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favoniuscodex · 3 years

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inheritance . act one [diluc x reader]

inheritance act one of five: denial arranged marriage royalty au prince!diluc x f!knight!reader

fic summary: you're the heir apparent's key to obtaining the throne you've sworn to protect since you were a child. but in barbatos' domain, where freedom reigns, you must first answer a question: is freedom found in the ability to spread your wings and take flight on mondstadt's winds or is freedom found in the ability to choose to remain flightless?

word count: 19.6k

warnings: alcohol, minor descriptions of wounds and violence, bleeding, pining, oblivious characters, no explicit nsfw, enemies(?) to lovers

fic masterlist

a/n: i’m happy it’s finally done! i’m so excited to share this with you all! i hope you like it. please post here to be on the taglist! characters may be ooc at first but they’ll grow into their rightful personalities, dw! <3

You first met Diluc when you were eight, the boy being two years older than you. It was an accidental meeting. Commoners like you weren’t supposed to be in the palace, but your father was one of the palace’s Royal Knights, assigned to protect the king and his royal family, even at the cost of his life. You were far too young to grasp the political implications of what “serving the throne” actually meant, just believing that it meant you got to run around in cool armor while slaying dragons.

At least, that’s what the colorful storybooks that littered the floor of your childhood room had told you.

The boy had seemed nervous. Much like you at that age, he was a true introvert at heart. His princely duties extended past such nerves as he was forced to cast human consternation and worries aside and extend his hand to you.

“I am Prince Diluc of Mond,” He proudly stated, mustering as much righteousness into his words that a ten-year-old was capable of doing.

You were too young to notice it yet, but such an act was false bravado on the prince’s behalf.

You shook his hand limply, unfamiliar with such formal gestures. A nudge from your father enforced the power dynamic that would persist between you and the prince for years to come, as your father reminded you to bow in respect. After bowing, you stayed quiet for a few more moments before being nudged gently by your father again. A confused look passed over your face before you remembered what you needed to do.

“Oh, I’m (Y/N)!” you giggled. “It’s nice to meet you!”

Diluc stared at you for a moment before a grin broke out onto his face. “My father wanted me to ask if you wanted to come play with my brother and I?”

You looked at Diluc before glancing up at your father for permission, who simply smiled and nodded his goodwill in return. In response, Diluc latched his hand around your wrist and the two of you ran down the hallway to go play pirates.

---

When you were fourteen, Diluc appeared in your life once more.

It’s amusing as to how quickly a mere second encounter can shatter fond memories developed prior.

“This is Knight (Y/L/N),” a fellow knight had introduced you to the prince. “Her duties will consist of protecting the royal family, with a focus on you, my prince.”

The redhead had simply scoffed, looking you up and down with distaste. If he remembered your brief childhood rendezvous, he failed to show it. His eyes glinted with annoyance and his lips curled slightly downwards, yet you bowed in respect, for you had sworn an oath of fealty to the kingdom. Whether the people you watched over agreed or disagreed with your methods mattered not to you, for you had been assigned to this position by the king himself. Anyone who ranked below him could not waver such undying loyalty, even if they were his son.

“She’s my bodyguard?” Diluc’s tone was one of disdain as he folded his arms. “She’s a child. I’d be better off protecting myself, especially since she doesn’t have a vision. I don’t want her.”

Your stoic expression matches Diluc’s slight frown, unshaken by his words. However, you couldn’t say the same for the knight that had re-introduced the two of you. Despite being much older and of higher rank than you, the poor man was shaking in his boots from being reprimanded by the king’s tempestuous son.

“My prince, with all due respect, she is the most promising knight out of the academy in many years. She’s an excellent fighter and chivalrous at heart. I can assure the king has picked only the best knight for you,” your fellow knight insisted as you remained steady.

“My father picked her?” Diluc’s voice softens almost imperceptibly, not having expected such information. “Very well then. Even if I do not believe she is of assistance, I have no capability to argue with one of my father’s orders.”

A wave of relief washes over your superior’s face upon Diluc’s concession. “Thank you, my liege,” He says, genuflecting in the prince’s direction before standing tall and saluting. Diluc’s crimson gaze turns to yours and presses his lips together in a slight frown.

“Well?” The prince snaps, seemingly expecting something of you as he folds his arms. Your stoic expression shatters as you raise an eyebrow. “Do you not have something to say to me as well?”

Oh. You finally understand. He’s not just having a bad day. He’s just an asshat.

“With all due respect, my prince,” You respond, finally breaking your silence. “I am not aware of any words of yours that deserve my gratitude. All three of us are merely following orders.”

You feign innocence at your contemptuous words, biting back a smirk as the haughty redhead glowers at you. The knight next to you looks as if he wants to run away. Sensing his discomfort, Diluc wordlessly waves him off and your eyes flicker away from Diluc’s vermillion gaze to watch the knight salute before marching off, leaving you and your new assignment alone together. Diluc looks you up and down once more, his eyes ablaze with ire at your mere presence.

“What is your name?” Diluc queries. His harsh tone contracts with the societal politeness embedded into his question. “Royal Knight (Y/L/N), sir.” You respond with a quick salute. Diluc stares at you with a mixture of confusion and disgust.

“That is not what I meant. What is your first name?” He clarifies, his vocal inflection making it clear that such a notion should have been obvious to you from the beginning. “You are not a dog, I do not wish to refer to you in such a manner.”

Your lips remain neutral, but you can’t help the confused look that shows in your eyes. It was far too late for him to say such things. He had already treated both you and your superior with disrespect. Nonetheless, as he is a higher rank than you, you answered him. “(Y/N), sir.”

“Well, (Y/N), it appears that we are stuck together. It would be in your best interest not to slow me down,” His words are cavalier and cautionary, yet you discern a faint hint of hollowness in his words, as if he’s not exactly sure what to say or do with you.

You nod in response and give a slight smirk in hopes of easing the tension between the two of you. Diluc doesn’t smile back.

---

A year of being Diluc’s bodyguard (a position akin to being a glorified babysitter, except you have authorization to use lethal force) passes and you find a friend in the most unlikely of places: Diluc’s own brother, Kaeya. The blue-haired boy is a cheerful, charming spirit who took an immediate interest in you upon your first meeting.

“My older brother probably hates you,” He had said and you were unsure as to how to respond until he let out a laugh. “That’s okay. He hates almost everyone. I’m Prince Kaeya!”

Kaeya’s ability to find you on the castle grounds whenever your services are not needed for the elder prince is almost troubling. Any brief moment of peace you have often results in the persistent prince appearing at your side, excited to speak with you about whatever was going on in his life. Kaeya’s determination to become your friend, you soon realized, is rooted in the fact that the prince has little to no interaction with others of his age, something you had also noticed in Diluc’s own life upon your time watching him. Kaeya was not allowed the privilege to have friends his age, something you had taken for granted back in your hometown of Springvale.

“What are you thinking about?” Kaeya asks, the two of you sitting on a bench outside of the knight’s quarters. He bites into one of the apples he had brought along with him, soft crunching noises filling the the silence between you as you attempt to formulate a response.

“Well,” Your eyes flicker to the clusters of windwheel asters planted by the entrance to your residence building. “I am afraid my thoughts are not of much value at the moment.” You draw your words out in order to give yourself time to think of how to phrase your words. “At the moment, my thoughts are not very… kind.” Upon your words, Kaeya’s blue eyes gleam with delight as he leans over closer to you. The boy has pestered you enough to know what such words mean, as they are not a slight to him, but rather disdainful of his older brother.

“Do share them,” Kaeya pleads, his tone eager to hear what complaints you may have about Diluc.

You flatten your hands on the flat surface of the stone bench behind you and look up into the cloudless blue sky, enjoying the feeling of the warm spring sun on your skin as you utter your next words, “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Yes, yes!” Kaeya laughs, excitedly. “Share your vile thoughts so the world may cast their judgement upon the wicked sinfulness that reverberates in your mind!”

You snap your head to the boy next to you and stare at him with wide eyes at his words. The second your eyes meet his playful ones, the both of you break out into raucous laughter at his theatrics. His tone was haughty, mimicking many of the stuffy elites the two of you were surrounded by, including Diluc. At times like these, you were reminded that Kaeya was an outsider to the palace, just like you were, yet the hierarchy of the two of your duties separated you from him.

“Okay, okay,” You huff, trying to catch your breath from laughing. Kaeya simmers down upon realizing you are about to talk and looks at you expectantly, leaning slightly in your direction. “Yes, it’s about him.” The two of you burst into laughter once more.

“When is it not?” Kaeya giggles. “He’s so weird with you compared to how he acts with me.”

“That’s because you’re his brother. Of course he’s going to be nicer to you.” You explain before shaking your head slightly and swatting your hand through the air to signal that such a topic of conversation is something you did not wish to focus upon. “Anyways, today we were in another one of those stuffy formality meetings with some Inazuman diplomates. Y’know, those ones. And I’m standing by the door, keeping watch, like… it’s the usual kind of stuff I’m supposed to do. The meeting was supposed to be two hours, but Diluc’s refusal to compromise made the meeting run over it’s designated time by an hour. I swear, if not for the fact that it would cause an international scandal, Diluc and the diplomat guy would’ve started fighting each other.”

Kaeya’s eyebrows raise at your last statement and he laughs once more. “That’s Diluc for you. He means well but is awful at showing it to most people. He just… really believes in himself.”

“He shouldn’t,” You respond before clapping a hand over your mouth in shock as Kaeya roars with joy at your words, relishing in your loss of respect for the redheaded prince in your words. “I… I don’t mean it like that! I just mean… he’s still young. Such an unshakable perspective on international relations will only lead to foreign envoys viewing him poorly.”

“Yes, I wholeheartedly agree, but neither of us want to tell him this. He’d just scream at you and would give me the cold shoulder,” Kaeya muses as he outstretches a hand to you, offering one of the untouched apples he had brought along to you. You nod your appreciation and take the apple, piercing through its skin with your teeth as you bite into the red fruit.

“Prince Diluc does like to lecture his subordinates,” You agree after swallowing. “Especially me.”

“Don’t take it personally,” Kaeya advises with an optimistic smile. “If he’s willingly speaking to you at all, it means he likes you. He just does a piss poor job at showing it to anyone outside of the family.”

“Because he’s entitled.” You respond and Kaeya winks at you, gesturing his approval in your direction.

“Precisely! Now you’re getting it!”

---

On your sixteenth birthday, Diluc provides no well-wishes, but manages to give you the best present of all: a better attitude. His words are no longer infused with the disdain he once held for you, but rather coated with only a slight annoyance. With Diluc, you’ll take any improvement you can get. The change in his demeanor had left you reeling after a mere ten-word question, the whiplash from the complete upheaval of his attitude stunning you into silence.

“Would you care to go to the market with me?” Diluc had asked absentmindedly, focused on his paperwork at hand.

You had stood by the entrance to his personal study, warding off any unwanted visitors with your daunting presence and stoic demeanor. Despite how intimidating the other maids found you, Diluc had paid this unapproachable disposition of yours no mind, much to your gratitude. But as the rather innocent question fell from the prince’s lips, you couldn’t help but to look around and reassure that no one else had slipped into the room and evaded your watchful eye.

Diluc had given you a choice with his question -- an action he had never performed before.

Irked by your silence, Diluc set his pen down and looked up at you expectantly, folding his hands together and resting them on the desk in front of him. “Well?” He scoffed.

“Visiting Mondstadt’s main street would be nice,” You responded, unsure of your words. With Diluc, you were always unsure of your words. “Would you like me to assemble a party of knights to accompany us?”

Diluc let out a sigh and shook his head, leaning back in his chair. “I do not wish to attract unwanted attention with such procedures. I simply wish to get a breath of fresh air. Only your presence is requested, unless you believe it is unwise for me to leave with so few men by my side.” The boy’s words were inquisitive, holding an unfamiliar softness to him. The realization that the prince is genuinely seeking your approval of his plan caused you to bite back a smile in fear of spoiling his uncharacteristically pleasant mood.

Therefore, rather than rushing an answer to his response, you mulled it over. You had no reservations about your own fighting skills, having been chosen for your current position due to your highly proficient swordsmanship. Additionally, you knew of Diluc’s training with both his Pyro vision and his claymore, so you had few worries for the prince being able to handle his own. Both of these factors combined meant that you only had one issue to worry about.

“Well, according to protocol, a departure from the palace grounds would require multiple guards to be at your side,” You speculated, watching as Diluc’s shoulders fell slightly as he let out a huff of contempt. He lifted up his pen and prepared to work once more, but your additional words caused him to cease this motion. “But… I believe there is a way we can bypass these regulations, but I am not quite sure if you will enjoy it.”

Your plan leads to you standing in the main square of Mondstadt, hands clasped together as you watch a group of children run around the fountain. You are standing in your typical Royal Knight uniform with your weapon strapped to your back. At your side stands Prince Diluc, disguised as a fellow Royal Knight, much to his behest. His claymore rests upon his back, ready for him to wield should any evil-doers elected to make their presences known.

For Diluc, his cherry-colored hair and matching eyes do little to disguise him, but his typical introversion aids him, as the average Mondstadtian is unlikely to recognize their prince and, for those that do, are unlikely to believe that their prince is dressed up in Royal Knight attire and perusing the shops of Mondstadt with only one knight by his side. Your illicit plan, which involved smuggling a spare uniform into the castle then proceeding to sneak the prince wearing said uniform out of the castle, relies now upon one thing: the stupidity of your fellow citizens.

For your job’s sake, you pray to Barbatos that it works.

“I do not enjoy this outfit,” Diluc grumbles next to you, causing your attention to snap from watching the commoners of Mondstadt and instead to the prince of said kingdom. He pinches at some of the fabric on his leg, stretching it around in hopes of making the outfit more comfortable. You have never had any issues with said uniform, but then again, you aren’t a prince who has all of his clothes custom tailored to his build.

“To achieve true happiness, we all have to do things we don’t exactly like to do.” You chirp. Diluc’s aloof visage is now marred by furrowed eyebrows as he tries to decipher any potential hidden meanings behind your potentially parabolic words. However, you fail to give him proper time to ruminate, instead deciding to speak once more. “Where were you hoping to visit, sir?”

Diluc returns to his usual silence, but a faint flush that appears on his cheeks notifies you of his bashfulness.

“I’m… not sure,” He admits. If you did not have a code of conduct to follow, you would be screeching in delight at Diluc, the arrogant prince of Mond, finally admitting he does not know something. “I do not often have the chance to visit the heart of the city, especially in such a leisurely manner. However, you are from here, are you not?”

“I am from Springvale, sir.” You respond, forgoing your typical formality of my prince. After all, such a title would immediately blow Diluc’s cover. The redhead looks crestfallen at your words. “But… I resided in Mondstadt with my father while training to be a knight. I won’t be as good of a tour guide as a local, but I should be decent.”

“Do you know of any… eating establishments?” Diluc asks. You narrowly avoid sending a judgemental look his way at his wording. Did he not know they were called restaurants? Had Diluc never been to a restaurant? You were baffled.

“Do you prefer a to-go restaurant or a sit-down restaurant, sir?” You question and Diluc’s relaxed expression turns into one of befuddlement. Well, that answered the question if Diluc had ever experienced the basic societal activity that was eating at a restaurant. You knew royals were detached from society, but you never would have thought it to be this bad.

“Alright,” You say after a few beats of silence, smart enough to know that Diluc isn’t going to respond. The redhead’s expression returns to his typical indifferent one. “We’ll go to a sit-down restaurant, if that’s okay. A bit more expensive, but it’s probably the most immersive experience for eating at a restaurant for the first time.”

“I have been to a restaurant before,” Diluc lies, trying to save face as his cheeks begin to tint with pink upon realizing that you’ve seen right through him. You look at him blankly and his eyebrows twitch in annoyance upon his revelation that you weren’t buying his protests. “Fine, then. Lead the way.”

His typical annoyed tone is back. Well, kind Diluc was nice while it lasted, you think, rolling your shoulders slightly in preparation for his typical attitude. You nod in response and begin to walk. The prince matches your pace, determined to not fall behind someone of a lower rank than him.

---

You start to wonder if everyone in Mondstadt is pretending to be oblivious to the prince in their presence or if they’re actually just that stupid.

It’s a miracle that you managed to corral the prince’s confident attitude long enough to get him to sit down and order some food at The Good Hunter. Upon your arrival, Diluc managed to ignore the politely worded “Please wait to be seated” sign and started to walk past the hostess table, determined to seat himself. You had to pull him back to you by yanking his arm, an action that surely would have made Diluc lecture you for fifteen minutes, if not for the fact that he was still undercover. Instead, he settled for a scathing glare which only worsened as you gestured at the sign in front of the two of you.

Additionally, the prince was baffled by the entire ordering process, especially upon you informing him that it would take upwards of thirty minutes to receive your food. He was put off by the fact the chefs wouldn’t drop everything just to serve him first, to which you had simply taken a sip of your drink and not responded to such opinions. Now, the two of you were sitting in silence as your gaze fluttered around the restaurant and any passerbys, analyzing for potential threats. You found comfort in the silence as you were used to standing vigilant and quiet through your duty as Diluc’s personal Royal Knight.

“You are quiet,” Diluc states, his words almost an accusation. You look at him inquisitively, your gaze moving from the entrance to his red hues. You tilt your head slightly at his statement, signalling your confusion at his words. Diluc lets out a huff, bothered by your petulant, purposefully silent response. “You never speak unless if spoken to.”

“Would you prefer if I talk more, sir?” You ask. After all, you served the throne, which extended to Diluc. Any wish of his was your command, even if you thought he was generally an uppity, self-absorbed jerk. His eyes narrow slightly.

“I typically appreciate your silence,” Diluc confesses. It doesn’t feel like a compliment. “But now? It is quite irritating.” The prince stares you down, awaiting your reply.

“If I may ask, sir, why is such a thing irritating?” You question, turning your gaze back to the entrance as you speak. “I am merely observing the building for any potential threats to your life.”

“Look around, (Y/N),” Diluc says exasperatedly, as if his answer should be obvious. Yeah, that’s what I’ve been doing, you think bitterly, but elect to keep such thoughts to yourself. “Everyone here is speaking with someone else. Such social interactions are a simplicity of life commoners take for granted. The ability to speak freely with a non-familial companion is something I envy.”

Your gaze snaps back to the prince and you raise your eyebrows. “Is a wish for such companionship why you wished to go to the market, sir? To be a part of the lower citizenry?”

The prince breaks from staring at you, instead electing to study his hands in his lap, flustered by such a straightforward question. “I wish to better understand my subjects, yes. But I also wish to have the same liberties as them. I long for the freedom for platonic association with others of my age.”

“So…” You trail off for a second, lost in thought. “You want friends?”

The prince smiles bitterly at his friends. “Yes,” He answers truthfully. The single word is imbued with intense envy. “Everyone in my life, apart from my father and my brother, is placed in my life to placate me, rather than to accompany me.”

Your eyebrows raise briefly at his confession, perplexed as to why the prince is being so forthright and honest with you. For a split second, you wonder if the prince is swallowing his pride and asking to be your friend, but you quickly shoo such a childish thought out of your brain. You quickly determine that the prince isn’t interested in friendship, but rather wishes to use his subordinates, such as yourself, to fill the void in his heart. You decide to placate him nonetheless with a soft smile.

“Companionship is what you make of it,” You suggest, leaving your words vague as you lean back against your seat, crossing your arms and returning to watching the interest. The two of you fall into a silence once more, before Diluc speaks once more.

“I do not know much about you.” The redhead states. “Where are you from?”

For a man who wanted friends, he’s awfully bad at remembering information about his companions, you think. But you’ll gladly take the forced conversation with Diluc over him barking orders and insults at you all the time. You are well aware that you’ve sworn to protect the throne, even at the cost of your life, but you can’t help the desire for freedom from such burdens that swims in the depths of your mind.

“Springvale,” You echo absentmindedly. You barely hold yourself back from asking where he’s from, even if it would be funny to see his face twist in frustration at your teasing. “I was born there, but moved away at the age of ten to begin training to be a Knight of Favonius. Things changed and I ended up as a Royal Knight instead.”

Diluc’s interest is piqued at your words. You can’t help the feeling of discomfort that washes over you upon the sudden realization that you’re having a friendly conversation with your superior, a man who can barely tolerate your presence on a good day. He seems to be trying, though, and you can’t help but sympathize with his loneliness. As his personal guard, you’d be the first to say that Prince Diluc has very few friends.

“Why did you elect to become a Royal Knight rather than a Knight of Favonius?” Diluc asks, his crimson eyes staring at you.

“Permission to speak freely?” You requested, the words feeling foreign on your tongue. The question that you constantly asked his younger brother was now difficult to get out. Diluc’s eyes widen slightly, startled at your request, but his relaxed visage quickly returns, disguising his emotions once more.

“Permission granted.” Diluc says. The words feel jarring coming from him and you can tell he feels the same discomfort you do at this sudden change in professionalism between the two of you, yet he makes no move to change the topic of conversation or to stop you from speaking.

“My personal view on the Knights of Favonius is that…” Your words sound distant as you try to find the proper way of phrasing what you need to say. “They’re inefficient. Most of the Knights within Ordo Favonius prefer to serve themselves rather than the community of Mondstadt as a whole. They’re there because it’s a well-paying job. They dislike anything that threatens their reputation and job security.”

At that moment, you had no idea how seriously Diluc would take your words and the lasting impact such a confession would have on him.

---

You’re seventeen when you encounter the worst threat to the palace yet. You had been alone, forced to fight an Abyss Mage who had breached Mondstadt’s walls and headed in the direction of the palace. You had destroyed its shield by throwing a rock at a nearby exploding barrel on the wall. The resulting explosion had alerted nearby knights of the Abyss Mage’s presence, but the creature’s Cryo magic had severely frostbitten your arm before any help could arrive. In return, you had wielded your sword with a single hand and delivered the killing blow to the creature.

The Knights of Favonius weren’t happy with your decision to kill the creature, stating that having an abyss mage in their possession could have been a valuable resource. Helping the Knights of Favonius with their research wasn’t your job -- protecting the throne was. Therefore, you had no regrets about your decision to kill the gremlin who had almost taken your arm.

You sit on a bed in the Cathedral’s infirmary as a healer frets over your arm, using the power of their Anemo vision to speed up the healing process. The frostbite was recoverable, they had told you, but it would likely result in permanent scarring. To ensure full use of your arm would return, you were recommended to take a leave of absence from your protective duties in the palace for the following month.

While you were happy to be alive, you were irritated that such a situation would put you out of work for the next month. Sure, your position wasn’t the greatest, but it was a stepping stone to a better position within the Royal Knights, such as becoming one of the king’s personal knights or one of the organizers of palace operations. The organization itself focused on palace operations, which meant there wasn’t much room for growth as compared to the Knights of Favonius, who protected Mondstadt’s citizenry.

A month out of work meant a month less of progress in your career and, more importantly, a month less of protecting the throne you had sworn your life to protect. Your fate of becoming a knight was a decision you had made at a young age, clueless and starry-eyed, as you watched your father perform his duties around the palace. He had been a high-ranking Royal Knight, one of King Crepus’s personal entourage. He had wholeheartedly believed in everything the throne of Mond stood for, declaring that the throne protected the freedom of Mond’s people and fulfilled Barbatos’s wishes. As you trusted and idolized your father, you also inherited his same ideologies, locking you into a permanent life of duty as you swore to help defend Mond’s royal family from harm.

You had made that promise when you were ten and had yet to doubt it, seven years later.

The door to your infirmary room swings open and you watch the healer, still fussing over your arm as he applies new bandages, jump slightly at the unexpected intrusion. Despite the pain medications that the Sisters had given you before the healer began his work, your arm still throbs in pain, causing you to let out a hiss as the healer moves your arm in the midst of his surprise. He mutters a slight apology, but you’re more distracted by the intruder.

Your eyes widen in surprise, not having expected the intruder to be none other than Prince Diluc. His eyes flicker to your arm and, despite how the pain medication swirls your vision and jumbles your thoughts, you can see the irked disappointment in his eyes at your injury. Such a wound only results in inconvenience for him as he now needs to have a temporary replacement knight, who is unfamiliar with his typical protocols and routines. The prince lets out a long sigh.

“What? My supposed best knight is unable to handle some cryo slimes?” Diluc scoffs derisively.

Since your birthday last year, your relationship with Diluc has improved somewhat. Speaking to him often resulted in stiff, awkward conversation, but it is an upgrade from before, where talking to the prince in an amicable manner wasn’t even an option. More often than not, it would be the prince initiating awkward conversation between the two of you, not quite sure how to interact with someone his age outside without the use of diplomatic charm. The prince, just under two years older than you, didn’t seem interested in being your friend, but you also weren’t sure what to make of his platonic advances.

But now, as you sat in the Cathedral’s infirmary, you realized Diluc wasn’t here to provide friendship. He was just here to lecture you about your mistake of choosing to fight an Abyss Mage, about how you should’ve just let another knight deal with him, and about how you should have sacrificed the potential safety of the throne for his immediate comfort.

“Wasn’t any slimes,” Your lips are heavy as you struggle to form the words without slurring them together. “Was an Abyss Mage. Cryo one.” Your mind churns as you try your absolute hardest to focus on the situation at hand. Diluc’s in the room, you remind yourself as you fight the urge to slump back and fall asleep. You stare at Diluc, eyelids drooping with fatigue. You notice your fresh bandages turning red once more, causing the healer to sigh and apply more to your arm.

The prince is silent, but you see a quick flash of fear pass over his face, followed by an expression of concern. Both emotions are short-lived as he readjusts his posture and presses his lips into a frown, crosses his arms, and shifts his weight onto one leg.

“You should not have fought an Abyss Ma-,” He begins, but a loud bark of a laugh erupts from your system, interrupting him.

“H… Have you ever fought anything?” Your words are accusatory and borderline incoherent, but the narrowing of Diluc’s eyes lets you know that he understood what you had just said. “All… all you do is sit around! And… and… and you waste your vision! Everyone does everything… for you… I fight to protect you… your family… I don’t want to get injured, but here I am…”

The healer, upon realizing that you’re disrespecting the crown prince of Mond, wordlessly excuses himself from the situation and slips past Diluc to exit the room. Diluc parts his lips, ready to speak again, as a scowl crosses his face at your disrespectful words. However, before the redhead can speak once more, you raise a shaky hand, holding up your middle finger to the prince.

“If you’re… if you’re just gonna lecture me for… risking my life… for you… eat shit.” You manage to say, words garbled. You relish in the widening of Diluc’s eyes as he opens his mouth to yell before closing your eyes and promptly falling asleep, slumping over on the infirmary bed.

---

You awoke the next day with no recollection of the prior day’s events, except an innate sense of satisfaction, as if you had gotten something off your chest. Nervous that you had potentially said something foul to someone you shouldn’t have, you awaited a formal reprimanding of your unknown actions, but never received one.

Now, two weeks in, you’re finally getting back to normal as you water the plants outside of the knight’s quarters, having been assigned to take care of the landscaping today. Despite the tasks being relatively easy, they took you a while to complete due to one of your arms being stuck in a sling. You crouch over, trying to balance as you lean forward to water one of the red flowers stuck in the back of the arrangement.

“Hey!” A voice calls, causing you to drop the watering can in surprise, the water sloshing over your feet and onto the cobblestone around you. You lose your balance and fall backwards, landing on your butt, but before you can lecture the person who scared you, you feel two hands place themselves on each side of your waist.

“Up we go!” A familiar voice sings before hoisting you up to stand back on your own two feet. You turn around and narrow your eyes at him, placing the hand holding the empty watering can on your hip. The blue-haired boy before you smiles unabashedly, utterly pleased with himself. “Anything to save a damsel in distress!” “Yeah, I’m definitely defenseless,” You grumble sarcastically as the boy takes the watering can from you. His physique has changed over the years due to his interest in becoming a high ranking Knight of Favonius, but both his azure eyes still gleam with childlike mischief. He nudges your uninjured arm playfully.

“Aw, cheer up! You’re the toughest one-armed fighter I know!” Kaeya jests. You roll your eyes in response, biting back a smirk at his antics.

“I’m the only one-armed fighter you know.” You respond as Kaeya gently grabs your wrist and guides you to the bench where the two of you typically sit.

“Two weeks ago. What happened?” Kaeya asks, gesturing to your arm. You tilt your head, confused at his question. Surely he’s heard about it by now..? You think to yourself.

“An Abyss Mage got past Mondstadt’s outer walls, I was on break when I saw it, and I had to fight it, sir.” You explain quickly, but Kaeya simply shakes his head in response.

“No, not that! What happened in the infirmary?” His voice is teasing, but your blood can’t help but run cold at his words. Your intuition that something had happened between the time you arrived at the infirmary and before you fell asleep was correct. Much to your chagrin, you hadn’t been able to remember your actions, but apparently they were remarkable enough for the younger prince to have heard about them.

You let out a groan and rub your free hand over your face, already mortified by your actions that you had no recollection of. Kaeya lets out a laugh.

“Diluc visited you,” He explains, causing you to let out an even louder, more obnoxious groan. You lean forward on the bench, resting your elbow in your knee and cradling your forehead in your uninjured hand.

“Oh gods, what did I say?” You whined. After years of friendship with the younger prince, he had insisted you no longer be so formal with him. Honorifics slipped into your speech on rare occasions, but you generally spoke to Kaeya in the same way you would speak to your friends back home in Springvale.

Kaeya laughs at your theatrics. “Well, you weren’t very nice. You told him to, and I quote, ‘eat shit’ if he wanted to yell at you.”

You let out a noise of horror and Kaeya’s laughter at your embarrassment shakes his whole body. Glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, the younger prince is absolutely delighted in your misery at the situation at hand.

“That’s not all! You also gave him the middle finger!” Kaeya giggles, nudging you as you continue your woeful theatrics. “You didn’t even use the right finger. You were trying to give him the middle finger but you used your pointer finger!”

You want to die. Heat is rising to your face so quickly that you swear you are going to faint. Kaeya pauses as your theatrics die down as you begin to hyperventilate, panicked at the situation at hand. Not only did you tell the crown prince to eat shit, you had also attempted to give him an inflammatory gesture and managed to mess up said gesture. Your career was over, you would become a disgrace to the nation, and, at the worst, you could be thrown in jail for such disrespect to the royal family.

You were a disgrace to the royal throne you swore your life to serve.

Heaving air in and out, you sit up, trying to keep your balance and not pass out from stress. Your eyes brim with tears and Kaeya looks at you in alarm. His hand finds your back, rubbing soothing circles that do little to placate your panic.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay!” He tries to soothe over your worries. “Someone had to tell Diluc that at some point!”

