out of his secure shell. The shift of his eyebrow was making a pit form in the depths of her stomach, his quietness was a tell tale sign of his discomfort. And right now he doesn’t seem too happy with the events that are taking place. “Would showing you a picture of your co - star make things any better?”

Her question seemed to go in one ear and out the other. A bland expression stayed glued to his face, as his eyes raked over the words on the paper, then to meet Rose’s small stare. He rolled his eyes playfully as he gestured towards the gold phone laying a inch away from her. A small squeak of excitement exuded from her as she quickly typed away on the glass screen. Those long acrylic nails made a pleasant sound as they tapped a rhythm on the phone. A playful chuckle passed through his lips, and he started to joke, “Any day now.”

“This is the beautiful co-star named Y/n L/n! And I know she doesn’t look familiar because this is actually going to be her break up movie!” He tried to focus on the excitement that laced her voice, but he couldn’t. Surprisingly, right now the only thing he could focus on was you. Well, the picture of you that adored his agent’s phone. There wasn’t anything special or out of the ordinary about this picture, it was simply you in an old coffee shop, and yet you looked ethereal. The way the old lights made your eyes shimmer, and your dazzling smile made his heart fill with an unfamiliar type of emotions. For lack of better words, he was stunned by all the beauty that was taking place in this photo.

“Oh, I didn’t expect that.” His reply was quick, as he knew he was already taking too long to respond. But he can’t seem to string together a coherent sentence that truly captures the beauty within that small screen. Maybe working in a new role won’t be so bad, but he just hopes your personality is as nice as your looks. If they are then maybe, just maybe he’ll actually try to socialize a bit better with this co-star.

“See, I told you this would be a great deal! And I met her when I was picking up the script, and she's as sweet as they get! Maybe you two will become friends! So are you gonna do the movie?” Rose exclaimed as she clutched his hands excitedly, and watched as Taehyung’s face remained bland. A small groan of annoyance bubbled in her throat, as he stayed silent.

“And she is definitely going to be in the movie with me?” Taehyung questioned once more, as his free fingers delicately traced the spine of the script. Refusing to give Rose the victory of meeting her eyes, they stayed trained on that stupid script. But, nonetheless a special script that somehow brought someone like you into his life, and he was going to make sure to keep you in it.

“Absolutely, honey! Now it’s getting late, get some sleep and you two will officially meet tomorrow!” Rose gushed while packing her bag. A bright smile taking over her face, as she mentally got excited about the two of you meeting. She saw exactly how his eyes lit up when he first saw your picture, maybe you’re the key to help him over his shyness when he’s off camera. “I’ll see you tomorrow for rehearsal!”

Taehyung bid her a quick goodnight as he whipped out his phone. Typing in your username as fast as the speed of light, he needed to see your face again. The mere sight of it calming him down within an instant, and he cherished that feeling. Being so well known and having eyes constantly on you could be overwhelming sometimes. That smile on that cute face of yours was more than enough to set his mind at ease, and he just wishes that he could see it in person sooner than tomorrow. For the first time in a long time Taehyung was actually able to fall asleep with a peaceful image on his mind.

_______________________________________

Rose immediately noticed the pep in Taehyung’s step the next morning. A smile that was brighter than his usual one, and she loved to see it. She loved seeing him genuinely happy for once, and right now she’d do anything to keep that smile on his face. A soft hand was rubbing comforting circles on his back when they first entered the table read. Everyone’s eyes snapped towards new entering people, bright smiles coming to their faces as they noticed a familiar set of people

“I’m so glad you were convinced to take the role, Mr. Kim! If you would please take a seat next to Ms. L/n and we’ll go over the plot and start shooting soon!” The director spoke happily as he gestured towards the open seat. Taehyung’s eyes fell onto the brown cushion that was placed within the seat itself. A little hesitation was noticeable in his walk. He didn’t want to overstep any boundaries by sitting too close or anything and the last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable in any way.

“You can sit, I promise I don’t bite.” You teased light heartedly as you patted the seat next to you. A quirked eyebrow in his direction almost like a sign telling him to hurry it up. And his heart quickened in pace, he was terrified that his shirt was moving in the same rhythmic pattern. He didn’t want to appear weird if you noticed just how anxious he got from meeting you. Without wasting another second he hastily planted himself in the seat beside yours. “I’m, Y/n, but you probably knew that already! But...um I’m really excited to work with you.”

Once more his heart started beating rapidly at the sound of your voice. It was like music to his ear, and he could listen to it on repeat for days. He thought of how sweet you seemed online, and how cute you were in your photos, but now he’s even more astonished about the beauty you hold in real life. Everything is enhanced, from the way your eyes are shining in the office light, to the small laugh lines you have surrounding your mouth. Oh, the list could go on and on, and he’d gladly sit down and list off everything he finds amazing about you. And it’s only been a few minutes. Soon he noticed your head tilt in worry at the fact he hasn’t spoken yet, and he mentally scolded himself for having the audacity to leave you with no response. “Oh, yeah! I’m quite excited to work with you as well. I hear this is your first first film, and I hope it launches your career.”

“Thank you so much, that truly means a lot coming from you.” You whispered, as you tried to shake his hand in a professional manner. And he felt his body shut down when your skin came into contact with his. The soft sensation paired with that honey voice was driving him crazy. Almost like it made him malfunction and it was starting to take a toll on him. Why were you so different, he’s had flings in the past, but right now he doesn’t want a fling. For some reason why he wants things to work, he wants this five second professional meeting to turn into a five year relationship. All of these thoughts were racing through his mind, and it was starting to worry him about how quickly he became attached. Usually it’s the other way around.

“I presume we’re okay with heading into shooting now?” The director questioned as he looked at yours and Taehyung’s agent. Seeing both of them shake their heads, the crew knew it was game time. They were ready to make this horror romance a hit on the big screen. “Let’s make some magic, shall we!”

Everyone scattered in the direction of the director. All of them panicking to get the extras into place, and make sure the two stars of the move are front and center. Your hastily steps were no match for Taehyung’s as he easily caught up with them. “I hope you don’t mind me tagging along. I just think it might be good to get some friendly conversation in before shooting.”

His voice was soft spoken, and that was one thing you liked about him. He never rushed his words or tried to make a big deal with his presence. Either you noticed him at that moment or he faded into the shadows, no in between. Before he got a chance to leave you jumped on the opportunity to bother him. “I don’t mind at all, in fact I think it would be best if we got to know each other.”

“Me too, if you don’t mind me asking why did you pick a movie like this for your start up career?” He inquired as he kept a small pace with you. As well as trying to keep a good distance between each other as well. Even though it might be a little hard considering the feelings that are taking over his body right now. The temptation to pull your body close, and feel those soft lips against his was growing. But you only just met, and somehow he feels like he’s known you a lifetime already.

“To be honest with you, my agent saw a horror type movie and just jumped on the deal without giving it much thought afterwards. He said something about showing everyone I can play a serious role right from the start, that's why they won’t see it coming if I’m doing something different.” You admitted, while fiddling with the sleeve of your shirt. His eyes never left your shy figure as you tried to avoid eye contact with him. But why were you trying to avoid it, he genuinely liked talking to you already, and the sound of your sweet voice was still like music to his ears. For some reason his mind latched onto the word he in your sentence, and it made a pit form in his stomach, and his hands clutched tightly together.

“Don’t be embarrassed by that, Rose, did the exact same thing and now look at me.” Taehyung tried a lame attempt at a joke, and shockingly you let out a little chuckle. Oh god, even you laugh was adorable. This was all new territory for Taehyung, usually he has to pretend to be interested in his co-stars, asking questions, and faking a shocked reaction. But you seem so genuine that faking anything is out of the question, he wants your everything. He wants to know what keeps you up at night, what’s your biggest fear, what’s your most devastating secret to this day.

“I just hope my career turns out as good as yours. You’re amazing, honestly.” You mused while giving him a small smile. Everything you’re doing is somehow making him fall deeper and deeper into your love spell. But truth be told, he doesn’t really mind. Without thinking he reached forwards and grasped your right hand, and didn’t break eye contact.

“I just know you’re going to be the most beautiful star, you have absolutely nothing to worry about.” His actions seemed innocent, like a friend that was trying to give a small pep talk to someone in need. But the way he was gripping your hand like his life depended on it, was a whole different story. A small jerk was delivered to his hand in an attempt to take away your hand, something about this interaction now, felt off. And you didn’t want to deal with that.

“Thank you, Taehyung, but we’re falling behind. We need to get situated for hair and makeup.” It was obvious that was an excuse to get away from his close behavior. His head tilted in confusion, why are you trying to get away from him? He’s trying to be vulnerable, he’s trying to show that he can be loving, goddamn it! With a slight nod of his head, you walked off in the direction of the makeup staff. If he doesn’t play his cards right then you might quit the movie before it’s even begun, and he definitely couldn’t have that. _______________________________________

Everything was fine at the start, like it was picture perfect. You as the bright eyes and bushy tail lead, paired with the ever soft, and shy co-star who looks like he wouldn’t hurt a fly. But obviously looks can be deceiving, because you never expected Kim Taehyung to act like this.

“Oh come on, Rue. He’s bad news I’m just trying to keep you from getting hurt.” Lucas, Taehyung's character tried to persuade your character into ditching a date last minute. His voice was stern as he followed along behind you, with his wide steps. A soft echo of his shoes hitting the pavement filled you ears.

“Oh, like you’re any better. You’re probably a walking STD, and besides at least Sam knows how to keep it in his pants.” You spat out harshly towards him, as you yanked your head in his direction. A small smirk came over his face, and the temptation to smack it right off was growing. With a few moments of silence you knew it was time to turn around and walk away, before you could even get a step away his large hand yanked forcefully at your forearm. “Lucas, let go. You’re hurting me.”

“Next time, princess, I’d think twice about mentioning another man's name when you’re in my presence. Now I strictly forbid that date to happen, and if you want to keep little Sam safe you better not go tonight.” Each word seemed like it was laced with pure venom. A sinister glint was sparkling in his eyes, and for some reason why you felt like this was much more than a character. This sensation felt too real for it to be a made up scenario. The way his hand was clutching your arm tight enough to leave bruises was worrying you, and he seemed genuinely upset about the fact you spoke another man's name.

“Lucas you’re scaring me, I mean it! Let me go and leave me the hell alone!” That was real panic laced in your voice as he got closer to your face. His warm breath lingering on the tip of your lips, and it was paralyzing you. The thought of him actually kissing you was sending you in a spiral. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

“I mean it, Rue. I will kill him, mark my words. If I ever see you within ten feet of that guy, I just want you to know his blood will be on your hands.” He seethed as he forcibly shoved your body to the side. A scowl written across his face as his shoulder collided with you for the last time. The small action made sheet panic shoot through your body.

“Cut! That was amazing, you two, really nice work. We’ve got enough footage for today! Pack it up and head home.”

You bid everyone a small goodbye as you gathered up all your things. Making sure to examine them, just to be clear that everything is the way it’s supposed to be. It might seem weird, but you still can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong. Like someone’s eyes are always watching your every move. It was traumatizing just to think about. Even right now it felt like a shadow was following you right for the perfect time to strike.

“Hey! It’s just me! Calm down.” Felix ushered as he retracted his hand from your shoulder. The look of terror that crossed your face made panic shoot through him. He didn’t mean to scare you at all, in fact he was just trying to be friendly and ask if you wanted to grab a bite to eat. “I’m so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I was just gonna ask if you wanted to go to dinner.”

A light laugh floated through the air, as you tried to regain your posture. You rubbed a hand over your face, and stared at your other co-star. “Of course, I would love to. And I’m really sorry about getting all jumpy, it’s just I keep feeling weird.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Felix asked with real concern as he started to take your bag. His eyes were trained on you as you started to speak. “Is this about Taehyung?”

At the mention of his name you felt eyes on you. The sinking feeling in your gut was growing, but you needed to get this off of your chest. “It’s just I know he’s playing the role in the movie, and I get that. His character is crazy, but it seems like he’s starting to act like it in real life.”

“Can I tell you something, but you have to promise to keep it to yourself.” Felix whispered as he placed his hand on your lower back, and tried to pull you a bit closer. Your head ducked down so both of your heads were positioned towards the ground. “I keep seeing him stalk your social media accounts on break, and every time you have a scene with another dude, he goes berserk. I heard him yelling at his agent about this too.”

The sudden pound of information made you stop dead in your tracks. You knew this wasn’t just a gut feeling, it was real. Those psychotic tendencies were starting to bleed into his real personality. If this keeps happening he might end up hurting someone, just like he does in the movie. Oh, god you never be able to live with yourself if you ever found out you’re the cause of someone’s demise. “Maybe we shouldn’t go to dinner together.”

“Y/n, I’m not scared of him if that’s what you’re worried about. I don’t care if he gets rough with me, because I really like you and I thought we could get to know each other better.” Felix relaxed his soft grip, and left his hand fall back to his side. A smile playing on his feature as he waited for you to give him a response.

“Are you sure about this?” You needed a real answer, because if anything does happen you’d never be able to live with yourself. Even if you did like Felix, Taehyung still made terror strike the the center of your heart. “I just don’t want you getting hurt.”

“You’re definitely worth the risk, Y/n.” Felix smiled as he gestured towards your hand. A small difference between him and Taehyung. On one hand Felix is soft, and gentle with his touches. Taehyung is forceful and a little bit rough. “So should we go?”

“Yes, lets go.”

_______________________________________

That exchange of words was absolutely disgusting. How dare that asshole plant fear into your heart. Looking at a social media page is fine, and he was only talking to Rose because he was worried about the other actors. They seemed like they were the type to take advantage of a sweet new comer, and he could not let that happen. You were so pure, not yet corrupted by this stupid dog eat dog industry. He just wanted you to stay that way forever. Right now the only thing on his mind was getting rid of the impure person that was planting seeds of terror within you.

Taehyung watched like a hawk as you two walked to the little diner down the street. Hand intertwined with one another, and he fought the urge to get out of hiding and attack now. But his original plan was much better, the element of surprise would surely get his message across. A message that stated all he had to do was stay away and he wouldn’t be involved in this predicament. When he finally knew you two were in the confinements of the diner he raced off towards Felix’s house. As soon as he picked the lock he welcomed himself into someone else’s safe space.

It was at least an hour before he heard Felix unlock the door. Taehyung was so lucky he lived walking distance away so no car was in sight at all. He stood directly behind the front door, as he waited for the perfect time to strike. The moment he had a clear view of Felix’s head he smacked the blunt end of the hammer on it. Making sure to put enough force behind it to knock him out. And out like a light he went. Pretty soon Taehyung propped Felix up in a chair, and duct taped his hands and feet to the chair.

“Come on, pretty boy wake up.” Taehyung taunted as he smacked the hammer against the wooden table. A fearful jerk from Felix made his heart swell with joy. He should be scared, because he decided to mess with someone and make it seem like Taehyung was the bad guy. On the contrary he was the good guy in this game, he was getting rid of the people who were out to harm you. “I’m guessing you understand what you’re in this mess.”

“You’re a sick bastard.” Felix spat at Taehyung's face. As he tried to wiggle his arm free of the multiple layers of duct tape that were wrapped tightly around his arms and legs. Before he could even finish another sentence a harsh blow of the hammer collided with his left knee. Searing hot pain shot through his body, while he physically felt the bones in legs start to crumple. “Why...are you doing this.”

Taehyung wanted to laugh at the state of misery he had put Felix in. The way fresh tears were cascading down his cheeks every few seconds, and deep breaths he was taking to calm himself down was just adding to the thrill of it all. “You know, you were never on my list of people I hated for this movie, because you kept your distance from her. That’s all you had to do, but you just had to go off and tell her all about the shit you’ve supposedly seen me do. You shouldn't have tried to take her away from me.”

“She’s scared of y-you.” The victim stuttered as they tried yet again to wiggle themselves free. A dark look overcame Taehyung's face at the mention of you. “You’re psychotic, she’s scared you’re gonna hurt her.”