You let out a choked sob, leaning over once more. “T… that doesn’t help,” You whimpered. Kaeya’s blue eyes stare at your hunched over form, his blue irises swimming with regret and distress at your current state.

“Um… my dad found it funny?” Kaeya tries once more. Your sobs only worsen, causing Kaeya to clench his teeth at his own words.

“The king even knows about my irreverent actions?” You cry and Kaeya’s stress upon seeing your own stress only worsens. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you in for a side-hug, rubbing his hand up and down on your shoulder in a calming manner. “You’re not in trouble, Diluc’s not mad… anymore, at least.”

Your crying turns into soft sniffles and Kaeya thanks Barbatos that he was able to calm you down. Wiping your tears away with the back of your hand, you let out a shaky sigh.

“I can’t believe I did that,” You breathe and Kaeya lets out a soft, reassuring chuckle.

“We all make mistakes, plus you were on some heavy medication!” He pauses as you look over at him and bites his lip slightly, as if he wants to say something more. You look at him expectantly and he lets out a soft sigh of defeat at your watery eyes pleading for him to continue. “Plus… I think Diluc kinda likes it when you yell at him.”

“You’re gross,” You whine, voice still wet with tears, but you manage out a soft laugh after your words. “No, he doesn’t.” “You’d be surprised about how he feels about you,” Kaeya teases, but you detect faint traces of sincerity and, if you focus hard enough, jealousy. Rather than dwelling on hidden meanings, you elect to take the blue-haired boy’s words at face value, nudging him back and giving him a look of faux disgust before letting out a soft giggle. He laughs and squeezes your shoulder reassuringly. “You’re so much prettier when you laugh, (Y/N)!”

You let out a soft laugh at his words, “Yeah, I’m sure I look spectacular right now.”

---

Diluc spots you from afar, recognizing your familiar figure crouched over windwheel asters in front of the knight’s chambers. He’s perusing the grounds on a routine walk as his bumbling replacement Royal Knight clambers after him in your absence. The replacement knight is lanky and nervous, filling comfortable silence with nervous chatter, despite Diluc’s best attempts to dissuade him from such actions. He’s an archer with barely enough arm strength to pull the bowstring back.

The red-eyed prince would never admit it to anyone, but he missed you. Not only did you make Diluc feel far more secure than the inept oaf that could barely keep up with him, but Diluc also missed your presence. He missed how you would speak with a slight edge to your tone, adding a dual meaning to your respectful words. Diluc missed the challenge you would provide him.

Even if he was on his deathbed, Diluc would never admit how his heart rate quickened and how heat rose to his face when you yelled at him with the disdain he always showed you. He would never admit how worried he was when you immediately passed out after doing so, blood seeping past your haphazardly applied bandages and spilling onto the floor. No, Diluc would never admit how his thoughts over the last two weeks had primarily consisted of you, even though the two of you had not yet spoken.

Diluc wasn’t sure what to make of his thoughts, nor his altered emotions when you were around. Despite the fact that his tempestuous attitude made him detest the way you were constantly on his mind, a larger part of him wished to keep you close and have you serving the throne at his side once again.

The blundering knight catches up to Diluc as the redhead’s brisk pace slows to a halt as he observes you. After an unknown amount of time, the knight clears his throat, snapping Diluc out of his reverie. The redhead watches you for a moment more. His stomach churns as he watches his younger brother approach you, hold you close, and make you laugh.

Diluc isn’t sure what this feeling that’s gnawing away at his stomach is. A part of his brain tells him that it’s obvious, but Diluc denies such obvious truths, knowing he, one of royal blood, would feel such an emotion over a mere commoner and subordinate of his. Watching you with Kaeya, however, brings an immense frustration to the forefront of Diluc’s thoughts. A scowl forms on the crown prince’s face as he whips his head to the direction of the inept fool that’s been assigned to protect him.

“Let’s go,” He snaps. The knight shakily salutes in response, his composure shaken yet again by Diluc’s sour temperament.

---

Two more weeks pass and you’re officially freed from the restrictions placed upon your duties. After passing a clearance test at the Cathedral which resulted in the destruction of multiple training dummies, you were cleared for full duty as a Royal Knight once more. You were thrilled to be free from the chains of the menial labor you had been assigned for the last month and excited to get back to work, but such feelings were also accompanied with unease. You had a pit in your stomach at the thought of going back to serve the prince that you had so blatantly deprecated.

But, nonetheless, you enter Diluc’s chambers, your typical neutral expression adorning your face. The prince looks up from his desk, slightly startled by the intrusion, but a brief smirk crosses over his face at your presence before returning to a stoic expression, almost as if he was mimicking your own. He parts his lips to speak, but before he can, you drop yourself down on one knee, genuflecting in his direction. You don’t make eye contact, electing to stare down at your knee instead.

“Please forgive my spiteful words I uttered upon our last meeting, my liege,” You request, uttering the words you had practiced many times in the mirror this morning while getting ready. “I was not in the right frame of mind.”

Diluc stares down at you, expression unreadable. The silence is nearly unbearable, suffocating you as the tendrils of embarrassment and shame swirl up your legs, around your torso, and settle on your throat before pressing down, choking you of air. You feel a flush of heat rise to your face as the seconds tick on. You’re unsure if the prince is going to speak at all, let alone forgive you, but your doubts are quelled as he clears his throat.

You look up at him to see narrowed crimson hues staring down at you sternly.

“Very well. Do not say such things ever again,” Diluc warns. You jump to your feet and salute in his direction.

“Yes, sir!” You respond and the prince lets out a huff before returning his attention to the papers on his desk once more. You move to stand watch by the door, but the prince clearing his throat once more has you turning around to look at him again.

“Oh, and (Y/N)?” Diluc questions and you brace yourself, ready for him to unload his anger upon you. However, he does no such thing. “I have a meeting at nine with some Sumerian scholars interested in Mondstadt’s alchemic discoveries. Don’t let me be late.” The redhead doesn’t look up, already having begun moving his pen across the papers in front of him once more.

“Understood, sir.” You respond as you reach your typical spot by the door. You bite back a smile as you stand guard.

---

Over the next several months, you notice major changes in Diluc’s demeanor and attitude towards you. The prince is more confident, but in a less suffocating, arrogant manner, but rather a more charming manner. He remains an introvert, but his diplomatic meetings end up with far better results due to him learning to navigate the rough tides of foreign relationships and his mastering of hollow platitudes to placate any overseas dignitaries. He’s no longer a brash and tempestuous presence in the field of international relations, but one made of falsified smiles and foreign appeasement.

For once, you look at Diluc and see not only a prince, but the rightful heir to the throne.

The change isn’t instantaneous, but for Diluc’s personality to have made such a massive change in such a short time, you realize that there must be something the prince is trying to work toward or someone he desires to impress. Despite being at his side for almost his entire day, from when he starts work in the morning to when he retires to his chambers at night, you aren’t entirely sure what his motivation is.

You figure it’s likely something his father said to him, due to their frequent meetings you aren’t present for. Even from your earliest days working as Diluc’s bodyguard, you could tell he valued his familial relationships above all else. While he often remained hot-tempered with Kaeya, his relationship with his father was amicable and one Diluc cherished. From the few times you had been in King Crepus’s presence, the king had showcased what the throne of Mond should stand for; he put the freedom of his constituents first and reigned only to ensure order and protection for the people within Mond.

Your few interactions with the king had such a positive impact on you that they, along with your father’s actions, spurred you to join the Royal Knights. You could only imagine what type of influence the king’s constant presence had on Diluc.

Most noticeably of all, however, was Diluc’s attitude towards you. He was no Kaeya in terms of charm nor friendliness, but silences between the two of you were no longer forced and neither was conversation. The crown prince was more attentive to which types of conversation seemed to genuinely interest you, as compared to forced small talk. He also understood that silence wasn’t a form of punishment, nor did it signal that he was angry.

You wonder if he changed due to your conversation at the infirmary. Diluc lectured you less, sent less scornful looks your way, and insulted your skills less frequently. The changes had been so subtle that you hadn’t noticed how Diluc had blurred the lines between being a person whom you guard only due to obligation to someone you would protect without hesitation until the two of you browse Mondstadt’s yearly winter market together.

Diluc’s carmine irises glint with the reflection of the white Christmas lights adorning the square as he peered into the windows of a bakery. He seems quietly enraptured by a miniature palace that sat in the center of the cakes and other delicacies, made out of gingerbread. As you turn to look around at everyone else, ever vigilant, you notice the prince suddenly snap his gaze away from the display and look around wide-eyed.

You begin to reach for the hilt of your sword that rests on your back, but you freeze when Diluc’s vision stabilizes on you. His stance relaxes and the redhead offers you a small smile before waving for you to come over. You drop your hand that now rests on the hilt of your blade to your side and begin to walk over, watching as Diluc stares at you in slight confusion before letting out a soft laugh.

At that moment, you realize something that fourteen-year-old you would have loathed you for saying: you would call Prince Diluc a friend.

“Have you ever had gingerbread before?” Diluc asks, turning his gaze from you to read the label underneath the castle.

You nod your head. “It’s made with um… cinnamon… cloves… not sure what else, but the gingerbread in the window’s probably crunchy and… not really sweet? It relies on the taste of the spices within it, not sugar.”

The prince looks thoughtfully at the gingerbread palace once more. “I know what gingerbread is, but do people really eat these… ornate structures?” His tone is confused, but sincere. You let out a soft laugh of amusement. The old Diluc would have interpreted it as an act of derision, but current Diluc simply awaits your answer.

“Oh, that’s a tradition to put them into houses and buildings and such, but you can also shape it into little gingerbread men. Those are my favorite! Typically the smaller decorations are eaten first, but people don’t really eat the big houses,” You elaborate, excited to talk about the desserts as you also ogle the gingerbread display. Diluc looks at you halfway through your speech and smiles softly at your warm tone, pleased to have evoked such a reaction from you.

“Wait out here,” Diluc orders and, before you can protest, the crown prince slips into the shop, the bells on its door chiming softly as he enters. You stand by the door, your gaze moving from peering through the glass at Diluc to watching the commoners walk by. Only a few moments later, the bells chime once again as Diluc exits. A small paper bag is in his hand and he opens it up.

“Hold out your hand,” He orders in a sharp tone while looking into the bag. You comply, flattening your hand and holding it in front of you. Diluc plops a small gingerbread man in your hand. “It reminded me of you.”

The cookie is a traditional knight dressed in armor and is decorated with royal purple frosting and a white sword in its left hand. You stare at it for a moment, before a wide grin breaks out on your face, shattering your aloof expression.

“Thank you,” You murmur softly. Diluc’s cheeks flush red at your praise, but you attribute such a change in his appearance to be caused by the temperature change from exiting the warm building.

---

Diluc, you have come to find, is easily distracted by storefronts. Even his stoic demeanor cannot hide the childlike awe in his eyes when he sees something interesting in a window display. He’s dragged you in and out of numerous stores after being enraptured by objects in the windows. It’s bad enough that the both of you are now carrying bags of various trinkets he’s purchased with his seemingly limitless funds. Diluc, you note, doesn’t seem to get out much.

While you enjoy the chance to shop and explore Mondstadt’s seasonal festivities, you do not enjoy the snowfall that coats your hair and uniform as you wait outside each shop, standing watch. Despite being bundled up in layers, you’re still cold from standing still for so long.

Diluc exits yet another shop and stifles a yawn. “I believe I should head back now. It’s getting late,” He mutters and you simply nod in response, following his lead as he begins to walk back to the castle. The two of you walk in silence as the chatter of Mondstadt’s civilians and the crunching of your shoes on freshly fallen snow fill the gaps.

After a few minutes of trying to hold it in, you can’t help but shiver at the cold. You feel a bit of heat rise to your face, embarrassed that a knight of your stature is shivering due to cold, and it only multiplies as Diluc suddenly stops next to you.

“Are you cold?” The redhead asks, his gaze intense.

“No,” You lie, shaking your head. His eyes narrow.

“Take my scarf,” He orders, but you shake your head once more.

“I couldn’t possibly do such a thing,” You refuse politely, but Diluc isn’t having any of it.

“You’re cold, therefore take the scarf,” His explanation is rough and laced with the typical tone of annoyance you’re all too familiar with. He begins to unwind his scarf from around his neck.

“It’s my duty to ensure your comfort,” You protest. “Therefore, you keep the scarf as you should stay warm.”

“It would make me more comfortable if you wore the scarf instead.” Diluc argues and you swear you see his eye twitch slightly. “Plus, what kind of prince would I be if I let my constituents suffer on my behalf?”

Bullseye. He knew right where to hit you, despite his irate and annoyed tone. That bastard knew to appeal to your sense of honor in order to get you to do something. Begrudgingly, you hold out your hand to take the scarf, but before you can stop him, Diluc’s stepping close to you and wrapping the scarf around your neck for you. He forms two loose loops around your neck and you can feel his breath on your face as he looks at your neck. The prince’s leather-gloved fingertips brush against your neck as he adjusts the scarf and you watch his eyes narrow slightly in concentration as he fixes the scarf.

“There,” He almost sneers upon deciding that the scarf’s placement was adequate enough. “Now was that so hard?” Without waiting for your response, the prince turns and continues walking back to the castle. You pause for a moment, flustered, before jogging after him slightly to catch up.

The two of you continue your walk in silence, but the warmth of the scarf does nothing to eliminate the chill of the blade strapped to your back, reminding you that your and Diluc’s relationship is no more than one of contractual obligation.

---

Diluc’s kind behavior lasts for about two more years. The prince, now twenty, departs Mondstadt’s capital for three weeks, without you by his side. Diluc is now under protection of the king’s guards and a squadron of the Knights of Favonius as his father accompanies him on the journey to Fontaine, meaning that you get an extended vacation from your royal duties. You visit your home in Springvale during this break, aching to get back to work as the lack of activities slowly begins to drive you mad.

Your birthday occurs within this break period and, much to your surprise, a bouquet of red carnations is delivered to your doorstep as a gift from the prince himself. Diluc had never done such a gesture before and you ignore the way your heart beats a tad bit faster as you read the note settled amidst the beautiful, deep carmine blossoms. You recognize Diluc’s penmanship instantly as you spot the words ‘Happy birthday, (Y/N).’ sprawled across the card.

You smile softly to yourself and tuck the card back into the bouquet before admiring the blossoms. Brushing your fingers over the petals with a featherlight touch, you opt to set the vase on your dining room table rather than admire it for much longer. You’re certain a bouquet such flowers, considered exotic in Mondstadt, costs more than double your paycheck. You do not wish to dwell on such a thought for too long.

When your mother arrives home later that night, she pops her head into your room to say hello, a knowing smirk gracing her features.

“Who sent the flowers?” She asks in an amused tone as you bookmark the page of the book in your hands and close it in order to pay full attention to her. “Are you dating someone that I don’t know about?”

“Yuck, that’s weird,” You let out a soft laugh. “No, they were sent by the prince for my birthday.”

“Prince Diluc or Prince Kaeya?” Your mother asks, a mixture of surprise and concern in her voice.

“Prince Diluc,” You clarify, raising your eyebrows at her tone. “Why?”

“Red carnations have an… interesting meaning,” Your mother, a florist, explains. “...Interesting birthday gift.” You shrug off her implication and open up your book again, not wanting to hear your mother’s crazy theories about meanings of the flower bouquet.

“He probably just picked them because he likes the color red. Don’t sweat it too much,” You say absentmindedly, the pages of your book already drawing you back into reading. Your mother giggles, excusing herself from the conversation as she trots down the hallway.

For your own sanity, you choose not to dwell on her words. You planned to thank Diluc for his kindness

---

The nation is in mourning.

Diluc had returned last night, bloodied and traumatized, from his trip to Fontaine. Alongside of him, only half of the Royal Knight and Knight of Favonius combined unit that accompanied the royal family returned as well. The most notable absence, however, was King Crepus himself. Rumors immediately spread like wildfire, ranging from the idea of Diluc having killed the king to seize the throne all the way to a Fatui attack on the royal family. You’re doubtful that such outlandish notions are true.

The official declaration the following day proves you to be correct; the palace announces that the royal caravan had been attacked by a dragon, resulting in King Crepus’ death, the death of seven Royal Knights, and the death of three Knights of Favonius. Even the typically lively center of Springvale is no louder than a quiet whisper the following day as the nation grieves the loss of its leader and loyal knights.

Your heart hurts for both of the princes, knowing how difficult it is to lose a parent. You can only imagine how much harder it is when their next moves and responses to their father’s death will only become fodder for royal gossip. The throne, which you had sworn to protect, was now vacant, but such an event had been out of your hands. You hadn’t been allowed to accompany the royal family on their journey and, without a vision, you would have likely been killed if you had gone anyways.

However, upon the palace’s announcement of the king’s death, it was also announced that Prince Diluc would not immediately be crowned due to “unforeseen stipulations” King Crepus had left behind in his will. This information, of course, immediately became gossip amongst the townsfolk, ranging from Diluc needing to find a bride before marrying to ideas that Diluc needed to obtain an Anemo vision before being allowed to lead the nation. You were wary about such ideas and figured Diluc had prepared for whatever requirements his father had left for him.

Three days after the death of King Crepus, each Royal Knight, including yourself, receives orders that they no longer work at the palace. Ordo Favonius takes over these claims, allowing any Royal Knight to join their ranks. You want to believe that Diluc wouldn’t just shut you out like this, but you know better. Diluc never wanted any Royal Knights by his side and, after his father’s death due to a lack of adequate knights, certainly wouldn’t want a visionless personal guard. You had almost died fighting an Abyss Mage, for archon’s sake. How would you be able to protect Diluc from a dragon?

The death of his father meant the end of your contract with the prince. You knew this would happen one day. You ignore the feelings of sadness that blossom in your chest at such a thought, contributing them to the (hopefully) temporary end of the Royal Knights as an organization. Your sadness is not over your lack of connection with the elder prince, you tell yourself, but rather grief over the career path you had sworn to follow upon finishing training.

Once Diluc sets his mind to something, it’s almost impossible to sway him from such thoughts. Therefore, ignoring the clenching of your heart, you sign away your future to the Knights of Favonius and agree to participate in a training assessment in order to determine your new title and which sector you would join the ranks of within Ordo Favonius.

Your only regret about the time with the Knights is that you did not have a chance to say goodbye to either prince.

---

A week later, you receive your placement within the Knights of Favonius. Despite your lack of expertise in such an area, you had been appointed to the Cavalry Unit within the Knights of Favonius ranks. You weren’t unfamiliar with a horse; you had scored highly on your cavalry usage exams in training. However, you hadn’t ridden one since your appointment to the Royal Knights.

Upon your arrival to your first day of your new position, you learned you weren’t the only new face within the unit. Five other Royal Knights had been placed within the Cavalry Unit as well. Most shocking of all, however, was the the appointment of a new Cavalry Captain, especially since the knight chosen for the position was none other than Prince Kaeya himself.

The blue-haired prince, now sporting an eyepatch and a cryo vision, looked equally as confused to see you as you were to see him. Rather than sporting his typical jovial attitude, he simply nodded his acknowledgement of your presence. Kaeya was your superior now, after all, meaning he couldn’t showcase favoritism. The prince announced a few changes to the cavalry unit. First, you were to address Kaeya as ‘captain’ and not ‘prince’. Second, the cavalry unit would focus on securing Mondstadt’s perimeter, along with the perimeter of any outer villages as needed. Thirdly, the point Kaeya elaborated the least on, there was to be no talk of the royal family unless essential to the tasks at hand.

As he finishes his speech, you salute and chant your understanding with your new comrades. You can’t help but wonder why Kaeya now wears said eyepatch and why he has a new vision. Despite you having seen him a month ago, the blue-eyed boy now seems lightyears away from you, as if he was sand falling through the cracks of your hands without you even realizing.

---

Two years pass and, due to your work ethic in comparison to other Cavalry Unit members, you ascend in the ranks of your unit. Being one of the top five members of the thirty member unit meant that you and Kaeya spent more time together. You slowly watched as the blue-haired man began to revert to the boy he once was, but he never fully regressed to his childlike state. For starters, Kaeya is far more secretive than he used to be, electing to use little white lies to avoid conflict and any deep, meaningful conversations. There is a profound sadness that mars his powerful stature that wasn’t there before.

In the words he does exchange with you, his brother is never mentioned. The thought of bringing such a topic up to Kaeya makes your tongue heavy, the words remaining unspoken. Instead, Kaeya elects to talk about easily digestible topics in brief phases, such as small talk about the weather, unimportant chatter about military gossip, and hushed conversations about current trends in Mondstadt.

Kaeya has plunged himself into a self-imposed exile within the icy waters of his mind and you lack the proper equipment to save him. You can only watch as he disappears into the salty blue depths of anguish from the safety of the shore, unsure how to lend a helping hand. You are crafted from the sharp blades of swords, untrained in the studies of alchemical healing.

The blue-haired prince’s spirits only rise in the spirits of others, namely the ones sold by Angel’s Share. Every Friday night, as a mandatory “team bonding” activity, Kaeya and the four other highest ranking members of the Cavalry Unit, which unfortunately includes you, collectively go to Angel’s Share and get absolutely wasted, making blubbering fools of themselves. Tonight, just like every other Friday night, you can tell when Kaeya’s on his third drink as he begins to ramble about the history of Angel’s Share. He noisily explains how Angel’s Share is the legendary bar founded by the first King of Mondstadt before he had obtained the throne. During this time period, you slip a few spare mora to the poor waitress having to deal with your rowdy group who will inevitably throw the bill of tonight’s drunken activities on the backs of taxpayers.

You spend your evening nursing a glass of grape juice, wary eyes darting around the room in an analytical habit you had picked up from your job years prior. Old habits die hard after all. You watch as the first two fellow unit members excuse themselves the bar, deciding to stumble out before they could completely disgrace themselves.

It isn’t until Kaeya’s sixth glass of Death After Noon that the rest of the unit calls it quits, wobbling their way back home. One glance at the prince has you signaling to the bartender to cut the prince’s supply off. You stand up and walk over to Kaeya, who suddenly looks elated that you’re here.

“(Y/N)! My favorite!” Kaeya exclaims from his seat, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug and forcing you to rest your hand on the table for balance. “You came for my birthday party!”

“It’s not your birthday, Captain,” You respond. Your heart clenches at his carefree tone, reminded of your teenage years with the boy. The smell of his alcohol-laden breath dispels such naively hopeful notions and you push yourself out of his loosened grip. “Alright, it’s time to go home.”

“Home?” Kaeya asks, his revealed iris glistening with confusion. “Why? It’s not fun there… the party’s here!” The prince is pliable as you hoist him up and swing his arm around your shoulder, clutching onto his waist for support. Archons, the prince was heavy. You take a small step and, despite the alcohol fuzzing his brain, Kaeya seems to understand and stumbles alongside of you.

Once again, you are no more than a glorified babysitter.

You fish the bag of mora Kaeya brought with him out of his back pocket and the prince giggles as you unceremoniously toss the bag out on the table and drag him out of the bar. The two of you walk in silence for a few minutes before Kaeya begins to chant your name over and over. Despite your annoyance, you decide to indulge him.

“What.” Your words lack any form of sincerity, embittered with the situation at hand. Kaeya reaches over and pokes your cheek with a free hand.

“I miss you, y’know?” Kaeya croons, before he smiles with watery eyes. “All the time. You’re always on my mind.”

Oh Barbatos, here we go, you think. You had encountered the prince while intoxicated numerous times before, but never before this had he directed his sappiness in your direction.

“Y’know why?” He teases, slurring his words slightly. You continue to trudge on in silence, shifting him slightly to try to make it easier to carry him along. Kaeya frowns at your silence. “Guess why!” His words are a demand and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Any chivalrous respect you had for Prince Kaeya was now absolutely demolished, due to both his public intoxication and the comforting fact that he wouldn’t remember any of this conversation in the morning.

“Why?” You ask unenthusiastically, knowing he won’t leave you alone until you do so.

“Because I’m in love with you, silly! I’ve been in love with you since we were sixteen,” At his confession, you almost drop him. Your blood runs cold, but you trudge on nonetheless. An oath to protect the royal family persists even if one drunkenly confesses their love to you. Your heart clenches with pain for Kaeya, wishing you could have realized his feelings sooner. Maybe it would have alleviated some of the pain he carries each day and tries to wash away through copious amounts of liquor.

He burps loudly and lets out a bitter laugh. “You’re so… so pretty. And strong! But… he fancied you first! I can’t compete…” The man trails off, seemingly losing track of what he’s saying, stumbling through his words. “I can’t compete with royal blood.”

Your hand slips off his waist and the two of you are sent tumbling into the ground as Kaeya’s arm around your shoulder drags you down with him.

---

Your legs are shaking from exertion as you guide Kaeya through the darkened hallways of the castle, softly shushing him and pulling him closer to you each time he tries to twist away from your grip to cause drunken havoc on the hallway decorations. His free hand trails across the stone walls as he giggles at their texture, having forgotten all about his woeful, self-pitying cries from earlier. As you round the corner to enter the hallway consisting of the chambers of both princes, Kaeya’s quiet amusement with the ornate tapestries that adorn the walls stops.

“We’re home!” Kaeya yells and you immediately shush him, absolutely terrified of waking up a certain redhead.

The corridor reeks of familiarity, nearly suffocating you with nostalgia for simpler, happier times. The decorations have barely changed, aside from a new vase by the door to Kaeya’s room.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you around here, (Y/N)!” Kaeya cheers and you shush him once more, silently pleading with Barbatos to shut the blue-haired prince up. If anyone nearby was unaware of your disgraceful return to the palace grounds, they certainly knew now. His voice drops in volume a bit, still far too loud for this time of night, but better than his raucous hollering as the two of you approach his door. "Would you like to come in, my fair lady? I know many ways to pleasure a woman."

You’ve sacrificed every Friday night for far too long for Prince Kaeya. You love him while he’s sober, but now? You absolutely despise his drunken antics.

"The only pleasure I'll get tonight is finally being able to get rid of your drunken ass," you finally snap, nearly dropping Kaeya once more in mortification at your own words. You couldn't speak to a prince so callously, especially when you were stone-cold sober.

Kaeya pauses before throwing himself into a fit of drunken laughter. "You're so cute but you're so mean, (Y/N)!"

You ignore his antics, realizing the best course of action is to get the rowdy prince in his room where he can scream to his heart’s content. You turn the knob of the door and shove Kaeya into the room, causing him to let out a nervous giggle.

“You’re coming in?” He exclaims and lets out a gasp of surprise. “But wait, I’m shy!” He throws his hand dramatically to his forehead, pretending to faint as the back of his palm lightly brushes it. You let out a loud grunt as the dumb bastard son of a bitch motherfucker drops the entirety of his weight on you. Unable to support him any longer, the prince falls to the ground next to you and laughs. You finally understand why the young bartender at Cat’s Tail hates drunk people so much.

“Captain, get up,” You order, exhaustion creeping into your tone. You prod his stomach lightly with your foot as the drunken prince lets out a groan in response. He closes his eye, ready to fall asleep on the ground, but you manage to muster the last of your strength to pick him up bridal-style. After you rush over to his bed, you unceremoniously drop him on his plush mattress.

Your job is now done. You could strip his clothing down to make him more comfortable while sleeping, but you’re not sure if you can muster the energy to do so. Such an action is beyond the new jurisdiction of your duties as a Knight of Favonius. Plus, you’re fairly sure you’d never be able to look Kaeya in the eye again if you did do such a thing.

“Wait, my loyal knight,” Kaeya drunkenly slurs as you turn to leave his chambers. You bite back a sigh of defeat and turn to look at him with a blank expression. Internally, you’re trying to calm yourself down, utterly frustrated with the situation at hand. “Come here.”

When a prince calls for you, you unfortunately have to listen. You trudge over to Kaeya and place a hand on your hip, looking down at him. The prince shuffles around on his bed as he clumsily sits up, leaning on the headboard for support. You open your mouth to ask him what he needs, but before you can utter the words, Kaeya heaves forward and disperses the contents of his stomach all over your uniform before falling back into his pillows, passed out.

You are speechless as you look down at your clothing, now stained with the deep red-purple hues of the copious amounts of wine Kaeya had ingested earlier in the evening. Biting back the urge to throw up in return, especially as you feel the fabric of your clothes begin to dampen against your skin. You quickly ensure the prince is asleep before quite literally tearing off your soiled pants in disgust.

Despite the oath of fealty that bound you to your job, you briefly considered threatening to quit after tonight unless you got a raise. Now, you were pantless and soon-to-be shirtless due to the sheer incapability of being able to handle somebody else’s body fluids against your skin. Your eyes darted over to Kaeya’s closet and a lightbulb went off in your head.

---

You had taken one of the younger prince’s spare uniforms in his closet and left him a nicely written note explaining the situation. Rather than saying that he threw up on you, you simply wrote that your outfit had been torn while carrying him back to the palace. Some facts, you believed, were best left as secrets. The fabric bunched over your shoulders as you adjusted it to the best of your capabilities, trying to get the odd size to fit your figure properly as you silently cursed Kaeya for having such broad shoulders.

Wrapping your now shredded and sullied uniform into a ball and tucking it under your arm, you made sure Kaeya was asleep once more before stealthily sneaking your way to the door. In a way, you felt like Robin Hood, stealing from the rich to give to the poor, except the poor only consisted of yourself. It is not stealing if you give the uniform back upon request, you tell yourself as you quietly creak open the door. As you make your escape, you turn to face the door as you close it, gently pulling it towards you and holding onto the doorknob to ensure that the noise of the door settling into place would be quiet as possible.

The last thing you wanted was for a drunken Kaeya to wake back up and force you to read him a bedtime story. As the door settles into place, you let out a sigh of relief, only to hear someone clear their throat behind you. Your eyes widen in humiliation and fear and your shoulders cringe upwards as you stare at the door in front of you. Scratch that, this was the last thing you wanted. Rather than let it become any more awkward, you let out a soft breath and settle your expression into your typical stoic one before whirling around to face your fate.

In this instance, your fate is for your eyes to meet the familiar crimson-hued ones that you had not seen in years. Dressed in an ornate, stealthy black and white outfit, the man looks far older than when you had last seen him, as if the last two years had been incredibly hard on him. You had no doubt that they were. You watch as his eyes widen in both recognition and surprise as you fix your posture. A flash of hurt crosses his expression before his expression mimics your own neutral one and the two of you simply stare at each other for a few moments, unsure of what to make of the conversation.