“That’s a lie! You’re lying!” Taehyung bellowed as he raised the hammer in a fit of anger, and smashed it down on Felix's skull. Taking the forked in and out with rapid motions. He was lying! You can’t be scared of him, you’re not supposed to be scared of the good guys! And Taehyung’s a good fucking guy! “She’s not, she’s not scared of me! I know it!”

He took a step back to get the full picture of his work. The gaping hole in the side of his head was slowly leaking blood, and it was staining his blond hair. Then his eye was falling right out of the socket. The nerve ending being the only thing to hold the eye in place. After a brutal beat down the enemy is gone, and now you’re officially free and safe! Right now the only sound in the entire house was the clicking of his camera, he was going to prove he had gotten rid of all the bad guys. “Oh she’s going to be thrilled tomorrow!”

_______________________________________

Taehyung got to play the role of the grieving coworker once more. As they shared the heartbreaking news of the murder of Felix. For once he was fighting back a smile as he watched your body go numb. You were just in shock that the bad guy was finally away for good! Now was the perfect time to show you all of the evidence. His hand grasped yours, and yanked you into a nearby room. Your eyes widened in horror as you tried to fight back in his grasp, the last thing you wanted was those filthy hands to touch you.

“Please calm down! I’m not gonna hurt you, I just want to show you something!” Taehyung admitted as he struggled to pull up the picture on his phone. As soon as he did he placed the blinding screen in front of your eyes and forced you to look at the photo. The photo of Felix’s mangled body.

“What the hell is wrong with you!” Your words were muffled from his hand being placed around your mouth. Questions were racing through your mind, were you next, was the main one. Right now all you wanted to do was leave,run away, and never look back. “You sick freak! Let go of me! I’m calling the police!”

“Oh, dear. Good luck with that, haven’t you realized by now I’m a master of disguise! Besides do you really think they’re gonna believe you when you were the last one with him. You could have easily been in his house after you date.” Taehyung started as he held your body close, and let your head rest against his chest. Taking in the sweet scent of your shampoo. The lavender smell put him at ease.

“Taehyung! let me go!” You tried to thrash around once more. To no avail as he just tightened his grip around your body. Almost cutting off your air supply, but he soon pulled your body away from his. Cupping your face in his hands, as he wiped your cheeks softly. Making sure every last tear was gone from your perfect face.

“Don’t worry, baby! All the bad guys are gone, and if anyone else tries to get in my way, they’ll meet the same consequences.” He smiled as he placed a small kiss on your forehead. “And remember if you don’t want this to happen again you’ll stay by my side forever. Do you promise?”

With a shaky lip, you tried to muster up the courage to tell him off. Tell him he’s a psycho that deserves to rot in hell for crimes he’s committed. But right now he’s still a stronger competitor, and he’s right. Who would believe you over him. “I promise Taehyung.”

“Good, now that wasn't so hard was it! Keep this charade going, when we go back out there, if anybody asks you needed a shoulder to cry on. But if you mention this to anybody they will meet the same fate, sweetheart, and I love you so much.”

“I love you, Taehyung.” You sighed, because you had to play along. If you didn’t you knew someone else would meet the same grave that Felix did. As much as you hated this man, you needed it to seem like you were in love with him. Then when he least expects it you’re gonna make him pay for everything he’s done.

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sacred-algae · 3 years

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In celebration of The Great Gatsby entering public domian, I would like to publish an essay I wrote a few years back. Because I hate The Great Gatsby with the burning passion of a thousand suns.

A Character Analysis of The Great Gatsby:

Gatsby, Nick and Daisy

“The Great Gatsby” by F. Scott Fitzgerald is often revered as one of the greatest American novels of all time. It makes us take off our rose-colored glasses and look at the rich whom we idolize so much. But are our perspectives of this book also tinted by its title of the great American novel? We are often misdirected in this book to forget many important quotes that change the way we look at the main characters completely. Authors make sure that everything in the book has a purpose. If it was included, it’s important and shouldn't be ignored. Readers often place certain expectations on the characters due to its high status, however, this paper will show that the characters in question are not as they are commonly perceived, whether good or bad, and explore the complex writing behind the characters, Nick, Gatsby, and Daisy.

Although Nick Carraway is seen by many for who he is, arrogant and judgemental, they still miss out on the bigger picture. He glorifies violence and he is a cheater. The problem with Nick and the book is that rather than the book being written by Fitzgerald, it is written by Nick. Because of this, we see him in a glorified manner. The first few lines of the book show this. “In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since.” (pg. 3) Using the words “younger”, “vulnerable” and even “father” he immediately ensures that we have his sympathy. He does the same thing again later, and more directly, at the very end of chapter three. “Everyone suspects himself of at least one of the cardinal virtues, and this is mine: I am one of the few honest people that I have ever known.” (pg. 65) This is where most people begin to see his true self shine through. However, it should be seen much earlier. In chapter one he mentions something very sinister. “I participated in that delayed Teutonic migration known as the Great War. I enjoyed the counter-raid so thoroughly that I came back restless. Instead of being the warm center of the world the middle-west now seemed like the ragged edge of the universe” (pg. 5) Nick says directly to the reader that he enjoyed WWI. Only second to WWII (85,000,000 or 3% of the entire world’s population), WWI is the bloodiest war in world history with a death toll of 16,000,000. 40,000,000 if you include deaths resulting from the Spanish Flu. (statistics from Wikipedia) For someone to enjoy being at war there has to be something majorly wrong with them. Not only that but it can be said with near certainty that Nick was cheating on a girl out west when he had his fling with Jordan. In chapter one after dinner with the Buchanans this conversation tasks place. “As I started my motor Daisy peremptorily called ‘Wait! ‘I forgot to ask you something, and it’s important. We heard you were engaged to a girl out West.’ ‘That’s right,’ corroborated Tom kindly. ‘We heard that you were engaged.’ ‘It’s libel. I’m too poor.’ ‘But we heard it,’ insisted Daisy, surprising me by opening up again in a flower-like way. ‘We heard it from three people so it must be true.’” (pg. 23) For there to be rumors that someone is engaged with someone else it has to be commonly known that they are in a relationship. Nick is a severely flawed, if not evil, character.

Many people strive to be like Jay Gatsby, with his charm and “extraordinary gift for hope.” Even then, the biggest argument of the book is whether or not he truly loves Daisy. Most clues point to no. Gatsby even remarks that “‘Her voice is full of money,’” (pg. 128). He sees her as a prize to be won. He chases her, she’s the final thing he needs to have his perfect life. And during a flashback to his first kiss with her, right before the iconic passage where “she blossomed for him like a flower,” Fitzgerald describes his desire for her like this: “The quiet lights in the houses were humming out into the darkness and there was a stir and bustle among the stars. Out of the corner of his eye Gatsby saw that the blocks of the sidewalk really formed a ladder and mounted to a secret place above the trees—he could climb to it, if he climbed alone, and once there he could suck on the pap of life, gulp down the incomparable milk of wonder.” Possibly the most frightening passage in the book. It sounds like some bestial craving. But that is just his relationship with Daisy. Tom accuses him of bootlegging. “‘I found out what your ‘drug stores’ were.’ He turned to us and spoke rapidly. ‘He and this Wolfshiem bought up a lot of side-street drug stores here and in Chicago and sold grain alcohol over the counter. That’s one of his little stunts. I picked him for a bootlegger the first time I saw him and I wasn’t far wrong.’” (pg.143) We never are told explicitly that this is true but it is left to the reader to decide this. And there is plenty of evidence. When Gatsby is giving Daisy a tour of the mansion we hear him on his side of a phone call. “...the phone rang and Gatsby took up the receiver. ‘Yes…. Well, I can’t talk now…. I can’t talk now, old sport…. I said a SMALL town…. He must know what a small town is…. Well, he’s no use to us if Detroit is his idea of a small town….’” (pg. 100-101) This again isn't explicit but why would the person in question be of no use to him if they think that Detroit is a small town? They need a small town. If it is a big one it is easier for the police to track his business. And after Gatsby dies Nick answers another business call. “...said Chicago was calling...‘This is Slagle speaking....’ ‘Yes?’ The name was unfamiliar. ‘Hell of a note, isn’t it? Get my wire?’ ‘There haven’t been any wires.’ ‘Young Parke’s in trouble,’ he said rapidly. ‘They picked him up when he handed the bonds over the counter. They got a circular from New York giving ‘em the numbers just five minutes before. What d’you know about that, hey? You never can tell in these hick towns——‘ ‘Hello!’ I interrupted breathlessly. ‘Look here—this isn’t Mr. Gatsby. Mr. Gatsby’s dead.’” This is a hint towards Gatsby making money selling counterfeit bonds. A business that he tried to recruit Nick too. “‘Why, I thought—why, look here, old sport, you don’t make much money, do you?’ ‘Not very much.’ This seemed to reassure him and he continued more confidently. ‘I thought you didn’t, if you’ll pardon my—you see, I carry on a little business on the side, a sort of sideline, you understand. And I thought that if you don’t make very much—You’re selling bonds, aren’t you, old sport?’ ‘Trying to.’ ‘Well, this would interest you. It wouldn’t take up much of your time and you might pick up a nice bit of money. It happens to be a rather confidential sort of thing.’” (pg. 88-89) Why is it confidential? Because it’s illegal. Not only is Gatsby’s relationship with Daisy toxic, but he is a mobster. This in itself isn’t problematic, but people may have died because of him, and the book shies past this point.

Daisy Buchanan is hated by most people who read the book. It is said that she is shallow and arrogant. This is a look to the surface. First, it is important to understand Daisy and Tom’s ages. When the book takes place Daisy is 23, Tom is 30. Making Daisy 18 and Tom 25 at the time they were married. While she is legal this marriage is incredibly creepy. She is stuck in a marriage with a racist, cheating, borderline abusive husband. And she knows this. Even then she is brave enough to call him out (and mock him) on his racism in chapter one at dinner. “‘Tom’s getting very profound,’ said Daisy with an expression of unthoughtful sadness. ‘He reads deep books with long words in them. What was that word we——‘ ‘Well, these books are all scientific,’ insisted Tom…” (pg. 16) She’s trapped in a situation where she has no control. She tries to reclaim her life through Gatsby but she quickly learns that he isn’t different. “‘Please don’t.’ Her voice was cold, but the rancour was gone from it. She looked at Gatsby. ‘There, Jay,’ she said— but her hand as she tried to light a cigarette was trembling. Suddenly she threw the cigarette and the burning match on the carpet. ‘Oh, you want too much!’ she cried to Gatsby. ‘I love you now—isn’t that enough? I can’t help what’s past.’ She began to sob helplessly. ‘I did love him once—but I loved you too.’” (pg. 141-142). Daisy lives in a society where women are seen and not heard. She knows this but still does what she can to speak for herself. She is incredibly smart. People don’t give her enough credit. Take the iconic line, “Well, she was less than an hour old and Tom was God knows where. I woke up out of the ether with an utterly abandoned feeling and asked the nurse right away if it was a boy or a girl. She told me it was a girl, and so I turned my head away and wept. ‘All right,’ I said, ‘I’m glad it’s a girl. And I hope she’ll be a fool—that’s the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.’” (pg. 20)

She is smart enough to see what is happening around her and it breaks her, that's why she wants her daughter to be a fool. She’ll never have to question it, she’ll never know it, she’ll always be happy.

“The Great Gatsby” indeed is a great book. One with deeply complex characters. But we need to take a second look at them, not just accept what others tell us. Because of its high status, the characters of “The Great Gatsby” are often subject to preconceived notions, through discussing and analyzing quotes in the book you can begin to see both sides of Nick, Gatsby, and Daisy. When we see someone say something about them, or any person, or anything, question it. As the great Albert Einstein once said-“The important thing is to never stop questioning.”

We need to stop idolizing Nick and Gatsby, and stop victim blaming Daisy. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk

#the great gatsby #Scott f Fitzgerald #I hate this book #and everyone in it #*except Daisy #excuse my rant #and the possible crappy essay #not my best work #but yes #i hate this book

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all-hail-the-witcher · 4 years

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jaskier’s breakup album

alright full disclosure i probably went into way more detail than i needed to. but jaskiers a dramatic little shit and therefore so am i. but this album slowly became my baby and I've been listening to it for the last 2 weeks while I've been doing homework and its a good sad bop. these are just my opinions, but i think it would be cool to see what other people think (esp because im fairly new to this fandom). also this post is really long. sorry about that.

so. we all know jaskier is a bard. he traipses around writing songs about whatever fling he's having or about his witcher. netflix canon makes it pretty clear that geralt is one of jaskiers muses (and probably one of his more reliable ones given what we know about jaskiers dating history). jaskier is also very, very dramatic (as I'm sure everyone knows cause he's the damn comic relief that show desperately needs). in particular though the scene at the beginning of 1x05 where geralt is djinn hunting and jaskier stumbles upon him, drunk, singing off key, and rambles about how "the countess de stael, my muse and beauty of this world, has left me. again. rather coldly and unexpectedly, i might add. i fear i shall die a broken hearted man” and jaskier is clearly half muttering some sad attempt at a breakup song he's trying to write at the beginning of the episode so the question is, wouldn't he do the same thing post mountain scream down with geralt?

the answer is of course, yes he would because jaskier is nothing if not a dramatic little shit. and i am proposing that he writes not only one but an entire album (or set if this is canon era, but if this is canon i think he would keep a great many of these songs to himself, only playing a few select ones with the hopes that someday geralt will hear one and realize how badly he fucked up) of break songs and lamentations about geralt, because say all you want about what their relationship is, but one does not simply go traipsing around the entire continent with someone for 20 years and not grow close to them in some way shape or form (and the show makes it clear that geralt is at least one of jaskiers close friends so). now what is on this breakup album? well I'm glad you asked.

i peg jaskiers music (modern or canon honestly) for this album as being a combination of taylor swift’s folklore/evermore albums and james arthur and ill explain why.

taylor swifts folklore/evermore albums have this almost ethereal, floaty, reminiscent, indie vibes. there are many metaphors, recurring themes and its overall kinda dramatic at points which i feel is exactly what jaskier would be doing right now (it also just kinda gives me canon era vibes, idk). but james arthurs music is much more emotionally intense which i think is definitely in character for jaskier at this point because he strikes me as someone who copes with things through his music. both artists do the sings through story telling in an almost monologue manner which goes along with that kinda bardic music and all that. i also think that jaskier would want geralt to know that these songs are about him because hes dramatic like that (kinda like how taylor swift writes her stuff). anyway here's what i think would be on his breakup album:

heres a link to the playlist

1. the lakes - taylor swift 2. from me to you i hate everybody - james arthur 3. maybe - james arthur 4. sad eyes - james arthur 5. hoax - taylor swift 6. naked - james arthur 7. right where you left me - taylor swift 8. all too well - taylor swift 9. impossible - james arthur 10. exile - taylor swift 11. illicit affairs -taylor swift 12. safe inside - james arthur 13. quite miss home -james arthur 14. my tears ricochet -taylor swift 15. phoenix - james arthur 16. this is me trying - taylor swift 17. happiness - taylor swift 18. death by a thousand cuts - taylor swift 19. empty space - james arthur 20. coney island - taylor swift 21. new years day - taylor swift 22. the 1 -taylow swift

so theres 22 songs which im sure jaskier would do on purpose cause hes a dramatic little shit ( “one song for every year i wasted on you” or something of that sort). jaskier being a dramatic little shit is going to be a recurring theme. some of them work better for modern era than canon era but as a whole this can be interpreted as either romantic or platonic. anyway lets unpack.

1. the lakes by taylor swift (more canon era interpretation)

this song is the bonus and final track off of folklore. the song is actually about how she wants to go live in seclusion with her boyfriend out of the public eye but that is not what it means in this interpretation. i think that this song is about how jaskier feels as though his career as a bard is tainted now because he spent so many years singing geralts praises and there is no way he will be able to escape that part of his life because undoubtedly hes going to get requests for toss a coin and others he wrote about geralt and people will probably know him as “the witchers bard”. so this song is him talking about how he wants to run away and live out his life in seclusion because geralt took from him one of the only happinesses in his life.