You notice Diluc’s claymore is strapped to his back and he has a fresh bruise forming on his cheekbone. You don’t dare ask what happened to him. It’s no longer your place to worry over him, but you can’t help it as his irises glimmer with sadness upon seeing you. Despite his neutral face, his eyes shine with emotion, as if he’s heartbroken to see you.

“Uh, hello, sir,” You greet, breaking the silence as you try to gather your composure. You offer him a salute, trying your best to keep your arm from shaking in both anxiety and exhaustion.

“Hello..” Diluc echoes absentmindedly, as if his mind is elsewhere. He quickly seems to recollect his bearings as his eyes scan you up and down. “Did you two have a fun night?”

His tone is unreadable and, if coming from anyone else, you would assume his words to be a joke. You let out a nervous laugh and Diluc’s eyebrows raise slightly at the uncharacteristic noise. A gut feeling tells you to choose your next words carefully. Upon your silence, Diluc’s eyes narrow slightly.

“You are wearing his garments. It does not take a genius to figure out what the two of you were doing together,” He explains, his voice devoid of emotion. A wave of heat rises to your cheeks and you are thankful for the low hallway lighting as it helps hide your embarrassment.

“Oh, um…” You trail off, breaking eye contact with the redhead as you look down at your outfit. “It’s not like that. He… he threw up on me.” Your words are unconvincing. Despite you knowing the truth, your nerves make it sound as if you’re pulling lies out of thin air to cover yourself. Diluc, of course, notices such a thing as he echoes your words.

“...He threw up on you?” The elder prince repeats, disbelief coating his words as he narrows his eyes at you.

“Yes, my prince,” You confirm. Diluc seems unsettled by your verbal formalities, but you carry on nonetheless. “He indulged in a few… too many drinks at Angel’s Share. As his subordinate, I felt as if it was in my duties to bring him back to the palace. He then proceeded to… release the contents of his stomach onto my uniform. If you do not believe my words, sir, you can… look at the uniform…” You hold out the balled up uniform in front of you and the stench alone is enough to make Prince Diluc’s nose scrunch up.

“I believe you, (Y/N).” He responds after a moment of contemplation. Diluc goes quiet once more, but you still stand at the ready, not having been dismissed from the conversation. “How… how often does this happen?”

Diluc’s gaze tears away from you. He looks nervous to be asking such a question. You’re not quite sure what he’s implying with his seemingly loaded question. “If I may request for you to do so, could you please clarify your query, my prince?” You ask as his stoic expression returns and he stands up straight, having collected his thoughts.

“How often does Kaeya inconvenience you with his immature drunkenness?” Diluc asks, rubbing his hand over his jaw in exasperation. It’s unclear as to whether he’s exasperated with Kaeya or with you. Diluc’s eyebrows furrow in thought as he awaits your answer.

You think your answer over. Lying to the king-to-be definitely wouldn’t be ideal, but it would help Kaeya. You weren’t sure what was going on with Kaeya, but you knew he was hurting. The blue-haired boy you once knew would have turned his nose up at alcohol. Now, he was damaged enough to have turned to it as a coping mechanism. You are no fool; you see the way Kaeya cringes if there are too many candles lighting up the room each morning.

However, Diluc clearly cared enough about the situation to ask and a part of you was chanting to throw Kaeya under the bus for throwing up on you. You would just be issued another uniform and it was not as if you did not have a spare one in your closet. Plus, Kaeya’s problem was spiraling out of control.

“Once a week,” You answer. “Every Friday. Normally, the prince can make it back by himself, but I am typically relegated to being the sober official of the Knights of Favonius in fear that they’ll trash the place without any supervision.”

Diluc lets out a sigh. He turns around and begins to move back around. “I’ll see to it that such behavior of his is fixed. Dismissed.” The prince waves you off with a dismissive hand and you watch as he enters his chambers, the door closing softly behind him. In return, you walk out of the palace with your head held high, rather pleased with the way the conversation went considering the circumstances Diluc had found you in.

A small part of your heart twists at such an uneventful reunion, as if you had expected something more. You shake your head to try to eliminate such thoughts. You had merely been Prince Diluc’s subordinate, nothing more. Taking the compromising position Diluc had found you in, he had been more than fair to hear your explanation out and to even go so far as to offer to assist you with your troubles. It was your duty to serve the throne and not his duty to serve you, so why did part of you want more?

---

Diluc's definition of fixing Kaeya's behavior is, in fact, not to speak to kaeya about his behavior. Kaeya is none the wiser about his own actions as well, simply issuing a new uniform and a muttered apology about how you had to deal with his behavior. Unfortunately, you aren’t off the hook for the typical Friday night rendezvous at Angel’s Share. You begin to wonder if Diluc had forgotten his words to you as everything seems to be returning to normal. In fact, he probably didn’t care. He just said that to get you off his back, you tell yourself. It was probably too much of a nuisance to readjust Kaeya’s behavior, especially when Kaeya was so far up in the Ordo Favonius’s hierarchy of soldiers.

A visionless soldier like you was dispensable, but a strong prince with a cryo vision was not. Therefore, it only made sense for the Knights and Diluc to prioritize Kaeya’s comfort over your own.

The following Friday rolls around and you finally encounter your first change. As you arrive to early morning training, Kaeya tells you that the Acting Grand Master, Jean, wishes to speak with you. Having given up on Diluc enacting any possible changes to your regiment, you’re baffled as Jean hands you a set of new orders. Confusion is written on her face as well.

“You’re the only one with new orders,” Jean had told you. You weren’t sure if she was supposed to tell you that, but you figured she hoped you would have some explanation. “Especially orders as… odd as these.”

Her words make you actually read the piece of paper in your hands, rather than respectfully waiting until you left to do so.

“Oh,” The word tumbles out of your lips before you can stop it as you gape at the paper like a fish. You have been ordered, directly from the desk of King-to-be Diluc Ragnvindr, to return to the palace to be the elder prince’s royal bodyguard once more. You meet Jean’s expectant gaze with a look of confusion.

“If I may be so brave as to ask, do you know why you have been given such orders? Prince Diluc has been kind of… avoidant when it comes to the Knights as of late.” Jean asks. Her voice is kind like always, but you note a hint of curiosity within it. You can’t help her for being nosy.

“I was his bodyguard once before but..?” You shrug, not really knowing the answer. “He found me last week after Prince Kaeya threw up on me, but I doubt such a thing would have led to such a drastic change.”

Jean’s eyes light up in faint recognition and she softly smiles. “Oh, you were the bodyguard? That makes a bit more sense…” She trails off, lost in thought. “Hm, but such a rearrangement would only happen if he was preparing to… Never mind that, you said Prince Kaeya vomited? On you?”

You feel heat rise up to your cheeks as you nod. “Prince Kaeya is… not quite aware that he performed such… actions while intoxicated, so I would appreciate it if you could keep this a secret between us.”

The Acting Grand Master’s eyes shine with amusement and she lets out a soft, chime-like laugh. “Of course. Your secret is safe with me.”

You begin to walk out of Jean’s office, but freeze in your tracks. “I have one more question, if you don’t mind me asking,” You say. Jean nods for you to continue. “Why did Diluc choose me to be his bodyguard and not somebody with a vision?”

Jean lets out a melodic giggle, her blonde ponytail shaking as she does so. “I have my guesses, but I believe that’s only something the prince himself can answer.”

You nod in response, looking back down at your orders. “Thank you, Acting Grand Master.”

---

“You’re late,” A familiar voice admonishes you as you enter the throne room of the palace. It is a familiar room you had long since given up hope on ever seeing again, with gleaming gold and green accents adorning its stained glass windows. The room holds an intimidating yet freeing aura, but in your eyes, the most threatening thing in the ornate hall is not the gilded throne nor the massive marble statue of Barbatos, but rather Prince Diluc, who stands at the bottom of the steps that lead up to the throne.

Diluc adjusts his black gloves, ones you hadn’t seen him wear before, as he awaits for you to meet him in the center of the room. The click of your uniform’s boots against the tile and the soft clinking of your sheathed sword against your belt fills the room, reverberating through the open space as the sounds fill the silent void between you and Diluc.

“My apologies, my prince,” You state, bowing in respect. Diluc stares at you with an unreadable expression.

“You always were the type for formalities,” He muses almost wistfully, but catches himself and clears his throat. “Nonetheless, such impropriety will not be viewed upon well in the future.”

You stand up straight and salute him. “Understood, sir.”

Amusement dances in Diluc’s carmine irises as your gesture. “Welcome back, (Y/N).” He says, holding out a hand for you to shake. You shake his hand firmly, appreciative to see his amiability had not disappeared in your absence. As you drop his hand, Diluc seems to sense the unspoken question that rests on your tongue.

“There are no other Royal Knights yet. I do not trust any other knights to be capable of doing their jobs,” Diluc explains briefly before moving past you and out of the throne room, beckoning for you to follow. You fall in line alongside him, listening as he details your duties. For a moment, you’re seventeen and naive again, wondering what happened to the previous impression you had of the prince.

---

Two months pass and, in many ways, it's as if you had never left. Yet, the man you are designated to guard is more reserved with those around him, but the bluntness with his emotions remains. If Diluc isn’t happy with a situation, he’s not one to hide it, except for the sake of diplomacy. Despite not sharing blood with his brother, the two of them hold the same sadness in their shoulders when no one is watching, burdened by the secrets of the world. You stare at Diluc far more often than you do his younger brother, justifying such actions with your duties in an attempt to ignore the fact that you find the elder prince easy on the eyes.

Diluc looks at you too. When your duty is to observe, you tend to pick up on things quickly, especially the long glances Diluc sends your way when your attention is elsewhere. Your thoughts often consist of the secrets Kaeya had divulged to you in his drunken state, but you shove such nonsense out of your head. Kaeya had no place to speak on Diluc’s behalf and you determined that he was likely only projecting his own insecurities on Diluc. A selfish part of you still yearned for Kaeya’s words to be true each time you would notice the elder prince’s gaze to be upon you, but your duty prevailed over all. Unable to pinpoint why you felt this way, you would simply stare straight ahead, acting oblivious to Diluc’s gaze.

The distance between the two of you closes, both physically and emotionally. Diluc stays close enough to you that your elbows brush against each other while walking and you contribute such actions to Diluc being nervous after his father’s death. He’s much more touchy, reaching out to you with subtle gestures to make sure you’re near, rather than verbally reassuring your distance. If the two of you are outside the palace grounds and the prince is distracted by something, he’ll reach out to ensure that you’re still close.

If you aren’t nearby, Diluc will snap out of whatever daze he’s in and look around frantically for you, as if you had disappeared into thin air. The sheer panic in his eyes has taught you to stay close to him.

Diluc values your opinion. Previously, when he would have suffered in silence, the two of you have small conversations about issues he may be facing in his life, such as how to deal with a petulant Fontaine diplomat who doesn’t know how to take the word “no” as an answer. Diluc enjoys the new perspective you bring to the table, but he doesn’t let you in much farther. For his heaviest burdens, Diluc elects to keep to himself.

For that reason, you do not ask about his brother. You only provide your condolences on the day of his father’s death and make yourself available if he needs you.

---

Six months into your new appointment under Diluc, you finally gather the courage to ask a question you have desired to ask since your first day. You bite your lip slightly as you drop your gaze from guarding the door and instead flicker your gaze over to Diluc, who is sitting in a red velvet armchair by the crackling fireplace. The two of you are within the spacious area of his father’s study, soon to be his own, but such a room is still rather unfamiliar to you. The unknown territory of the room pushes you to move the unknown territory of the question you desire to ask.

“Um, sir?” You ask, uncharacteristically nervous. Diluc’s eyes immediately break away from the pages of his book, startled by you speaking. Normally, Diluc was the one to initiate conversation.

“Yes, (Y/N)?” He asks patiently and you feel heat rise to your face once more. Why are you flustered? you ask yourself as Diluc gazes at you intensely, awaiting your words with earnest.

“Apologies if I’m… overstepping by asking,” You begin and a flash of worry briefly crosses the prince’s face before he raises his eyebrows in intrigue. “But… why have you not ascended to the throne yet?”

The prince flushes a deep scarlet. He fumbles slightly with the book in his hands and looks down at it nervously. Such bashfulness is uncharacteristic of him, but then again, being so forthright was abnormal for you. Had you overstepped boundaries? Nervousness begins to claw at your stomach and climb up your throat, but the feelings are quickly quelled as Diluc clears his throat and smiles softly down at his book, trying to gather his bearings before responding.

The prince looks at you, but fails to make eye contact. “My father was a bit… peculiar in the guidelines I must follow in order to become king.” His fingers tap lightly on the cover of his book as he lets out a soft sigh, clearly unnerved by your question, but not wanting to make much of it. The prince is now twenty-three. Surely you could not have been the first person to ask him such a question?

“Oh,” You respond quickly. “I apologize if I overstepped any boundaries. Thank you for your answer, my prince.” A stoic expression quickly plasters itself on your face as you retreat back into yourself and Diluc’s eyebrows furrow at your reaction.

“It was not a bothersome question, just one I… had not been expecting, that’s all,” Diluc says, reading directly into the way you had closed yourself off. He notices the way your posture relaxes at such a statement and his eyes soften. “A few others are aware of the stipulations, so there is no such way I can circumvent them.”

“Ah,” You murmur before speaking once more. “Are the conditions to become king difficult?”

Diluc finally meets your eyes, a wistful look on his face. “They aren’t. I am just… not quite sure if the timing is right or how to broach the subject of them.” His voice is barely above a low rumble, but you hear him perfectly.

Your heart clenches at his words. You don’t know why.

---

Diluc’s twenty-fourth birthday rolls around and, when compared to every prior birthday of his in the past, the palace is ablaze with life. Mond’s economy had taken a slight downturn in its luxury goods market and Diluc had agreed to help bolster the industry by hosting a diplomatic birthday of sorts. Invite the richest people within Teyvat to explore Mondstadt and all its palace has to offer, conveniently place luxury goods within the vicinity, and the markets for said items are guaranteed to increase in demand. Diluc had explained all of this to you, including going in depth on the economics, and ordered you to put together a temporary unit of knights to serve as security at the party.

Such merriment and festivities would not lead to joy for you, but rather more work hours and stress. Assembling a team of competent enough fighters was difficult enough. Many within the Knights of Favonius were kind, but easily influenced, meaning that they were untrustworthy to leave within the realms of foreign dignitaries and prying eyes. Ultimately, you had settled on a trustworthy team of twenty core knights, all assigned to different positions within the ballroom. Some were framed as servers, some were framed as partygoers, and others would simply be required to wear their knight uniforms and guard the entrances and exits.

Despite security being a massive event, the biggest outlier was not the people who would be attending the party, but outsiders wishing to take advantage of such important people congregated in a single event. For that reason, all other knights were stationed within other parts of the palace and around its perimeter, in order to secure the area for the party. You weren’t too worried about the people inside as any foul moves would lead to massive geopolitical repercussions against any evildoers.

As for you, you were assigned to be Diluc’s right-hand knight, guarding his side at the party. While you were always ready to perform your assigned duty, you couldn’t help but wish you had door duty, as such a position would not require the diplomatic ass-kissing you were obligated to perform.

Now, as you stood at Diluc’s side near the center of the room, you weren’t sure what to make of the situation. The prince was effortlessly calming and smooth in his conversations with potentially hostile foreign dignitaries. Hell, he was even being respectful to the Fatui, even though you knew he likely wanted to ram his head through a wall speaking to the sleazy minions of the Tsaritsa.

What you hadn’t expected, however, were the wine trays floating throughout the room. You and Diluc were both aware to only take appetizers and drinks alike from a specific server, not wanting the elder prince or you, the head of security for the event, to have contaminated food. However, as Diluc drank his third glass of wine, you were beginning to wonder if you would be able to keep up. Finishing off your second, you smiled politely at the server and politely declined a second glass, ignoring the look of confusion Diluc sent your way. You already felt tipsy. The last thing you wanted was to be unable to do your job.

“Ah, Prince Diluc!” A vaguely familiar voice calls from behind you and Diluc the moment Diluc finishes speaking with a diplomat from Natlan. How do I know that voice? You ask yourself before feeling your thoughts swim a bit due to the alcohol. You silently cursed yourself for accepting the drinks at all, but when the first round of drinks had appeared, Diluc himself had taken one for you. How could you have said no to a request from your prince?

You and Diluc both turn around to see the intruder and you recognize him immediately. Dottore, one of the eleven Fatui Harbingers, stood before you and Diluc, a wide grin on his face. Immediately suppressing a groan and forcing your expression to stay neutral, you silently curse the fact that Harbingers made it on the guest list, especially one as irritating as Dottore. At his best, the man was an arrogant asshat. At his worst, Dottore was downright psychopathic with little regard for the people around him. You knew Diluc was aware of such things, but the prince had to stomach such disdain for the harbinger and at least attempt for a polite conversation.

“This is quite a lovely party,” Dottore compliments, but such praise from him is only worth about as far as you can throw it. “Mond is quite a prosperous nation.”

Your gaze flickers between Dottore and Diluc as they exchange meaningless pleasantries. You lose track of their conversation, electing to scan the room (and watch Dottore) for any potential threats or foul moves. However, you’re quickly snapped back to the conversation as Dottore’s attention turns to you, his masked red eyes boring into yours.

“You are the prince’s security detail?” Dottore’s words are less of a question and more of a statement, as if he already knows the answer. You avoid glancing at Diluc and instead meet Dottore’s gaze straight on and hold out your hand.

“Knight (Y/N), sir.” You respond and Dottore laughs crookedly while shaking your hand with a grip far too aggressive for your liking.

“Ah, aren’t you an… interesting specimen,” Much to your behest, Dottore takes your hand in his own gloved one and looks at it, as if he’s inspecting you. “You are his only personal knight at this event yet you are visionless… Quite an intriguing move for a prince who flaunts his so proudly.”

Your eyes instinctively move to look at Diluc, whose brows are furrowed and eyes glistening with anger at the situation unfolding. Diluc clears his throat and immediately returns his expression to one of neutrality as he realizes your gaze is now upon him. “Dottore, are you not one to believe that humanity is more than their visions?”

Dottore drops your hand unceremoniously and you quickly retract it to your side in fear that such an event happens again. He chuckles at Diluc’s words and turns to look at the prince once more. “Of course. I just simply never took you as the type to share my beliefs.”

Despite neither of them owning an Electro vision, the air between the two men crackles with energy. Dottore grins as Diluc glowers, eager to see if the refined prince’s composure shatters. The Harbinger knows he’s pinpointed Diluc’s weak spot, so rather than continuing the rather unamusing staring contest, Dottore’s gaze returns to you once more. He casts you a saccharine smile, dripping with insecurity, as he leans in close to you.

“I must believe you have some tricks up your sleeve. I look forward to seeing what they are,” The Harbinger’s tone drops to a low, sultry one as Dottore’s hot breath fans over your face, reeking of the odd combination of mint and wine. His words are not an expectation, but rather a promise. After a second more of leering at you, Dottore is sensible enough to realize Diluc’s limited patience is waning, so he takes a step back and stands up straight. “Nonetheless, I must make my exit now. Prince Diluc, as nice as it was to speak with you, I understand your wish not to share your toys.”

Just as quickly as he had appeared, the Harbinger disappears into the crowd. You look over at the prince standing near you. He takes a sidestep closer to you and for a split second, you’re reminded of the Prince Diluc you once knew, the one who could barely contain his anger and derision and took such feelings out on his subordinates verbally. The contempt Diluc feels for the situation that just unfolded is written all over his face, but he quickly gathers his composure. Knowing him well enough, you can sense the irritation radiating off him in waves, but you dare not comment on it.

Before another diplomat can intervene, Diluc leans in close to you, voice no more than a low whisper. “Dottore is up to something.”

---

Diluc, in his typical stubborn nature, refuses to let the Dottore situation go. Two hours afterwards, long after his mood had returned to normal, Diluc is excusing himself to use the bathroom, signaling for you to follow him. However, the elder prince remains silent as the two of you walk past the bathroom and into the chambers that had been converted to house foreign dignitaries who would stay the night and leave in the morning. The prince glances up and down the hallway frantically, making sure nobody is following. His pace is hurried, as if he’s looking for something.

You’re smart enough to realize Diluc’s only silent when he desires for others to be as well, but the two of you have been walking long enough that you part your lips to speak. Before you can utter the words, Diluc is opening the door closest to the two of you.

“Here,” He mutters and before you can follow, the prince grabs your arm and pulls you in after him, immediately letting you go afterwards. You were utterly baffled as to what room the two of you were even in, considering you had barely been in this part of the palace before. “Dottore’s room.” Diluc explains.

That’s a shitty explanation, you think. With the alcohol in your system, you are spurred to question his decisions, something you never would dare to do sober.

“With all due respect, sir, why are we raiding Dottore’s room?” You state as Diluc crouches down to look underneath Dottore’s bed. You silently question why that’s the first place the prince bothers looking, rather than looking in a more normal place, such as Dottore’s desk drawers or the suitcases lined against the wall.

Diluc lets out a huff of air at your words, but doesn’t admonish you for them. “He’s up to something,” Diluc mutters absentmindedly.

“I know he’s a suspicious character and he’s Fatui, but all he did was disrespect you with his words. Does that really mean he’s up to something?” You ask and Diluc pauses through rifling through the limited possessions the Harbinger had brought to Mondstadt. Still crouched down, the prince turns to look at you with an expression of confusion at your words.

“You aren’t normally like this,” Diluc states plainly and you feel your face heat up in embarrassment. He squints his eyes in an attempt to read your stoic expression in the dark. He lets out a sigh, unable to come to a conclusion, and returns back to looking through Dottore’s stuff. “He was clearly challenging me. He’s hiding something and wants me to find it.”

With Diluc’s back turned to you, you roll your eyes. Why are men always like this?

“Maybe he was just flirting,” You suggest, your tone annoyed.

“I was n-” Diluc pauses and clears his throat. “I mean, he was not flirting with you.” He sounds outraged that you would even discuss such a thing.

“Sir, his words had that weird kind of aura to them. With all due respect, I believe I’m not ugly enough that he wouldn’t flirt with me. He just sounded kind of horny,” You say, as if such a thing should be obvious. Diluc freezes completely and stands up, turning to look at you. His eyes are blown wide at your words and, in your alcoholic stupor, you’re unaware of the egregious unprofessionalism of your words. The prince steps closer to you, his crimson gaze boring into yours.

“Archons,” He mutters after a few seconds. “They didn’t serve you grape juice, did they?”

“Nope,” You respond in a gleeful voice, popping your mouth at the end of the word. “Were they supposed to?” You ask cluelessly, leaning on the wall behind you.

Diluc lets out a frustrated huff, but it doesn’t seem directed at you. “Barbatos, they had one job,” He mutters to himself before walking over to Dottore’s desk and bending over to look at the contents of the desk drawers. “Anyways, just watch the door. That’s an order.”

Even in your tipsiness, you are aware enough to sense Diluc’s frustration at the situation, so you bite your tongue and watch the door. Your gaze flutters between the elder prince and the door, unable to focus on your assigned duty as the alcohol swirls through your system. The elder prince’s noisy actions of rifling through files draws your attention and you look over at him, eyebrows raised. However, what catches your attention is a glint of white in his back pocket.

“What’s in your pocket?” You ask, causing Diluc to let out a frustrated huff.

“I said to watch the door,” Diluc reminds you in a harsh tone, but by now, you know the prince is all bark and no bite.

“I have two eyes,” You respond combatively. Diluc sighs, knowing this is a fight he won’t win. “One to watch you and one to watch the door.”

“That is quite literally not how vision works, (Y/N),” Diluc tries to explain, but knows there’s no reasoning with alcohol. He’s encountered his brother enough times after his drunken escapades to know when to give up. “Just… use both to watch the door.”

“Tell me what’s in your pocket and I will,” Your words are dangerous and if Diluc wasn’t fond of you, he could easily have thrown you in prison for saying such things.

“We’re done in here,” Diluc states after a few moments of ignoring you, placing the final file back into its rightful position and dusting himself off. He walks over to you and pulls the white object out of his pocket, holding it out to you. “It’s a mask, by the way.”

“Okay,” You say, taking the mask in your hand. You’re not far enough gone to try putting it on, so you simply slip it into your own pocket. “What’s in the other pocket, then, sir?” You ask, a sly smirk appearing on your face. Diluc flusters at your mischievous expression as he brushes past you to exit the room.

“Nothing.” He responds, but you know otherwise. As the two of you exit into the hallway, you take advantage of the fact that the prince had exited Dottore’s room before you and you quickly snatch the object in his other pocket. You had only seen the outline of it, but now that it rests in your hands, you’re utterly baffled as to why he would hide such a thing.

“What is this?” You ask, holding the object away from Diluc as he whirls around, trying to grab the object from your hand.

“Stop acting like a child, (Y/N),” Diluc warns, but there’s a faint desperation in his voice. “It’s my Vision.”

“This isn’t your Vision,” You state, staring at him with furrowed brows. “Your Vision looks different from this.”

Before you can theorize any more about what the faux-Vision in your hands is, Diluc opens the door closest to the two of you and pulls you in rather roughly by the arm. You only tighten your grip on the object in response.

“Could you be any louder, (Y/N)? Barbatos, it’s just a Vision, but it’s not mine. Give it back.” Diluc orders, but you simply smirk at him as the two of you stand in the dark of the supply closet he had cornered you in. The light filtering from underneath the door allows him to barely see your expression, despite the overall darkness of the room. His hand fumbles against the wall before the room is lit in a soft orange light as his hand finds an unlit candle near the door.

“Hm,” You say upon seeing his glowering expression. He looks absolutely furious, but for once you aren’t living in fear of such an expression. In fact, he looks rather delicio- “Make me, Diluc.” The words tumble out of your lips, sultry and sweet, before you can even finish processing your own thoughts. Right now, for once in your life, you have the chance to make Prince Diluc beg and you are relishing in the moment, in all of its unprofessional glory.

Diluc’s eyes flash with anger and as he angrily grips your wrist and shoves you back into the shelf behind you. The wood juts into your back and you let out a soft cry of both surprise and pain as objects begin to clatter off the shelf around the two of you. Taking advantage of your surprise at his forcefulness, Diluc manages to wrangle the object out of your hand and he fastens it securely in within his breast pocket, away from your prying, tipsy hands. As Diluc’s harsh grip on your wrist fails to falter, you feel tears bubble up in your eyes, unable to hold them back. Okay, maybe you had more than two drinks, you tell yourself.

Before you can stop them, more words are spilling out of your mouth, but they’re no longer the empowered ones you wish you could say.

“I do everything for you,” you blubber pathetically and watch as Diluc’s eyes widen at your tone. “And the one time i want something in return, just to know something about you, you’re mean to me.” Before you can stop them, you’ve activated the waterworks, tears freefalling down your cheeks. The only word to describe Diluc’s expression is terrified.

“N... no, don’t cry.” Diluc’s grip on your wrist loosens, but he still holds it close, his other free arm pulling you in by your waist into a comforting hug. His gestures and words are stiff as if he’s not sure how to do this. You’re fairly sure the two of you are breaking each and every code of conduct at this moment, but for now, you don’t care. His hand rubs the small of your back in a comforting motion, his thumb trailing up and down the part of your wrist that he likely bruised. “You’re my best knight, the only one I can trust, it’s… okay. Please don’t cry.”

The prince’s words are frantic and softly spoken, as if he’s trying his best to pull compliments out of thin air to stop your tears. Despite him not being very good at comforting you, your sobs start to subside into small hiccups as you bury your head into the spot between his shoulder and neck. You feel him stiffen at the gesture. Nonetheless, he pulls you into a tighter one armed hug.

After you manage to get your tipsy tears under control, you let out a shaky sigh before continuing with your words. “Why do you never let me in? I swore my life to protect you. I’d do anything for you. but you just shut me out every time,” You whisper, voice still stained with the tears you had just cried out. In the morning, you’d be mortified with your words, but for now, you brain is encouraging you to continue. Diluc pulls away from you and cups his hands on the side of your face, using his thumbs to wipe away your tear stains.

“You’re too valuable to waste your tears on someone like me.” Diluc mutters as the pads of his fingers soak up the salty tears. His tone is saddened from your actions.

“Answer the question, Diluc, please,” you beg, dropping the honorifics once more. You stare into his eyes, searching for an answer. You watch him inhale, as if he’s trying to muster up the courage to say something.

“Okay,” He breathes, eyes looking into yours for reassurance. “Okay.” His voice is more resolute as he repeats the words. “I don’t know how to keep you close without making you uncomfortable. I don’t know how much I should let you in without scaring you off. I feel this way because for the last six years, I’ve been in-”

Before he can finish his words, the door to the supply closet swings open. The bright light causes the both of you to flinch as a third voice gasps dramatically. You blink rapidly, trying to adjust your eyes to the bright lights from the hallway in order to understand what’s happening, your hand reaching up to the hilt of your sword.

“My, my, what a scandalous sight,” the voice (Dottore, you identify) croons and the two of you look on in mortification. “A prince and his knight having an illicit rendezvous in the janitorial closet.”

The two of you look out to see a small crowd of five people having gathered -- Dottore, his assistant, Kaeya, Jean, and another Fatui agent. You’re not sure why they’re all gathered outside, but what matters is that they’re now viewing you after having been caught in a broom closet with the king-to-be’s hands cupping your face and him staring into your eyes.

Fuck, you think as Diluc’s hands rescind from your face quickly, as if the water of your tears had scalded him.

#diluc x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #diluc headcanons #diluc scenarios #genshin impact scenarios #diluc #genshin impact #*writing #*inheritance #*diluc #*fic #AAAAAAAAAAAAA ITS HERE

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happyandticklish · 3 years

Text

Wake Up Call

Notes: For the anon request. I know the time in which I’m accomplishing some of these fics is taking longer, which is mostly due to needing to do life stuff along with this, but I still have a lot of fun writing them! Hope you enjoy~

Summary: Sometimes Nico has a hard time getting up in the morning, but Will has just the thing to help.

Warm sunlight filtered through his vision, making the boy squint his eyes in vague irritation. The lull of sleep tugged at him, and Nico groaned, turning around to hide his face in his boyfriend’s chest. He wondered what time it was. Whatever the answer, certainly too early to be awake. He wrapped his arms around the other, tugging him closer as he allowed unconsciousness to drag him under once more.

“Hey there,” a voice whispered into his hair, followed by a gentle kiss. “How’d you sleep?”

“Still trying to,” Nico grumbled in response, the effort of forming the words already too much for his jumbled mind. Waking up next to Will was becoming a more and more common occurrence—but really, could you blame Nico when the former happened to be the most comfortable pillow in the whole camp? “What time is it?”

Nico felt Will shift against him as he checked the clock on the wall. Vaguely, Nico assessed that the two were curled up in one of the many cots in the infirmary. He wasn’t sure entirely how they had got there, but he was certain it was a location they were not supposed to be in.

“Eh… seven,” Will replied, squinting a bit at the numbers.

“Seven?!” Nico exclaimed, his words ringing with disgust. “And you woke me up why exactly?”

“Oh, so you wanna be the one to explain to Chiron why the two of us were in here?” Will asked, arching an eyebrow at the other.

“You’re a doctor,” Nico pointed out, his words mumbled as he attempted to put himself back in the peaceful state he had been in before. “It’s an infirmary. What’s the problem?”

“The ‘problem’ is that I’m not supposed to be here overnight, and definitely not with a child of Hades in tow.”

“Mmm.”

Will sighed resignedly as he took in the other, the latter of which was clearly holding no intentions of moving. Seven was too late already. Technically, the others should be showing up around now, but his cabin had a habit of arriving late to opening time. He glanced anxiously towards the door, and then back down at his dozing boyfriend. However, as he did so he took in the way his shirt had rucked up in the fitful shifting of the night, revealing a pale sliver of his stomach. With his arms wrapped around Will’s neck and his eyes shut, he was entirely vulnerable to the idea formulating in Will’s mind.

“Nico~” he sing-songed, his hand drifting slowly down to his sides from where it had rested on the other’s back. “I really think you should get up now.”

Nico grunted, hardly taking in his words in his hazy state of mind.

Will grinned, almost pleased that the other had left him with such an open oppurtunity. “Alright then. But just remember, what happens next is on you.”

Nico twitched when fingers drew lightly up his side, pushing his shirt further up. A small smile slid onto his features as the tracing turned into light scratching. “No,” he muttered under his breath, though he declined to block the touch, choosing instead to merely hold onto the blond tighter. “Will…”

“Hmm?”

“C’mon—” Nico was squirming now, the light sensations making his already fuzzy brain turn to mush. “I-It—don’t!”

“You’re not making any sense, I’m afraid,” Will tsked, walking his fingers down to his stomach and scribbling lightly over the skin. “You’re gonna have to use complete sentences if you want me to understand what you’re saying.”

Nico squeezed his eyes shut, choked giggles escaping him despite himself. He attempted to draw his legs up, but with the way he was pressed against Will, curling up was impossible. That left his stomach entirely vulnerable to attack; it wasn’t his worst spot, but it was inexplicably unbearable in its own way.

“Wihihill!”

“Nico.”

Whatever Nico’s next sentence might have been, it broke off into frustrated garbling as the scribbling turned into playful poking.

“C’mon Nico,” Will teased, increasing the frenzy of the pokes so that Nico squeaked, his arm almost coming down to block him before grabbing around Will’s neck once more. “You know how to end this. You don’t want to get caught like this, do you?”

The idea of anyone seeing him in such a state was one that normally Nico would revolt at instantly. In the moment, however, he found that he was too tired to think about future consequences when the appeal of staying in the warm, comfortable bed, laughing into Will’s embrace, was as strong as it was. It had been a while since Will had pulled anything like this with the other, and Nico wasn’t rushing to end it so soon.

Will seemed to pick up on Nico’s reluctance, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, I see. Are you enjoying yourself, Mr. Ghost King? Hmm? Do you like being tickled, is that what it is?”

Warmth spread across Nico’s features, his stomach erupting into nerves at the revelation. It didn’t help that Will had slowed down the tickling in order for him to answer. “I—uh, no, of course not.” He fiddled with the back of Will’s shirt as he answered, still hiding his face in the hopes that it come somehow make the conversation easier to accomplish.

“Really?” Will’s words were laced with doubt. One hand rubbed up and down his side, a switch from the tickling from seconds before, in what was most likely meant to be a comforting gesture. Nico couldn’t help but twitch and tense every time his hand strayed too far from his path, however. “Because I couldn’t help but notice that you didn’t try to stop me once while I was tickling you.”

Nico froze, his heart racing as he was caught in his lie. He opened his mouth, struggling to find some way to get himself out of the situation he had led himself into. Before he could, however, Will interjected hurriedly.

“It’s okay if you do, you know,” Will reassured him. “You don’t have to be ashamed of it or anything. Lots of people like to be tickled—it’s a normal way of showing and receiving affection. Not to mention,” he added slowly, gently tweaking his side so that the other let out a startled yelp. “You’re awfully cute all giggly and squirmy like this.”

Nico’s blush worsened, but relief coursed through him with a cool assurance. After a moment of hesitating silence, he muttered, “I don’t… not like it. What, uh, what you were doing, I mean.”

Will blinked, having not expected such an honest answer. Gratitude zipped through him, spreading a pleasant warmth throughout his body. He knew the other probably wouldn’t have been as open with him if it wasn’t still the early hours of the morning, and for a moment, he worried that Nico was going to be angry with him for prompting the confession. But as he watched the curled in position of the other, his gaze focused intently anywhere but Will, he realized that Nico was more nervous than anything else, as though he were worried that Will was going to be the angry one.

“Hey.” Nico frowned as Will sat up, grasping his hand firmly. “Thanks. For telling me that is. It means a lot to me that you were willing to share this with me.”

“Oh,” Nico replied slowly, unfurling from his position with a confused stare. “Yeah, uh, no problem. I guess. You’re not… I mean, you don’t think it’s weird?”

“Nico, you summon people from the dead. Your chauffeur is a zombie. We live in a world of myth and monsters, and you still think that playing with the Pokémon versions of that is cooler. Liking tickling is the least weird thing about you.”

“Thanks,” Nico replied dryly.

Will pulled him closer, kissing the tips of his fingers lightly. Nico wrinkled his nose at the affectionate gesture, but there was a faint pink dusted across his features all the same. “This is just one more thing about you to love. And you know what the best part about all of this is?”

“What?” Nico asked hesitantly, trying not to focus on Will’s face, let alone his lips, inches away from his own.

“I get to do this whenever I want to!”

Hands were shoved suddenly under Nico’s shirt, climbing his sides and sneaking under his arms. Nico squawked, caught off guard by the sudden attack, and flailed back in an unsuccessful attempt to retreat. “Wihihill! Wahahahait!”

“No, I don’t think I will. I’m having too much fun, you see. Besides, I thought you said you liked it. Do you really want me to stop?”

Nico blushed, giggling uncontrollably as he attempted to tug Will’s arms away from his armpits. “Thahahat’s nahahahat fahahair!” he squeaked, falling backwards on the bed at last in an act of desperation. His hands were holding Will’s wrists loosely, tugging every once in a while unsuccessfully. His head was thrown back in a wild grin as carefree laughter spilled from his lips. Will’s heart swooped unsteadily in his chest, the sight of Nico like this first thing in the morning too much for him to handle. Consequently, he almost didn’t notice the voice ringing through the infirmary seconds later, echoing in the hall.

“Will? Are you in there? I thought I heard a noise.”

Will nearly gave himself whiplash from how fast he jerked back from the other, pulling Nico onto his chest on accident as the other’s hands were still locked about his arms. Nico’s face had dropped into that of cautious alarm, but there was still light dancing in his eyes, casting a content glow to his face.

Will cursed, letting out a disappointed groan. “Kayla. Dammit. We should probably get out of here so I don’t get you in trouble.”

“Me in trouble?” Nico exclaimed indignantly as Will pulled him off the bed, each of them struggling to kick the covers off of themselves. “Wasn’t it your idea to come here in the first—”

“Details, details,” Will interrupted quickly. “Now, do you want to get caught or not?”

Nico sighed, but followed him in a run as the two attempted to sneak out through the back doors.

In the end, Kayla ended up catching them and the two got put on Pegasus detail for the next two weeks. But Will decided it was all worth it, in the end, if it meant he got to hear the other’s laughter once more.

#tickle fic #solangelo #nico di angelo #will solace #pjo #hoo #trials of apollo #fanfiction #fic request #requests #tickling #percy jackson

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ibelongtowrath · 3 years

Text

Kitten - Satan x Reader

Warnings // 18+/NSFW, female reader, kitten play (cat ears, collar, tail), daddy kink, praise in the form of “good girl,” brat taming, spanking, vaginal sex Word Count: ~1.6k

Happy Day 9 of Obey MEmber, Satan Day! As we all know, I’m hot for Satan, so I had to write something for him for his dedicated day. Again, horny writing brain go brrr, that’s basically been the inspiration behind most of my stories lately. And again I suck at thinking of titles.

Late on the eve of a weekend night after a long, grueling week of exams, Satan reaches towards his nightstand to grab the silken emerald rope draped across the ancient wood. He places it onto the bed, still unsure of whether he’ll be using it tonight. A slight breeze sneaks in through the small crack in his window, the warm, Devildom night air caressing your face in a gentle tendril as the branches of the trees wave outside, almost knowingly, as if watching and waving in anticipation.

The demon runs his nails down the small of your back, a small shiver traveling up your spine with the motion. Grinning, he digs into your soft, delicate skin just a bit harder, leaving light scratches in their wake. He pulls you to him, pressing his chest against your back, leaning in to nip at the place where your neck and your shoulder meet, trailing a hand down your arm.

“Such a good girl you are for me, aren’t you, my sweet kitten?” Satan purrs into your ear, letting his warm breath ticklish.

You swallow, thighs pressed together. The collar adorning your neck bobs with the movement, complete with a silver bell. A soft jingle sounds as it moves, and Satan dips a finger just beneath the tight leather band, gently tugging you closer to him, until the space between your bodies is barely noticeable. Playfully, he reaches up to your hair, where your soft, fur-covered cat ears lay, matching perfectly with the color of your hair. He runs his fingers over them with another grin, admiring how natural they look on you, chuckling softly as you instinctively flick them cutely a few times at his touch.

“The spell worked perfectly,” Satan remarks. “I was able to give you only select feline qualities while keeping the rest of your body in its delectably human form. Don’t you love it, kitten?”

“I do,” you nod with a smile. This is fun.

“You do…?”

“I do… Daddy.”

“That’s a good girl.”

Kissing the top of your head, Satan strokes the ears one final time before stepping back, studying your backside.

“While I do enjoy these,” he continues, “I believe this is my favorite part.”

Satan runs a hand over the ample curve of your behind, where a fluffy cat tail lay, just above your tailbone.

“Yes, I believe I’ll have quite a bit of fun with this,” the demon says with a wolfish grin. “The spell is set to wear off in 24 hours, but I admit, the thought of keeping you this way forever is far too tempting to ignore, hm?”

“I do like the look,” you tell him, teasing him with your tail.

He chuckles and begins massaging the base of it, savoring your soft moan as he caresses the new, albeit temporary, appendage. Pressing his free hand to the small of your back, he urges you to bend over the bed. You comply, resting your arms on the mattress and laying your head atop them.

“Open yourself to me, my sweet kitten,” he commands.

Nodding in agreement, your back arches. Gently, he pushes a knee between your thighs to part them with a deep, guttural growl, the sound rumbling from deep within his chest.

“Good girl.”

The sight of you spread before him ignites a primal urge within. Despite your feline features, Satan is the one that studies you like a predator ready to pounce on its prey, eager to sink his teeth into your delectable flesh to satiate the hunger within. Your arousal coats your wet heat, practically dripping onto the wooden floors, shining in the low candlelit haze of his hastily-cleaned bedroom, books askew. Satan runs his fingers in a slow motion between your legs, teasing the sensitive skin of your core. Groaning at the feel of your abundant wet excitement, he leans over your pliant body, cock pressing against your back as he bites your shoulder, leaving a set of angry red marks behind that will surely bruise later.

“You’re so wet, kitten,” Satan growls, biting you once more. “You’re already coating my fingers. Does being my little plaything turn you on? Make you so excited to be my mindless little toy and purr for me as I wreck that pretty little pussy of yours that you can’t help but gush between your legs at the mere thought?”

His thumb circles your clit, savoring the sinfully sweet melody of your lewd moans. You bite your lip, pushing back against him, desperate to feel his cock drag between your walls, stretching your core to its limit. Chuckling darkly against the back of your neck, he hooks two fingers beneath your collar, pulling on it ever so slightly as you gasp.

“Ah, it seems as though my kitten is in heat, hm?” Satan remarks, smirking against your skin. “So hungry for my cock, ready to be filled and bred like a proper little cumslut.”

He slides two fingers into your heat, curling and pumping them skillfully. Pulling his hand from your collar, he moves it to his cock, stroking himself slowly as he watches his fingers disappear into your wet, quivering pussy, practically throbbing with need.

“Now… I want you on the bed on all fours, arching your back so sweetly for me, just like this. Am I understood, kitten?” Satan asks, adding another small nibble for emphasis.

A wicked plan formulates at the forefront of your mind, and you can’t help but grin, knowing you may full well regret this very, very soon. You have not a care in the world at this moment, though, deciding to test the waters to see the Avatar of Wrath’s reaction to your open defiance. Raising your eyebrows at the demon behind you, your lips part to utter a single word.

“No.”

Satan pauses his ministrations, his brow furrowed in questioning.

“I don’t believe I stuttered, kitten,” he says slowly. His fingers move back to your collar, slipping underneath. “On the bed. Now.”

“Make me,” comes your reply, cool and confident, grinning wickedly.

Is it unwise to challenge the Avatar of Wrath? Probably.

Is it fun? Most definitely.

A loud growl tears from Satan’s throat through clenched teeth, the sound quickly turning into an angered snarl as he tugs you forward by the collar as you let out a surprised yelp, forcing you into a standing position. He bites into your neck, harder this time, nearly breaking the skin before his hands move to your waist, picking you up and placing you onto his bed with force.

“My kitten appears to be very feisty tonight,” Satan snarls, reaching for the silken tie and unraveling it swiftly. “Perhaps she is in need of a firm reminder of exactly who is in charge here. Me.”

Grabbing your wrists roughly, the soft, cool fabric kisses your skin as the demon makes quick work of binding your arms together, laying them flat against your back. He grins at his handiwork before placing his hand onto your back and pushing down, effectively forcing it to arch high into the air, your cheek to the mattress. Your head turns to the side, studying his handsome face and the way he smirks, completely smug.

“Are you going to behave now, kitten, and be a good girl for Daddy?” Satan asks with a raise of his eyebrow.

“Hmm… maybe,” you retort, wondering what he will decide to do with you next.

Another growl escapes Satan as he, without warning, lifts an arm into the air; the next second, your jaw clenches, letting out a sharp hiss of pain as a hand smacks hard against the delicately soft skin of your ass cheek. He rubs the sore spot for a few moments before giving you another smack, relishing your cries as the residual cracking noise cuts through the otherwise still silence of his chambers.

“That’s not the answer I wanted to hear, kitten,” he says, his voice now in a low timbre, almost sultrily, but laced with frustration and annoyance at your continued disobedience.

Deciding to tease you further, Satan moves behind you, positioning his cock between your legs. He suppresses the urge to fuck into you right then and there, your wetness coating his length, reigniting that primal desire to have his way with you and fill you with his seed. You want it, too, in the way that your hips instinctively move to push back against him, to coax him inside you, throbbing with need.

“Do you think I’m going to reward you for your bratty behavior, MC?” Satan chuckles, teasing his cock at your entrance. “Only good little girls get rewarded. Are you going to behave for me now, or do I need to fuck this attitude out of you?”

You whimper in response, then attempt to cover your mouth with a hand. Tugging at the restraints, you remember that you have no use of your arms, opting instead to shake your head. Satisfied with your reaction, he laughs once more, placing another firm smack on your ass.

“I suppose I will have to simply fuck you into submission,” Satan purrs. “It seems my pretty little kitten has forgotten who her pleasure belongs to. Who it is that makes her body bend to their will, whose name falls helplessly from her lips in screams of pleasure every time she cums.”

His hands move to your hips, gripping the skin tightly, leaving small bruises in the indentations of his fingers.

“Face in the sheets, kitten,” he instructs, voice laden with silk, “or my hips will do it for you.”

Sliding his cock into your tight, wet heat, Satan’s hips begin snapping into you mercilessly, barely gives you time to react. Your face presses into the mattress, stifling your loud, gasping, breathy moans of pleasure.

“Good girls get to feel good. Good girls get to cum,” he rasps. He groans at the sensation, the feel of you so familiarly delicious, head tipping back in pleasure for a few brief moments. Reaching for your tail, he yanks on it lightly before pressing his chest to your back to growl into your ear.

“Purr for me, my sexy little kitten, and show me that you can be a good girl.”

#obey me #obey me satan #satan obey me #obeyme #obeyme satan #satan obeyme #obey me satan x reader #shall we date obey me #obey me shall we date #satan x reader #obey me fanfic #obey me fanfiction #obey me lemon

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alj4890 · 3 years

Note

Hi you are awesome! Got an ask. What do you think will happen if the gang found out that Barthelemy along the others involved was behind Queen Eleanor's deat, just after days of him threatening to take the Princess and be a regent?I want to know Liam's POV on it.

Aww!!! Thank you ☺Honestly, I think Liam would have figured it out when he realized the goblet was from both Godfrey and Barthelemy. He was the one to devote his free time to secretly study the effects of poisons and ways it could be administered. Once the group found his mother's secret room, I think it would have all come together in his mind. For your request though, I will try and show Liam's reaction if he discovered the connection after Barthelemy's threat. Plus, I think this is one circumstance where he wouldn't want to involve the others. To be able to capture his mother's murderer would be something he would want to do himself with the help of his king's guards.

@gkittylove99 @darley1101 @krsnlove @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @yourmajesty09 @mom2000aggie @ofpixelsandscribbles @twinkleallnight @lodberg @twinkleallnight @amandablink @neotericthemis @mm2305

Masterlist

Subversion

"I've got you." Liam gently took his wife's trembling form into his arms.

The nightmares were getting out of hand.

Ever since Maxwell's father had threatened to take their daughter from them, Riley's nerves were shot. She tried so hard to put on a brave face during the day, but when night came across the land, she fell apart.

Tears slipped down her cheeks as she held fast to Liam. Her breaths hitched at the thought of Barthelemy Beaumont winning in the end.

"How did he get so many of the court on his side?" She whispered. "After all we've done for them!"

Liam rested his cheek on top of her head. "I don't know."

"He's been gone for what...fifteen, twenty years or so?" She grumbled. "We saved the country from Justin. We secured the throne with Eleanor's birth." Her anger began to overcome her fear. "And these traitors do this to us?!"

"The court serves its on purposes." He explained. "They always have. It is rare to find a truly selfless noble amongst the group."

Riley left his arms to reach for a tissue on her nightstand. "I saw how selfish they could be during your bride search."

She blew her nose softly before a frown firmed her lips. "I mean, the whole reason Bertrand wanted me to win you was so House Beaumont could be restored, reputation wise. He said he also wanted to see us happy, but now I doubt it."

Liam listened quietly as she went through her nightly rants of those that had betrayed them. She then went into a litany of how ridiculous it was that they had to travel with a one year old to their homes in the hopes of swaying their fickle minds back in their favor.

Before long, she had worn herself out and began to doze off. He held her until he felt her slow deep breaths. Easing his arms away, he crept out of their bedroom.

As had been his nightly ritual for the past year, he first went to the nursery.

His lips curved over his one year old daughter's tendency to cocoon herself in her blankets. Eleanor's head and that of the purple stuffed bunny she loved to sleep with were the only things visible.

He tenderly brushed her hair from her forehead as he gazed upon his most prized possession. His inner resolve hardened with the vow that nothing would ever take her from him and Riley.

On his way out of the nursery, he paused to pet Chance. The sweet corgi seemed to almost understand that something was going on and that he needed to guard the little princess. Lady Luck and their puppies were curled up at the foot of the toddler bed, being the next line of defense if Chance failed.

Liam quietly closed the door and continued downstairs. He nodded briefly to the guards that were stationed at various points along the halls and staircase. None seemed surprised by their king up at such a late hour.

Why should they, when he had been doing this for a year now?

Liam met Bastien in his study. The older man handed him a steaming cup of coffee, before sitting down across from him.

The workspace between them was covered with pictures, reports, and test results.

"Anything new?" Liam asked.

"I received this from one of my underground informants." Bastien handed over a set of photographs. "And I uncovered this report through the help of the queen mother. We came across this while going through your late father's personal files."

Liam's lips firmed into a thin line as he flipped through the old photographs. Barthelemy had made a wide variety of friends during his supposed' "coma".

"Is that...?" Liam handed the picture over.

"It is, sir." Bastien reached across the table for another set of photographs. "Lord Barthelemy along with Godfrey had been developing close ties with both the Nevarkis family and those that raised the leader of The Sons of the Earth."

"I see." Liam tapped his fingers against his mug. "So our initial theory was correct. Godfrey didn't act alone when my mother was poisoned."

"In all honesty sir, I never thought he had the stomach for such an act." Bastien frowned over the picture of the late Queen Eleanor that also showed Jackson Walker in the background. "Of the two friends of your father, I suspected Barthelemy."

Liam looked up. "You did?"

Bastien shrugged. "I was the junior agent when the first attack on your mother failed. Jackson told me only what was relevant." His eyes narrowed in memory. "He said it was for her protection that I wasn't told more. Now I think he and your mother were hoping to not put anyone else at risk with what they were uncovering."

Liam focused once more on the last picture his mother had taken. It was the very ball in which she received the poisoned golden goblet. He felt that familiar breath aching pain in his heart. She had missed so much of his life. His growing up, his marriage, his child.

He wanted to destroy the men responsible for this. He wanted vengeance for his mother and all the lives affected by her death.

He wanted them to suffer as he had. As his late father had.

They deserved it. They deserved so much more agony than a mere prison sentence or swift death could give.

He knew it was wrong, but he hoped Barthelemy resisted being captured. Then the king's guards could use other methods to apprehend him.

Godfrey's capture had not given him the satisfaction that Liam needed. Something had always felt off when he thought of the fastidious former Duke of Karlington. He just couldn't believe the man had acted alone.

"I believe we have enough evidence with this last report." Bastien handed him another sheet of paper. "Queen Amalas sent this along with her regards."

Liam read through the many sheets.

This was it. This was the final nail to Barthelemy Beaumont's coffin.

Liam stood up. "Prepare the guards. We are going to Ramsford immediately."

*****************

Duchy Ramsford, at the first blush of dawn...

"We have every inch surrounded, sir." Bastien whispered.

"Good." Liam squared his shoulders. He tried to itch his side, but encountered nothing but the Kevlar vest his guards insisted he wear. "Let's go."

The pair, flanked by four more guards walked up to the front door and banged on it.

A sleepy servant appeared, perplexed to see the king standing on the steps.

Liam and Bastien pushed past him, stating they were there for kingdom business, and began to climb the stairs.

Their footsteps were silent as they checked each room they came to.

Having finally come to the family wing of the manor, they opened the door to the room where the culprit slept.

Before the old man had a chance to come fully awake, he was handcuffed and shoved out into the hallway.

"What is the meaning of this?" Barthelemy yelled. "How dare you come into my room in such a manner?"

Bertrand and Savannah rushed out, only to stop in surprise at the sight before them.

"Barthelemy Beaumont." Liam's voice held a sinister edge. "For crimes against the royal family and Cordonia, I hereby sentence you to death."

"What?" Barthelemy dropped his easy going mien he had maintained since he first reappeared.

Something more dark and evil took over his features. "You do not have the power to do that, King Liam. You gave the Council those rights. Now that you're family is under attack, you think getting rid of me will stop them from taking the princess away?" He snorted in derision. "Even if you find a way to kill me, others will make certain neither you nor that pitiful excuse for a queen ever see Princess Eleanor again."

"I do not think any noble will fight my decision once they see your list of crimes Liam's blue eyes blazed with fury.

He began to approach the man who had formulated the plan to kill his mother. The man who had blackmailed numerous nobles so that they were forced to support him. The very man trying once more to destroy his family and take the crown from him.

Barthelemy snarled at him "You know nothing of my supporters." His chin lifted in triumph. "There are many outside of Cordonia who would love to see me take the throne as Prince Regent."

Liam's slow, deliberate steps caused Barthelemy to shrink back. He stumbled over his own feet as he was backed into a corner.

His eyes were wild as he looked for anyone who might possibly be on his side.

"Bertrand! As the Duke of Ramsford, you must stop him before he--"

His son shook his head. "House Ramsford has always stood behind King Liam and Queen Riley." He felt Savannah's hand slip into his to help him through this. "Anyone, be them blood relation or friend, who does not will become an enemy of this duchy."

Barthelemy began to spew insults upon his son. His hatred and disgust was then directed to both of his progeny having failed him in every possible way.

Bertrand didn't flinch or even appear to hear the diatribe directed towards him. He instead reported his own investigation into his father's activities.

"Forgive me, your majesty." His voice was hoarse with emotion. "I had to make it look like I had truly turned against you and our queen to make my father more open about his plans. I have all the information you might need for what he intended to do to take the princess away in my bedroom's safe."

"Traitor!" Barthelemy struggled anew against his handcuffs and the guards holding him. "How dare you betray your own blood--"

Liam punched him, knocking out the old man with an uppercut. A blessed silence followed his drop.

Bertrand stared dispassionately upon his father's crumpled form, then turned on his heel, leading Bastien to the safe.

Liam took long, deep breaths to calm himself down. The urge to continue to beat the man at his feet was strong.

He remembered every tear shed in the dark over his mother. Every need for a hug from her. Every holiday memory without her. Every single worry and secret he had longed to share with her.

He then thought of the miserable years he and Riley would have had without their daughter. Every single moment without her sweet smile. Missing each milestone. Being denied the right to even speak to her. No hugs. No kisses for skinned knees or bad dreams. No playtime. No chance of checking on her during the night.

He never knew he could hate a man as much as he did Barthelemy Beaumont.

How had such a man fathered two of Cordonia's most loyal noblemen?

Liam realized he should be grateful for the late Annabelle Beaumont and her sweetness overshadowing all that this man tried to teach them.

It would have hurt even more so, if Maxwell and Bertrand had betrayed him.

"Your majesty?"

Liam lifted his eyes and took the folder filled with all Bertrand had uncovered. It was enough to put his father away for multiple life sentences.

"Sir, I hope..." Bertrand's shoulders drooped. "Do you think Riley will understand why I did what I did?"

"I do." Liam placed a grateful hand on his shoulder. "Thank you, for this and for your continued loyalty."

Bertrand bowed his head, unable to speak from his own relief that it was at last over.

The guards dragged a still unconscious Barthelemy down the stairs and into the back of an armored truck.

Liam and Bastien followed close behind.

The king took a deep breath of the early morning's crisp air. The sun beginning to shine reminded him that this was indeed a new day...one in which he could return to his family victorious, knowing they were once more safe.

#choices the royal heir #liam x riley #king liam #choices the stories you play #choices fan fiction #trh liam

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hopelikethemoon · 4 years

Text

used to be lonely (Javier x Reader) [MTMF verse]

Title: used to be lonely Rating: PG-13 (language) Length: 2,400 Warnings: Angst, sexism, pregnancy talk. Notes: Based on a prompt by @youhavereachedtheendofpie. All of maybe today, maybe forever can be read here. Summary: A month after “maybe” Javier comes to a conclusion. Tag List: @grapemama @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate(lemme know if anyone else wants to be tagged in these)

You felt like shit. The worst of the morning sickness had passed as you entered your fourth month, but that didn’t mean you magically felt good. You weren’t sleeping terribly well at night and not being able to drink coffee was torture. Work was… fine.

You’d had to tell your superiors about your ‘delicate condition’ and they hadn’t taken it well. Their first reaction had been to send you back to the states — which had been your worst fear. If you went back to your states, you knew that whatever you had with Javier would come to an abrupt end. Every day was a give and take, trying to find your place together. It wouldn’t survive distance and you wouldn’t let him leave with you if it came to that.

Luckily they came around and put you on indefinite desk duty. You could live with that, even if it meant spending less time with Javier in the office. You were like two ships passing in the night most days. You’d get into the office, just as he was heading out on assignment and he’d return as you were heading home.

Sometimes he’d ride the elevator with you, even though he was headed in the opposite direction, just so he could steal a few minutes alone with you. Four stories was never enough time. He’d rest his hand on the swell of your stomach, press a kiss to your temple before the opening doors would force him to pull away. Fleeting moments that convinced you that this could be something. Something that would linger long after the baby was born.

You pinched at the bridge of your nose as you rested your elbows on your desk. The caffeine migraines wouldn’t give you a break. Every time you caught the scent of a fresh pot brewing in the breakroom, your body craved it. And Chris seemed to make a fresh pot every hour — just to torture you.

“Hey Peña,” Chris started, tossing a crumpled up paper onto Javier’s desk to get his attention. “How’s things out in the field?”

“Fine.” He lifted his gaze and gave Chris a questioning look.

Chris shrugged, “You know I was just wondering if things might be easier for you now.”

You frowned, but kept your focus on the report you were typing.

“Why would it be easier?” Javier questioned. You glanced at him, catching the way his teeth were clenched together, his jaw set hard. You both hated Chris. Nothing good ever came from his idle wondering.

“Well, you know.” Chris threw another piece of paper towards the garbage can against the wall, missing it by a mile. “Without having a chick in tow. No offense,” He offered disingenuously when you glared at him. “You get to deal with all Colombia’s finest informants and I can’t imagine having a female partner helped you.”

You drew in a deep breath, counting to ten instead of picking up your stapler and beating him to death. Though the mere thought of it was wholly satisfying. You exhaled slowly, flexing your fingers before you continued typing. Chris’ sexism didn’t even warrant a reply from you. No one gave a shit and it wasn’t a hill you wanted to die on.

“Fuck off.” Javier bit out. “She was a damn good field agent and a competent one too.” That dig made you smirk. He’d been paired with Chris a half dozen times since you got stuck on desk duty and he always looked pissed as hell when he got back. Chris was a decent agent, but he was only there because he had a drinking buddy among the higher ups.

You glanced up again, catching Javi’s eyes on you. You could never quite tell what that look meant — sometimes it felt like he was looking into your soul and other times like he was looking straight through you. But you knew Javier better than anyone else knew him — save for Steve. You had spent the better part of your past five years in Colombia at his side, day in and day out. But sometimes you just couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Especially when it came to you.

“Don��t waste your breath on him, Peña.” You remarked, pulling the finished report out of the typewriter. “He’s just jealous that he didn’t get my job.” Javier had been insistent that they hold the spot open until after you delivered. He’d have to work with Chris and Daniel, but neither of them would be his official new partner.