Take me to the lakes, where all the poets went to die I don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you Those Windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry I'm settin' off, but not without my muse

the line “i dont belong and my beloved neither do you” references the fact that jaskier feels like an outcast now that he’s spent years traveling around with a witcher, notoriously outcasts from society, so he feels that he doesnt belong anymore either.

I want auroras and sad prose I want to watch wisteria grow Right over my bare feet 'Cause I haven't moved in years And I want you right here

the second stanza references his idealization of living out his life in solitude, with nature, where no one can judge him (and geralt cant yell at him).

jasper would have started this album with that song because it states his intentions: he feels as though he’s done with singing. it could also refer to him leaving the public eye (in modern era) to write this album.

2. from me to you i hate everybody by james arthur (more canon era interpretation)

songs 2-4 on jaskiers album are ones that he wrote at various points while he and geralt were still together/best friends/etc. these three songs establish what the relationship was like before everything went downhill, but they are kind of melancholy, like looking back on a past love (which is what jaskier is doing). this one jaskier wrote about when they met. geralt would have heard him play it before and he would have known that this song was about him (he probably also secretly liked it and jaskier putting it on his album would have been like a slap in the face because it wasn't one that he had shared with other people, thinking it to be too personal). if this album had been released in modern era, jaskier would have released this song as a single to get geralts attention. he would have definitely wanted geralt to know that this album was about him.

I used to come here on my own and drink So I didn't have to think or hear the whispering I stand with people telling lies again In suits and ties again and I just need a friend

they meet in the tavern and its clear that jaskier is Not having a good time and really just needs a friend, hence why he decides to go talk to geralt.

You walked into the room and cut the atmosphere like a knife, alright Sobering mind 'cause up to now, I've just been wasting my time, ooh yeah

the “wasting my time” part is of particular interest because it clearly articulates that jaskier feels as though adventuring around with geralt was the best part of his life and before that he'd just been a bard with debatable songs. the song as a whole makes it sound like geralt was jaskiers lifeline.

3. maybe by james arthur (modern or canon era works)

this song, while geralt would know immediately it was about him, was not one jaskier ever shared with geralt. it would have been written a few years after he and geralt had met initially. the reason that jaskier never shared it was because it talks about destiny and geralt made it Very Clear that he does not want to fuck with destiny.

I don't know what's going on Where you came from and why you took so long All I know is that I feel it Like it's the realest thing, I mean it Something changed when I saw you Oh, my eyes can't lie You said, "They're so damn blue And I love how you're so forward Is it too soon to say I'm falling?"

this would have been what young jaskier felt over the course of a few years after traveling around (or befriending if this is modern). There was probably a slip up somewhere, or jaskier just thought that he got really good at interpreting geralts grunts and the line about the eyes is what he hoped/imagined/thought geralt was saying to him in return.

So maybe Maybe we were always meant to meet Like this was somehow destiny Like you already know Your heart will never be broken by me So is it crazy For you to tell your friends to go on home? So we can be here all alone Fall in love tonight And spend the rest of our lives as one

jaskier probably thinks that destiny is some wildly romantic thing hence why he compares them meeting to destiny. the line about heart break would have also hit especially hard after the mountain scene. also i think its pretty clear that jaskier wants to spend as much of his life traipsing around with geralt in the show (modern era wouldn't have been any different), hence wanting to spend the rest of his life with geralt.

Oh, is it too crazy For you to tell your brothers about me? They told me they'll protect you But I'll look them in the eye Tell them you and I will be as one

this is the part that sells it for me. i think that geralt lambert and eskel would all be very close (admittedly i havent read the books but i kinda get that vibe from the fandom so). this part about geralt telling his bothers about jaskier and then jaskier probably meeting them would have been an Important Moment.

4. sad eyes by james arthur (modern or canon works)

aright so im not sure if geralt has heard this one before. i can see it going both ways. its a possibility that jaskier wrote it at some point and then would kinda sing it softly when hes patching geralt up after a particularly rough hunt so its one of those where like geralts not quite sure what the song is but then he hears it on this album (cause say this was modern era and jaskier actually did release this album geralt would totally buy it after a few weeks and then realize how badly he'd actually fucked up) and is like shit thats what he was singing all along?? but anyway this one is essentially about how jaskier thinks geralt puts too much pressure on himself and all that stuff

You wear the burden World on your shoulders, babe So let me hold the weight I know you're hurting Deep as the coldest pain But this is the order sayin'

essentially jaskier can see through geralts bs and hes calling him out on it and wants him to just take care of himself for once (see: the scene in 1x05 when geralt says he cant sleep)

5. hoax by taylor swift (canon or modern works)

so this song begins the plethora of break up songs that jaskier wrote about geralt. this one would have been written some time after the incident, after jaskier has some time to reflect on the whole thing. i know that taylor wrote this song about enduring a toxic relationship, which kind of works if you think about the way that geralts treated jaskier and how jaskier interpreted it (but im not implying that their relationship was toxic or abusive or anything)

My best laid plan Your sleight of hand My barren land I am ash from your fire

jaskiers plan was to reinvent geralts image and geralt did not think that it was worth it. jaskier is just sorta his side kick (who gets him into trouble, as geralt points out) and geralt kicks him aside like he doesnt mean anything to him (like ash from a fire

Stood on the cliffside Screaming "Give me a reason" Your faithless love's the only hoax I believe in Don't want no other shade of blue But you No other sadness in the world would do

this is a little more literal with the screaming on the cliffside. jaskier wanted a reason to stay and geralt didnt want him to. jaskier knows that witchers dont feel emotions (or at least not like humans do) so hes been tricking himself into believing that geralt actually liked having him around, knowing that it was probably going to blow up in his face at some point. but he doesnt quite regret it, and doesnt want to be sad over anyone else.

6. naked by james arthur (modern or canon works)

this kind of goes along with hoax, jaskier probably wrote them around the same time. he’s admitting in this song that he would be willing to try to work it out with geralt, but geralt needs to change first (needs to actually communicate and let him in and all that stuff).

'Cause here I am, I'm givin' all I can But all you ever do is mess it up Yeah, I'm right here, I'm tryin' to make it clear That getting half of you just ain't enough

hes quoting geralts words back at him here ( “all you ever do is mess it up” is pretty similar to the line about shoveling shit), saying that all hes ever tried to do is be good and kind to geralt, but geralt hasn't really done the same in return and while jaskier may have dragged him into some things, geralt also needs to take responsibility for what hes done as well.

7. right where you left me (modern or canon works)

this starts the Real Sad Boy Hours songs. this would refer to how he felt pretty much right after, not knowing what to do because geralt had been so much a part of his life for so long:

Help, I'm still at the restaurant Still sitting in a corner I haunt Cross-legged in the dim light They say, "What a sad sight" I, I swear you could hear a hair pin drop Right when I felt the moment stop Glass shattered on the white cloth Everybody moved on, I, I stayed there Dust collected on my pinned-up hair They expected me to find somewhere Some perspective, but I sat and stared

this is kind of the processing of the event. and also the moment on the album where the audience would realize that this relationship that he's been telling about until now definitely ended. this song isn't super super emotional, its more a jumble of thoughts cause he didnt know what to feel after the breakup happened. although he didnt write it right after the break up, it was written much after as a looking back.

8. all too well by taylor swift (modern or canon era works)

(the link to this one is from a live performance because i like the emotion in this one better) so this song is not off of folklore (its off of red) but its such a powerful, painful breakup song that i had to include it in the lineup because it seems like something that jaskier would have written very very soon after the incident. the memories especially that she touches on in the song (driving upstate, dancing in the fridge light, looking at the photo album, etc) are all very powerful and real and i can see jaskier doing the same thing. again, if this were modern era i think that he might release this one as a single. theres so much to unpack in this song, this ones gonna be a little longer oops.

Maybe we got lost in translation, maybe I asked for too much But maybe this thing was a masterpiece 'til you tore it all up Running scared, I was there, I remember it all too well

this clearly references the mountain scene. they were a pretty good duo until geralt blamed him for all his problems. and jaskier was effectively stuck on the top of a very dangerous mountain that he would have had to navigate down by himself.

Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it I'd like to be my old self again, but I'm still trying to find it After plaid shirt days and nights when you made me your own Now you mail back my things and I walk home alone

jaskier spent half of his life following geralt around, its likely that he doesnt know what to do with himself or his life now that he doesnt have geralt to follow around on adventures. he doesnt know what to do anymore (see the first song).

But you keep my old scarf from that very first week 'Cause it reminds you of innocence and it smells like me You can't get rid of it, 'cause you remember it all too well, yeah

this is more of a hope that jaskier has. he hopes that geralts held onto something of his that he left behind. maybe he left a shirt in one of roaches saddle bags (canon) or a notebook in their apartment (modern) that geralt just cant seem to get rid of. he would like to think that he had an impact on geralts life and that it wasn't just all for nothing. in the beginning, he wants geralt to be just as hurt as he is.

'Cause there we are again, when I loved you so Back before you lost the one real thing you've ever known It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well

this is a dig at geralt. he'd never had someone to follow him around on adventures before, much less a human. as far as we know it seems like jaskiers the first human that has even given him the time of day. this is jaskiers way of throwing it back in geralts face

9. impossible by james arthur (canon or modern works)

this would have also been written very soon after the incident. it is more jaskier being mad at himself for not seeing the signs than him being mad at geralt. it is almost like his admittance of the event and like hes finally accepting what happened.

I remember years ago Someone told me I should take Caution when it comes to love, I did And you were strong and I was not My illusion, my mistake I was careless, I forgot, I did

jaskier is someone who clearly falls in love (or at least screws around with people) easily so its likely that someone would have given him some advice along these lines once. but when he met geralt its likely that this caution went to the wind.

When all is done, there is nothing to say And if you're done with embarrassing me On your own you can go ahead, tell them

Tell them all I know now Shout it from the rooftops Write it on the skyline All we had is gone now Tell them I was happy And my heart is broken All my scars are open Tell them what I hoped would be impossible

this hints at the first song on the album. jaskier has no stomach for singing for audiences asking to hear about the adventures of geralt of rivia. this is his way of telling geralt that, almost as his punishment, he should have to deal with the people who ask why hes not traveling with his bard anymore, because jaskier has no intention of doing so. this is pretty brutal because (as we know) geralt doesnt really enjoy talking about feelings, or talking at all in general.

10. exile by taylor swift (modern or canon era works)

this is a fictitious conversation that jaskier wrote as occurring between him and geralt. it can be looked at either way but i think it makes more sense if bon iver is jaskier and taylor is geralt.

I think I've seen this film before And I didn't like the ending You're not my homeland anymore So what am I defendin' now? You were my town Now I'm in exile seein' you out I think I've seen this film before

this first chorus is from jaskiers perspective. note the use of “homeland,” as home becomes a theme on jaskiers album. in geralts version of the chorus the line instead is “youre not my problem anymore” which is probably what jaskier took the whole mountain thing to mean.

All this time We always walked a very thin line You didn't even hear me out (you didn't even hear me out) You never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs) All this time I never learned to read your mind (never learned to read my mind) I couldn't turn things around (you never turned things around) 'Cause you never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs)

(the () in this are geralt) this is jaskiers lamentations about how he didnt notice geralts abject discomfort in their relationship and also his regrets in not being able to remedy the situation.

11. illicit affairs by taylor swift (modern or canon works)

so this song is clearly and obviously about an affair. however, i have seen interpretations of the song where people view it as being in a relationship that is so intense and well hidden that in a sense it is almost like an affair, like in the aftermath you’re not even sure if it was real or you deemed it because there isnt really a trace of this other person anymore, and that is the way i think jaskier would have written this song.

And you wanna scream Don't call me kid Don't call me baby Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else

the dont call me kid, dont call me baby part would reference jaskiers humanity, he has a normal human lifespan at least in canon (very much unlike geralt) so geralt might brush him off as being young and stupid. jaskier would have made this album to show geralt that hes not being young and stupid, that this did screw him up, and hes suffering cause of it. kind of like a reality check or a slap in the face.

Don't call me kid Don't call me baby Look at this idiotic fool that you made me You taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else And you know damn well For you I would ruin myself A million little times

the secret language would of course refer to geralt himself. hes a hard man to understand (especially cause half his vocabulary is grunts) and hes also a witcher. so jasper had to learn to understand him and now he has no use for that anymore. and the ending line about ruining myself. that would be jaskiers admittance that he would do it again, he'd do it all again, which comes back up in later songs.

12. safe inside by james arthur (canon era interpretation)

this is one that jaskier would have written maybe a week or so after the incident. the song itself deals with distance and coping with not being in someones life anymore, and i think that that is something that jaskier would struggle to cope with because hes not sure he wants geralt to be alone. this song is more for jaskier than for geralt.

Everyone has to find their own way And I'm sure things will work out okay I wish that was the truth All we know is the sun will rise Thank your lucky stars that you're alive It's a beautiful life

obviously geralt can take care of himself, but its kinda clear that he doesnt much like his life as a witcher (the part where he talks about them getting slow and killed). so this is kind of jaskiers way of almost reminding geralt that his life on the path is still beautiful and important now that he back by himself.

Oh, will you call me to tell me you're alright? 'Cause I worry about you the whole night Don't repeat my mistakes, I won't sleep 'til you're safe inside If you're home I just hope that you're sober Is it time to let go now you're older? Don't leave me this way, I won't sleep 'til you're safe inside

this is more jaskier worrying about geralt being by himself. he hopes that hes okay in the aftermath of this this and that hes taking care of himself still. because of course jaskier would write a whole breakup album but still write one song about how he hopes the person is doing well.

13. quite miss home by james arthur (modern era interpretation)

this song. oh my god. its so amazing. if you dont listen to any of these, at least listen to this one (actually im pretty sure no ones read to this point so if you have thanks). this song is kind of more along the same vein as the previous one, how jaskier misses geralt but its more for him than geralt. he would have probably written it at like 3am in a fit of tears and weakness, and debated long and hard about whether or not to put it on the album, but done it anyway because what does he have to lose? theres a lot to unpack here tho so this is going to be a longer one. (sorry)

I'm in the kitchen while you smoke outside You're careful not to let the smoke inside I always tell you it's poison But I know it helps you take the edge off the day We get a drink before it's closing time The one on high street with the blinking sign All these memories feel poignant I won't be there to see the snow melt away

this is a very very clear picture of an event that seems to have happened a great many times, so much so that it seems like second nature. its like a little glimpse into what their life was before this incident. its intimate, but it still is melancholy.

Whoa I'm in another city I got nobody with me And it just really hit me

this is where jaskier is now, it provides some opposition. its like a culture shock almost, like hes so used to this intimate lifestyle with another person that its jarring to be by himself.

That I quite miss home And I miss you telling me To leave my shoes at the door 'Cause you just swept the floor And the dirt drives you crazy Yeah, I quite miss home 'Cause it feels like poetry When the rain falls down on the window While you're in my arms And we're watching the TV Yeah, I quite miss home

the key here is what jaskier is referring to as “home.” it's not the place, its geralt himself. all these memories center around him, not an establishment. (calling geralt “home” comes back in later songs.) again, this mosh of memories is like theres so many of them that its almost overwhelming but its stemming from jaskiers need to feel something other than lonely and hes craving this reality that hes lost.