“Damn straight I am,” Chris scoffed. “It’s not like you’re going to be fit to go back in the field.” He vaguely gestured to his stomach. “You’re already getting fat.”

“I’m having a baby.” You snapped as you stood up. “What’s your excuse?” You didn’t give him a chance to respond, heading out of the bullpen and down the hallway towards the bathroom. You didn’t trust yourself not to cry. Your hormones were all over the place and the prickly burning in your eyes suggested that he’d struck a nerve.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, splashing a little water on your face to soothe the flush that was starting to spread across your skin. You looked as good as you felt, which was shit. There were dark circles under your eyes, revealing just how little sleep you were getting.

Someone knocked at the door.

“Occupied!” You called back.

“It’s me.”

Your brows furrowed together as you turned back to the door, you unlocked it and pulled it open a crack. “What are you doing?” You questioned as you stared at Javier, your eyes flickering up and down the hall to make sure no one else was around.

“Just checking on you.” He murmured, his expression soft as he looked at you. “You okay?”

“Just trying to prevent a murder.” You quipped, letting out a humorless laugh.

Javier reached through the cracked door and took ahold of your hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of it. “We could probably get away with it, if we put some effort into the planning.” He said lightly. “Can I come in?”

You nodded your head slowly, pulling the door open wider. “This is risky.” You warned him as he stepped inside and locked the door shut.

“Just a man checking on his partner,” Javier chewed on his bottom lip with his hands on his hips.

You frowned, resting your hand on your stomach. “That’s a ‘bad news’ look.”

He gave a stiff nod, his jaw rocking as he stared at you. “I’ve got to meet with an informant tonight.”

“Okay.” You said calmly, even though you felt your pulse jump in your throat.

“Okay?” Javier’s head cocked to the side, like he was expecting another answer out of you.

“Yeah.” You shrugged. “It’s your job, Javi.”

He blinked slowly, before looking away with an incredulous laugh. “You could at least tell me that you’re hurt.”

“By you doing your job?” You shot back, staring at him. “I don’t know what response you were expecting.”

“Yeah,” He shook his head, his voice cutting to the bone. “I don’t fucking know what I was expecting either.”

“I’m not in a position to be jealous, Javier.” You told him, biting down on the inside of your bottom lip. “This,” You gestured between you. “Is held together with a shoestring and the allusion of trust.

“The allusion of trust?”

“Javier,” You crossed your arms across your chest. “Can we not do this?”

“I trust you with my life.” Javier breathed out, his eyes darting over your face. “So fuck that.”

You sighed heavily, “I trust you with my life too, but I don’t trust you with my heart.” You admitted, your lashes fluttering as you looked away. “Look, I need to get back out there before Chris comes up with a conspiracy story that neither of us need right now.”

“Wait.” Javier urged and you turned back around to look at him. “Can I come over tonight? After?”

You gave a faint nod of your head, “I’d like that.”

——

Despite your best attempts at falling asleep, you were still wide awake on your sofa watching late-night reruns of a telenovela well past midnight. Javier hadn’t shown up, which you weren’t entirely surprised about. Disappointed? Maybe. But you knew how things went. You hadn’t gone into this with your eyes closed. You knew Javier, you knew what being with him meant. You didn’t let it get under your skin. Or at least, you didn’t acknowledge it when it did bother you.

Sometime near one, there was a knock at your apartment door. You hauled yourself off the sofa, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders as you went to open the door. “Hey.” You smiled softly as your gaze settled on his face.

“I didn’t know if you’d still be up.” Javier stated, hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket as he shifted anxiously on his feet. “Can I—?”

“Yeah, come in.” You pushed the door open wider, stepping aside to let him in. You drew in a shaky breath, taking your time as you pulled the door closed, latching the security chain back. “How’d the meeting go?”

Javier pushed his fingers through his hair as you looked back at him. He shook his head, “I didn’t get anything out of her.”

“Oh.” You pulled the blanket around you tighter as you walked back towards the sofa. “I’m sorry to hear that.” You curled up on the sofa, peering over the back of it at him. “Are you going to sit down?”

“Does it not bother you?” He questioned, staying rooted in one spot.

You sank back against the arm of the sofa, rubbing at your forehead. “I just compartmentalize it, Javier. I don’t really have the privilege to be worried about it.” Your eyes flickered towards him, “I’d rather have you most of the time, than none of the time. If that’s my two options.”

Javier’s shoulders sagged. “I see.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, before he moved around the sofa, settling down on the opposite side of it. He stared straight ahead at the T.V., but you knew he wasn’t watching it. His jaw was clenched, lips moving slightly like he was trying to formulate what to say.

The silence was smothering as it lingered between the two of you, oppressive like the thick heat of Colombia.

“I didn’t fuck her.”

Your brows shot upwards. You curled your feet beneath you as you sat up, staring down the length of the sofa at him. “Is that why you didn’t get the information?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t care.”

“Javier, it’s your job.”

“Fuck that.” He snapped, fingers curled into tight fists on his lap. “I’m done with that shit.” Javier turned to look at you, looking more wounded than you’d ever seen him before. “It’s not just work. Don’t you get that?”

You blinked slowly, before looking away from him because you couldn’t take the pain in his eyes. “I do. But I also know…” You shook your head. “It’s not a game, Javier. This is our job, our livelihood. We can’t let whatever this is get in the way.”

“Whatever this is.” He scoffed, sinking back against the sofa and staring up at the ceiling. “You can be such a bitch sometimes, baby.”

“Yeah, well you’re a jackass all the time so I think we’re even.” You bit back, throwing your blanket off as you stood up. “I’m going to bed. You can sit out here and sulk or whatever, be my guest.”

“I love you.”

You stopped dead in your tracks.

“What did you say?”

“You heard me.”

“No.” You turned to stare at him. “What did you say?”

“I love you.”

“Javier, we’ve been together for a month.”

“No shit,” He dragged his hands over his face before he stood up and stalked towards you. “We didn’t just meet last month.”

Everything felt like it was closing in on you. The telenovela sounded like white noise in the background, blending into the thrumming of your pulse in your ears, the steady flow of air through your nose. “You can’t just say that, Javier. You can’t just tell me you love me if you don’t really mean it.”

“I do.”

“How?”

“You’re all I think about.” Javier admitted, reaching out to grab your hands, holding you in front of him.

“Is that why you couldn’t?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

You swallowed thickly, “Wow.”

“I tried.” He admitted.

“I figured.” You laughed a little, uncertain how to feel. “You smell like cheap perfume.”

He chuckled. “I’ll shower.”

You shook your head, “It’s fine.” You took a step closer to him, looking up at him with a quiet smile. “I swear to God, if you break my heart Javi.”

“Are you going to say it back?”

You brushed your fingers along the curve of his jaw, “No.” You said lightly. “I’m going to make you wait.” Your hands settled at his shoulders as his own hands found your hips. “You’re going to have to work for it.”

“I can live with that.” He smirked, leaning down to brush his lips against yours. His nose bumped against yours as he pulled back. “Just don’t make me wait too long”

“You won’t.” You promised him, giving his shoulders three little squeezes.

Javier inhaled sharply, looking down at you quizzically. You smiled a little more broadly nodding your head to confirm his suspicions. Your fingers found their way to the back of his neck and you drew him down to kiss him again.

You let the kiss linger, your tongue teasing over his bottom lip. “I lied. Go take a shower.” You shoved him playfully in the chest. “I’ll meet you in the bedroom.”

He stole another kiss, before he headed for your bathroom, glancing back over his shoulder at you.

You were already half asleep when Javi slid beneath the covers beside you. It wasn’t the first time he’d spent the night since you’d started your relationship, but it was the first time it felt like that was where he truly belonged. He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, his arm wrapped around you, his palm spread out over your stomach.

You used to be lonely too.

But now, in Javier’s arms… there was a hope in your heart that maybe neither of you would have to feel lonely again.

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal x reader #i was supposed to finish a fluff idea but here we are

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tickly-trashcan · 4 years

Text

A Special Way {TodoDeku}

Hello anon, thank you for the prompt! This one got a bit longer than I expected i apologize, but i still hope you enjoy it!

edit: i completely forgot the ‘read more’ fdjkdbfdjdksbj sorry bout that

Summary: Midoriya realizes that everything Todoroki does makes him flustered, and so they decide to think of a way to change that!

Word Count: 1.6k (under the cut)

Midoriya sat on his dorm bed, bored out of his mind. He had already finished all his homework for the week, could he study? No, he didn’t have any tests coming up soon that would warrant that… Could he rearrange his All Might figure collection? No, he had just done that last week…

He sighed as he rolled onto his back, pulling out his little flip phone and clicking a few buttons, scrolling through his contacts for someone he could maybe hang out with. As he scrolled through, he kept remembering that everyone on the list had plans that day. Ochako and Tsuyu went to get some ice cream, Iida was visiting his brother…

Then there was Todoroki.

Was Todoroki doing anything that day? He couldn’t remember, Todoroki didn’t like to talk about himself and his plans that much.

It had been almost a month since he and Todoroki had started dating, and yet he still felt nervous and Todoroki had a hard time opening up to him… Midoriya sighed, remembering their first date when they went to tea and sat there awkwardly, Midoriya unable to formulate and Todoroki being too shy to start any sort of conversation. But in spite of that, it had gotten a bit better, although it was still difficult for Midoriya not to blush at every single thing Todoroki did.

Midoriya took a shaky breath and sent a text to Todoroki, asking if he could stop by his dorm. Midoriya sat up, holding his phone with a shaky hand as he waited for a response.

Seen.

Midoriya felt a sudden rush of warmth run over his back as he waited for the typing bubbles to pop up… any minute now…

Did Todoroki leave him on read?

Maybe he was busy, and Midoriya just bothered him, shoot! Midoriya slammed his hands against his face and groaned, falling back on his bed, rolling from side to side in shame.

He sat there for a while, trying to think of another person he could possibly hang out with when he heard a knock at his door.

“Midoriya, are you in here?”

That voice… Was it Todoroki? Midoriya jumped up and ran towards the door, tripping clumsily over his chair, stubbing his toe as he cried out in pain.

The door opened on his own as Midoriya hunched over in pain, Todoroki walking in and kneeling down next to Midoriya, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you alright, Midoriya? Did you hurt yourself?”

Midoriya shook his head, a blush creeping up his cheeks as Todoroki’s grip on his shoulder tightened, Midoriya letting go of the foot he was clutching to wave his hands around.

“I-I’m fine, don’t worry about me! Sorry, I thought you were busy, I wasn’t expecting you,”

“I was just doing some schoolwork, I’d rather be spending time with you anyway.” Todoroki said plainly, his expression as unreadable as ever as Midoriya blushed at his words, covering his face as he did so.

“How can you say that so easily?!” Midoriya squeaked, making Todoroki smile slightly.

“Because I care about you Midoriya,” He said, again in his mildly monotone voice. Midoriya blushed again, crawling over to his bed and hiding his face in his pillow, whining.

“It’s not fair, I can’t say things like that!”

“Why not?” Todoroki asked, following Midoriya to the bed, sitting down next to Midoriya’s curled up body, rubbing his back.

“I get so… flustered, I don’t know. It’s hard to say them because I just get so nervous,” Midoriya tried to explain, burying his face further into the pillow, muffling his words even more.

Todoroki was barely able to understand what Midoriya was saying, but he got the gist, stopping his hand and scooting himself further up the bed, tugging at the pillow that Midoriya was clutching.

“How about we try and find a way to make you less nervous? What did All Might say before that training session… get your wiggles out? Something like that, we can get the nervousness out,” Todoroki said caringly, finally pulling the pillow away from Midoriya, who looked up at him with a confused expression, an expression that made Todoroki’s heart rate increase slightly.

“Um, I don’t really know what can… heh, ‘get my wiggles out’,” Midoriya giggled, looking up at Todoroki.

“Anything that makes you feel better? Like going for a walk, or maybe training?”

Midoriya thought for a moment… something that made him feel better after…

He blushed slightly, reaching again for the pillow that Todoroki had tugged away, Todoroki grabbing it before Midoriya could.

“No hiding. Did you think of something?”

“Yes, but it’s embarrassing!”

Todoroki chuckled. “Everything’s embarrassing for you, Midoriya, just tell me.”

Midoriya covered his face with his hands, whining as Todoroki sighed. “Take as long as you need, I just want to help Midoriya,”

Todoroki was about to get up from the bed before Midoriya grabbed his wrist, pulling him back down. Todoroki scooted even closer to Midoriya, leaning down slightly.

“C-Can you… tickle me?”

Todoroki blinked a few times. He was expecting a few things but he wasn’t expecting… that.

With lack of verbal response from Todoroki, Midoriya’s mind began to race.

“A-Ah I’m sorry! I didn’t actually mean it, I can think of something els- Ack!”

He was cut off suddenly when Todoroki pounced on him, pinning him to the bed by straddling his waist, hovering over him with a small grin on his face, Midoriya blushing more at the sight.

“I-I, ah,” Midoriya tried to formulate, Todoroki setting his hands on Midoriya’s tummy, the warm and cool temperatures from both of them sending tingles up Midoriya’s spine as he looked down at Todoroki’s hands.

“I’ll be gentle, okay?”

Before Midoriya could speak out any flustered response, Todoroki lightly scratched his hands on Midoriya’s tummy, who immediately erupted in bubbly giggles.

“Eeheeheeheehee, Todoroki! W-Wahahahait!” Midoriya swatted at Todoroki’s hands, covering his mouth with one hand to try and suppress the giggles that kept bubbling out of his throat.

“I’ll stop whenever you want me to, okay?” Todoroki said gently, his hands now exploring Midoriya’s sides as he let out a squeak, his giggles slowly forming into laughter.

Midoriya nodded, covering his mouth with both hands as Todoroki continued his torture. It was very ticklish, yes, but it was also gentle, and it made Midoriya feel safe as he laughed, Todoroki slowly going up to his ribs. Midoriya jolted and Todoroki halted.

“Not here?”

“Nohohoho, it’s… it’s okay,” Midoriya blushed, Todoroki smiling as he dug his fingers in a bit harder than before into Midoriya, showing that the gentle warm-up from earlier was over and it was time for some serious tickles and loud laughter, which quickly followed from Midoriya.

He twisted around slightly under Todoroki, but with him on top it was hard to move at all, so Midoriya could do nothing but cackle as Todoroki scooted down slightly in his straddle, squeezing Midoriya’s hips, who let out a loud shriek, followed by a flood of loud laughter.

“Waahahahahait Todoroki! Nohohohoho, not there!” Midoriya whined, swatting at Todoroki’s hands. Todoroki merely grinned down at Midoriya and continued to tickle him.

“You asked for it, and I’m only gonna stop when you ask,” Todoroki explained simply, drilling his fingers into Midoriya’s hip bone. Midoriya let out a loud yelp.

“AHAHAHAhahahahahaha, nooo!” Midoriya screamed, squirming violently as Todoroki mercilessly tickled one of his worst spots.

“Does it tickle bad here? Want me to change spots?” Todoroki asked, slowing his pace as Midoriya giggled breathlessly.

“P-Please,”

Todoroki nodded, lifting up Midoriya’s thin T-shirt he was wearing.

“Wh- huh?!” Midoriya gasped, not expecting that to happen. Before he could say anything else, however, Todoroki’s hands descended upon his tummy once more, Todoroki using his nails to scratch gently at Midoriya’s sensitive skin, driving him very quickly up the wall as he arched his back, screaming with laughter.

“NAHAHAHAhahaha!! T-Tohohohohodorokii!” Midoriya managed to gasp out through his mad cackles, twisting from side to side as Todoroki had one hand drum up Midoriya’s ribs while the other went under his unprotected arm.

Midoriya felt tears prick the corners of his eyes, he felt like he’d need to ask Todoroki to stop soon if he didn’t want to pee himself, but at the same time… he felt like he didn’t want this to stop. It was nice being this close to Todoroki, he didn’t feel flustered or embarrassed and, even though he was being tickled to death, it still made him feel more comfortable around him.

He was so caught up in his own thoughts and the sensations overwhelming his body, Midoriya didn’t notice Todoroki lower his head towards his tummy until it was too late.

Pbft!

Midoriya screamed, pushing at Todoroki’s head as he continued to blow raspberries all over Midoriya’s tummy, hands still working right at his lower ribs. Midoriya felt tears finally trickle out of his eyes as he desperately gasped out.

“STOHOHOP!! Plehehease no mohohohohohore!”

As soon as those words were spoken, Todoroki lifted his head up, along with his hands, as Midoriya greedily gulped in as much air as he could, thankful that he could finally breathe normally again.

“Did I go too far?” Todoroki asked innocently, tilting his head to the side a bit. Midoriya shook his head.

“No, noho you didn’t… ah that actually helped a lot, thank you…” Midoriya muttered, blushing slightly, partially from the tickle attack he still hadn’t recovered from.

Todoroki smiled, leaning in and pressing a kiss to Midoriya’s temple. Midoriya flushed, pulling away slightly, but then he laughed slightly.

“I didn’t feel as embarrassed that time!” He said proudly, Todoroki chuckling.

“I guess I’ll have to tickle you a lot from now on then,” He said, raising his hands again.

“Wait, I’m not embarrassed right now, wahahahahait!”

#i got a bit carried away with this one dbsbjdb sorry #todoroki #midoriya #mha #prompts #anon

79 notes · View notes

exoticarmyofcrowns · 4 years

Text

dilwale | pjm [m.]

pairing: jimin x fem!reader

summary: a trip across europe turns a bit more interesting when you meet park jimin, a shameless flirt with a penchant for trouble. dilwale (dil-wah-ley): [hindi] the good-hearted, the strong-hearted, lover

genre: romance, fluff, minor angst (pining), smut, dilwale dulhania le jayenge!au (this is not a thing but i made it one oop)

warnings: LOTS of pining (god so much pining) / some cursing / copious amounts of fluff / (bad) flirting / banter / allusion to being taken advantage of BUT IT’S FALSE / lots of feelings / lots of consent (bc consent is sexy) / switch!jimin / switch!reader? / the smut is pretty soft ngl / praise kink sorta? (bc come on is it a jimin fic w/o it) / creampie / excessive use of the word sweetheart / thicc!jimin / unprotected sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT PLSSSS) / tease!jimin / riding / aaaaand i think that’s it??

word count: ~15.6k

a/n: hello ya girl is BACK w another self-indulgent fic hehe THIS ONE’S FOR MY FELLOW DESIS AND BOLLYWOOD LOVERS!!!! ddlj is my absolute favorite movie in the entire world and i just wanted some representation dammit lol this is heavily based on the plot of that movie but obviously with some changes for my own artistic purposes. shout out to @moonlytae for helping me decide which member it should be and @joonies-girl-08 for the fountain scene u guys are the best! as always, a big thank u to @jooniecult for ur expertise, u da best! i hope you all enjoy this, i had so much fun writing it!

“Shit shit shit!”

You’re sprinting through the terminal, checking the directory clutched in your hands as you try to both watch where you’re going and find the damn platform you’re supposed to be on. Your friends and you have been planning this trip for weeks now and you’ve already fucked up by waking up late with barely any time to spare as you frantically waved down a taxi to the train station. You and your friends are taking the Eurail across Europe to celebrate your college graduation and you really should have been at the station about 20 minutes ago but you can blame your overexcitement—and the subsequent lack of sleep—for that.

Of course, luck was not on your side as there was an accident mere minutes from the station. London traffic at its finest. You made the split-second decision to abandon the cab, throwing an apology and a few bills over the divider before running the rest of the way. A glance at your watch says that you’re mere seconds away from missing your train and the thought pushes you to pump your legs faster, backpack slapping against your back with bruising force as you attempt to drag your small carry-on behind you.

Turning a swift corner, you catch sight of the platform you’re looking for. The train doors are still open, thank god, but you know they will close any second. You’re not sure that you’re gonna make it when you see a hand pop out of the open doors, beckoning you to grab hold. Figuring you have nothing to lose now, you take it, arm jolting you through the automatic doors just as they slide shut.

Collapsing with relief, you rest your hands on your knees as you try desperately to catch your breath. The latch on your suitcase has snapped open, spilling the contents onto the floor. You curse, frantically stuffing the carrier full again. You don’t necessarily have anything to hide but you’re not really looking to literally air out your laundry to strangers. Speaking of, you remember you never actually thanked your savior for pulling you to safety. You look up, an expression of gratitude on your lips when you catch sight of the person who helped you onto the train. Your mouth dries as you struggle to form a coherent sentence.

To say he’s gorgeous would be the understatement of the century. He’s absolutely stunning, almost fairy-like with his delicate features and mischievous eyes. It’s a direct contrast to the way he’s dressed, t-shirt tucked into sinfully-tight jeans and a leather jacket thrown over his shoulders. His hair is the softest shade of pink you’ve ever seen and you’re tempted to run your fingers through it.

The sound of someone clearing their throat snaps you out of your reverie. You glance up at the man’s face to see his eyes glimmering with mirth and you know you’ve been caught checking him out. You straighten abruptly, cheeks warm with something other than exertion.

“Um,” you begin, cursing yourself internally for how lame you sound, “th-thank you. You know, for pulling me in.”

“It was no problem.” The words come out like a purr and the effect is not lost on you, heart pounding just a little harder in your chest.

You clear your throat nervously and look away from his piercing gaze. You realize you’re both standing in the gangway connection. The handsome stranger seems to realize this at the same time because he glances over to the door and drops his own bag to try and pry it open. He struggles for a moment before knocking loudly on the door.

“Anyone over there?” He tugs uselessly on the door one more time before stepping away, hand running through his pink strands in frustration. He glances over to you looking a little sheepish. “Looks like we’re stuck here for a little.”

“Ah.” You sigh, not sure what else to say so you remain silent. You go to check your phone but remember that it had died midway through your taxi ride. Flopping down onto the ground, you figure you’re gonna be here a while so you pull out the book you brought to keep yourself entertained and flip to where you left off.

Just as you’re getting back into the story, you see the stranger settle down next to you a little closer than you would have liked. While you can admit the man is attractive, you’re still strangers. You have no idea who this guy is; he could be a mugger for all you know! Okay, that was probably not very likely but you can never be too careful.

“So,” he begins, leaning his head back to peer at you, “have we met before? You look awfully familiar.”

You frown. Of course you haven’t met him before, you’re sure you would have remembered such a stunning man. Not that you’d admit that out loud. “Uh…no?” It comes out a bit harsher than you intend but he recovers well.

“Ah, I see. My mistake.” He flashes you a sweet smile and you return it, albeit a little uncomfortably. You try to return to your book but he interrupts you yet again. “It’s just that, your eyes…”

“What?” you practically snap. “What’s wrong with my eyes?”

“Nothing,” he simpers, eyes boring into yours. “They just remind me of someone.”

“Oh? Who?” The beginnings of a sneer are curling at the corners of your mouth but you manage to bite it back. You cannot, however, keep the impatience from leaking into your tone.

“My mother,” he answers back, gaze turning fond if not a little dreamy. “Her eyes are just like yours, soft and warm and—”

“Listen, that’s very sweet and all but I’m just trying to get back with my friends so if you could, just please leave me alone?” You’re trying really hard not to get tight with this guy but you know his type—pretty boys with an agenda. This trip is for you and your girls and you’re not about to let some schmuck ruin it for you.

He raises his arms in a gesture of defeat. “Alright, alright. I was just trying to break the ice. No need to worry.” Settling back against the wall, he tips his head back to close his eyes and you relax slightly.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him shift uncomfortably but choose to ignore him in favor of your book.

“Excuse me, are these…?” You feel a nudge against your arm and you frown, directing your attention back to him.

Dangling from his fingers is a thong. Your thong, to be exact.

A gasp of mortification tears itself from your throat as you rip the offending garment from his grasp, rushing to shove it back into your backpack. The man has the nerve to laugh at your embarrassment.

“I thought so,” he chuckles, a dangerous smirk curving at the corners of his plump lips. Even his mouth is a pretty pink. You catch yourself staring again and quickly curse yourself, pushing yourself further against the wall of the gangway and away from him.

“Wouldn’t have pegged you for a black lace kind of girl.”

You whip around to fix him with your most annoyed glare. The fuck was wrong with this guy? “Excuse me?”

He’s still wearing that insufferable smirk and you have to fight the urge to slap it off his stupid face. “It’s just…you seem so pure. Sure that ain’t a little out of your league, sweetheart?”

Mouth agape, you can’t even formulate a proper response to that. “I don’t see how that’s any of your fucking business?”

You congratulate yourself a little when you see his eyes widen fractionally, clearly taken aback by your response. Serves him right, creepy bastard. He drops the subject and you raise your book again to resume reading, albeit with a bit more force than necessary. You can hardly focus on the words, too caught up on the last few minutes to read properly.

You’re halfway through a mental smackdown of Cotton Candy Headass when you feel something making its way into your lap. Startled, you look down only to see the little gremlin squirming his way into your space and under your book. You shoot him an incredulous look, unsure whether to laugh at the sheer gall or scream in his face.

“Don’t stop on my account.” He smiles disarmingly bright and you would be entranced if you weren’t so annoyed. “I was just curious to see how you could read a book upside down. Very interesting style!”

You glance at the way you’re holding your book, face warming at the realization that you were in fact holding it upside down. Fuck.

“Alright, jackass,” you begin, pushing against his shoulders in an effort to dislodge him from your lap, “enough is enough—”

Just then, the cabin door slides open revealing one of your friends. You and Cotton Candy Creep turn your heads to your friend at the same time. Your friend raises a brow at you in a silent question.

“___? What are you doing here?” You sigh, opening your mouth to answer her, but a low voice beats you to it.

“Why hello there, my dear. Did I keep you waiting?” Picking yourself up from the ground, you roll your eyes as you gather your bags. First you, now your friend? This guy doesn’t give up.

“I was scared you had missed the train.” Your friend, Sheena, says the words to you but is looking at your strange companion, eying him up like she wants to devour him.

“Oh, not to worry, darling, I caught it just in time.” He sidles up next to Sheena, leaning against the wall with one arm.

“Good, I was…worried.” She twirls a lock of hair around her finger and you have to remind yourself that you love your friend more than you want to throttle her at this moment.

You sling your backpack across your shoulders before picking up your suitcase. If you had gotten the chance to eat breakfast this morning, you’re sure you would have thrown it up already.

“By the way, what’s your name?” He holds a hand out like a gentleman, as if he weren’t just commenting on your lingerie not ten minutes ago.

“Sheena…”

“Park Jimin, at your service” he returns, grasping Sheena’s proffered hand to kiss the back of it, and you decide you’ve finally had enough.

“Oh, Sheena~” you sing-song, wiggling your fingers in a mock wave. “I’m over here. Shall we go?”

She has the decency to look sheepish as she turns to you, reaching out for your arm so she can pull you to her side.

“Allow me.” Jimin, the little imp, slides the door open with a flourish, sending a last wink at your friend. You usher your friend through before she can get another word in edgewise. As you step through the door, you make sure to knock his knees as hard as you can with your suitcase, taking pleasure in the hiss of pain that escapes him.

As the door shuts behind you, you can’t help but mutter, “I hate men.”

“___, come on! Are you ready?”

You have just finished placing the finishing touches on your makeup when Sheena calls you from the bedroom. Sending one last appraising look, you deem yourself ready and make your way out of the bathroom.

“I’m here, I’m here,” you chuckle, throwing your small purse over your shoulder. “Let’s go!”

Grabbing your other friends, your small group makes its way down to the lobby. The hotel is having a party sponsored by Eurail in the middle of Paris and you can’t help but feel a little excited. You’re having a great time so far, surrounded by your girls, in the city of love no less, and you feel giddy at the thought of what’s to come.

You follow the directions on the invitation and find yourselves in a ballroom located in the back of the hotel. The doors open and the sight that greets you is—

Underwhelming.

The room is dotted with tables and waiters traverse the space, glasses full of bubbling liquid balanced skillfully on trays. It’s almost unnervingly silent as a drab opera singer sings on what you think is actually a dance floor that has been repurposed into a stage. You exchange wary glances with Sheena and the other girls before making your way through the cluster of tables and settling on one closest to the bar and furthest from that damned opera singer.

“Oh god, this party is so boring,” Sheena whines beside you, picking up a menu and flicking through it.

“I told you it would be,” one of your other friends, Jennie, pipes up.

“Yeah well, you also said that the train would get into an accident, the hotel would burn down, and we’d be poisoned by the food so forgive us if we were inclined to ignore your premonitions.” You roll your eyes playfully, nudging her with your foot to let her know you were joking,

“Hey, hey, ___. Look.” Sheena shakes you as you scan the appetizers, prompting you to look up to where she’s pointing at the entrance. “It’s your loverboy. And he brought friends.”

“Oh crap,” you whine, whipping back around and sinking lower in your seat. You hope he hasn't seen you.

“‘Loverboy’?” Jennie asks with a frown.

“I found him curled up in ___’s lap when I went looking for her.” Sheena smirks at you while you try to melt into the floor.

“Shut up, Sheena, you know it wasn’t like that. Especially considering the fact that the two of you started flirting right in front of me.”

“Oh. come on. Lighten up, it was only a bit of harmless fun. I wouldn’t dream of taking your man.”

You splutter. “He’s not my anything—”

“Hey! We should invite them over!” Jennie smiles obliviously. You love the girl to death but sometimes she can be a bit…airheaded.

“That is a great idea, Jen,” Sheena shoots you a devious look and before you can stop her, she’s already flagging the group over. You wish the earth would open and swallow you up—better yet, take both you and Sheena so you can have the pleasure of throttling her yourself.

The boys make their way over to you before you can think of an escape plan and you stare resolutely at your menu in an effort to block them out.

“Hi, Sheena.” His voice is just as soft and seductive as you remembered and it sends a familiar heat flashing across your skin but you quickly stifle it. He looks good, you notice begrudgingly. He’s wearing black slacks and a black blazer with a white t-shirt to give a casual vibe. He’s topped off the look with pink tinted glasses that make him look like some celebrity. You think it would be pretentious if it were anyone else but unfortunately, he makes it work. The slacks hug his legs almost sinfully tight, highlighting the strong muscles of his thighs and the rounded curve of his—

Snap out of it! You abruptly stop your scrutiny there, shoving your face back into your menu. You will not let him affect you like he did in the train. You won’t. Still, you can’t help sneaking a glance over to him only to find he’s already staring at you. “Hello, sweetheart.” He shoots you a devastating smile along with a wink and you sneer, abruptly turning away.