14. my tears ricochet by taylor swift (modern or canon era works)

this is a song that really emphasizes jaskiers dramatic little shit tendencies. this is something that he wrote, trying to predict what geralts reaction would be if he found out that jaskier died. this is really just jaskier fantasizing that geralt didnt actually mean any of what he said and does still care about him. theres many lines in here that are jabs at geralt (if I'm dead to you why are you at the wake? and Even on my worst day Did I deserve, babe All the hell you gave me?), but i think this is the most important one:

And I can go anywhere I want Anywhere I want Just not home And you can aim for my heart, go for blood But you would still miss me in your bones And I still talk to you When I'm screaming at the sky And when you can't sleep at night You hear my stolen lullabies

this is again, jaskier referring to geralt as home. as seen in the last song, he clearly wants to go there, but he cant. this could also refer to where he grew up, which he cant go to either because his parents still view him as a disappointment (as seen in finally). jaskier saying he still talks to geralt is completely in character, he probably still curses him and the whole thing. but the part about geralt not being able to sleep at night and hearing his stolen lullabies is really hard hitting. jaskier likes to think that geralt wouldn't be able to sleep without his banter or his lute playing or something of that nature. over all its a very powerful song.

15. phoenix by james arthur (modern or canon works)

this is a fictitious apology that jaskier wrote from geralts pov, kind of what he wished that geralt would say, but knows that he won't.

Let me, let me begin Let me begin, with an I.O.U Who I owe everything to Lately, lately my friend Lately, you think I'm ignoring you But I've been trying to pull through All of the pain, I know you're looking down, down on me I could have been someone I hurt everyone Pushed away everyone who got near

in this “geralt” outlines what he did wrong, and that he didnt mea what he said at all. again, this is more for jaskiers benefit because he knows that even if geralt were to apologize to him, it wouldn't be to this extent.

16. this is me trying by taylor swift (modern or canon works)

this is jaskier trying to articulate the fact that hes trying to pick himself back up after everything, his way of showing his “healing process” and that he can do it, he doesnt need geralt (as the song shows, its not going very well)

And it's hard to be at a party When I feel like an open wound It's hard to be anywhere these days When all I want is you You're a flashback in a film reel On the one screen in my town And I just wanted you to know That this is me trying (maybe I don't quite know what to say) I just wanted you to know That this is me trying

its showing that jaskier is having trouble enjoying things that he once did (like parties) because hes still so distraught over what happened with geralt, but at the same time he also wants to show geralt that he doesnt need him. it has a very i dont care kind of attitude, but jaskier at the same time is having a hard time showing geralt that hes doing okay, hence the “maybe i dont quite know what to say” which is out of character for the very talkative bard

17. happiness by taylor swift (modern or canon works)

this is more him convincing himself that things will be okay. he's clearly trying at this point to move on, but its proving difficult because geralt was his happiness for so long:

There'll be happiness after you But there was happiness because of you Both of these things can be true There is happiness

he also repeats the line “havent me the new me yet” a few times, which i think is again him trying to convince himself that its going to get better and he will move on from it. but this line is the one that i think hurts the most:

No one teaches you what to do When a good man hurts you And you know you hurt him too

this implies that 1. he still thinks geralts a good man (not a monster) and 2. that he knows he hurt him to and doesn't know how to fix either of them. this is also kind of him giving up on how to fix it, but him recognizing they were both at fault is important for the arc of the story.

18. death by a thousand cuts by taylor swift (modern or canon works)

this is another song that is not off of folklore (its from lover), but i wanted to include it because it think it has a little bit of anger to it (especially in this live acoustic version that i linked) which i think that jaskier would feel a few weeks post incident in a fit of rage, like why am i still feeling this way? why did you think that this was okay?? and its right after happiness, which shows that his healing really isn't linear. there's many lines in this song that pertain to geralt and jaskier and i could talk about the whole thing but im not going to

But if the story's over, why am I still writing pages?

this i think is very jaskier. its so raw and like, i know this is over, why am i still writing about it? why am i making an album about this? why should this still matter to me? its very angry and again, like many of the songs, like a slap.

My heart, my hips, my body, my love Tryna find a part of me that you didn't touch Gave up on me like I was a bad drug Now I'm searching for signs in a haunted club Our songs, our films, united, we stand Our country, guess it was a lawless land Quiet my fears with the touch of your hand Paper cut stings from our paper-thin plans My time, my wine, my spirit, my trust Tryna find a part of me you didn't take up Gave you so much, but it wasn't enough But I'll be alright, it's just a thousand cuts

this part, especially if you listen to her sing it, (which i would HIGHLY RECOMMEND BTW) is very passive aggressive and the the last line is like quite sarcastic and downplays it, like, yes you put me through all of this, but i guess its *just* a thousand cuts. this really shows that in many ways geralt was a part of jaskiers life, and his sudden removal from it would have stung in many ways, and thats not something that you can get over quickly.

19. empty space by james arthur (modern or canon era works)

this song starts the beginning of jaskier getting over geralt. these last 4 songs would have been written much after the incident, after hes had time to think, but there's still this nagging in the back of his head thats like, well what if im being stupid and he is the one and im supposed to go back?

I don't see you You're not in every window I look through And I don't miss you You're not in every single thing I do I don't think we're meant to be And you are not the missing piece I won't hear it Whenever anybody says your name And I won't feel it Even when I'm burstin' into flames I don't regret the day I left I don't believe that I was blessed I'm probably lyin' to myself again

this is more what jaskier wants to be, not what he actually is. he thinks that hes over geralt, but hes not (the chorus gets into it more but im not going to talk about it here, but it essentially says “only you can fill this empty space”) clearly jaskier is further along in his healing process, but hes still having second thoughts. he wants to be over him, but he knows hes lying to himself, very deep down.

20. coney island by taylor swift (more modern era interpretation)

this is the true moving on song. it’s still laced with memories and speculation, but it puts clear distance between the two of them, much more so than empty space does because it lacks the longing. it just shows things for what they are.

And I'm sitting on a bench in Coney Island Wondering where did my baby go? The fast times, the bright lights, the merry go Sorry for not making you my centerfold

its apologetic, but nothing more than that. it dwells more on what could have been rather than what he wants it to still be.

The question pounds my head What's a lifetime of achievement If I pushed you to the edge? But you were too polite to leave me And do you miss the rogue Who coaxed you into paradise and left you there? Will you forgive my soul When you're too wise to trust me and too old to care?

this is interesting because it addresses their immortality and how they've been together for years and also the way in which they left things (paradise). but it also implies that things were on the downfall. and the last two lines about forgiveness is interesting because it then calls geralt “too wise to trust me and too old to care” meaning its more a wish of jaskiers rather than something he knows geralt will do.

Were you waiting at our old spot In the tree line By the gold clock Did I leave you hanging every single day? Were you standing in the hallway With a big cake, happy birthday Did I paint your bluest skies the darkest grey? A universe away And when I got into the accident The sight that flashed before me was your face But when I walked up to the podium, I think that I forgot to say your name

these are all very specific, very intimate moments that would clearly mean something to geralt. and it further implies that jaskier is uncertain if he actually made geralt feel appreciated when they were together. but again, its more what could have been rather than what jaskier wanted it to be, which is a nice segway into the last two songs.

21. new years day by taylor swift (modern era interpretation)

this is another one not from folklore, this song is the closing track on reputation, but i like the nostalgia of it so i decided to include it (and it also has good parallels to the last song). initially jaskier intended for this to be the last song on the album, but decided to add another one last minute (and we will get into why). this song is more jaskiers muted longing to still be with geralt, albeit in the far future.

There's glitter on the floor after the party Girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby Candle wax and Polaroids on the hardwood floor You and me from the night before but Don't read the last page But I stay when you're lost and I'm scared and you're turning away I want your midnights But I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day

this interpretation is very much like the actual songs interpretation: the desire to stay with someone through the unexciting parts of life, like cleaning up after a party on new years day. additionally, wanting to start something new with someone (being there with them past the midnight kiss and actually starting the first day of the year with them). additionally though, there is the line of “dont read the last page” which refers to the last song on the album, which we will get to.

Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you And I will hold on to you Please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere

this is more jaskiers reality. hes torn between holding onto these memories and hopes and actually facing reality. he wants to hold on to geralt, but he also kinda wants to move on. and the last line about the laugh, thats more jaskiers own hope, he hopes that he will come across geralt again and things will work themselves out.

22. the 1 by taylor swift (modern era interpretation)

the decision to make this song the last one on the album was a very last minute decision, and it was written significantly after the rest of the songs. the reason for this was without this last song, the album ends on a note of hope “Please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere” but this last song is more of a reality check and acknowledgment that what's done is done and that it will never be again.

I'm doing good, I'm on some new shit Been saying "Yes" instead of "No" I thought I saw you at the bus stop, I didn't though

this refers to the fact that its been some time since the whole thing and jaskiers kind of changed a little bit. he claims hes doing good, and maybe is going to try out a new career (since the first song references wanting to put music down for awhile). seeing geralt at the bus stop is a reference to cardigan where he says “chasing shadows in the grocery line” where hes not actively looking for geralt anymore and it doesnt upset him that he didnt see him.

I guess you never know, never know And if you wanted me, you really should've showed And if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow And it's alright now

this is jaskier saying that hes almost glad that it happened because it gave him a new perspective and it was a learning experience. he also says that its alright, which is the second time that hes said hes okay, which probably means he isnt completely, but hes much closer than he was on the rest of the album because hes not still looking for geralt at every turn

I have this dream you're doing cool shit Having adventures on your own You meet some woman on the Internet and take her home We never painted by the numbers, baby But we were making it count You know the greatest loves of all time are over now I guess you never know, never know And it's another day, waking up alone

this is jaskier acknowledging the fact that geralt has probably long since moved on with his life, either with other romantic people or with his life entirely (the first time he does this on the album). he says that while their love or friendship was unconventional it still was definitely something (implying that it may have been one of the greatest loves of his life). and the waking up alone part references quite miss home and being by himself, but it isnt sad, its just a fact at this point.

But we were something, don't you think so? Roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool And if my wishes came true It would've been you In my defense, I have none For never leaving well enough alone But it would've been fun If you would've been the one

this is the part where we see that jaskier has grown. hes recognized that his wanting to be with geralt was never anything more than a fleeting wish or a moment that couldn't last. but he knows that it had potential and it could have worked but it didnt and thats okay. in the last chorus the pennies line is “rosé flowing with your chosen family” which implies that he and geralt were close enough to know each others family (chosen or real), meaning that it meant something. and he wouldn't have minded a long term relationship with geralt, but its not what happened.

in new years day jaskier says “dont read the last page” this song is that last page. part of him still doesnt want geralt to know that hes put aside the hope of it working because he wants to still keep himself open for geralt, but knows that its not healthy and ultimately he needs to move on. hes essentially giving geralt the choice: remember jaskier as wanting to get back with him (since the last line of the album would have been “please dont ever become a stranger who's laugh i could recognize anywhere” or let him have the knowledge that jaskier is done with him (since the official last line of the album is “but it would have been fun if you would've been the one”)

anyway thats jaskiers breakup album. i put way too much effort into this. and if you actually read through the whole thing, thank you and please let me know what you think!! if you use this for fics or have your own interpretations please please tag me, id love to see!!

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #geralt #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #geraskier #wow this took so long #literally so long #id recommend listening to the songs tho theyre all kinda vibey #there's like a million songs i could have used but i liked these ones cause i think they have a very nostalgic vibe #also dont get me wrong jaskier would also eventually release some sones like uhh #truth hurts by lizzo #like very fuck you breakup songs #but this is him being sad first #anyway im literally only posting this cause witcher anon said they wanted to read it #i hope you like it my dude

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naerysthelonesome · 3 years

Text

Time spent together

Part 6:

The narrator returns

Apollo and Lit are very, very close to Artemis’ place now. Apollo looks splotchy and nervous. I don’t like it. Clashes too much with his outfit. Lit, on the other hand looks cool and calm. That’s weird. Probably a façade.

Apollo finally makes a turn, and pulls into a driveway in this really nice neighborhood. I’d consider living here, if I could… live, you know? He parks the car and just sits there, like an idiot. I’m sure Lit notices because he punches Apollo lightly in the arm, and steps out. Apollo follows soon after, and Lit moves to the backseat to get his bag, but the former flaps at his arms in impatience. Boi does he not look the epitome of grace today.

Lit shoots him a look, and shoulders his bag anyway.

They both make their way to the front door of the pretty, baby blue house. It looks quaint, and cozy, and not really someplace I’d imagine Apollo’s cool sister Artemis living, but maybe she’s into the whole cottagecore thing. I wouldn’t know. I’m supposed to keep focused on Apollo and Lit.

Speaking of, Apollo is trying to look collected and nonchalant as he knocks on the door, but it’s (incredibly) clear that he isn’t. Lit inches just a little bit closer, trying to offer his support, but of course Apollo doesn’t notice. At least not at first. Then Lit’s hand brushes against his own, and, I kid you not, his eyes spark. His breath hitches in his chest, and he goes completely still. Simp.

The door bangs open to reveal a silver woman. No seriously, she’s silvery all over. Her hair and eyebrows have been dyed a most mesmerizing silvery-white, her skin glows in places (silver highlighter methinks), and all the delicate silver jewelry over the lacy, dark green tank top and gray shorts makes her look ethereal and fairylike. DAMN she is really taking the Artemis thing seriously.

“Big brother!”

“We’re twins, and you’re unoriginal”, Apollo says resignedly. Like he’s had this exact conversation before. He probably has. Artemis simply smiles.

“Aw don’t be like that!”

She turns toward Lit, who’s been standing there awkwardly, and offers him her hand. Palm facing down, snowy white fingers curled, like she expects him to kiss it.

Lit looks like he’s visibly restraining himself from turning to Apollo in bewilderment.

“Aren’t you going to take my hand?” Artemis asks, with a fake pout.

Lit reaches out and takes it, completely unsure of what to do next. He just holds it like it’s an unwanted bug someone’s placed in his hand.

“Must all your dates be so rude, Apollo?” Artemis questions, with a huff.

“Must you always act like a twat that doesn’t know what century it is, Artemis?” he replies, turning to Lit. “She’s just playing with you”.

Artemis laughs, and walks away. It’s a normal laugh, no tinkling wind chimes, or tumbling rivers. I don’t even know if that’s humanly possible. Stephanie must have been on something.

“Something tells me it’s best if I play along”, Lit says, following Apollo through the door.

“Definitely. Oh, and leave your shoes here.”

Two of the girls Artemis lives with are insanely pretty. (But then, all humans look insanely pretty to me… oh to have a physical form). And they look like polar opposites. The bigger one is wearing a flowy summer dress that perfectly complements her wheatish skin, her pink and brown hair in a neatly curled high pony, winged eyeliner on point. The other one has her orange-red hair hanging about her face, some of it still fixed in the messiest messy bun I’ve ever seen. She stays seated on the sofa, in her dull grey sweats, and simply turns to wave at the boys when they walk in, eyes still on the tv.

“Hi! I’m Arson”, says they pink-haired one, “And that’s Claire. She’s normally the active one, but it’s shark week so she’ll just lie there like that all day, useless”. She (they?) swiftly catches they pillow that’s been chucked at them, and grins. “Oh and Thalia’ll be out in a sec”.

“Your name’s Arson?” Lit asks, politely trying not to sound shocked or confused.

“Heh yeah. Of all the non-binary names someone like me could have picked, right?” They say, with a short laugh. “It was a close call between this, and Twig.”

“Her pronouns are she and they, btw”, Apollo says walking up from where he’d been talking to his sister, to envelop Arson in a hug, “Hey Ari!”

“Ah jeez. The hugging still isn’t over?” A raven haired girl says, walking into the now slightly crowded living room. “Well I’m Thalia. Do no touch me”. That last part was spit at Apollo. Her tone is menacing, but her little smirk shows otherwise.

“Hey Thalia”, Apollo says, reaching over to pat the red-head, Claire, on the shoulder, and ruffle her already ruffled hair. Please somebody comb it already!

“This is Lit, Apollo’s newest fling”, Artemis says, gesturing to the boy who looks like he can’t decide whether he wants to live here, or run away. He gives the room a shy smile. (Aww)

“Great! Now that we all know each other,” Get out of Pridelands? Sorry sorry. Just couldn’t miss out the opportunity to quote Lion King: Simba’s Pride. Artemis simply continues on with something about lunch and rotisserie chicken.

It’s been quite an uneventful couple hours, but oh, how could that possibly last? In a room full of people, half with names with mythological roots, and the one named after a crime? There’s bound to be some drama. No, calm down, there isn’t going to be a fire. Unless it’s Lit’s heart flaming for Apollo, or vice versa. ANYWAY I’m going way off script.

“So Lit, how’d you guys meet?” Claire asks around a mouthful of veggies, feet nestled comfortably on Arson’s lap. I’m starting to think they might be more than friends, but what do I know?

“Oh we had to do a project together. Obviously, we’d seen each other around before then, but yeah… that’s the first time we really interacted”, Lit answered, awkwardly trailing off at end, as if he thought he’d said to much. Seriously Lit? That was barely anything.

“And how long ago was that?” Arson asked.

“Uh-”

“About a month ago”, Apollo supplied, lacing his fingers through Lit’s, their hands clearly visible from the sofa they were seated on.

Lit’s adam’s apple bobbed, and he shifted slightly in his seat, but managed to keep calm, even lifting their conjoined hands into his lap.

“Huh. How long have you guys been together, then?” Thalia asked, staring to look interested.

“A couple weeks.” Apollo’s voice was calm, at startling odds with the red of his face.

“Oh?” Artemis said finally, her eyes moving from their linked hands, to Apollo’s face. “You move awfully fast brother.”

“Well, we both wanted it”, Lit tried to cut in. The sudden tension between the twins is so thick, even oblivious Lit notices.

Artemis ignores him and continues, “Don’t you remember what happened last time you moved this quickly?”

“Artemis, please”, Apollo says, starting to sound irritated, “You wanted me to stop fucking around, and I did. You seem to have a problem with everything I do.”

“Oh is that why you’re dating him? Because of me?” Oh shit… we’re getting awfully close to the truth now, huh?

“No. No, of course not”, Apollo lies quietly. Lit manages to discreetly untangle their fingers and pull away, looking a little hurt. “I like Lit”. So not all lies then? If only Lit knew that, then he’d stop looking like a kicked puppy.

“Just make sure he isn’t another Daphne”, Artemis says, a challenging look in her eyes.

“That was a mistake and you know it! When are you going to stop bringing it up?” Apollo spits angrily, before he gets up and walks out the front door.

Lit sits there in shock for a second, before deciding that an angry Apollo was easier to deal with that a room full of upset and curious people, and follows behind him. Damnit! I wanted to stay behind and listen to the gossip. Would you mind terribly if I did that?

Yea, I suppose you would.

Lit is leaning against the wall of the house, hands in his pockets, while Apollo leans over the porch railing, and stares at his car.

“So who’s Daphne?”

Apollo sighs in defeat, before saying, “My ex. One of my only two exes”. Then he turns around before almost hastily adding, “Exes being people I’ve actually dated, that is. Not just people I’ve slept with”.

“Of course. Of course you still care about your reputation as a fuckboy”, Lit says, sounding disappointed more than anything else. Look, I’m a sucker for drama, but what the hell is this?! I don’t like this.

“What? No”. Apollo sounds... scared? “No I’m just trying to be as clear as possible.”

Lit doesn’t say anything.

“Besides, why are you even mad? It’s not like we’re actually dating”.

“No.” Lit whispers, “We’re not”.

“Hey”, Apollo pleads, “I can’t handle you being mad at me too, Lit. I’m sorry you got dragged into this shit”.

Lit waves the apology away. “Why is Artemis so mad about Daphne?” If I were even a little less intuitive, I would’ve missed the hopeful tone of that question.

“Oh. Um- Daphne was one of Artemis’ best friends. That’s how we got close in the first place. Sometime last year, we started seeing each other, and eventually became official. We’d moved really quickly, and honestly didn’t have much in common except Artemis” And divinely good looks, if Apollo’s many flings are anything to go by. “But everything went great, nonetheless. Better than great, even. I started to think I loved her. Until it didn’t. Around the three month mark, things started to go sour. We’d disagree about pretty much everything, and we’d fight and argue all the time. Then it started to get monotonous and boring and we were just going through the motions. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I broke up with her, and…” That’s the one place he hesitates. “Left. I just left for college, and Artemis had to deal with Daphne, who apparently took it hard. I didn’t speak to her at all until just a few months ago.

We’re okay now, by the way. She says that I’m a better friend that boyfriend, and I can’t say I disagree. Lucky for you that we’re just faking it, right?” I notice the slight hitch in his voice, but Lit apparently doesn’t. He lets out a dry chuckle. “Artemis, on the other hand, is still obviously pissed. I don’t blame her. She said that Daphne only dated me at all because I seduced her. At first, I thought that was ridiculous, but if all the hoes on campus are anything to go by, it seems that was entirely possible”, he finishes bitterly. Well... that was quite a speech.

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or exasperated by your unwavering level of self-confidence”, Lit says tiredly, after a brief pause. “Well that wasn’t as bad as I expected”.

“Yea, Artemis has been known to overreact”.

“I think her reaction was warranted”. Lit himself looks surprised at having defended Artemis.

“Maybe it was”, Apollo amends, eager to get back on Lit’s good side, I suppose. “You’re not still mad, are you?”

“I’m not mad at you, no” comes the curt reply, suggesting that he is still mad at something. This whole situation, probably. This trip was supposed to be romantic for God’s sake!

“Good, because we have a little party to attend this evening”.

#don't really know where i was going with this one tbh #litpollo #litpollo fanfiction #lityerses #apollo #toa apollo #trials of apollo #modern day au #riordanverse #angst #eh kinda

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2manyfandoms2count · 3 years

Text

You can count on me (I will be there for you)

The chapters keep getting longer, you’d think I have control over them but obviously not, oops

New this week: More people join the scheming and the “we know who Chat Noir is” gangs (none of which are Marinette), Mayor Bourgeois cries, there’s background Lukloé, there’s the Nino-taking-care-of-Alya scene (if you can call it that) I talked about in the tags of this post, and we’re finally officially ready to roll into the Agreste Mansion.

Enjoy! xx

---

Chapter 6

As Marinette steps back inside, she feels like she’s breathing a million times better than she has for the past month. She feels lighter, too. The upbeat music playing from the loudspeaker feels like a theme song, encouraging her to go forward. They have a plan, and it’s pretty foolproof at this stage; get all the necessary protagonists to the room acting as a backstage area for the band, and have a chat. No overthinking needed.

She spots Max in the crowd, in the middle of a discussion with Kim and Markov. The sentient robot is just as key to the plan as his creator, as she doubts that Gabriel Agreste would leave any numerical information lying around in the open, unprotected. Especially information that could tie him to a master criminal. She also has a feeling that they might have to deal with security cameras, which Markov and Max will probably know how to hack into.

A little to their right, Kagami and Nino are politely listening to André Bourgeois, whose glistening eyes scream his awe of the ceremony. Marinette can almost hear him gush about how he can’t wait for Chloé’s own big day to arrive.

“Looks like our friends are warming up for their duties.” Alya walks in behind her and they both observe the poorly disguised agony on Nino’s face, as well as the tension in Kagami’s shoulders. “You go and save them, I’ll get Max.” Alya pushes her lightly in their direction, and starts for the left.

Marinette stumbles forward, but turns back briefly as a thought crosses her mind. “By the way, did Adrien tell you what he was up to now? He didn’t come back earlier, which turned out for the best, and, well, it’s not that I want to avoid him, but…”

“...you don’t want to justify why everyone’s gathered without him if he walks in on us?” Alya smirks.

“Yeah.” The bride winces. She hates the thought, but she kind of hopes that Adrien will stay out of the way until they have to leave.

“Trust me, girl, he’s not going to show up.” Alya pats her shoulder in a highly suspicious manner. She’s beaming like she knows something that she doesn’t, and it doesn’t bode well. “Relax, he’s fine! Well, as fine as someone who’s been harpooned by a reporter and a photographer for a special interview might be, but it’s not like he’s been kidnapped or anything.” Alya makes a mental note to check if Mirages can be caught on camera when Ladybug is away, and if so, to maybe snap a few pictures of fake-Adrien for an article to support her lie. Just on the off-chance Marinette decides to follow up on it. There will no doubt be plenty of articles on the wedding itself, but since Adrien is busy running around in leather spandex, there probably won’t be that many one-on-one interviews with him in the press.

“Ouch.” Marinette winces. The thought that the man really deserves a medal for everything he went through, and everything he’s bound to go through before the end of the day crosses her mind. She’ll have to think of an appropriate gift to thank him.

“Don’t worry, he said he was used to it when they dragged him off.” Alya shrugs. “Anyway, let’s go, we can’t leave Chat Noir waiting out back for too long, he’ll get antsy.”

Marinette nods and makes her way towards the now crying mayor.

“Hi, Mister Bourgeois, thank you so much for coming today.” She pats him gently on the shoulder, and gestures for a nearby waitress to come around so she can grab a napkin off her tray. She mouths 'thank you' to her, before handing it to the mayor.

“It was such a wonderful wedding, congratulations to you two lovebirds.” He wipes his tears. “I’ve taken notes for Chloé’s wedding, I’m sure she’d love something like this, if she settles down. She works so much.” More tears spill over, and Marinette winces.

Chloé has taken after her mother and become something of a fashion mogul, although her relationship with Luka (which isn’t really a fling anymore at this point, since she’s been drawn back to him like a wave to the shore for the past five years) seems to keep her fairly grounded. She seems very relaxed when she’s with him, as happy as Marinette’s ever seen her , and she sometimes wonders if something very lavish like this would actually still suit her friend. Her money would be on something a little more bohemian (even though she doesn’t doubt that a lot of money would be spent for the wedding to look simple and ethereal).

“I wouldn’t worry about her, your daughter will get there when the time is right.” She pats his arm sympathetically, Kagami and Nino nodding along. Her gaze wanders around, searching for the blonde, and she spots her hanging just shy of the dancefloor, seemingly engaged in an intense staring contest with Luka while he plays on the stage. Marinette conceals a smile at the very obvious tension between the two. Something tells her she wouldn’t find Luka with his bandmates during Kitty Section’s break.

Maybe Chloé’s very obvious gawking is the first step towards making her relationship public.

“Anyway, I need to borrow these two for a bit, thanks again for everything!” Marinette shakes Mr Bourgeois’ hand before pushing her friends towards the back room. It doesn’t take much for them to start power walking towards the exit.

“Thank you so much for getting us out of this, dude, I thought I was going to pass out! It’s been over half an hour since he’s started talking to us. We just asked him to pass on some plates for the cake!” Nino whispers.

“I love Chloé but I was ready to tell him about Luka if it meant he would stop listing all the ways she’s so great and wondering why she’s still single.” Kagami lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Don’t thank me just yet.” Marinette grimaces. They might have escaped Bourgeois small talk, but they’re in for a far worse prospect; Agreste small talk. She doesn’t know which option she'd prefer: having to listen to someone blabber on, or having to make a distinct effort to keep the conversation going.

They enter the backstage room, which is full of lighting apparatus, music equipment boxes, and all sorts of cables. A small table is set up on the side with water bottles and a bowl of chouquettes, which, of course, has reeled in a black-clad target.

“Nino, Kagami, you remember Chat Noir.” She shakes her head with an amused smile at the sight of her partner, hunched over the bowl, stuffing his face. He looks up suddenly, like a deer caught in headlights, and gobbles down his mouthful.

“Hi!” He smiles a little guiltily, brushing stray sugar from his collar. “Cool to see you guys again.”

“Hey dude!” Nino’s smile widens as they fist-bump. Kagami nods at him as Alya, Max and Markov join and greet them.

They stand silently in a circle, the three newest conspirators looking at each other, then at the others, with a raised eyebrow.

“Guess why we’re all here.” Alya grins, barely containing her excitement, rocking on the ball of her feet.

Max clears his throat and pushes his glasses back up on his nose. “Seeing that Chat Noir is here, and that as far as we know, aside from Marinette, we all have a history of being picked as Miraculous wielders, I’d say there’s a 96.85% chance that we are gathered here for Miraculous reasons. And that being said, I want to say that there’s a 98.26% chance that Ladybug is nearby.”

“Nice deductive skills.” Marinette nods and Chat Noir lets out a low whistle. You’re correct on both fronts.” She stands a little taller, and looks at them all in turn as she speaks. “I’m Ladybug, and I need your help today.”

Nino and Kagami all but gape at the reveal.

Max’s smile is as smug as it gets for him. “I can’t say I’m surprised. Markov and I had calculated that there was a 99.45% chance that you were Ladybug, given that you’ve never been akumatised, that you always seemed to disappear during attacks, and that Ladybug always seemed to arrive very quickly when the akumatisation took place at school.”

“Affirmative. I would have checked with my facial recognition software but Max asked me not to.” Markov chimes in.

“That’s really impressive.” Marinette crosses her arms over her chest, thanking whoever was out there for not granting Hawkmoth a tech-savvy genius friend and robot, and half wondering whether she should ask them who they think Chat Noir is, and check their results with him.

“So Adrien and you both married your collège crushes then? That’s pretty nice.” Kagami smiles.

“Except that Ladybug is in love with Chat Noir, and they're dating. It’s been all over the Ladyblog for at least a year .” Nino frowns and looks towards Alya. He’s had to run after her countless times after the superheroes' relationship had become official, to make sure she wouldn’t fall from the rooftops when she chased Ladynoir dates. As ecstatic as she was when she came back with a couple of exclusive shots, there'd always been an ankle, or at least a scratch, he'd had to bandage. He'd once seen her standing on her tiptoes on a rather flimsy tree branch, and he'd thought his heart was going to give as she'd leaned forward, the branch wobbling menacingly under her, to snap a picture. He’d ranted about it to Adrien, and not too long afterwards, their favourite superhero duo had been spotted hanging out in much more accessible places, much to everyone's delight. Nino didn't know if it was a coincidence, but his blood pressure sure was thankful.

Chat catches Alya’s eyes before she can say anything. He shakes his head in warning. Not now. Her smug grin dies on her lips, and her shoulders droop a little in disappointment.

“Yeah, Adrien and I are… a façade.” Marinette’s lips spread into a tight smile. She hopes that her friends will understand.

“He looks so in love, though.” Kagami says quietly, and Marinette feels another wave of guilt hit her.

Her smile falters.

Alya looks at Chat Noir and raises her eyebrows; Nino and Kagami are very defensive of you, are you sure you want them to continue down this road without saying anything? He shakes his head, again. There’s another way.

“Trust me, guys, it’s 100% acting. Yes, maybe he’s tapping a bit from his Ladybug crush days, but he promised me that his feelings were gone. I think he’s secretly preparing to start a Hollywood career.” Chat Noir shoots everyone a dazzling smile, the one which has earned him millions of euros across the years, and which his father insured for about as much money. Nino twitches a little at the sight, squints, and Adrien knows he’s piqued his best friend’s suspicions. He winks at him, and watches realisation dawn upon his face.

Nino squints again, and nods towards Marinette. Chat shakes his head. On the other side of the circle, Alya beams as she observes the quiet exchange.

“Anyway, as I was saying,” Marinette clears her throat, eager to change the subject, “I need you, and actually, so does Adrien.”

“Is he alright?” Kagami asks.

“He’s fine. Just needed a little dérobement from the press.” Chat Noir mimes a fencing parry, hoping she’ll make the connection. However much they trained, it always seemed like they came back to the Battez-Tirez when sparring together, and its effective parry, the dérobement. They hadn’t competed in public for a while now, preferring to rent out fencing halls when they were both in town, so they could catch up at the same time. Only the two of them would really know what he was referring to.

She nods in understanding, and he sees her shoulders untense as she turns towards Marinette with a small smile. “Understandably so. I’m guessing you have a plan, then?”