“Hey, Jimin.” Sheena simpers and she’s laying it on a little thick, you think, but you know it’s all for show. “Who’re your friends?”

“Ah, this is Jung Hoseok and Jeon Jeongguk.” Jimin points first to a young man with the brightest smile you’ve ever seen and then to a slightly younger man whose eyes and nose crinkle cutely as he waves in greeting. The three of them are stunning and you’re left wondering how all the attractive people seem to find each other.

Birds of a feather, you suppose.

The boys make themselves comfortable at your table and you try your best not to grimace. Jimin may be an asshole but the other two have done nothing wrong. You actually quite like them. You’re enjoying listening to a story about the time they got kicked out of a karaoke bar when you overhear parts of another conversation happening across the table.

“You know, Sheena, I think I’ve seen you before.” Jimin is leaning close to your friend as if they are sharing some sordid secret. An unknown emotion churns in your stomach.

“Oh, really? What makes you say that?”

“Your eyes. They remind me of someone.” You stiffen. Now, there’s a familiar line. The nerve of this bastard, reusing pick up lines? How much more pathetic can you get? You clear your throat, trying to appear interested in your conversation with Jeongguk and Hoseok while also keeping tabs on your friend.

“Oh? Whose?”

Jimin has a coy smile curving the corners of his plump lips. “My mother.”

Sheena coos at his words and you can’t bear to hear any more. You stand up abruptly, glasses clinking on the table with the force of your exit.

“I’m going to get a drink,” you murmur to no one in particular and stalk over to the bar. You’re craving the burn of a shot or even the dim haze of wine but you abandon those notions in favor of a water, flagging down the bartender. You chug it a little desperately, relishing in the cooling effect as the water tempers the annoyance you feel for your unwelcome companion. Taking a deep breath, you push away from the bar and make your way back to the table where you find Jeongguk and Hoseok complaining about the music choice.

“I’m just saying, this party could be bumpin’ if the music wasn’t shit.” Hoseok glances over at the poor woman singing her heart out on the dance floor.

Jeongguk sits up suddenly, a devious smile lighting up his face. “Let me see what I can do. Come with me.” He grasps Hoseok’s arm as he gets up, hoisting the man out of his seat.

“Where’re you going?” you ask Hoseok but he looks just as lost as you do. The younger man tugs at his arm, dragging him off to the other side of the room.

“Beats me.” Hoseok shrugs and he disappears with Jeongguk in the sea of waiters and tables.

You’re left a little dumbfounded as the pair leaves you but you shrug it off. You try to enjoy the evening before remembering that Jimin is currently flirting his way into your friend’s pants and your mood sours once again. Just as you’re in the middle of planning your escape, the lights dim and a voice comes on the loudspeaker.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” you recognize the voice as Hoseok’s and you can’t help but laugh in disbelief. “We are now going to progress to some beats that are a bit more…exciting. Ready, set, and begin!”

A song with a heavy bass and a pleasing trap beat bleeds from the speakers and the room seems to buzz with life all at once. A few squeals and cheers fill the air as people rush to the dance floor at the center and begin dancing wildly. You laugh, shocked that the boys managed to liven up this party in a matter of minutes.

They walk back over to your table with self-satisfied smirks on their faces. You smile widely at them as they approach. “That was awesome! How did you manage that?”

“I just hacked into the speaker system and synced up my music playlist.” Jeongguk looks rather bashful but still proud as he flashes you a sweet smile.

“Shall we dance, then?” Hoseok bows with a flourish and you giggle fondly, nodding excitedly. You glance over your shoulder and spot Sheena still with Jimin except now he has his hand out in a question and she takes it before following the pink-haired man to the dance floor.

You don’t feel so good anymore but you’re determined not to let some prick ruin your night. So, you turn back to the boys resolutely and lead them into the throng of writhing bodies.

Jeongguk and Hoseok, you quickly learn, are incredible dancers. The power with which the two of them move is truly a sight to behold and you’re having a hard time keeping up. You manage to have a good time, though; when Jeongguk sees you struggling, he strikes a ridiculous pose and makes up the silliest moves, making you laugh merrily.

Unfortunately, you can’t keep your gaze from flitting over to Jimin and Sheena every so often. They seem to be getting awfully close, you think as Jimin pulls your friend close to him and the sight is almost too much. Why, you’re not sure and you don’t want to let yourself think about it. You thought you were being discreet about it but Hoseok seems to notice your shift in demeanor.

“You’ve been moping for the past few minutes now.” He nods at something over your shoulder and you know exactly what he’s referring to. “Why don’t you go ask him to dance?”

Your eyes flicker back to the happy couple of their own volition and you spot Sheena leaning up to whisper something in Jimin’s ear. You wish you were anywhere but here.

“What? No, I— That’s not…no,” you finish lamely, knowing full well that was not the least bit convincing but not finding the will to care. Hoseok looks unimpressed and you’re about to reassure him when you feel a gentle tap on your shoulder.

“May I cut in?” The velvety smooth voice caresses your skin and god you wish he’d stop appearing everywhere. You’re almost rendered speechless as you stare into Jimin’s eyes, soft and playful with an undercurrent of mischief that both intrigues and irritates you. You glance at Jeongguk and Hoseok but they merely share a look, smirking at each other as they not-so-subtly back away from the two of you. Left with no other option, you gently sway to the beat of the song, allowing yourself to fall in rhythm with Jimin.

It’s awkwardly silent for the first few moments before Jimin finally pipes up.

“Why do you hate me so much?” He steps minutely closer to you and all you can see is Sheena pressed up against him as she whispers in his ear. An inexplicable anger flashes through you.

“Why do you make it so easy to hate you?” you fire back.

Jimin raises a brow at your tone but otherwise shows no outward reaction to your hostility. It only serves to irritate you further.

Just to make matters worse, he starts laughing. It’s a soft, tinkling sound and you hate how much you like it. “I think I know why.”

“You don’t know shit,” you spit, fists clenching at your sides. You have half a mind to smack him right there on the dance floor but you know it would only cause a scene. That’s the last thing you need on this night from hell.

Suddenly, he grasps your waist and spins you around so that your back is pressed to his front. You try to squirm away but he’s surprisingly strong, keeping you locked in place with one hand around your waist and the other caressing up the length of your body. You tremble as he begins to sway.

“I think you like me.” The words are nothing but a whisper, soft breaths fanning out across your skin and creating goosebumps in their wake. The music has slowed significantly and you can feel the bass reverberating through your chest.

“L-Like hell I do!” You curse internally at the way your voice stutters but he merely laughs, sending shivers up and down your spine.

“Then why can I feel you shaking?” Jimin guides your hips with his, coaxing your body to move according to his whim. You feel him along every dip and curve to the point you’re not even sure where he ends and you begin. It’s sensual and dizzying and ridiculously sexy.

“Because I can’t stand the feeling of your hands on me.” You’re desperate to hold onto some shred of your dignity, no matter how slim, but then you feel the tip of his nose glide up the length of your neck and your brain short-circuits. You only just manage to reign in the urge to bare yourself to him, to submit, but you’ll be damned if you let him have any more control over you.

“Then why haven’t you pulled away yet, hmm?” You swear you feel his lips brush your shoulder and your eyes slip closed of their own accord. “I’m not even holding you anymore.”

It takes a second for his words to register but when they do, it’s as if he’s dumped a bucket of cold water over you. Your eyes snap open as you realize his arm is no longer holding you in place but merely draped across your middle in a loose embrace. You could pull yourself free if you just moved slightly forward.

You’re not even sure when that happened and you know he knows this. This is just a game to him and you? You’re just another plaything at his disposal. The thought leaves a bitter taste in your mouth and you practically rip yourself away from Jimin as if you’ve been burned.

“I-I have to go.”

“Wait—” Jimin starts to say but you don’t wait around long enough to hear him out. You’ve seen and heard enough for one night,

Grabbing your purse, you all but run out of the ballroom, barely remembering to shoot Sheena a text that you were heading back to the room early. Tears sting at your eyes but you refuse to let them fall, especially not over the likes of Park Jimin. He’s nothing more than a pathetic excuse for a man looking for a quick lay. He’s not worth it, you desperately try to remind yourself.

But somehow, as you wait for the elevator, as you feel the ghost of his touch on your waist and the soft caress of his breath on your skin, your heart refuses to believe that as the truth.

It’s been 3 days since what you’ve deemed as The Incident, and you’re happy to report that you have yet to see Park Jimin.

Of course, you’ve seen him—you’re on a tour together after all—but you’ve made it a point to actively ignore him any chance you get. Sometimes you’ll run into Hobi (as he’s reminded you numerous times to call him) or Jeongguk and talk to them for a while but you don’t linger too long, for fear he’ll just pop up out of nowhere. You feel bad because you genuinely like the other boys but every time you catch sight of Jimin’s pink cotton candy head, your heart beats a little faster and your skin runs a little warmer and you just can’t handle that headache right now.

The Eurail train has stopped in a quaint little town on the way to Zürich and you decide to take the opportunity to stretch your legs. Besides, the sooner you get off the train, the less likely you’ll have an encounter with the object of your (des)ire.

Stepping down gently, glance around the station and spot a little road that leads further into the town. You don’t really have a destination in mind, figuring you’ll just walk for a little and then make your way back. You walk until you spot a quaint little souvenir shop and decide to check it out.

A familiar head of pink by the cashier makes you pause in the doorway and you nearly turn around to walk right out but he sees you and calls you over.

“___! Come over here, I need your help.”

You shift from foot to foot. You could just ignore him and continue on your way but the guilt that would follow would be unbearable. So you swallow your pride and make your way over to him, silent and cautious.

As you approach, you see him pouring over a small spread of trinkets. They’re little handmade pieces of jewelry—rings, bracelets, necklaces, you name it. They’re quite cute and would normally have you grinning and cooing but your present company puts a bit of a damper on that for you.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” he begins nonchalantly. He doesn’t look up as you approach and you’re not sure if you’re annoyed or grateful.

You clear your throat awkwardly. “Uh, yeah, I’ve been…busy.”

Jimin looks at you then, a single brow raised that tells you he doesn’t believe you, which is fair. You don’t even believe you. “We’re on a tour of Europe together. What could you possibly be doing?”

You don’t really have an answer for that so you remain silent.

“Okay, nevermind that,” his voice brightens up significantly and you’re marginally grateful for the fact that he’s changing the subject. “Help me pick out a souvenir to take back home!”

A smile plays around the corner of your lips and you quickly bite it back. You will not be endeared by him. Your eyes catch on a small bracelet and you can’t help but fall in love instantly. It’s a delicate gold chain threaded with beautiful black pearls, a small pink flower resting on the end near the clasp. Your lips part as you stare at it for a little too long and you quickly snap yourself out of it to look back at Jimin. He’s already staring at you with a soft look in his eyes. The expression makes your heart clench so you look away, clearing your throat again.

“I-I don’t know,” you dismiss, glancing out the window where you can just barely make out the train. “Just pick something, we’ve gotta get back to the train soon.”

“Alright, alright. Calm down, sweetheart. Gimme two minutes.”

You check your phone impatiently, noting the time. The conductor had said you were stopping for about half an hour before you would be on your way again. You don’t remember the exact time you stopped but you know it’s getting close to the time you should be leaving.

“Sweetheart, can you come here a second? I always forget which coins are which.” Jimin beckons you over, a collection of francs in his palm and you send another despairing glance at the train.

“Jimin, I have no clue but come on, we’ve gotta go!”

You decide to stop waiting on his slow ass and run out of the shop. You make it to the platform just in time to see the train pulling away. Jimin takes a bit longer than you, practically having to sprint after you, but he stops abruptly as he notices the retreating train.

He starts to laugh in disbelief and you can’t help the tears that well up in your eyes. All your luggage and most of your money is on that train. And now you’re stranded out here, with Park Jimin no less. You try to hold back but you feel a few tears slip down your cheeks as the train disappears from view.

Jimin seems to notice your distress because he begins to panic a little himself. “S-Sweetheart, come on. It’s okay! Look, at least you’re not alone. I’m here with you!”

That only makes you cry harder, a small sob escaping your lips as you smother your face between your hands. Jimin falls silent, unsure how to handle your emotional display but doesn’t leave your side. It’s both comforting and confusing.

It takes a few minutes but you eventually regain your composure, adamant in avoiding Jimin’s probing gaze. You can’t believe you cried in front of him like a child. You’re embarrassed and annoyed and tired but you channel that energy into fixing yourself up to look like a functioning human being and marching over to the ticket booth and finding out the next train to Zürich. Just your luck, the next train isn’t until tomorrow morning. You quickly text your friends what happened, letting them know you’re safe and that you’ll meet them in Zürich tomorrow afternoon. You sigh, wondering how what should have been an exciting trip turned into such a mess.

“So what’s the damage?” Jimin asks. Oh, right. That’s how. You fight not to roll your eyes as you relay the information. “Oh, that’s no problem! We can just—”

“Oh no,” you cut him off abruptly, seething with annoyance. He thinks you want to spend any length of time with him after he made you both miss your train? Not a chance. “We are not doing anything, I am going to find my own way to Zürich. You’re the reason we’re stuck here in the first place. I want nothing to do with you.”

Jimin looks taken aback but then his expression hardens. “Listen here, sweetheart, I know you’re pissed but you’re being a bit of a bitch. I’m sorry I made us miss the train but splitting up is the literal worst thing we could do right now. This is not to patronize you but you are a woman alone in a foreign country, I’m not about to abandon you just because you don’t like me. Now let’s just play nice and try to find a place to stay for the night so we can catch the first train out of here and be on our merry way. Deal?”

You blink, surprised by the force of his outburst. Fuck. He’s right. You know he’s right and the wave of shame that overtakes you is well-deserved. You duck your head, thoroughly chastised, and nod at him, following his lead as he turns around and begins walking back in the direction of the town. Glancing at him timidly, you murmur a soft apology.

He turns his head in your direction but doesn’t look at you. “What was that?”

You huff, squaring your shoulders. “I’m sorry, okay? You were right.”

Jimin looks at you then, a blinding smile on his face and you feel your body relax a little. At least he’s not mad at you.

“No problem, sweetheart. Things like this happen. We just gotta make the most of it.” He falls in step with you so that you’re no longer trailing slightly behind and the gesture warms your heart just a bit.

“Why do you keep calling me sweetheart?” You thought it was just a cheap way to endear himself to you, especially back when he didn’t know your name but the way he says it doesn’t feel gross. It feels almost…nice.

“Oh, uh,” Jimin rubs the back of his neck a little shyly, the beginnings of a blush staining his cheeks, and you can’t help the swell of affection. “Sorry. It just kinda…stuck?”

“No, it’s…it’s fine.” You look away, suddenly finding the scuffed material of your shoe very interesting.

Clearing his throat, Jimin forces out a gruff, “Good,” and the two of you fall into a companionable silence.

Eventually, you stumble across a small inn a little ways into town, about a 25 minute walk from the train station. Jimin ducks inside, asserting that he’ll handle the cost of the room to make amends. You try not to smile after him as he leaves.

Key in hand, Jimin leads you to a small but cozy room on the third floor. It’s very quaint, a single bed dominating the room with an old settee off by the window. There’s even a small fireplace and a tea set. You slip your purse off your shoulder as you settle near the mantle.

“Wow, what a cute room!” Sitting on the couch, you marvel at its soft texture. “Where’s yours?”

“Yeah, about that…” Jimin hasn’t really moved from his spot by the door, rubbing at his neck again in what you recognize as a nervous tick. “This was the only room they had so, uh, we gotta share?”

“What?” You blink, hoping that he’s joking.

“I-I know that it sounds weird but there really was no other option. I’ve already decided to sleep on the couch and you can—”

“Listen, I am fine with sticking together and getting back to our friends but this is just— I can’t…I can’t share a room with you.” You stand up abruptly but you don’t have any idea what to do with yourself.

“Why not?” Jimin seems confused and honestly, you are too. It shouldn’t be such a big deal, especially since you’ve kinda-sorta made up but this is little more than you can handle.

Glancing at him, you shake your head, words failing you. How can you explain that you just feel too much for him to be comfortable around him? How do you tell him that you’re having second thoughts about him being a total pain in the ass or about the stutter in your heart whenever he so much as glances at you? You can’t so you just send him a helpless look before storming out of the room, a flush on your cheeks and a heaviness in the pit of your stomach.

You don’t know where you’re going but anywhere is better than in there with the man that forces you to confront your feelings. Shaking your head, you figure you’ll explore the town a little. You could use the fresh air.

Jimin doesn’t know what else to do.

He’s willing to admit he fucked up with you at that party. He never should have come on that strong but you had looked so beautiful and, even though they were his friends, seeing you with Hobi and Jeongguk had ignited such a strong feeling of jealousy that he was helpless to do anything but whisk you away in his arms. He had spent that night tossing and turning in his bed. Now that he knew what you felt like in his arms, his mind refused to think of anything else.

But then you had run away and Jimin knew that he had crossed a line. He just wanted to tease you, maybe fluster you a bit, but never had he wanted to scare you off. You intrigued him. You were funny and sweet—to your friends at least—and it was quite fun to fluster you with his charms. He knew it was simply a physiological reaction, having nothing to do with any actual attraction to him as a person, but he was willing to take what he could get from you.

That, as it turns out, is absolutely nothing. He thought he was making progress with you. First and foremost, he realized at some point, he wants to be your friend. He enjoys your company and likes your attitude. It doesn’t hurt that he finds you absolutely stunning but he figures he’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it. Right now, his main focus is getting you to like him and every time he thinks he’s close, something happens and you’re back to despising him. One step forward, two steps back.

Speaking of you, it’s been a few hours since you’d stormed out of the room in a flustered mess. Jimin didn’t understand why sharing a room with him was such a big deal but he respects you enough to recognize that your feelings are your feelings and he should just accept them. He’s beginning to grow worried, though, as the sun has just set on the horizon. It’ll be dark soon and he doesn’t even want to think about what could happen to you, a beautiful young woman, alone on the streets of an unfamiliar town in the middle of the night.

He checks his phone and curses when he realizes that he still doesn’t have your phone number. It’s decided then; he has to go looking for you. Jimin leaps off the bed, grabbing his wallet from his bag and stuffing the room key inside, before practically sprinting out of the inn.

Jimin’s not sure how long he searches for you but the light has long-since faded from the sky and the street lights have come on. He’s pretty sure he’s stopped in every shop and establishment along the length of the main road but he has yet to see any sign of you. He wants to keep looking but his stomach gives a ravenous growl and he forces himself to stop and take a break. You’re out here somewhere; he can just stop quickly and then continue his search once he’s gotten something into his stomach.

Ducking into a random bar, Jimin runs a tired hand through his hair. He’s about to head to the bar at the back of the place when he spots you sitting on one of the stools, hunched over a drink. Jimin’s not religious but he thanks every god above that you’re alright. All thoughts of food vanish as relief floods his body, nearly knocking him over with the force of it.

“Hey, sweetheart, you nearly gave me a heart attack. You can’t just run off like that—”

“Jiminie~!” you cry with a dopey grin on your face as you swivel around to look at him. And, you’re drunk. Figures.

“Jiminie, I saw the cutest puppy when I was outside and I wanted to take a picture but my phone died and so I couldn’t and I was so sad—”

You start rambling about how much you love puppies and Jimin just rolls his eyes fondly as he pays the tab and decides to get you home, hunger long-forgotten. Eventually he gets you out of the bar and the both of you start walking back to the inn albeit a bit slowly.

You suddenly speak up out of nowhere. “You know, I don’t like you.”

“Yeah, I know.” Jimin can’t help the bitterness that creeps into his tone but he keeps his expression neutral.

“It’s because of your face.”

“What about my face?”

“It’s too pretty. Like what the fuck?? It’s not fair. You’re pretty and handsome and sexy as fuck and it’s just not fair.”

Jimin smiles to himself but tries to sound teasing. “You think I’m sexy?”

“Duh, I may hate you but I’m not blind.” A beat. “Okay maybe I don’t hate you. I hate that you make me feel things.”

“Things?”

“Yeah, things.”

“What kind of things?”

“Bad things. My heart hurts when you talk to me but also when you talk to other girls? But I can’t like you. You’re a flirt. And I don’t like flirts. But I like you.” You seem to realize what you just said because you gasp dramatically. “WAIT, NO I DON'T! Well… kinda. Woah, I’m dizzy.”

You stumble and Jimin catches you, amusement swimming in his eyes as he gazes fondly while you struggle to keep yourself upright. As the pair of you walk towards the inn, you catch sight of a fountain in the middle of the town square and bolt upright, running over to it.

It’s quite pretty, even Jimin will admit. It’s relatively small, carved out of a sand-colored stone in a pretty, almost chalice-like design. Water trickles from a spout on the top where it makes its way down to the pool. Spouts surrounding the round rim all spray a thin stream of water toward the center and little lights within the pool illuminate the coin-covered bottom.

“I’ve always wanted to jump into a fountain!” you say as you stop in front of the structure to admire it.

“Why?!”

“I don’t know, I saw it in a movie once and it looked fun!”

Jimin glances over to you nervously and tries to grab your arm surreptitiously. “Well, maybe we should do that another time. You know, when you’re not—”

SPLASH!

“—drunk,” he finishes with a sigh.

You giggle in delight as you splash around, fully clothed, in the shallow fountain and Jimin can’t help the swell of affection as he watches you smile brightly. He’s never seen you smile like that before and he wishes he could be the cause of it.

You catch sight of the coins resting on the bottom of the fountain and you gasp dramatically, begging Jimin for a franc to toss in. Jimin laughs but acquiesces, lending you a hand as you struggle to get out of the fountain, dripping water all over the pavement. He watches you fondly as you clutch the coin with both hands up to your face and whisper into it like a prayer, swaying slightly because you are still a little drunk after all, and all he can think is he could watch you forever.

You abruptly open your eyes and throw the coin in, smiling softly as you wave at your coin. God, you’re precious.

“So… What’d you wish for?”

You look scandalized. “I can’t tell you!”

“Why not?”

“Then it won’t come true,” you say as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world and Jimin wonders if it’s possible to die of smiling too much.

“Ah, I see.”

You start shivering. “I’m cold.”

“That’s what happens when you jump into a fountain in the middle of the night, sweetheart” Jimin shrugs off his jacket and wraps you up in it. It’s not much but it’s better than nothing. You snuggle into the fabric, shivering again.

“I like when you call me that. My heart doesn’t hurt anymore when you say it.”

Something tightens in Jimin’s heart and he’s overwhelmed with it, petting your hair softly. “Then I’ll say it for the rest of your life, sweetheart.” He whispers the words like they’re something sacred. He thinks they are.

Going slack in his hold, you lean heavily against him and your eyelashes flutter prettily as you struggle to stay awake.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Jimin says and he can’t stop the tender way his voice caresses the nickname or the reverence in his touch as he slips an arm around your waist.

“Let’s go home.”

You’ve only been awake for a matter of seconds and you already want to die.

You have a splitting headache and your mouth feels like sandpaper. Well yeah that’s what happens when you drink too much, genius. You don’t even remember what happened after your visit to the bar but you figure it was nothing good.

You glance down at your clothes and find an unfamiliar t-shirt and a pair of shorts on your body. There’s clothes strewn across the room, on the bed, on the floor and your heart crawls into your throat. Now you’re concerned. What the hell happened?

Just then Jimin comes in with breakfast, some water, and, bless his soul, ibuprofen.

“Morning, sweetheart. Did you sleep well?” his voice sounds soft, softer than you’ve ever heard and you’re confused but also swooning? It’s a strange combination.

“Uh yeah, I-I guess I did. What happened last night?” You wince as you move to sit up. Damn, what did you do to make you so sore?

“Last night did quite a number on you, I’ll tell you that.” He laughs as he sets down the tray on the side table, perching himself on the edge of the bed as he looks at you. “How much did you have to drink exactly?”

“Uh, I kinda lost count after my fifth or sixth vodka soda.” You scratch your head in embarrassment.

“Jesus Christ, how are you alive?” Jimin shakes his head in disbelief. Leave it to you, he figures.

He hands you some water, which you chug gratefully, and take care to swallow the pills. He watches you, irises warm and pretty and you don’t like the way your heart flutters against your ribcage.

“You were incorrigible last night,” Jimin chuckles and you stiffen. What the fuck does that mean? “You kept pulling me in every direction, hanging off me at any given chance.” His voice is light and teasing and far too casual for what he’s suggesting.

Suddenly it clicks. The clothes strewn everywhere, the soreness, the strange tenderness in Jimin’s voice.

Holy shit. Holy fuck.

You slept with him.

You fucking slept with him.

Jimin is still talking but you can hardly hear him over the ringing in your ears.

“We slept together,” you whisper in disbelief and Jimin immediately stops rambling about whatever the fuck and you’re still reeling with the realization that you fucking slept with him.

“What?” He seems confused but you can’t think about his emotions when yours are swirling around violently in your head, increasing the pounding against your skull and making you want to throw up.

“You fucking slept with me while I was drunk? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Jimin’s eyes widen so much that it would be almost comical if you weren’t absolutely devastated. “What? What the hell are you talking about?”

But you’re not listening anymore. You can’t, not with the way the blood is rushing too loudly in your ears, or the way your heart has crawled so far up your throat you think you could choke.

Logically, you know this is not the worst thing in the world, that it may be a bit of an overreaction, but you can’t shake the feeling of wrongness that permeates your body when you think about what a vulnerable position you were in last night. Stupid, you think. How could you be so stupid? A desperate sob meets your ears and you’re all too aware that the gasping breaths are coming from you.

You can hear Jimin trying to reason with you but your body reacts violently, slapping his hands away every time he tries to reach for you. You cry, arms wrapping around your body in an attempt to hold yourself together but you can’t stop the tremors wracking your frame.

“___! Sweetheart, please, will you just—!”

“No! Get away from me!”

You try to push him, shove him, hit him, but it’s futile and you only cry harder. Finally, Jimin decides enough is enough.

“Listen to me, ___. Listen to me.” Jimin’s hands come up to cradle your head, gentle but firm. His voice leaves no room for argument and you let out a pathetic whimper but look into his eyes nonetheless.

“I know what you think of me. I know you think I’m the scum of the earth, that I'm a flirt and a tease, and maybe I am those things but I am not a monster. Do you hear me? I may push boundaries and irritate you but I would never, ever dream of crossing that line without your explicit and enthusiastic consent.”

His eyes blaze into yours with a passion you’ve never seen before. He looks serious and stern, but most of all he looks hurt. You did that. Before you can go any further with your self-hatred, he continues. “You were drunk and wet and I needed to get you into a change of clothes. I am telling you the truth when I say nothing happened last night. Believe me, please?”

You stare into his eyes for an immeasurable amount of time, back and forth between his irises and you feel all the tension within you release, as if his touch is a balm you never knew you needed to an ache you never knew you had.

Another whimper escapes you and you throw yourself into Jimin’s arms then, whispering, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” over and over again and he just embraces you, shushing you as he strokes your hair oh so gently.

You stay like that for a long time, simply relishing in the warmth of his body, before you realize what you’re doing. Jimin seems to come back into himself as well because you both pull away from each other at the same time, albeit a bit bashfully.

“Um, so. Why don’t you go get dressed, hm? We’ve got a train to catch.” He starts to move off the bed but turns back to you with a glimmer in his eye. “I will be needing my shirt, though…” He goes to move closer to you as though he were going to take the shirt himself. You lean back instinctively but relax at his wide grin, soft giggle escaping his lips as he leaves you to it.

You gaze after him, a fond smile curving at your lips as you wipe at your tear-stained cheeks, and your heart is too light to worry about anything else.

Refreshed and ready to go, you pull up to the train station almost an hour before your scheduled train. It may be overkill but you are not missing another train, thank you very much.

While you wait, Jimin gets you both coffee, for which you are eternally grateful. You sit on one of the benches, swinging your legs happily as you sip your drink. Neither of you speak but it’s a comfortable silence. Who would have thought you would get to feel so comfortable around Jimin?

“Let’s play a game” Jimin pipes up out of nowhere. You laugh at his innocent suggestion and decide to humor him.

“Alright I’m down. Whatcha wanna play?”

“Twenty Questions!” He looks so excited you can’t help but tease.

“What are we, 14?”

“If you don’t wanna play, all you have to do is say so, you don’t have to be mean about it.” He pouts and you laugh if only to stifle the urge to coo at him and pinch his cheeks.

“Fine I’ll bite. You go first.”

“What’s your most embarrassing kink?”

You smack him upside the head and roll your eyes. “Next.”

The questions continue back and forth for a few minutes, some of them serious, most of them anything but. You laugh until your stomach hurts about the time he got into an argument with his best friend over a dumpling incident.

“Listen, it was a very serious argument—”

“Over dumplings.”

“Excuse you, dumplings are very important, I’ll have you know—”

You laugh as he puffs his cheeks out at you. He even looks like a dumpling and you tell him as much, earning another pout from the man. Eventually the topic shifts to more personal things.

“Okay, okay, serious one now,” Jimin says and there’s an unreadable look in his eyes. “Have you ever been in love?”

The question is unexpected and you have to think for a moment. Have you ever been in love? You’re not really sure.

“Dunno,” you shrug.

“You don’t know? How could you not know?”

“I’m just not sure if what I felt was love or…something else.”

“Valid, I guess.” He falls silent for a moment before speaking. “I know for a fact I never have.”

This surprises you. “What? A guy like you? Surely, you’ve been in love before.”

“A guy like me?” Jimin smirks as he side-eyes you.

“Y-Yeah you know flirts with anything with a pulse.”

“Okay, rude.” You both laugh but sober up pretty quickly. “But yeah no. I’ve had a few flings or whatever but never anything I could call love, you know? Just…never really met the right person.”

“What kind of person are you looking for?”

“Well…” He sits up a little straighter in his seat. “I don’t have, like, an ideal type or anything but…all I know is, that when I see them—the person I’m meant to be with—all my heart’s desires and dreams will come true. And maybe that makes me naive or whatever but I feel like I’ll know when I see them. Maybe not immediately, it might take some time, but I believe my soul will recognize its other half.”

You sit there, shocked and dazed. You hadn’t expected such a serious answer from him. “I— That’s…that’s beautiful.”

“You should hear Jeongguk talk about it.” He laughs softly as he rubs the back of his neck. “Says he’ll hear bells or something. He’s a cute kid.”

“Yeah he is…” You’re still a little dazed hearing him speak so passionately about love. It makes you feel painfully inadequate.

“What about you? What kind of person could sweep the ever-elusive ___ off her feet?”