“Yes.” Marinette lets out a sigh of relief at her cooperation, and mentally thanks Chat for always knowing what to say to ease any tension. “Here’s how it’s going to go, if you’re up for it: Max, Markov, Chat Noir and I will head to the Agreste Mansion to do a little research on Gabriel Agreste and his possible ties with Hawkmoth. During that time, Alya will be hanging out with Adrien and Mirage-ing me so no one suspects that I’m gone.” She doesn’t pick up Nino and Kagami whipping their head in Alya’s direction, nor the latter’s smug grin. I know too. In fact, I was the first to know. “Nino and Kagami,” their heads whip back to her, “you guys are on Agreste and Sancoeur surveillance duty. They are not to leave this place before you get my signal. You’ll have your Miraculouses in case things get complicated.”

Kagami raises her hand. “If we’re not transformed, how will we communicate with you?”

Marinette doesn’t have the time to look stumped because Max steps forwards. “I got that part covered.” He digs into his pockets and pulls out seven earpieces, which he passes around the circle. They all look down at the simple yet clearly very sophisticated piece of equipment they’re holding, and Max nods to encourage them to put them in, Markov flying down to help them synchronise.

“Should I bother asking why you’re walking around with these?” Alya asks.

He shrugs and pushes his glasses back up. “It's basic equipment. You never know when it could come in useful.”

“Thanks, Max.” Marinette smiles.

She’s about to ask if anyone has any questions when Alix, Juleka and Rose stroll into the room. Marinette mentally goes through the wedding's timetable; this must be Kitty Section's break, if she can tell by Rose and Juleka's slightly sweaty appearance. The three ladies slow down when they see the group break the circle to face them.

“Hey everyone. You missed one hell of a performance out there. Luka was on fire on the guitar, and I think Chloé almost fainted.” Alix smirks as they approach. “Oh, hey Chat Noir.”

She reaches out for a chouquette, earning herself a vaguely threatening look from him, which she shrugs off. Marinette notes that she seems rather unsurprised that he’s hanging out with them. Her friend is actually very relaxed even by Alix standards, when she assumed any onlookers would deem their congregation at least slightly suspicious.

Then again, the woman has access to the Burrow of Time. Everything must be alright, if she’s not panicking.

“How come you’re here? Is somebody in trouble?” Rose asks the question Marinette expected, confirming that Alix must have been monitoring the situation, and takes a swig from her water bottle. Her voice is a little hoarse from the singing, but it still makes her sound like a slightly frightened child.

“Erm… Not really, except…” Marinette trails off, a good excuse eluding her as she’s scrutinised by two of the three ladies, Alix’s left eyebrow shooting up, as if she’s curious to see what she’ll come up with.

“Except for the wedding presents!” Chat Noir swoops in to the rescue, draping an arm across her shoulders. “Our lovely bride here is very tempted to open them without Adrien, but he knows her so well, that he hired me specifically to prevent from doing it.”

“Well, well, well, that’s not very cash-money of you, Marinette.” Alix tuts.

“Oh, I can put you out of your misery for ours!” Rose jumps up and down excitedly, and Juleka smiles behind her bangs.

“Yay!” Marinette exclaims feebly.

“It’s actually a joint gift from all of Kitty Section, and Mylène; we heard that you and Adrien were moving into a new apartment now that you’re married, and Luka thought a good sound system would probably be the last thing on your mind when you bought your furniture, so we went with that! And we also made you a playlist to slow dance to, it’s going to be so romantic!” She sighs.

“That’s so sweet of you guys.” Marinette looks at her friends and feels bad for lying to them when they’re so thoughtful. She hugs Rose and Juleka in turn, making sure they can feel how grateful she is. She’ll find Luka, Mylène and Ivan later.

“Want to hear what I got for you, too?” Alix asks with a smug smirk.

“Sure, if you feel like sharing.” Marinette’s smile is genuine.

“Right, so, I found this great mystery box online where they deliver you clues and then you have to solve it, a bit like an escape room, you know? Except wherever you want, at your own pace. I thought you’d appreciate it.” She shrugs, and pops another chouquette into her mouth.

Marinette and Chat Noir exchange a look. They’ve got their plate full with this mystery, and once it’s over, Marinette is pretty sure she’ll lay off the detective work. She might don the cap again for Adrien if he really wants to, but she isn’t even sure of that.

“That sounds amazing!” Alya answers instead of her, eyes glinting in excitement. “Would you send me the link? I’d love to do something like this too.”

“Sure, if you want!” Alix shrugs. “You could also hitchhike Adrien and Marinette’s game, you can participate with as many players as you want.”

Alya turns towards Marinette with pleading eyes, and her friend rolls her eyes with a smile. Of course she’d be welcome on her team. Isn't that exactly what's happening right now?

“Anyway, we should head back, the next set is starting soon.” Rose clears her throat. “It was nice seeing you guys! Stay strong, Marinette. Adrien will be back soon, you’ll open your presents together!”

“Good luck up there! Honestly you’re doing great, can’t wait for the dances!” Marinette hugs her, then Juleka, and holds Alix back.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” She pulls her slightly aside, and nods to Chat, who takes the lead of the group. He starts handing out the Miraculouses.

“Yes, boss?”

“You’re probably aware of what’s going on, what with the Rabbit Miraculous and everything…” Marinette gestures widely. “Would you keep an eye out in the Burrow, and make sure we’re not messing up anything, timeline-wise?”

“Yep, no worries! As of now, you’re doing great.” She grins.

“Super, thank you.” She sighs in relief and squeezes her friend’s arm. “I’m sorry I didn’t sound more enthusiastic about your present, earlier, I’m sure it’s amazing.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I know it’s not exactly what you need right now, but as you know, I see everything. It’ll be a hit.”

“Looking forward to trying it out, then!”

“Good. Now, go back to your scheming, I’ll keep an eye on things. I’m guessing Alya and the others have a way to communicate with you, if I see anything?”

“Yes.” Marinette smiles.

“Okay, well, I hope I won’t need it, but I’ll let one of them know if I do.” Alix pats Marinette’s arm and turns around. “Good luck out there!”

“Thanks!”

Marinette smooths her skirt, takes a deep breath and walks back to her schemers with a confident smile.

“Everybody okay?” She asks, and all nod. “Cool, because it’s go time.”

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zenonaa · 4 years

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Chapters: 1/2 Fandom: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fukawa Touko/Togami Byakuya Characters: Togami Byakuya, Fukawa Touko, Hagakure Yasuhiro, Naegi Komaru, Asahina Aoi, Naegi Makoto, Kirigiri Kyouko Additional Tags: togafukaweek2020 Series: Part 6 of TogaFuka Week 2020

Summary: Byakuya and Touko tell their son about the events leading up to their engagement... with help from their friends.

Comments: Day 6: Family and Wedding! It’s a two-part fic, so the second part will be posted tomorrow.

***

For as long as Aloysius Togami had been alive, his parents had been married. His father had always been Byakuya Togami, and his mother had always been Touko Togami. He knew she used to be Touko Fukawa, but she more than happily disowned her family name upon marriage and adopted her husband’s.

On multiple occasions, Aloysius paged through their wedding albums. Saw their smiles, saw their friends, saw the western theme. What he didn’t know much about was what led up to the wedding, and that was something he was especially interested to know about, now that he found himself at a similar phase in life.

“Mother. Father,” said Aloysius, holding his hands behind his back. “There’s something I need to talk to you guys about.”

His parents stared up at him, sitting on their living room couch.

“Y-You’re not dying, are you?” said Touko as a hand flew up to her mouth.

“I... no,” said Aloysius, flinching his head back.

Byakuya inclined his head and said sternly, “Are you doing drugs?”

The bravado that Aloysius brought with him crumbled as their wide eyes digested him.

“No, I’m not,” said Aloysius, growing more flustered.

Touko slung her arms over her husband’s shoulders and borderline wailed, “Did you sign up for a game show where you’re locked into an old school building and forced into a killing game?”

Her bottom lip wobbled as distress rocked her body. Aloysius pouted.

“That’s not it at all,” huffed Aloysius.

Rather than let them keep guessing, Aloysius dipped his hand into his jacket’s inner pocket and pulled out a burgundy velvet box small enough to fit in his palm. Byakuya and Touko leaned in, with the latter squeezing her husband’s shoulder, as Aloysius opened the box. It parted its jaws with a gentle click, and on its cushioned tongue perched a platinum, three stone engagement ring.

“It’s... an engagement ring!” Touko gasped, eyebrows jumping, and she slapped a hand against her cheek. Byakuya studied it closer.

“Round cut, one diamond flanked by two sapphires,” murmured Byakuya. He adjusted his glasses. “Impressive.”

“Yep,” replied Aloysius with a bob of his head, pleased with their reactions, then he glanced away, slightly bashful. “I picked it up from the store this morning.”

Touko and Byakuya fixed their eyes onto him at the same time.

“When are you going to propose?” asked Byakuya.

“How are you going to propose?” Touko chimed in. Aloysius rubbed his wrist sheepishly.

“That’s kind of why I wanted to talk to you about it first,” he explained. “I plan on proposing to Ichika today but when I propose, I want it to be special. How did you propose to Mother, Father?”

Byakuya cupped his chin. Meanwhile, Touko clasped her hands together, beaming.

“I r-remember it so clearly!” she gushed. “We were in a restaurant, and...”

“Hold on,” interrupted Byakuya, flinging up a hand for silence. “You’re getting ahead of yourself. Before I proposed to you, I purchased the ring. I know you have already done that, Aloysius, but I want to tell you my story from the start...”

He folded his arms over his chest.

“I remember it well...”

***

On a warm morning in July where the temperature had yet to reach its peak, I arrived at a jewelry store with Naegi and Hagakure. The storefront was sleek black, with golden cursive written across the top that said the shop’s name. When we approached close enough, the double doors parted, granting us entrance. I headed the group, brimming confidence as I strode inside, and I heard the doors whoosh shut behind us.

Circular lights covered the grey ceiling hanging above a dark, polished flooring. Various photographs adorned the desaturated yellow walls, portraying smiling people I didn’t know. Though my gaze lingered longer on the photographs with closeups of rings, even those didn’t capture my attention for long. Of more interest were the glass cabinets either side of me, filled with mannequin shoulders and hands that boasted different jewelry.

Hagakure let out a low whistle and rested his hands onto his hips, looking around. “This place is mighty fancy.”

“Yeah,” agreed Naegi, his eyes flitting about nervously. I nudged up my glasses and resisted the urge to roll my eyes. A low cluck escaped me.

“You two will be fine, so long as you don’t touch anything,” I assured them. They both shot wary looks at each other.

We didn’t have to dawdle long before a man in a white-blue checkered shirt received us. I can’t remember much about his appearance. Your grandmother had a photographic memory, you know. Anyway...

“Good morning, gentlemen, how can I help you today?” asked the salesman. I stepped forward.

“I’m the one you have business with,” I told him, and when his attention narrowed onto me, I added, “I need an engagement ring.”

The salesman nodded. If he had a hat, he would have tipped it. He gave off that impression. “Can do. Do you have anything particular in mind?”

“Diamond, with an interesting pattern,” I told him. “However, while I don’t want it to be plain, I don’t want it to be over the top or gimmicky... It needs to be original but elegant.”

I could tell that the salesman hadn’t been listening by the glazed look in his eyes, but he nodded anyway.

“I’m sure I can help you with that,” said the salesman. He led us to one of the glass display cabinets and swept his hand across the top. “This brand has a lot of standout designs. Do any of these tickle your fancy?”

We peered in. A lot of engagement rings that I had seen prior to this were similar - silver band with a diamond, whether it be a princess cut, oval cut, cushion cut or another, and indeed, some rings shown to me then didn’t stand out from many others I had seen not just in passing, but during my research online.

To give credit, alongside these standard engagement rings were others that had a hint of originality to them: one had a blue topaz gemstone, another had a band that wasn’t plain smooth or encrusted with smaller gemstones, but more ornate, and a ring near it had a band resembling interlaced vines.

After some deliberation, I soon set my eyes on the ring I wanted to give to Touko. It -

***

“I wouldn’t use the word ‘soon’ here,” came a slightly muffled voice.

Byakuya, Touko and Aloysius turned sharply to where the voice originated from. Yasuhiro Hagakure stood in the doorway of their living room, straddling a toothbrush between his teeth. His dreads, despite being restrained to a ponytail, were still voluminous, framing his head like rays from the Sun. He popped the toothbrush out of his mouth and padded over.

“Hi, Uncle Hiro.” Aloysius lowered his shoulders now he knew who it was. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Neither did we,” said Byakuya, squinting.

“Family doesn’t need a reason or invitation to visit family, ‘right?” said Yasuhiro, and he quickly continued talking before anyone could answer him, wagging his toothbrush. “Anyway, Togami-chi, I overheard you telling little Aloysius-chi here about the time we went to buy an engagement ring of Touko-chi, and I couldn’t help noticing that some details might have been a bit fuzzy in your memory.”

Aloysius wasn’t little. He was in his twenties. But he said nothing, too curious.

Apparently, so was his father.

“Oh?” went Byakuya, cocking his head.

Yasuhiro hit himself on the chest with the hand holding the toothbrush. “Yep! But don’t worry, I remember the scene as clear as a bell! It went like this...”

***

So, Togami-chi called me and Naegi-chi the night before, asking us to come help him pick out an engagement ring. Being the good friend that I am, after I asked how much he was willing to pay for our services and he said nothing, I conceded and said I’d do it for free because we are such good friends, ‘right? The next day, we met at my place, and Togami-chi was anxiously going, “We need to go now! We need to go now!”

***

“I said that once,” Byakuya grouched. “And I wasn’t anxious. Just annoyed. You were taking too long to put your shoes on.”

“Whatever you say,” Yasuhiro said dismissively. He perched onto the armrest of the couch. “So...”

***

I drove us there in my car - I’ve still got old reliable, by the way - and the place really was as swanky as Togami-chi made it out to be. The sign above the doors was so elegant. You know, I could make a living as a person who writes shop names on signs, my penmanship is that neat, and I even said that. Naegi-chi wondered if there was even a job just for that and Togami-chi just gave us this blank look. I totally rendered him speechless', ‘right?

We walked in, and the entire place was amazing. Aloysius-chi, I can’t overstate how fancy the place was. I felt like a celebrity at a fancy dinner party. I remember whistling and saying how fancy the place was. Everything sparkled. Jewellery twinkled from within their glass cases, and light reflected off polished services. Totally ethereal.

Naegi-chi agreed with me. We couldn’t touch anything without risking millions in damages. Togami-chi was full of concern seeing us fidget, and he said, “You two will be fine, so long as you don’t touch anything.”

As we waited to for someone to come over, his demeanour changed. Nerves got the better of him. He gritted his teeth, looking around for a salesperson. Not long after, this guy came over to greet us and let me tell you, he was... wow!

***

Yasuhiro thumped himself on the chest, his lips stretched out as he beamed widely.

***

So this guy. His hair was, I would say, mahogany brown and slightly wavy, hanging just past his shoulders, and his moustache and goatee were well-trimmed. Not a hair out of place. He gave us the warmest of smiles I’ve ever seen and waved to us with a friendly gleam in his eyes. A guy like that should have been working as a model or something.

Togami-chi wanted to see some jewelry, and the guy - Katsumi Suzuki, by the way - took us to one cabinet. Katsumi-chi listened with utmost patience as Togami-chi described the ring he sought.

“Diamond, with an interesting pattern,” rambled Togami-chi, one hand on his hip and one hand pointing a finger at the ceiling. “However, while I don’t want it to be plain, I don’t want it to be over the top or gimmicky. It needs to be original but elegant.”

Katsumi-chi nodded attentively and showed us some. Togami-chi then tucked his hands behind his back and bent forward, practically pressing his face against the glass as he ogled the rings in there.

***

“I didn't do it like that,” snapped Byakuya. Yasuhiro shrugged and carried on.

***

There was at least condensation splattered onto the glass. Anyway... Togami-chi had Katsumi-chi take out, one by one, basically the complete collection. Each time, Togami-chi adjusted his glasses and went cross-eyed as he examined the latest ring. And every time, he would click his tongue and pick out another one for Katsumi-chi to show him so he could do the same thing again.

We went through the entire collection before Togami-chi twitched his head back and sneered, “Is that all you have?”

When Togami-chi’s nervous, as you know, he gets cranky. He drummed his fingers against his arms and groped his glasses the whole time.

Katsumi-chi was all professional, full of smiles, and he clapped his hands together. In a breezy voice, he said, “I have another collection for you! Please, follow me.”

No joke, we went around the entire store until Togami-chi finally decided on a ring.

***

Byakuya scowled. “I was not nervous. Now, be quiet. I’ll tell the rest.”

***

I was impatient. I didn’t leave this to the last minute, so I had no reason to be nervous. That man kept showing me rings that didn’t fit the image in my head, and I didn’t have all day. I had other things planned. Some of those rings I knew I could get online for far cheaper if I wanted... though, of course, I didn’t want those. He dared show me some alloy zircon rings that I could obtain elsewhere with the same amount of money one might find down the back of their sofa!

When he realised he risked losing a customer, he squeezed his hands together and begged, “I have another collection for you! Please, follow me!”

My refusal to be ripped off or go away with something neither me nor Touko would be satisfied with paid off. In the end, I spotted three rings that I most approved of.

One was a silver band that didn’t connect the whole way. A round cut diamond punctuated one end and affixed on the other end was a diamond shaped into a flat flower.

For the second ring, the golden band looped twice, and on it was a round cut pink diamond gripped in golden claws, and around the claws, silver rose heads were embedded into the band.

Finally, the third ring, gold-banded, was studded with clear diamonds, and it contained a purple diamond surrounded by small golden leaves.

After a lot of thought, I went with the ring with the pink diamond. I even managed to buy it for a cheaper price than usual. Naegi and Hagakure had their faces buried in their hands, in awe of my debating skills the entire time.

***

“It was more like cringing than awe,” said Yasuhiro, wrinkling his nose. His face smoothed when he turned to Aloysius. “So anyway, Aloysius-chi, that’s how Togami-chi bought his engagement ring.”

Touko sighed happily, slumping against her husband’s side. Aloysius rubbed the back of his neck.

“Uh... thanks,” he said with a lopsided smile. “That was an enjoyable story, but I’m more interested in how the actual proposal went down. That’s the part I’m at now.”

Byakuya lifted his chin, puffing out his chest.

“Hagakure, make us some coffee,” instructed Byakuya, pointing at Yasuhiro, who rose and shuffled into the kitchen. Then Byakuya folded his arms over his chest. “Aloysius, part of the reason we explained that part of our engagement story was to illustrate to you how much thought went into every single stage.”

Touko nodded fervently, squeezing her knees. “T-That’s right... but I think it’s my turn to tell the rest of the story.”

She sat back, raised her hands and laced her fingers together.

“I remember it so clearly...!” said Touko. Her gaze unfocused, and a toothy smile spread across her face. “Unbeknownst to me, Byakuya spent a long time planning the perfect time to propose to me...”

***

I bit on my thumbnail as I peered into my opened wardrobe, a purchase from a thrift shop. It didn’t contain enough clothes to fill the entire thing. Half of the contents consisted of work clothes, plain blouses and long skirts of the muted colours with dark purple being the most colourful of the lot. The other half offered more variety, like a canary yellow dress with a low neckline, allowing for me to wear a frilly white blouse underneath.

Still. Nothing flashy. I held my breath as I lifted the hanger off the rail and pulled out the yellow dress. It swayed a bit before stilling.

“That’s way too casual!” groaned Komaru, standing off to my side. Even after so long, I can remember her fists balled beneath her chin, her chibi head too big for her body.

Her sudden vocalisation sent a shock wave ripping through my body that made me twitch. I clenched the hanger tighter with both hands and pressed it against myself.

“I was just checking it,” I replied, and once my heartbeat returned to normal, I put the hanger back on the rail. With my hands free, I curled my fingers into my palms and knocked my knuckles together. “For my date with Byakuya-sama, I have to consider all possibilities.”

For example, though I knew we were going to a restaurant, what if we decided to do something else afterwards? It would be dinnertime, leaving the rest of the night available for us to fill. We could go on a walk, or spend the night together at his apartment. Then I would have to wear something comfortable... and something easy to take off. Heheh... Ah! As I was saying, it could rain, or become cold, or too hot. There were so many factors to account for.

Komaru crossed her arms.

“It’s not like you don’t know how it will play out. You’ve been on loads of dates with Togami-san already,” Komaru pointed out. I whined.

“Yes! B-But that doesn’t mean I can slack!”

Honestly, I could have tugged on my hair with frustration. Komaru grabbed a hanger off the rail and waved it around.

“Fine. What about this one?” she asked.

I snatched it from her, and as I twisted my body from her, I protected it from her with myself as a shield.

“This one is way too flashy! I’d stick out like a sore thumb,” I hissed.

The hanger in my hands held a sleeveless dress gifted to me by not just Komaru, but her brother too for my last birthday. It was knee-length and pale pink with red petals printed around the skirt, more condensed toward the bottom, like the petals were falling from above and joining the pile below. A black, translucent lace shawl attached to the dress hung from the shoulders to where the skirt of the dress began, matching the colour of the collar.

“It’s perfect!” Komaru announced. She propped her hands onto her hips. “You should tots wear it.”

Admittedly, I was hesitant, because the dress wasn’t exactly like what one would expect at a formal do. The pattern on it stood out, was very striking, but at the same time, it wasn’t casual. That was why I had yet to wear it - I didn’t know what sort of situation it was most appropriate for. Not around the house, but if I went somewhere fancy, people might think it was tacky. I stood there, biting my lip as I studied it.

“Come on, Touko-chan,” Komaru pleaded, clasping her hands together and shaking them.

She persisted, and in the end, I relented, putting it on. When I was done, Komaru uncovered her eyes and beamed.

“You look amazing!” Komaru cheered, throwing up her arms. My eyes narrowed. I grumbled, averting my gaze and trying not to smile.

Byakuya met me at the front gates of the school grounds. As soon as I saw him, I ran over. The weather indulged us that day. A clear blue sky stretched overhead, and the warm temperature didn’t oppress or cling too tightly. My heels clacked against the pavement, sounding like the crackling of fireworks. He scooped me into his arms, and I could have stayed against his chest forever. Tempting though that was, I receded, slightly winded. If I remained there, I wouldn’t be able to stare up and admire him, let alone go on our date.

“This dress isn’t tacky, is it?” I asked once I came out of his embrace. I pinched at the skirt.

“No,” he replied, studying it. “It has an interesting pattern.”

I let go of my dress and grinned wider.

As expected, Byakuya opted for a suit, dark green, consisting of a jacket with a waistcoat underneath and a shirt that was ever so slightly tinged pink. He was absolutely dashing, as always, and he took my hand as we slipped into the taxi.

On the ride there, I gently leaned against him, watching the urban scenery flit by through the window. We disembarked in the car park by the restaurant and walked inside together, gave our names and let a waiter lead us to our table. A candle flickered between us, encased in a clear orb. Our surroundings were all cheerful browns, some accented with other colours, like the green leaves of a plant or white tablecloth. Shortly after we were seated, we ordered drinks - red wine, I recall...

***

“It was a blend of grenache and syrah,” Byakuya interjected.

A grin exploded across her face. She grasped her hands tightly together.

***

Yes! That exactly. I remember how Byakuya raised his glass and announced a toast, and I couldn’t quell my smile as he clinked my glass against his. First, the pork gyoza arrived... They were divine. A crispy bottom and tender top encased juicy innards, shaped like crescent moons that could fit easily in one’s palm. Truly an amalgamation of textures. I p-picked up one with my chopsticks and offered it to Byakuya.

To my delight, he opened his mouth. I could see his teeth, and his cute pink tongue... I popped it into his mouth. Then he picked up a gyoza and offered it to me! My face heated up as I opened my mouth with an aah, and he slid his pork between my puckered lips...

***

The tables in the restaurant retreated in puffs of smoke, and when they cleared, the sleek brown furnishing had disappeared, revealing the living room’s white walls and a painting of Byakuya, Touko and a four year old who used to be Aloysius many years ago. In the painting, the streaks of silver that Byakuya’s hair had now weren’t visible, but other than a few less wrinkles, Aloysius’s parents hadn’t changed much. Those shadowy figures at the restaurant tables vanished, and the only people left were gathered around a couch that popped out of the carpet. No longer did they chatter - their voices became the rumble of distance traffic.

A low laugh rumbled from Touko. Her gaze clouded over.

When Touko didn’t continue speaking after a few seconds, Aloysius coughed, and Touko gave a start. Byakuya pursed his lips. Both were used to how Touko’s mind sometimes wandered. The smile on her face dripped off as she recollected herself. She wiggled, sitting up, and Aloysius waited for the rest of the story.

However, the next person to speak wasn’t her. Not either of them.

“Are you telling the story of when you got engaged?” piped up Komaru from behind the couch.

Touko squawked and bent over sharply. Aloysius’s shoulders twitched. Even Byakuya had jolted slightly and needed to adjust his glasses. That was definitely Komaru, olive eyes, brown hair and all. Komaru tilted her head to one side, eyebrows raised in confusion as both her hands rested on the top of the back of the couch.

“D-Don’t sneak up on me!” Touko said, hand over her heart and glaring over her shoulder.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I thought you saw me come in,” said Komaru, wincing a little. She gave a small wave with one hand and directed a nod across the room. “I waved as I came in, and Hagakure-san waved back, so I thought you knew...”

Everyone looked at Yasuhiro, who stood near the doorway to the kitchen, carrying a tray of drinks. He tensed, then gave a small laugh and cupped the back of his head, keeping hold of the tray in his other hand.

“I didn’t want to interrupt the story!” he explained, showing a lot of teeth in his grin.

“How long have you been here for?” Byakuya asked, and when Aloysius turned to him, he saw that Byakuya had fixed his stare on Komaru.

“Enough to know what point we’re at,” Komaru said. She folded her arms over the top of the couch and leaned her weight into it. When Yasuhiro set down the tray of refreshments in front of them, she faced Aloysius and chirped, “Hey, let me tell you the next part. Otherwise we won’t ever get to the juicy parts. Touko-chan always gets caught up on the little details.”

A crease formed on Touko’s brow, darkening her features, and Touko opened her mouth to object, but before she could, Komaru started speaking anyway.

***

Okay, first off, I did not have a chibi body. Let’s make that clear. Just because I was the cute little sister type, doesn’t mean -

***

“I didn’t mean it literally, you pea brain,” grumbled Touko. Komaru put on a sulky pout, but Aloysius could tell that she wasn’t offended. Byakuya held in a sigh.

When one of Aloysius’s other aunts, Aoi, said those three could put on a comedy act together, she hadn’t been kidding. Yasuhiro smirked at them.

Aloysius raised his hands, facing his palms toward Komaru. “Um... can we get back to the story, please?”

Komaru wiped off her pouty look.

“All right,” she said, still slumped against the couch. She straightened.

***

We spent ages getting Touko-chan ready for her date. Like... hours. Now, though Touko-chan invited me over to help her get ready, I knew something she didn’t. The night before, Togami-san called to tell me about his plan to propose to Touko-chan at their next date.

***

“You then spent the next ten minutes quizzing me about it,” Byakuya remarked with an annoyed frown. Aloysius snorted.

Komaru, who had tapped her nose when she revealed her secret, lowered her hand. She peeled her body off the couch completely and parked her hands onto her hips.

“And what’s wrong with that?” she asked.

***

This way, I knew exactly what to do. I came over to her place after lunch and helped her prepare for what would be, unbeknownst to her, a life-changing experience. Touko-chan stewed over what to wear for almost forever, dithering nonstop at her wardrobe, and when she seemed like she planned to choose this plain yellow dress you might wear on a trip to the seaside, I couldn’t just stand there idly and nod, nod, nod to appease her. See, I knew how big a deal this would be to both of them. I needed to act, and fast.

“That’s way too casual!” I blurted, making Touko-chan jump.

“I was just checking it,” she replied defensively, but she returned the hanger to the rail. She fidgeted her hands, grimacing, and added, “For my date with Byakuya-sama, I have to consider all possibilities.”

Of course, I knew that. In fact, I knew more than her. This date was extra special. I couldn’t let her know that though. While I couldn’t let her be too casual, I couldn’t let her go extreme the other way.

“It’s not like you don’t know how it’s going to play out. You’ve been on loads of dates with Togami-san already,” I said, hoping that would keep her expectations high but not like, crazy high.

“Yes! B-But that doesn’t mean I can slack!” she replied shrilly.

Poor Touko-chan could get herself worked up over an anthill. To be honest, she still can. Don’t give me that look, Touko-chan! You know it’s true.

It was a good thing Togami-kun recruited me to make sure everything went according to his plan. Who knows what would have happened if I hadn’t been there? Touko-chan might even have turned up at the restaurant three days late. Remembering the dress I bought her for her birthday - with help from Makoto’s paycheck, I pulled it out of Touko’s wardrobe and showed it to her.

“What about this one?” I suggested.

Touko-chan already described it so I won’t bore everyone with the details, but it was a really pretty dress, let me emphasise that. The lace at the top was attached to a black collar and collars make almost every outfit seem just a bit smarter at the least, you know? I thought it would add a bit of oomph to her wardrobe. It’s so dreary otherwise... like she got all her outfits at a museum.

She screeched like a cat having its tail trodden on and tore the dress from my hands, shielding it with her body. “This one is way too flashy! I’d stick out like a sore thumb.”

I stuck out my chest. “It’s perfect. You should tots wear it.”

We bickered a bit but with my charm, I triumphed. Touko-chan sulked as I did her hair, tying it into a bun on top of her head. She has so much hair. The whole time, she kept checking her phone for messages or to keep track of the time. Anyway, as soon as she spotted Togami-san at the gates, she perked up and ran over to him. When she reached him, she stumbled over in her high heels, but Togami-san managed to catch her.

***

“You didn’t need to mention that part,” muttered Touko, hunching her shoulders. Komaru waggled her tongue at her.

***

What? It was cute! Thankfully, they avoided a night in a hospital room. I remember wishing I could be in a situation like that with someone. Not the hospital room thing! The thing that actually happened! It was just like from an anime.

They talked then held each other’s hands for a moment before getting into the taxi together, but of course, that’s not the end of the story. Togami-san had told me the name of the restaurant, and I couldn’t not be at my best friend’s engagement, so I roped in three of our friends to make sure it worked out perfectly. So me, Kyouko-chan, Aoi-chan and Kanon-chan got on our bicycles and -

***

“You what?” said Byakuya and Touko at the same time, and then, also in synchronization, they jerked their heads back. Komaru clasped her hands together and oozed a guilty smile.

Then, by herself, Touko said, seething, “I w-wondered how you all showed up so quickly when - ”

“Don’t spoil the story!” Komaru said loudly, flapping her hands.

Touko sank back into the couch moodily, letting Komaru continue. Byakuya draped his arm around Touko and rubbed her shoulder.

***

As I was saying, we got on our bicycles and made chase whilst ensuring neither of them realised we were keeping close tabs on them. Sometimes, we scattered, or took shortcuts through alleyways.

Togami-san told me he planned to propose after dessert, so we didn’t have to follow them into the building right away. In fact, it would have been better to wait until after they settled down, lowering their guards, so until then, the four of us popped into a local ice cream parlor and all had some ice cream in the meantime.

Then, after we finished, we thought we would check out a few stores before sneaking our way into the restaurant. Meals always take forever to come in those sorts of places, so I reckoned we had an hour minimum to spare. Kanon-chan wanted to see if the sports store stocked her baseball bat line - dedicated to her cousin, may Kuwata-san rest in peace - so we went there, and they had some, so we...

***

Touko held her head in her hands and fussed, “You were complaining about how I would never get to the ‘juicy’ parts, and now you’re going off on a tangent about your shopping trip. No one wants to hear about that.”

She shook her head, eyes downcast, baring her teeth.