You pause, unsure how to answer. “Oh, uh… I’ve never actually thought about it? I don’t know, I’ve always felt like, if I think about it too much, I’ll get too excited. I’ve always been the overexcited type.” Jimin chuckles, remembering the other night. He knows that all too well.

“But, uh, yeah. If I think about it, I’ll anticipate it, I’ll wait for it, and if it doesn’t come well… that’ll make the disappointment that much more upsetting.”

Jimin frowns. “Why wouldn’t it come?”

“I-I don’t know.” You fidget with your fingers, insecure. “What if… What if I never meet someone? What if I do and my heart—my soul—never recognizes its other half?” You look into Jimin’s eyes. “What if I’m just alone?”

His gaze holds yours for an immeasurable amount of time.

“I think,” he says slowly, and you find yourself hanging off of every word, “that you’re overcomplicating it. Sure, life has its disappointments but it comes with the territory. Having things to look forward to makes life worth living, even if it’s something as simple as waking up the next morning.”

Jimin inches his hand slowly over to where yours rests on the grainy wood of the bench. He nudges your pinky with his own, wrapping your digit with his. It’s a small gesture but it fills you with an inexplicable warmth.

“All I’m saying is, it’s okay to want.” He says it with such conviction that you desperately want to believe him. “And it’s okay to feel disappointed if you don’t get what you want. But don’t let that stop you from doing it.”

You’re silent again but you can’t look away. The words come rushing out before you can stop them. “And what if I already do? Want, I mean.”

His eyes flick between both of yours and you fight a shiver. “Then it’s your job to do something about it.”

The sound of the train’s whistle breaks the moment and you find yourself taking in a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You glance at the approaching train before looking shyly at Jimin.

“The train is coming. Wouldn’t wanna miss it again.” You try to joke but you can’t seem to shake the residual tension from before.

“And yet,” Jimin hums, barely above a whisper, “I find that I want to miss the train again and again.”

The trip wraps up almost too quickly for your liking.

When the two of you reunite with your friends in Zürich, it’s as if something has changed. You find yourself glancing at Jimin more often than not, and he’s almost always staring right back at you. It should unnerve you, you think, but you feel…calm, almost peaceful knowing his eyes are on you. Powerful. You also find yourself thinking about him a lot, often at night once the lights are cut and all your friends are asleep. You can’t shake his words.

It’s okay to want.

It seems obvious; of course it’s okay for you to want things. But when he said it, it was as if he had opened up a whole new world to you. Had you been unintentionally stifling your own desires? What did you want? You can feel something niggling at the edge of your consciousness but it disappears when you try to pinpoint the feeling, like stars when you look too hard at them. It frustrates you and you want to talk to him but where you actively had to avoid him before your little detour, you can’t seem to find him alone for longer than a cursory greeting. An ache has settled low in your stomach and the feeling of something missing pervades you for days after. You don’t sleep well until the end of the tour.

You’re sadder than you thought you’d be to leave this trip but you chalk it up to how much fun you’ve had over the last two weeks. Definitely does not have anything to do with a certain pink-haired man. Absolutely not.

“Be sure to keep in touch, yeah?” Hobi smiles his beautiful sunshiny smile and you can do nothing but return it, pulling him into a warm hug.

“Of course! We’ll have to hit up a karaoke bar together. You know, one that you haven’t been kicked out of.” You elbow him in the ribs playfully.

“That was one time and I told you that to bond! You can’t make fun of me!” But his smile is just as bright if not brighter and you’re really going to miss him.

You turn to Jeongguk and pull him into a hug as well. “It was so great getting to meet you. Now I know who to call when I need to liven up a party.”

Flashing you his signature toothy grin, he practically bounces in place. “Anytime, ___. We should definitely hang soon!” After nodding your assent, you wave a final time as he joins Hobi and leaves the platform.

Your friends hug you and tell you they’ll see you later. With a wave, you send them off until you’re left with only one other person. Bracing yourself, you turn around and face Jimin with a shy smile. Your heart gives a dull throb but you ignore it.

“So,” you both begin before collapsing into nervous giggles. God, were you always so awkward? “You first,” he smiles.

“This is it, huh,” you marvel, reminiscing over the last few days. You can’t believe just two weeks ago you two were strangers, enemies even, and now you’re… Well, you’re not sure what you are but it’s definitely an improvement from your first encounter. “Can’t believe two weeks went by so quickly…”

“I know. Seems like just yesterday I was pulling your late ass onto the train,” Jimin smirks at you and you shove his shoulder.

“Yeah and making inappropriate comments about my underwear.” You glare at him playfully but it dissolves into a smile when you see his sheepish grin.

“I never did properly apologize for that, did I?” He scratches the back of his head and you melt at the familiar gesture.

“Hey, no worries. We’re cool.” Silence befalls the two of you. It seems to happen a lot recently, but it’s not a bad silence, just a thoughtful one. “Thank you. For everything.”

“It was no problem, sweetheart.” There’s something lurking in the depths of his eyes but you don’t dwell on it.

“Friends?” You stick out your hand between you. You can’t discern why Jimin’s face looks so drawn but the expression disappears just as quickly as you notice it, replaced by a beautiful smile.

“Friends,” he repeats, soft as he grasps your hand almost reverently.

You look into his eyes and you once again find yourself trapped. The seconds tick on and you can’t bring yourself to remove your hand from his. His grip feels warm and comforting. Right. You don’t know if you want to think about what that might mean.

Inhaling deeply, you finally muster up the will to let go of his hand, albeit a bit begrudgingly. Jimin looks just as reluctant but plasters a smile. You return it, confused as to why there seems to be so much tension but you figure it’s the sadness of parting. Sending a last lingering wave, you go to turn when you feel a hand grip your wrist. You turn in surprise, a question in your eyes.

“I just… I have something for you.” Jimin lets you go for a moment to pull out a small box. He hands it to you, bashful. You accept it gently and slide the lid open. Inside, is the bracelet from that souvenir shop. The black pearls gleam back at you in the fluorescent light of the station and you have the strangest urge to cry. You look up at him, touched beyond belief.

“You—”

“May I?” He gestures to the bracelet and it takes a second for you to understand what he’s asking, too caught up in his thoughtfulness, but you nod silently when you do. You’re not sure you trust your voice right now.

Jimin beams, delicately taking the bracelet out of the box and wrapping the thin gold chain around your wrist. He clasps it securely so that the pink flower just brushes the inside of your wrist. Your skin tingles where he grazes you and the warmth spreads throughout your body until you’re filled with it. You look up at Jimin, eyes shining a little and you do your best to blink them back.

“I saw you looking at it back at the shop. Figured you’d like it.”

“I love it,” you whisper and you feel like it means so much more.

“Well…” Jimin clears his throat and steps away to a more appropriate distance. You hadn’t even realized you were practically on top of him. “I guess I should get going.”

“Yeah, you— I-I should head out, too.” You don’t want him to go, you realize, but you have nothing to convince him to stay. So you let him go.

“Bye, sweetheart.”

“Bye, Jimin.”

You both back away slowly from each other, as if to extend the moment just a bit longer. He doesn’t look away from you and so you don’t either. Eventually, you have to turn around to actually watch where you’re going. When you look back, he’s gone.

There’s a lingering emptiness in your chest as you walk home, not even bothering with a taxi this time. The feeling of something missing has only worsened, and now it’s at its peak. You’re worried that you’ve missed your chance to find it and the knowledge that it might be too late lingers like an intrusive thought.

You deflate, shoulders hunching protectively as you make your way through the city. From what you’re protecting yourself from, you’re not sure. The bracelet on your wrist feels heavy, like a shackle, and you wonder if you’ll ever be able to look at it without feeling the ghost of his touch on your skin.

Just under two weeks have passed since the Eurail tour and you haven’t felt the same since.

You expected it somewhat. That’s what traveling does to you. It makes you appreciate the beauty of the world, shows you a new way of life, and changes your perspective and you never leave a new place the same as when you enter it. But the reason for this change has nothing to do with the wonders of a new country.

No, it centers on one person. Park Jimin.

It doesn’t take you long to realize what the emptiness means, to recognize the shape of the hole that has permanently taken up residence in your heart. You find yourself plagued by it at night, tossing and turning until you eventually fall into a fitful and restless sleep.

He starts to permeate every facet of your life. It first begins with the dreams, your memories teasing you with glimpses of his round face and delicate cheeks, of warm brown eyes that seem to look right through you to your core, smoldering. Then it escalates quickly to lingering touches on the back of your hand when you know you’re alone or the bracelet on your wrist will suddenly feel too hot, like a brand, and it’s like he’s surrounding you—his arms around your waist, his scent filling your lungs, his breath cooling your feverish skin. You feel suffocated but the illusions leave you more empty each time.

Finally it gets worse; you start to see him everywhere. On your way to work, to the grocery store, to the bank—it doesn’t matter but your mind always tricks you into thinking you’ve caught sight of the familiar shock of pink hair or his signature leather jacket. Each time sends you reeling and you reach out briefly only for the haze to clear and you remember how very much alone you are. You even start to hallucinate his voice, the way sweetheart would flow so easily from his lips, a balm to your searing heart, and you think you might need to start seeing someone about this. It can’t be healthy.

Still, life goes on and so do you—for the most part anyway. You still work at the little convenience store around the corner from your apartment just to fill the time since there are no classes for you to take. You’re still waiting to hear back from schools about graduate programs but you don’t worry about it too much. You’re confident in your grades and your abilities to know you’ll be okay, it’s just a matter of time.

Your shift passes relatively quickly, time seeming even more meaningless since returning from your trip. You fiddle with your phone, shooting a quick text to Sheena confirming that you’ll see her tomorrow for dinner. You’re not really up for it but you haven’t seen much of anyone in the last two weeks and you miss her so you decide to go.

Which reminds you, Hobi had managed to get your number and text you, asking if you wanted to go out next weekend with him and Jeongguk. You want to go but you’re not sure if you can get through an evening of them without thinking of a certain pink-haired man. Sighing, you glance at the time and note that it’s time to shut down the registers and begin closing.

Just as you turn around the grab the money bag from underneath the counter, you hear the bell of the door tinkle open.

“Sorry,” you call, straightening as you reach for the register keys, “we’re actually clos—” Your breath catches in your throat. “Oh, god, I’m actually going insane,” is what makes it out of your mouth before you can stop yourself.

Before you stands the object of your hallucinations in all his pink-haired glory. You blink several times, hoping the image will disappear quickly. When it doesn’t, your jaw goes slack.

Jimin looks just as shocked as you do but recovers faster. Of course he does.

“___?”

You inhale sharply, trying to focus but it’s hard when he’s right in front of you and god, you’re not prepared for this—

“Hey, hey, sweetheart, are you alright?” The nickname rolls off his tongue so easily, like a gentle caress, and a strange feeling of relief fills you. Jimin approaches the register carefully, as if worried he’d scare you away if he moved too quickly. Maybe he’s right.

Your eyes drink him in greedily despite everything. He looks…good. An orange short-sleeved shirt with white and navy blue accents is tucked stylishly into a pair of black jeans that hug his legs nicely. You feel very insecure all of a sudden in your work uniform and you duck your head shyly. Finally, you find your voice as you clear your throat and tuck a stray hair behind your ear.

“H-How are you?” You wince at how small your voice sounds. Your heart flutters so fast in your chest you struggle to catch your breath but at the same time…it’s the first time you’ve been able to truly breathe.

Jimin’s eyes soften and he smiles that smile that makes your knees weak. “I’m good. Very good. I— Are you closing up now?”

“Yeah, I’m, yeah. If you give me, like, 20 minutes, we can head out, together?” It comes out like a question but Jimin is nodding before you can even second-guess yourself and you’re running around like a madwoman trying to clear the register and finish restocking the last box from storage. After a final cursory glance and a mental run-down of your closing checklist, you deem yourself ready to leave. You spare Jimin a quick smile, motioning him to follow you out and you close up shop.

“My, um,” you begin, unsure if it’s too forward for you to say this but you’re tired of constantly running around in circles to avoid your emotions. It’s time to face them head-on, dammit! “My apartment is just a few blocks over if you…if you wanted to stop over for some tea?”

You hold your breath for some reason as you wait for his response. His answering smile is dazzling. “Tea sounds wonderful. Lead the way.”

You don’t remember the walk to your apartment, which is literally around the corner, ever feeling so long. You’re all too aware of his proximity, can feel the faint warmth he emanates from his body, and you find yourself too preoccupied with the way his arm brushes yours as you walk side-by-side. Neither of you speak but it’s comfortable, just like it was when you parted. Though you are anxious to see him, a sense of calm pervades deep within you and you welcome instead of ignore the feeling.

As you step into your apartment, you panic slightly as you struggle to remember if you’ve cleaned up enough while toeing off your shoes. You send a surreptitious glance around, satisfied that nothing looks too out of place as you lead Jimin into your small kitchen.

“Black or green?” you ask him, gazing up at him only to find him staring unabashedly at you. He startles, seemingly embarrassed to have been caught but does not look away.

“Black would be great.” You smile, nodding before setting up a kettle to boil on the stove before turning to him. You’re not sure where to begin but it seems you don’t have to.

“I missed you.”

Those few simple words send a pang through your heart and any resolve you had bleeds through you as you try not to melt into the floor.

“I missed you, too,” you whisper back, scared to speak too loudly and break the beautiful tension that’s building around you.

Jimin looks down at the floor, as if the knowledge that you missed him too was too much for him. “I-I thought about you. All the time.”

You soften, shuffling closer to him where he is braced against the fridge. His eyes are swimming with that familiar tenderness and you can actually recognize it. He looked at you the same way on that morning in the inn.

“I thought about you, too.” You feel more confident now. Something about knowing that he’s just as shy and uncertain makes you relax significantly. “God, I saw you everywhere. I thought I was going crazy.”

“I dreamt about you.” He says this in a rush, as if he thinks he needs to get to words out in case you stop him. With the way you’re hanging off every word, you think it’s safe to say you’re just as eager to listen as he is to speak. “About you, about us. I— I kept replaying the moment at the train station, thinking how stupid I was for letting you go—”

“Hey, hey, shh.” You close the distance between you, placing a gentle hand on his chest. “I let you go, too. We’re both a little stupid.”

Jimin breathes a laugh, tense shoulders relaxing as he fixates on your hand on his chest. “You’re still wearing it,” he breathes in wonder, bringing his own hand up to clasp yours as he inspects the bracelet still on your wrist.

“Yeah, I— It’s my favorite thing I own.” Jimin’s eyes practically melt into yours, the warm chestnut irises looking down at you with such fondness you can’t stop the swell of affection from rising within you. You think you’re going to burst from the amount of adoration and feelings swirling around inside you but it’s pleasant. You’re buzzing with excitement, no longer heavy with what ifs.

Jimin seems to realize how close you two actually are at the same time you do because his bright smile gradually fades as his gaze flickers down to your lips. The air stills around you and your breath hitches. Anticipation swirls in the pit of your stomach, cloying and intoxicating.

“___,” he calls and you shiver a little at the sound of your name dripping from his lips like honey. “Sweetheart, may I kiss you?”

You nod, inhaling deeply. “Yes, please.”

Beaming, Jimin grasps the hand on his chest firmer and moves his other hand to cradle your cheek tenderly. He bends his head down, brushing your noses together sweetly. Your eyes slip closed of their own accord and you wait, lips parted as you feel his breath wash over you. A beat passes and suddenly you’re kissing, those plump lips that you’ve been dreaming about for days finally on yours. A tingle passes between your lips and you gasp, mouth parting more under the soft pressure of Jimin’s. He kisses you sweet and slow, as if savoring the taste of you. You feel his fingers thread their way into your hair to hold you in place more securely and you hum in satisfaction. Your other hand is gripping the material of his shirt at his waist and you shuffle a little closer, all too eager to feel his body against yours.

You melt into each other as you kiss, hardly breaking apart for air as you suck in greedy, rushed breaths from your nose. You’re content to just stay here forever but the loud screech of the kettle startles you into breaking the kiss. You both chuckle, exchanging a quick peck before you pull away gently to turn off the stove.

Jimin is not far behind you, wrapping his arms securely around your middle once the stove is off and you’re sure you won’t burn down your apartment. You smile to yourself before turning in his arms and wrapping your own around his neck, reaching up to nose along his jaw.

“Now where were we?” You smirk lightly against his skin when you feel him shiver beneath your hands. A rush of heat flashes through you as you think of all the ways you could have him now that he’s here, finally.

Jimin seems to be thinking the same because the hands on your waist tighten and you hiss in pleasure. “I believe I was kissing you breathless.” It’s his turn to tease this time as he grazes down the length of your neck and you bite back a moan at the soft, almost ticklish feeling of his lips against your throat.

“Hmm, I might need you to show me again. I don’t think I was breathless enough.” The words are false of course, compounded by the fact that you are currently struggling to get enough air.

“As you wish, sweetheart.” And with that, Jimin is on you again. You sigh into his mouth, reveling in the plush feel of his lips. He swallows the sound, pressing you further against him and you practically turn to jelly in his arms. He kisses you with a passion you had only just begun to feel before you were briefly interrupted and you can feel yourself getting swept up in it. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Jimin swipes his tongue along the seam of your lips in a silent question and you swear your knees buckle from underneath you. You can’t stop the moan that escapes, humming into his mouth as you open up for him. Things turn hot and heavy very quickly and you find yourself backed into your kitchen counter as Jimin positively ravages you.

You pull back for a moment, panting and your stomach tightens as you catch a glimpse of him. Jimin looks just as wrecked as you feel, pupils blown wide in desire and chest heaving with the effort to breathe. His lips are a swollen, pretty pink mess and a desperate whine tears itself from your throat when you notice.

Leaning his forehead against yours, Jimin closes his eyes and catches his breath. “Do you want this, sweetheart? Say the word and we can slow down. I won’t be upset.”

“It certainly doesn’t feel like you want to slow down,” you tease, rolling your hips into his where you can feel the evidence of his desire against your stomach. His answering groan has you grinning wickedly.

“Sweetheart,” he moans, panting into the skin of your shoulder as you build up a steady rhythm and you can feel him stiffen further at the stimulation. “Please, answer me.”

“Yes, Jimin, please.” You punctuate the request with a final roll of your hips, pulling his head away from your shoulder so you can look him in the eyes. “Make me yours.”

A beat. Then, Jimin lets out the most animalistic growl you’ve ever heard and your thighs clench pathetically as you feel your wetness dampen your underwear further.

“You are going to be the death of me.” Pulling you to him, he crouches slightly until his fingers are brushing the backs of your thighs. “Jump,” he grunts.

You’re hesitant but you do so anyway and he catches you, taking a moment to steady you both before busying himself with placing kisses along your jaw.

“Where are we doing this, sweetheart?” Jimin murmurs against your skin and you have to take a second to focus yourself, a haze beginning to cloud your mind.

“Second door on the left,” you manage to choke out, whining as you feel his tongue leave a wet trail along your collarbone. You hardly remember the walk to your room but you certainly feel when Jimin deposits you gently on the bed. Backing up toward the headboard, you eye him greedily as he tucks his shirt to raise it over his head. You feel your mouth run dry and you lick your lips in anticipation.

“Something the matter, sweetheart?” He’s teasing you as he crawls on the bed, stalking.

“Not at all,” you return breezily. “Just wondering when you were gonna come over here and make me forget my name.”

“Oh, not to worry. You won’t be able to think of anything else but me.”

Lunging at you, Jimin connects your lips together once again and your hands wander over the exposed skin. You marvel at the toned muscles of his stomach, humming and running your nails lightly over them. He shudders over you, breaking the kiss to pant in your ear. You use his momentary distraction to flip you both over so you’re on top.

“My turn,” you whisper. In a surge of confidence, you grasp the ends of your shirt and practically rip it off you. Jimin stares, mouth agape, at the newly exposed skin. He seems to snap himself out of his trance because he dives in immediately, littering your chest with kisses and nips. Your hips buck against his as he moves to unclasp your bra, cupping the flesh once he’s removed the offending garment.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, awed. “I could look at you forever.”

Your ears burn hotly but you try to hide your embarrassment. “You just gonna look?”

Jimin fixes you with a look. “I plan to do a lot more than just look, sweetheart. But I am patient. Something you should learn.”

“I’ve missed you for weeks now,” you gasp as he pinches one stiff peak as punishment for your mouthing off. “So forgive me if I seem a little eager to get to it.”

“There’s nothing to forgive.” He presses a kiss over your heart and if you weren’t already a puddle on the floor you would’ve melted. Somehow the words seem to refer to more than just your impatience.

You choke on a moan when Jimin pulls a nipple into his mouth, fingers tweaking the neglected one. The stimulation has you arching into his mouth and you grind down onto his lap, reveling in the feel of him, hard and thick, under you. You shiver at the thought of him inside you.

Jimin switches then, his other hand sliding down your back to aid your hips in their movement against his. You’re sure you’ve soaked through your underwear at this point, fabric slippery as you move. Finally satisfied, Jimin pulls back, admiring the wet, flushed mess he’s made of your chest, and ventures lower. Kissing down your sternum, he gently guides you down onto your pillows. You don’t even fight him, too excited to slow him down for even a second.

“Won’t be needing these, now will you?” He tugs at the waistband of your jeans and you scramble to undo them, lifting your hips as you help Jimin tug them down and off your legs. You’re left in your underwear as your only defense against his gaze and you shyly close your legs. Jimin clicks his tongue in disapproval and places a hand on both knees. “No hiding, sweetheart.”

He makes quick work of your underwear until he’s staring at your glistening folds with reverence. You mewl as he swipes a finger down your slit, collecting the growing wetness. Jimin circles your clit and you groan, back arching off the bed as you seek more friction.

“Jimin, please,” you gasp. “Want your fingers.”

“Oh, sweetheart. Since you asked so nicely…” Jimin grins deviously before slipping his fingers down to your fluttering hole. Sinking one finger in, he allows you to adjust before thrusting shallowly. He adds another finger after a minute and curls them upward, massaging the soft spot with purpose.

“Jimin, ah, please!”

“Patience, my dear,” he chuckles. “I’ll give you what you want soon.”

You want to yell at him to get on with it but then he sinks a third finger in and the stretch burns so deliciously that you’re rendered speechless. The sound that reverberates around the room is obscene, filthy, but you can’t feel embarrassed as the fire in your stomach burns bright with each curl of Jimin’s fingers. He dips down to swallow your whines and cries in a searing kiss and you wrap your arms around him to crush him to you, eager to feel him.

“Now, Jimin, now. I’m ready.”

“Okay, sweetheart.” Kissing your forehead, he pulls his fingers out of you gingerly before moving to remove his own pants and underwear. You watch as he revels each inch of perfect skin, mouth practically salivating as he removes the final layer and bares himself to you. He’s not ridiculously long but he’s thick and you can’t wait to feel him inside you.

You spread your legs in an open invitation but Jimin shakes his head with a smile before settling on the bed next to you. You’re confused until he pats his lap, beckoning you over. You move quicker than you ever thought you could and straddle him.

“Want to watch you. Use me as you need to. I’m yours.” He looks deeply into your eyes when he says this and you shiver at the conviction in his voice. You grab him by the base, making him hiss, and line him up with your entrance.

“And I’m yours,” you sigh, sinking down fully onto his swollen length. The stretch burns wonderfully and you can’t help the drawn-out whine that rips itself from your throat. Jimin doesn’t seem to be faring much better.

“Oh, sweetheart. You feel so good.” He tips his head back, eyes glazed and unfocused. You’re not faring much better but you’re determined to give him the ride of his life.

Bracing yourself on his shoulders, you push yourself up and you can’t stop the cheshire grin from curving your lips when he moans softly. His hands grip your waist tightly as you begin to build up a rhythm, guiding your hips as best he can.

“S-So good, Jimin. So big.” And you’re not just stroking his ego. The stretch has you groaning into his neck as you swivel your hips in a torturing motion. The hand on your hip tightens and keeps you moving steadily, no matter how much you wanna speed up.

“What did I say about patience, baby?” He clicks his tongue playfully and you want to wipe the smirk off his face. Purposefully, you slow down your hips even more and clench tightly, dragging yourself up and down. Jimin chokes on air as you do so.

“What was that?” You flutter your eyelashes prettily at him and he growls.

“Don’t test me, sweetheart.”

A twinge of arousal flashes through you at the thinly veiled threat and you wonder just how dangerous Jimin can get. But, you suppose, you can save that for another time. Sufficiently placated, you resume your pace, taking care to kiss and bite at his neck, his jaw—whatever you can reach. His breath stutters as you continue your ministrations and you take pride in yourself for making him react so strongly.

Eventually your thighs start to feel tired and the fire in your core, while burning pleasantly, has dulled to a frustratingly low simmer. You whine into Jimin’s neck, begging him to let you go faster.

“Please, Jimin. I wanna cum.”

“Go ahead, sweetheart,” he acquiesces. “I wanna see you fall apart on my cock.”

His words spur you on and you begin a desperate pace, soreness long forgotten. The blunt tip of his dick nudges against the deepest part of you and you gasp as if you’ve been shocked. The pleasure begins mounting and your hips piston faster of their own accord. You feel his pelvis bump against your bundle of nerves with each drag of your hips, sending ripples of liquid heat traveling through your body.

You lean down to kiss Jimin but you can do little more than pant into his mouth, especially as he begins to buck up into you and meet your hips with every downward stroke. “H-ah, Jimin, close.”

“Atta girl, sweetheart. You’re so beautiful.” The way he whispers into your hair, as if you’re something precious, something to be treasured, sends you into another frenzy and you let out an answering cry. “Come on, cream my cock, baby. It’s all yours.”

That in combination with a punctuated thrust has you hurtling so fast into your orgasm that you’re blindsided, mouth opening in a silent scream as the pleasure overtakes you. You hear Jimin grunt as your walls squeeze him for all he’s worth and you’re suddenly desperate to make him feel just as good.

“Y-You too, baby,” you manage to choke out. “Wanna feel you.”

Jimin groans, clutching you tighter to him. “Yeah? Sweetheart wants my cum?” You nod and that’s all he needs to buck up into you mercilessly. He lasts one stroke, then two, before he’s moaning out loud, pulling you in for a desperate kiss as he releases inside you. You swivel your hips for as long as you can stand it until the oversensitivity becomes too much and you have to stop.

You both stay there for a moment, breathing in each other as you come down from your highs. Looking shyly into his eyes, you find him looking at you with that same adoring stare and your heart throbs in response. You’re sure you look just as smitten.

“Hi,” you whisper.

Jimin smiles and you swear you’ve never seen anything more beautiful. “Hi.”

“We’re a little sticky.” You grimace as you shift slightly, feeling the combination of your fluids leaking from inside you and onto his skin. Not to mention the thin layer of sweat that’s left on your skin.

“That we are.” He laughs goodnaturedly, fingers trailing a soothing path down the length of your back and sending pleasant tingles down your spine. “Shall we clean up?”

“Yes, please.” You wrinkle your nose at him and he laughs, kissing it lightly as he shifts. Jimin removes you from his lap so tenderly you blush under the attention despite your previous activities.

Cleaning up turns into a full-blown shower, the two of you crammed into your small tub and taking turns under the spray as you lather each other’s bodies with soap. It’s comfortable, you realize—almost too comfortable—but you let yourself enjoy it, relishing in the feeling of wanting and being wanted in return.

Once you are clean and dressed in a thin nightgown and some sweats that you managed to find for Jimin, the two of you make quick work of changing the sheets and soon find yourself curled up around each other in a comfortable silence. You’re lying across his chest, hand clutched in his while his other arm is wrapped securely around your shoulders, holding you to him. Your thoughts wander to the Eurail trip—the trip that changed everything. You think about what would have happened if you hadn’t hadn’t been late and reached out for his hand that first day, if you hadn’t missed the train in that small-town station. You remember what Jimin had said about wanting, about finding his soul. Everything rushes back to you all at once and you can’t help the swell of emotion that rises within you.

“Jimin, I…” you begin, but you have no idea where to start. Everything feels so intense right now, so overwhelming, but Jimin seems to know exactly what you’re trying to say.

“I know.” He says it so calmly, like he’s had time to think about this, about you, and you realize he probably has. Just as you did. You smile softly, looking deeply into his eyes as you move to cup his cheek.

“I’m sorry it took so long for my soul to recognize yours.”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.” Jimin cradles your face, gazing at you fondly and you have trouble remembering how to breathe. “I found you, and I’m never letting you go again.”

#bts #jimin #bts jimin #jimin smut #jimin fluff #jimin x reader #bts jimin x reader #jimin x reader imagines #bts jimin x reader imagines #pjm #pjm fic #jimin fic #bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #bts smut

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gukyi · 5 years

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do you want me (dead?) | jjk

summary: jeon jungkook, quidditch extraordinaire and overall pain in your ass, is the one problem you can’t seem to solve, even with years of being the school’s advice columnist under your belt. that is, until you begin to receive letters from someone under the alias of bambi, requesting help with confessing to a crush, and suddenly, your relationship with jeon jungkook takes a turn for... the worst?

{hogwarts!au, enemies to lovers!au}

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader word count: 11k genre: fluff! just fluff !!! warnings: this may or may not be absolute self-indulgent trash. a/n: ha! you thought it would be like 20k, you were wrong. and honestly, i’m kind of glad it’s the same length as the rest of the sorted series. you know, for uniformity. anyway, enjoy this flaming garbage dumpster pile of a jungkook e2l fic. have i ever written anything more self indulgent? no? also, happy 2 years to gukyi dot tumblr dot com!!!!

Dear Y/N,

I need your help! I’ve liked this boy for a couple months now, and he’s friends with some of my friends, but any time he comes up to me I run away because I don’t know what to do. Whenever I’m around him I clam up and can’t say more than a couple of words before chickening out and running away. He probably thinks I hate him. Do you have any advice on how to tell him that I like him?

Yours truly, An awkward third-year

Dear An Awkward Third-Year,

Don’t be afraid! I’m sure we’ve all been there with the person we’re crushing on. The nervousness is totally natural. But the only way that he’s going to know how you feel is if you take initiative and tell him! I obviously can’t advise you too personally, but if you dance around the topic, you might confuse him! The worst thing that he can do is tell you no, but the only way to know if he feels the same way is if you tell him. And if you’re scared to just blurt it out, figure out some common interests and just worm it into the conversation. Don’t get too hung up over a boy, but do let him know how you feel! You may get some really great results. Good luck!

Yours truly, Y/N

The letters are dropped off at the front of the Slytherin table in the Great Hall every Thursday at exactly seven in the evening, right after you finish eating dinner but before you resign yourself to your dormitory for the night. They’re always neatly packaged, pushed into a nice little stack and wrapped together with a long string of tweed. It’s just enough time for you to read them all, select the three or four that will make it into the next issue of the school’s weekly newspaper, which prints on Sundays.