“My Aloysius wants to hear about the suspense! The drama!” Touko insisted. “Not... Not what ice creams you got, or what you bought in a sports shop!”

Aloysius fixed his eyes on Komaru.

“Drama?” he repeated curiously. Komaru raised her fists with a moody expression.

“Fine! You want an exciting story, I’ll give you one,” she said.

***

So while Togami-san and Touko-chan were being really interesting eating heavily described food or whatever, full of metaphors and similes and junk, the rest of us were walking out of the arcade, Kyouko-chan holding a giant plush penguin in her arms that Aoi won for her, when we heard a huge BANG!

***

Komaru mimed explosions with her hands. Aloysius stared.

***

Out of nowhere. Bang! I nearly jumped out of my skin. The four of us all exchanged eyebrows-up looks, mouths hanging ajar, and then around us, people started yelling and running... At first, we didn’t understand what they were responding to, but then we noticed they were all yelling and running away from the area that contained the restaurant.

Within seconds, smoke started to bleed into the sky, as black as coal.

Okay, I know, I know. Black as coal? Hey, Touko-chan’s the writer here, not me. The smoke was thick and contaminated more and more of the sky as seconds sprinted past.

“What the hell was that?” asked Kanon-chan, shielding her eyes with her hand.

“It sounded like an explosion,” Aoi-chan said, hovering a hand nervously by her mouth.

As always, Kyouko-chan was ready.

“Come on,” she said in that quiet but firm voice of hers, gesturing with the arm not carrying her penguin toy, and the four of us hurried down the street, heading toward the source of the smoke.

Dodging past screaming civilians who either stumbled, cowered or both, my mind swam with possibilities of what could have caused such a scene. Had someone tried setting off a firework in the early evening? Into the velvety violet sky? Did a car veer and crash into a building, blowing out a cloud of dust not unlike something from an episode of Thomas the Tank Engine?

That was an old British children’s television show, Aloysius.

A little voice in the back of my head kept asking, ‘What if something happened at the restaurant?’ The screams and spluttering of footsteps helped drown it out, but my chest tightened like a fist clenched around it. No matter how much I screamed in my head, I couldn’t block that worry out completely.

When the restaurant slid into frame, it confirmed our suspicions. I froze, staring at the partially demolished restaurant. A scream got trapped in my throat. My eyes watered at the acidic stench of destruction.

#togafuka #touko fukawa #byakuya togami #danganronpa #dr3 #makoto naegi #kyouko kirigiri #yasuhiro hagakure #komaru naegi #aoi asahina #fanfiction #togafukaweek #round robin

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chroniclackofselfpreservation · 3 years

Text

OC Mistborn One-Shot

AO3

Summary: Morticia Erikell is set to be married to some nobleman's son she's never met, and despite her talent with Allomancy, many consider her ill-fitted for a life of espionage, much less life in the court as a noblewoman. When the truth of her heritage is revealed, she flees Luthadel to make a life for herself.

TW: mild verbal abuse, disapproving mother, sick parent, arranged marriage mention

A/N: At the moment, I have no intention of continuing this piece, but that isn't to say I never will. Just a heads up.

Tish crouched on the peak of a roof behind a chimney stack, the mists curling around her. Her feet were beginning to go numb from lack of movement, but she ignored them, fidgeting with the ends of her mistcloak in anticipation. A thin blue line appeared, sprouting from her chest and extending toward the waist of the thin figure alighting on a roof across the street—right where the palm-sized sack of coins was attached.

“You’re bigger than the chimney,” the figure called, hands on his hips. “So you wouldn’t exactly call it an effective hiding spot, would you?”

Tish bit the inside of her cheek, Pulling her own bag of coins from where she’d deposited it down the street as a decoy. She rose to her feet.

“We’re done for tonight, Krill,” she said, attaching the bag to her own belt. Krill leaped from his roof, his trajectory shot up in a second arc as he dropped a coin to the street and Pushed himself the rest of the way to her side.

The nobleman was scrawny—as scrawny as someone eating three meals a day could be, that is—and tall. Yet Tish’s silhouette still dwarfed the man. She stood a full head taller than him and was far… wider.

“Listen, Morticia. You’re a talented Mistborn, I’ll give you that—”

Tish lifted an eyebrow. He’ll give me that, will he?

“—but you aren’t… built for this kind of work.”

“Krill?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t recall asking your opinion on the matter,” she said with finality, throwing a coin into the night. It flew farther than even her tin-enhanced eyes could see, but she could hear the tiny plink as it hit the street. Krill shook his head, but said nothing. According to him, normal Mistborn didn’t fling coins so far ahead of them in case they didn’t jump far enough to Push off of it.

Tish didn’t have such a problem—or rather, she knew how to deal with it. In two steps, she’d reached the lip of the roof, allowing gravity to tip her forward until she was angled just so. The muscles in her legs contracted and sent her flying into the night. She nearly reached the other side of the street; no Allomancy needed. Pushing gently on a closed doorhandle, she redirected herself down the street instead of across it. The ground was fast approaching, and Tish burned iron. Blue lines appeared, and with only seconds to spare, she located the coin a few feet ahead of her. Too far.

She Pulled as fast as she could, igniting her Steel at the same time, and Pushing the coin into the ground. Tish’s toes brushed the street as she began to rise again, an exhilarated whoop pealing from her lungs and echoing through the silent mists.

Krill ran alongside her on the rooftops, only Pushing across the larger gaps between buildings.

Tish avoided rooftops when she could. She wasn’t exactly the most stealthy, let alone a quiet runner. Each time she thundered across the shingles, she couldn’t help but picture dust raining down on an unsuspecting citizen in bed, startled awake by the pounding on their roof.

Krill swerved off into the night toward his home, Keep Lekal, without so much as a nod her way. Despite the alliance her house had with his, she wouldn’t be surprised if her mother received a letter from Lord Lekal himself, regretfully informing her that his Mistborn had better things to do than waste his time training one too large to be a proper spy.

The night air was cool, parting around her bulk as she Pushed lightly against her next coin, slowing her fall. The mists obscured the cobbled street, but by burning tin, she had no issue gauging the distance. She rolled to disperse the impact along with a brief flare of pewter. Rocking up to her feet, Tish found herself alone in the middle of a mist-laden street. It was silent—even the helpless skaa beggars that usually peppered alleys in this part of the city had crawled away to seek shelter from the mists. Nobility often scoffed at the skaa’s irrational fear of the phenomenon despite avoiding night travel themselves—though under the guise of more dignified excuses like poor visibility.

Let them think what they wish, Tish thought, twisting her fingers through the mist at her side as if scratching the fur of some ethereal beast. She loved the mists. The fewer people she had to share them with, the better.

Approaching Keep Erikell, Tish dropped a coin. The mansion itself was respectable, but not nearly as grand as Keep Venture or Hasting. Due to the lack of grounds in the crowded part of the city, the building was tall instead of wide and sprawling. Dark iron window panes set into pale gray brick dotted the walls. It used to be white, apparently, but the ash had stained them. The servants could only reach so high without scaffolding of some sort, so her mother instead dangled skaa from the parapets with ropes of varying lengths once a week to scrub the entire exterior. It never returned to white, but it kept the bricks from the near-black residue encrusting most of Luthadel’s buildings.

The one aspect of the keep Tish found attractive were the metal shingles on the roof—and not just because it made it easier to Pull herself up to the balcony of her mother’s still-lit study. They had patinated a gorgeous blue-green. The color was something she’d only ever seen on silken gowns or neckties.

Tish landed as delicately as she could manage on her mother’s balcony, the mists billowing up behind her. The amber light of the gas lamps spilled over her cedarwood skin, chilled from the moist night air. The glass doors were closed, her mother sitting at her desk, facing away from her. She wore an emerald green dress, the casual kind she could wear around the keep or study in, unlike the elegant, formal ones she wore for important occasions. Tish padded across the balcony in her bare feet, mistcloak tasseling about her shins. It wasn’t nearly as long on her as it was Krill—or any other, average-sized Mistborn.

Trying the handle, she found the balcony door latched closed. Sighing, she rapped a knuckle on the glass. Her mother didn’t react, continuing to write something on a piece of parchment. Several seconds passed before she set aside her ink-dip pen and stood.

Brina Erikell turned to see her daughter on the other side of the glass, and though no expression passed over her face, Tish could feel the contempt washing over her. Her mother was not nearly as large as her daughter, though just as tall and of a similar complexion. Her figure was slender as a champagne glass, her neck long and elegant, her fingers slim and delicate. The perfect lady.

Brina undid the latch and pushed the door open.

“You’re back early.” She watched with that same expression, unreadable to most, as Tish strode across the floor with her ash-stained feet.

“Krill didn’t see a point in continuing my training.” Not that he was particularly optimistic to begin with, she thought sourly.

“We got what we needed from the exchange, at least,” Brina said, returning to her desk.

“What good does knowing the identity of one of Lekal’s Mistborn if he also knows about me? It’s a stalemate,” Tish said, almost taking a seat, then thinking better of possibly dirtying her mother’s things.

“Please,” Brina scoffed. “It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out the identity of a female Mistborn with your… stature.”

Right, she thought, wilting. Regardless of how talented she became, anyone who saw her certainly wouldn’t mistake her for a man—not with the curve of her hips and her chest as it was—and there was only one lady in all of Luthadel with a physique like that.

“Lekal gave us inside information,” her mother said, a smile playing at her lips. “We gave him common knowledge. Now, go get cleaned up and head to bed. We’ve got plans tomorrow.”

Tish stopped. “We do?”

Brina nodded, not looking up. “It seems a nobleman from the Eastern Dominance is willing to overlook your appearance in favor of your genetics and wishes to introduce you to his son.”

“Oh,” was all Tish could manage, suddenly feeling faint. She gripped the balcony door for support.

“Lord Ruler willing, you’ll be married by your birthday,” her mother said, picking her pen back up and dipping it in her ink-well. “You are excused.”

Tish nodded, prying her fist from the door handle and crossing to the interior door, numb with disbelief.

“Goodnight, mother.”

Even if she had replied, Tish slipped into the hall before she would have heard. The click of the door behind her shocked her body out of its stupor and a thousand emotions flooded her mind, threatening to spill out in embarrassing and unladylike ways. Of course, she’d known it would happen eventually—it happened to every noblewoman at one point or another. She just hadn’t thought… with her being Mistborn, a small shred of her had hoped she wouldn’t have to.

Tish stormed down the corridor toward her room, but the first window she came to, she tried to force open. It didn’t budge. Taking a moment to pause her anger, she saw that the window she’d chosen didn’t, in fact, even open. She could have easily found another, but there was something cathartic about the destruction. She wanted to hurt her untouchable mother in any way she could.

Tish burned steel and Pushed against the metal framework, sliding back into the opposite wall. Flaring pewter, she pressed harder. Metal squealed in protest as she Pushed with all her might. Tish braced her feet against wall and in one powerful thrust, jumped at the window against her own Push, flaring steel.

The window broke free with a clang, the force of the Push sending it flipping away into the night. Tish sailed through the now open portal, waiting for the blue lines leading to the roof to appear. When they did, she Pulled hard, her fall arcing up and back, as if she swung from a pendulum perpendicular to Keep Erikell, launching her up toward the top.

The window crashed to the ground with a thunderous clang. In the back of her mind, Tish hoped she hadn’t inadvertently injured—or killed—anyone. Latching onto the weathervane atop the keep, Tish kept from running into the edge of the roof, tugging herself up over the sharp metal lip and jogging to a stop on the slick metal tiles.

From here, Tish could see Keep Venture alive with lights from the grand ball held tonight. The fresh air filling her lungs helped to clear her head a bit. She’d been to her fair share of balls in her younger days. In fact, she’d had fun. It wasn’t until the pretty seventeen-year-old had started surpassing the men she danced with height-wise, and when it became harder to lift her, even in simple dances, that she’d stopped attending unless her mother ordered her to. It was the perfect cover for a Mistborn. Too many had been suspected for constantly leaving functions early to go on patrol. Now, everyone thought she stayed away because she was an embarrassment.

That wasn’t the only reason—anymore, at least.

However, given her… unique proportions, any potential mission she would carry out would immediately reveal her secret to whoever saw her—opening her house up to blackmail from other, more powerful houses.

She was a laughingstock as a noblewoman, and she couldn’t do her job as a Mistborn. Really, what good was she?

And now she was going to be married off to some nobleman’s son she didn’t know in less than two weeks. Was that all she could offer her mother? Marriage for a mediocre alliance?

Arden, her only full sibling, was fourteen and already being groomed for eventual lordship—now more than ever. Her father was dying. Leaving his wife to run the estate and make sure Arden would be ready in time to take his father’s place.

Tish lowered to a seat, her anger still there, but dampened by a growing sense of defeat and helplessness. What could she do? Leave Luthadel? And go where? Do what?

There’s always mercenary work, a voice in the back of her head offered. She’d had the idea ever since Krill had mentioned rumor of solitary Mistborn hiring out for random jobs instead of working for their family or a related noble house. How much more could she learn about Allomancy from someone like that? She’d self-taught most everything—Krill really only kept her from impaling herself while learning how to burn iron. That and giving her something to practice chasing. Sure, sparring with Krill had sharpened her reflexes, and increased the amount of strategy she used, but it was no contest when it came to Pushing. Tish wasn’t only stronger, but she also weighed significantly more than Krill. Than most people, in fact.

She looked again to Keep Venture with its glittering lights and gem-toned windows. Tish pulled her mistcloak tighter around herself, bunching the loose strips in her hands. She looked down at the black shirt and trousers her mother had reluctantly obtained for her training.

She still didn’t love how she looked in them, but she could tolerate it. The constant motion and criss-crossing lines of the tassels helped hide her figure, as opposed to the “spilling over” that happened with the dresses her mother had her shoved into.

She could leave. Who would stop her? Certainly not her mother. If anything, she’d be more upset about the loss of potential business with that Eastern nobleman. Who would miss their biggest embarrassment?

From the other side of the roof—opposite her mother’s balcony—she heard other glass doors flung open. Tish burned tin, not moving from her perch, squinting against the now-brighter lights from Keep Venture.

“You need fresh air, dear,” Brina said, too soft for anything but Tish’s tin-enhanced ears to hear. Her father’s voice was even weaker, and she could only tell that he was speaking, but couldn’t make out any words.

She heard her mother scoff. “Probably off prancing about the mists. She didn’t take the news particularly well… Honestly, Herron, it’s not as if she had anything else going for her. She’s an abysmal lady and an even worse Mistborn. Who’s ever heard of a Mistborn like her? She’s no use to us otherwise.”

The words stung, but Tish found she couldn’t disagree. She heard her father’s breathless wheeze of a voice again. Brina sighed.

“I know, but this is what’s best for the girl. Perhaps she’ll finally make use of the body your Terriswoman mother gave her and give us some grandchildren. Normals ones, I hope.”

Her father fell into a coughing fit, and Tish had to grip the roof tiles to keep from simply toppling off into the mists.

Terriswoman mother? My grandmother was… but how…? she thought numbly. She’d only ever seen the few Terrismen other families employed occasionally, and she’d never even seen a woman from their kind before, but…

They were so tall. They were all significantly paler than she, and her father had an even darker complexion that she and her mother. He obviously must have inherited it from his father, then. Why had no one told her this? Tish didn’t know what she would have done had she known, but something like that was too significant to simply ignore. Morticia Erikell had lived her entire life thinking she was some kind of genetic mistake.

Blindsided by the sheer relief that answer, however confusing, brought her, Tish covered her mouth to muffle her sobs as she finally broke down. Her mind was exhausted, having gone from overwhelming frustration at a helpless situation to understanding more about her own identity. It was too much. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She couldn’t hear the rest of her parents’ conversation, but she didn’t particularly care to.

Tish was one step further on a journey she hadn’t realized she’d been on until that very minute: figuring out who she was. She stood after a moment to collect herself, wiping her hands across her tacky cheeks and fanning her face.

She’d decided.

Tish was going to leave Luthadel. Tonight.

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