“I hate your owl,” Yuju says one Thursday night, feeding it bits of corn she’s plucking off of the cob on her plate. “He acts too much like my uncle’s nineteen-year-old golden retriever and not enough like an actual owl.” Her fingers drift away from its mouth and towards the side of its head, scratching it as it coos happily, curling into her touch.

“Why do you think I named him Dog?” You deadpan, unwrapping the stack of letters in front of you. “Stop feeding him corn. You know that the butter makes him throw up.”

“All the more reason to,” Yuju says, plucking off a couple more bits for Dog to wolf down before you actually begin to berate him. Half the reason he even lingers after dropping off the weekly papers, instead of flying off like the rest of the owls, is because both you and Yuju seem to have developed quite the soft spot for him. She moves on from the corn and to the tortilla on her plate, which she says is part of a deconstructed taco. It, in total honesty, looks like a very small, very measly, very insignificant Mexican buffet.

“I hate you,” she mumbles under her breath. It’s unclear if the words are directed at you, her best friend, or Dog, the owl with what she deems is the ‘most ridiculous name for an owl in the history of wizardry as the homo sapiens species knows it’, which is a bit of an overstatement if you do say so yourself. “I hate you and your dumbass name.”

“Stop, he can understand you,” you say, reaching over to cover Dog’s ears. Dog hoots unsuspectingly, looking as pleased as ever as he pecks at the tortilla in Yuju’s hands. “And stop feeding him. Pretty soon he’s going to stop eating the wholesale beetles I buy him because he’s been too exposed to the high quality deliciousness of the Great Hall’s cafeteria meals. It’s like dessert for him.”

“Fine,” Yuju says with a sigh, letting Dog nip the last piece of tortilla in her hand before shooing him off. He flies away with ease, but not before he sends a glare your way for limiting his Great Hall dinner intake. Great. Now not only will your owl begin refusing the healthy, hearty, cheap-for-the-quantity wholesale beetles, but he will also hate the hand that feeds it. Ungrateful feathered sausage.

Turning back to the reason that Dog was even being hand-fed the equivalent of McDonald’s milkshakes in the first place, you begin to shuffle through the stack of letters for the week. It’s not a very sizable stack, but that’s because it’s still the beginning of the year, and no one’s really figured out how the whole advice column thing works yet. Unlike you, a seasoned expert. It’s most of the same stuff, first and second years fretting over the workload and not knowing how to make friends or how to handle the professors. Typical beginning-of-the-year worries. You’ll know how to answer these with ease.

Yuju peers over to read some of the ones you’ve discarded, lying scattered on the deep mahogany of the table. She says it’s because sometimes she can offer valuable and indispensable advice, but you know it’s just because she’s nosy as hell and can’t help but look into other people’s business, even if they are anonymous.

“Wish I had this sort of thing when I was a baby first year,” she comments to herself. “Instead I just turned to you for all of my daily inconveniences.”

“Yeah, which is exactly why I started this column,” you remind her, memories of her flopping onto her bed in the dorm and groaning about all of her problems flickering through your mind. You’d never tell Yuju this, but your late night chats became the reason you approached the head of the school newspaper in your third year with a suggestion for an advice column.

You fish through the pockets of your robe, hunting for a spare pen so you can begin to formulate some responses when you hear loud stomping and obnoxious laughter coming from the entrance of the Great Hall. Glancing over from where you’re seated at the Slytherin table with Yuju by your side, you spot four boys clambering into the Great Hall, one with a particularly familiar tuft of bouncy, brown hair.

“Speaking of daily inconveniences,” you say sarcastically, eyes rolling like the magical night sky above your heads is mocking you. You don’t think you’ve done anything mean recently, so you can’t possibly imagine why karma has it out for you.

Except maybe it doesn’t matter, because Jeon Jungkook defies all laws of the universe and its natural system of rewards for good deeds and punishments for bad ones. All so he can exist in this very timeline, in this very location, in this very lifetime. Which so happens to perfectly coincide with your own.

Jeon Jungkook saunters into the Great Hall, footsteps heavy and jarring, just so he can remind everyone that he’s made an appearance. He laughs like a roar of thunder, forceful and purposefully. Exists obnoxiously, without regrets or second guesses.

“Maybe if you keep your head down and put your robe over yourself he won’t notice you—no, he’s coming over here.” Yuju says, making you nearly slam your head on the table in exasperation. “I tried,” she tells you helpfully, not sounding like she tried very much at all.

“Working on next week’s Witches’ & Wizard’s Counsel?” Jungkook asks instead of a hello, like any normal, non-annoying person who’s just trying to make casual conversation and not pointed and directed disturbances would do.

He snatches up one of the pieces of paper spread out on the table before you to inspect it. You reach out to wrestle him for it back, but not only is Jungkook across the table, he is also standing and taller than you anyway. “Hey, this person needs some advice for trying out for their house’s Quidditch team,” he says with a smug grin lacing his features, like he thinks he’s onto something. “Maybe I should give them a few pointers.”

“Give that back, Jeon Jungkook,” you say, reaching over the table with grabby hands to wrestle him for it back. He dodges your nimble yet crab claw-like fingers with ease. “You know that’s private.”

“It’s anonymous!” Jungkook cries defensively, even if he does cave and hand it back. “Besides, you’ll end up publishing it in the newspaper anyway. What’s another person taking a look at it, huh, Pumpkin?”

“Ugh,” you say, tilting your head back in exasperation. You swear, Jeon Jungkook takes off five years of your life just by existing within close proximity of you. “You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”

Jungkook chuckles. “You got to go to Hogsmeade for the very first time independently, nearly bought out Honeydukes’s Pumpkin Pasties stash, and then proceeded to vomit it up on the sidewalk two hours later after how many of them? Nine? Ten?” He asks, goading you on, and like a fool, you engage in it.

“That was four years ago!” You hiss.

“Doesn’t make it any less funny,” Jungkook admits. Next to you, Yuju’s on the verge of breaking out into giggles. “I’ll drop the nickname if you really want me to, Pumpkin, but I think it’s cute. It makes you different.”

“You’re the only person who calls me that,” you groan.

“It could be worse,” Yuju pipes up unhelpfully. “You could have vomited up a bunch of Cockroach Clusters, instead.”

Jungkook chuckles.

“You are not helping!” You glare at Yuju, who merely laughs. Seven years together and she’s never truly grasped the sensation of pure aggravation that you feel whenever a certain brown-haired Ravenclaw is nearby. “Why are you here, Jeon? Besides to give me a headache.”

“Want me to kiss it better?” Jungkook teases. You are on the verge of shoving Yuju’s half-eaten corn on the cob right up his nose. “What, am I not allowed to say hello to some of my favorite Slytherins out of the goodness of my heart?” He places a hand over his chest, mock offended you’d ever take a jab at his not-so-innocent intentions.

You frown. You don’t think Jungkook’s ever done anything out of the pure, unadulterated, so-called goodness of his heart. You should know. You write for the newspaper. There’s always fine print, always provisos and loopholes.

“I just came to check in on you,” he says innocently. You narrow your eyes. “Fine, and to remind you of my undying love.”

“My God,” you say, closing your eyes out of sheer annoyance. “If it doesn’t die soon, I think I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”

“Harsh, pumpkin,” Jungkook says with a pout. “Never met someone so resistant to someone willing to devote their whole life to yours. Thought you were supposed to be all encouraging about love and nostalgia. Seems like your kind of thing.”

“You don’t know what kinds of things are my things,” you tell him defensively. It’s as if he can read you like a fucking board book. Have you always been so transparent? Or is it just him?

“But I want to know.” He winks for good measure. Your brain makes a mental note to steal a few beans from the stash of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans that Yuju keeps hidden in her trunk, so you can vomit later. “Sure you don’t want my help with that Quidditch letter?”

“I’m positive,” you deadpan. “I wouldn’t ask you for help even if Lord Voldemort returned.”

“Good thing he won’t, right?” Jungkook grins, all teeth and crinkled eyes. Someone from the Gryffindor table calls his name. What a goddamn shame your conversation’s been cut short. “I’ll catch you around, Pumpkin,” he says as he begins to bound off, always a fully-charged battery of a human being. “Don’t forget about me, won’t you?”

You couldn’t even if you tried.

Jungkook leaps off to interact with people that don’t see red whenever they speak to him as Yuju mutters something about how much she wants to destroy the Ravenclaw quidditch team this season.

You look down at the letter Jungkook had mindlessly picked up.

Dear Y/N,

I really want to try out for my House’s Quidditch team, but I’m too scared! I know that they’re in need of a Seeker, but I’m Muggleborn and I’ve only ever been on a broom during Flying Class. My friends say that I have a good eye for small things and that I should go for it, but I’m afraid that everyone will laugh at me because I don’t have any experience. I’ve tried reading books and watching other people play, but I don’t think it’s helping. And every time I try to get a broom to practice on the field, I see people who are really good at it, like Jeon Jungkook, and I chicken out. Do you think I’ll ever be as good at it as he is?

Yours Truly, A Seeker Hopeful

You groan. The bewitched ceiling of the Great Hall laughs at you.

Here’s the thing about Jeon Jungkook: he wasn’t always such a nuisance.

Or at least, giving him the benefit of the doubt, you assume he wasn’t always such a nuisance. Whether or not he’s always been this sleazy and unbearable will forever remain a mystery to you, but you can say with certain confidence that ever since you met him in the third year, he’s been nothing but a complete and total bother.

You love your best friend dearly, but Yuju joining the Quidditch team in your third year was the worst thing that’s ever happened to you. Because Quidditch equates to Quidditch friends, and Quidditch friends equates to a certain insufferable Ravenclaw seeker.

The whole point of the formation of the universe is that everything that has ever happened since the very fabric of time began has led up to this moment. Which, in theory, seems pretty goddamn astounding. The universe has twisted, turned, morphed, metamorphosized over the past fourteen billion years just so you could be right here, right now.

Except theory is always more idealized in reality, and there aren’t enough words in the English language to express how overwhelmingly bothered you are by the fact that it took the universe fourteen billion years, fourteen billion goddamn years, for you to end up next to Jeon Jungkook.

But hey, maybe Jeon Jungkook wasn’t always such a nuisance.

“Have you guys noticed something different about Hufflepuff this year?” Yeeun asks one Thursday night as you’re gathered in the Slytherin common room. She’s letting Yuju give her a haircut, sitting patiently on a wooden stool as Yuju flitters and flutters about her, the pair of scissors in her hand leaving little paths of blonde hair in their wake. “They’re getting more aggressive.”

“Aggressive how?” Yuju asks. Her eyes widen when the scissors move a bit too quickly, chopping off more hair than they can chew. Yuju glares at you—keep your mouth shut. Hair grows back.

“Not like, violent aggressive. But Quidditch season started like, a week ago and yesterday I was eating my lunch in the Great Hall when a herd of Puffs wearing full Puff memorabilia—scarves and everything—stormed in and screamed, ‘WE’LL HUFF, AND WE’LL PUFF, AND WE’LL BLOW YOU OFF YOUR BROOMS!’ And quite frankly, it was so much Puff Pride that I was actually scared,” Yeeun recalls.

Yuju chuckles to herself, shaking her head. “I guess we’ll just have to prove them wrong, eh? Next time we play Puff, I’ll make sure that they don’t get a single Quaffle through the hoops.”

“You better,” Yeeun huffs.

“You gonna watch?” Yuju asks. “It’s your duty as a rising seventh-year. Can’t believe you’re gonna be seventeen next year, huh?”

“Can’t believe you guys are graduating this year,” Yeeun says in response, frown lacing her features. You have to agree with her—though you only know Yeeun from house activities, she’s definitely become one of your favorite people. Alongside Yuju, of course.

The chatter continues as Yuju dutifully snips away at Yeeun’s hair, making sure it’s just above shoulder-length like Yeeun likes it. You filter through the letters you received for the weekly column, still stacked neatly wrapped up in tweed—the Great Hall was serving tomato soup for dinner, otherwise you would have read through them all during supper, beginning to narrow down the small pile to the three or four you’ll keep for the newspaper.

“Hey! Bambi’s sent another one,” you exclaim happily, recognizing the scrawl of Dear Y/N instantly, always so distinct. Or maybe that’s because Bambi’s been sending you letters since the beginning of your sixth year, so you’d be a fool not to recognize his handwriting, or at least the way he writes Dear Y/N, by now.

Yuju grunts in acknowledgement of your exclamation at the same time that Yeeun, baby, sixth-year, pureblood Yeeun says, “What’s a Bambi?”

“Oh, the name of a character from an old Muggle film,” you explain, knowing that any more technicalities will confuse her. “He’s one of the regulars I get for my column. He’s been sending me nice letters ever since the beginning of last year.”

“Aw, maybe he’s got a crush on you!” Yeeun immediately exclaims, making Yuju jerk away from her hair sharply, on the verge of bursting into laughter.

You shake your head. “I doubt it, since anonymity isn’t the best way to confess feelings. But he’s sweet and sometimes won’t even ask me for advice—just sends me a note telling me that I’m working hard for the column and doing a good job. Little pick-me-ups, things like that. It’s really nice of him, actually. I don’t normally get thanked for my advice column.”

“That’s bullshit,” Yeeun grumbles. “You deserve every newspaper award in the world for all the work you put into that thing.”

“Everyone else who contributes to the newspaper works just as hard as I do,” you remind her. You glance down at Bambi’s note, neat cursive handwriting resting gently on the paper, like it’ll fly away like dandelion wisps if you blow at it. “But it is nice to get stuff from him, sometimes.”

“Y/N likes this anonymous Bambi more than she likes us,” Yuju jokes to Yeeun, finishing up the final touches. Yeeun’s hair, as always, looks wonderful. Yuju has a talent for this kind of thing. She motions to the paper in your hand. “What’s it say?”

Dear Y/N,

Over the past couple of weeks I have come to a life-ruining, world-ending, universe-collapsing conclusion: I have a crush. I mean, I suppose I’ve had this crush for a while now, but I only just recently realized it. Anyway, to put it into less melodramatic terms, there’s this girl that I really like. Like, stupid like. It’s kind of ridiculous. All of my friends tease me about it. But I just think that she’s funny and beautiful and creative and witty and a long list of other positive adjectives. Only problem is (here’s the earth-shattering part): I have no idea how to tell her. And I’m afraid that it might just slip out accidentally and then my chance for a grand romantic gesture will be ruined. Any suggestions?

Yours truly, Bambi

“Aw, he’s got a crush!” You exclaim happily, fawning over his words.

“Lemme see,” Yuju demands, making grabby hands for the paper. You hand it over to her, and she inspects it like a textbook passage she doesn’t understand and has to reread. “Um, if you ask me, personally, this is less like a crush and more like complete infatuation. Just saying.”

“And?” You ask defensively.

“You have never been in a relationship before,” Yuju says, looking you dead in the eyes with her big brown ones. She punctuates each word with a head jerk for emphasis.

“So what? He’s asking me for advice on a school crush. This is Hogwarts—relationships built here aren’t meant to last. We’re teenagers. We don’t know what real love is.”

Yuju rolls her eyes as she hands Yeeun a mirror for her to see her new haircut. “But from the looks of it, it sounds like he does. Maybe it is just a schoolboy crush, but Bambi, whoever the hell he is, seems pretty dedicated to it. You ever thought about that?”

You pout. This conversation is going nowhere, and by going nowhere, you mean quickly morphing into reasonable yet angry comments directed at you.

Yuju sighs, voice getting softer. She can never stay mad at you for long. “You should stop being so jaded all of the time. You’re an advice columnist, for God’s sake, Y/N. Look on the bright side.” Yeeun beams a thank you at Yuju for her haircut. “Sometimes, love lasts.”

Quidditch has never been your thing. Activities that involve flying have never been your thing. The idea of whizzing around a field fifty feet in the air as bugs fly into your face while sitting on a broomstick makes all parts of you uncomfortable, from your brain to your… lower regions.

Long story short, athletic sports that don’t involve two feet almost always on the ground aren’t really your thing. But you’ll be damned if you don’t support your best friend and your house until the day you perish.

Which is exactly why you’re sitting in the bleachers of the Quidditch field in the middle of a very strangely warm November afternoon, the sun beating down on your black robes, absorbing as much heat as physically possible. Despite it being near winter, the effects of Muggle-made (and wizard-made, but wizards don’t like taking blame for the slow heat death of the only inhabitable planet within the known parameters of space) climate change reign, and you shrug off your heavy robes to leave only your undershirt and tie on within five minutes of being outside.

Yuju’s dragged you out to one of her informal, house-inclusive Quidditch get-togethers (not serious enough to be a practice, but not light enough to be deigned hanging out) under the guise of moral support, leaving you sat pathetically on the bleachers as your best friend and her Quidditch buddies zip around above you. They’re tossing around the Quaffle like a strange, very mobile game of Hot Potato.

It’s the perfect time for you to get your homework done, the ambient sounds of “Hey, Clark, think fast!” and “You almost hit my goddamn nose!” the optimal background noise for peak productivity. And you’d never admit it to Yuju (because it would mean that you actually enjoy sitting out in the sun being boring), but the empty bleachers make pretty decent tables.

You’re switching back and forth from your completely and utterly incomprehensible arithmancy homework and edits for the newspaper—other sections, of course—when you hear the familiar sound of a broom coming to a halt in front of (or more above) you, the sound cutting right through the air and wind. You have half of a mind to not even look up, suspecting it’s just Yuju to complain about the fifth-year Gryffindor Beaters she hates, when—

“Pumpkin, come to watch me?”

You should have known better. It’s no surprise that Jeon Jungkook’s here today—he’d never pass up the opportunity to flaunt his Quidditch skills. Your presence is just a bonus.

“Yes, Jungkook,” you deadpan. A frown etches itself across your lips, partially because of the person you’re talking to, and partially because said person is blocking your view of the sun, which you would otherwise stare into so as to never have to lay eyes on Jeon Jungkook again. “Out of the dozen or so people on that field, one of whom being my best friend, you are the person I’m here to watch.”

Jungkook grins, and though his face is shadowed, the rays of the sun cast some sort of deceivingly angelic glow around his figure. “Always knew you had a soft spot for me.”

“Yeah, no one I’d rather knock off their broom than you,” you mutter to yourself, just loud enough for Jungkook to hear. You’re not sure if he’s still paying attention, but if he is, he doesn’t say anything.

“Jeon! Stop schmoozing and get over here!”

Both you and Jungkook turn to the source of the voice, another one of the Ravenclaws out at practice who’s waiting atop their broom for Jungkook to get off his ass and do what he came here to do.

Jungkook grins guiltily. “Looks like they need me, pumpkin. Watch this next trick, it’s for you!”

Before you have the chance to remind Jungkook of how little you care for him and his tricks, he flies off, leaving an empty pathway of air in his wake. You don’t know what he’s got up his sleep, but if it’s anything like the other tricks he’s pulled over the five years that you’ve known him, you know better than to wait and find out.

Someone else comes to a halt beside you. It’s Yuju. “What was Jeon Jungkook doing talking to you?”

You frown. “What do you think?”

Yuju chuckles. “Right. I forgot he was going to be here. You didn’t have to stay if you knew he was here, you know.”

“You kidding? Of course I’m gonna come and cheer on my best friend,” you say, shrugging it off. Yuju’s worth the suffering that Quidditch brings. “Go Yuju!”

“You’re the best,” Yuju says with a grin. You shrug. You know you are.

“Hey, pumpkin! Check this out!”

Jeon Jungkook calls your name at the perfect time—just enough time for you to actually follow his directions and look towards him. Someone on the far side of the field tosses a small, non-active Snitch in your general direction, and Jungkook tears after it, reaching the puny thing in just under a couple of seconds, a quick flip of his broom as he catches it in his right hand. You don’t have enough time—or willpower, for that matter—to look away before he’s turning his head to you, blowing you an obnoxious kiss just for good measure.

“Christ,” Yuju snorts from next to you. “He’ll never give up, will he?”

You sigh. Maybe in your dreams, he might.

Dear Y/N,

Okay, maybe I should give you a bit more context to the aforementioned life-shattering crush I seem to have developed. We do actually know each other—I’m not just sadly pining after her from a distance—but we’re not exactly friends. Maybe acquaintances at best, but even that term might be pushing it. I’m just not sure how to tell her how I feel without coming off too strong, or scaring her. Even if she doesn’t feel the same, that’s the last thing I’d want. What should I do?

Yours truly, Bambi

Dear Bambi,

Hey, at least you both know each other! That’s a step in the right direction. I don’t know if this is universal, or if I’m the only one who thinks it’s decent advice, but maybe you should try getting to know her as a friend before you dive into the romantic stuff. That way, she’ll feel more comfortable around you and the air will be less awkward in general. If she’s not interested in just getting to know you better, then you’ll probably have a pretty good measure of whether or not she might feel the same romantically. Good luck!

Yours truly, Y/N

“Was Arithmancy homework always this difficult?” Yeeun asks, madly flipping through the textbook in front of her. It’s a small, old thing, notes scribbled in the margins from the three older brothers she has that took the course before her, passed down their sage wisdom and little doodles to her in the form of all of their beat-up textbooks. “I have no idea what’s happening in class right now.”

“Don’t worry,” you say, dipping your quill into the small blue jar of ink at the edge of the library table you’re seated at, charmed to refill automatically. “It gets worse.”

Yeeun groans. She takes one more look at the work in front of her and begins to pack up her belongings.

“Hey, where you going?” You ask. “You said you had the afternoon free to study.”

“I do. But I’m on the verge of breaking down because I don’t understand anything so I’m going to go talk to the Professor to see if he can help me and if he can’t, then I will be hiding in the Potions closet crying. So you’ll know where I am,” Yeeun says as calmly as she can muster. She looks perfectly fine on the outside, always so put-together and polished, but after knowing her for so long, you know that if you just tapped on her shoulder her entire façade would fall to the floor and shatter into a million pieces. So you don’t push it.

“Okay,” you tell her. “Be safe. Don’t drink anything in the Potions closet because that might make you worse at Arithmancy.”

“Got it,” Yeeun says, shooting you a finger gun before heading out of the library.

You’re left in silence, struggling to draft an essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts which is due at the end of the week, when someone else plops down in Yeeun’s place.

Much to your surprise, it’s Jungkook. And it doesn’t look like he’s here to bother you—or at least, that’s what you hope, considering he’s got his own schoolwork with him, spreading out comfortably as he begins to work, practically ignorant of your presence.

Now that you think about it, this is how it should have always been. The two of you, coexisting comfortably and without disturbances, keeping to yourselves and only talking if necessary. But now that Jungkook’s here, right in front of you, and he’s not saying a word, it leaves you with a prickle on your skin. A sense of peculiarity, because in the five years you’ve known him Jungkook has never been one to sit down and stay quiet.

“Can I help you with something?” You blurt, unable to keep your mouth shut when Jungkook’s sitting right there.

He looks up at you, a knowing glint in his eye, and smiles. “No. Just doing my work, pumpkin.”

It’s aggravating how calm he is. He knows he’s being just annoying enough to get under your skin, but you can’t really shout at him without seeming like the villain.

He’s always one step ahead of you.

“Well,” you stammer, watching as his lips curve upwards into a smirk, “can you do your work somewhere else? Please?”

“Why?” Jungkook pushes. “I’m being quiet. I’m keeping to myself. What’s the harm?”

You sneer, narrowing your eyes suspiciously. “Are you sure that I can’t help you with anything?”

Jungkook chuckles. “Well, if you must ask, I was wondering if you were up for studying together sometime. Since you haven’t magicked me out of my seat, I’m assuming you don’t mind me actually being here.”

You sputter, trying to defend yourself. Of course you mind him being here. You mind him being within a twenty-feet radius of you. You were only asking because it’s very unlikely that Jeon Jungkook would just plop down in the seat across from you in the library, pull out his books, and begin to study without a single word. Especially if he was across from you. “W—Well, why on earth would I study with you anyway? What am I getting out of it?”

Jungkook tsks. “You know, Pumpkin, sometimes people do things out of the good of their hearts. Do you really need a reason to study with me, a poor Ravenclaw who’s just trying to graduate?”

You glare at him.

“Alright, alright,” Jungkook caves. “I need help in Transfiguration and I hear that you’re pretty good at it. There.”

“What am I getting out of it?”

“What, you won’t just do this for me? I’m wounded, Pumpkin.”

Another glare.

“Fine,” Jungkook says with a roll of his eyes. “A little bird told me that you need a bit of help in Defense, so I figured we could help tutor each other. You know, like one of those symbiotic relationships.”

“That snake,” you mutter under your breath. How could Yuju tell Jeon Jungkook, of all people, that you’re struggling in Defense Against the Dark Arts? How could she betray you like that?

“So, whaddaya say?” Jungkook asks, stretching a hand out across the table. “You in?”

You sigh. Spending more time than absolutely necessary with Jeon Jungkook sounds like your own personal hell, but you suppose it can’t all be bad. After all, he’ll be at your mercy just as much as you’ll be at his, seeing as you both need help in your respective classes. So maybe there is a silver lining, after all.

You meet his eyes directly, dark and stormy and certain. “I’m in.”

Against all odds and several vows you had made yourself over the years, studying with Jungkook becomes somewhat of a normal thing. You work out a schedule—Wednesdays at four, the only day he doesn’t have Quidditch practice and one of the few days of the week you’re not fretting over the newspaper issue—and follow it dutifully, weeks passing with the two of you meeting up at the same table in the library, going over the lessons of the week and working out anything you missed.

It’s strange, having a faithful and consistent arrangement with someone you, at one point, wouldn’t be caught dead spending time with. And the strangest part of it all is that slowly, some part of you, some crevice deep within your bones and your soul and your being, actually begins to look forward to Wednesdays at four, where Jungkook will be arriving at your usual table, unpacking his belongings with a soft smile on his face, unaware he’s being watched.

That’s the thing you’ve come to realize. You’ve only ever known Jungkook when he’s knows he’s center stage, when he knows that there are eyes on him. Every time you’ve been around him prior to this, he’s been in the spotlight, got someone who’s paying attention to him. And suddenly, you’re catching him whistling to himself as he takes notes from his Transfiguration textbook and sneezing when the feathers of his quill brush against his nose accidentally and doing little dances when he gets a question right. Suddenly, he’s existing in the background, by himself, without the hard gazes of the people around him. And it’s different.

Or maybe it’s always been like this. You’ve just never had the luxury of witnessing it.

“Hey, Pumpkin,” Jungkook says, tapping your parchment with his quill to get your attention. “Does this make sense to you? I don’t get it.”

He flips around his textbook and points to a passage, brows furrowed as he tries to read it again, hoping maybe the words will stick this time. You squint slightly—out of habit—as you go over the text, the words slowly processing.

“Oh, yeah,” you say, nodding. Jungkook looks up at you like you just saved his life. “It’s just explaining the technicalities of the difference between conjuring charms and traditional conjuring transfigurations. See, charms will enhance an already-existing object, but conjuring transfigurations create something new entirely. But it’s kind of confusing, I have to admit, since both exist in their own realm of magical spells.”

“So conjuring charms create something in addition to something else, but conjuring transfigurations just make something new, then?” Jungkook asks for clarification.

“Exactly.”

“Oh, alright,” Jungkook says with a dutiful nod, quickly scribbling it down in his notes. “You make it so much easier than this damn textbook.” He grins honestly, earnestly, as he goes back to reading the rest of the chapter, leaving you to your own devices once more. These days, it’s not so much direct tutoring as it is studying together.

Against all odds, Jeon Jungkook has become someone you actually don’t dread being around. In moments like these, he is soft-spoken, gentle, and sincere.

It’s strange. Has it always been like this?

Dear Y/N,

Good news: I think we’re friends. Or at least, I think we’re friends. I’m not sure about her, but I’d like to think she feels the same way. Except now, the problem is that because we’re friends, I’m getting more and more nervous! I swear, every time I’m around her my hands get all clammy and sweaty and disgusting because I’m scared that if I do end up confessing and she doesn’t feel that way, we’ll lose what we already have. But do we even have anything in the first place? I’m not even sure if she thinks we’re friends! What now?

Yours truly, A Slightly-Panicked Bambi

Dear A Slightly-Panicked Bambi,

Don’t worry! Chances are that if you think you’re friends, she probably thinks that you’re friends as well, which is a great step in the right direction. I’d say that now you’ve established yourselves as friends, your next move is to slowly reveal your romantic intentions. Don’t pile them on her all at once because it might be too overwhelming. Try subtly incorporating romantic gestures into your relationship as it is now, like compliments and really, really lowkey flirts, to see if she picks up on the message. See where that takes you!

Yours truly, Y/N

It’s snowing.

It’s been snowing, really, for the past week now. It was a couple centimeters on one day and a few more on another day but this weekend has been the full force of it, a steady blanket of white covering the grounds.

But that doesn’t mean the seventh year Hogsmeade trip is cancelled. As Yuju likes to put it, Hogwarts doesn’t believe in rainchecks. Besides, Hogsmeade always looks prettier in the snow, when the flakes leave a soft pillow on the sloped rooftops of the buildings and Honeydukes brings out its seasonal treats, sugared snowflakes and peppermint toffee lining the windowsill. The peppermint toffee is a favorite of both yours and Yuju’s, but you know where your true loyalties lie (Pumpkin Pasties, of course).

“Thank God it’s the beginning of the semester otherwise I would be so stressed right now,” Yuju says happily as you walk along the pavement, feeling the wet cold of snowflakes falling onto your nose, your ears, and your fingertips. “Oh! Hey!”

Your best friend starts waving wildly at a small group of students standing outside of The Three Broomsticks. Through the snow, you recognize them as some of Yuju’s Quidditch buddies.

“Mind if we hang out with them?” Yuju asks, knowing that sometimes you like to keep your Hogsmeade trips an exclusive between the two of you.

“The more the merrier, right?” You say in response, letting yourself be dragged over to where they’re waiting. It’s two Gryffindors, one Hufflepuff, and two Ravenclaws, one of whom is barely recognizable under the thick blue scarf he’s got wrapped around the lower half of his head and the beanie covering his brunette hair.

“Hey, Pumpkin,” he says, voice muffled through the knit of his scarf. “Didn’t know you’d be joining us.”

“Well, here I am,” you say. “You know I’m only here for Yuju, right?”

Jungkook chuckles, and you watch as the air he breathes out through his nose materializes into fog from the cold. “Sure, you keep telling yourself that.”

You gasp, smacking his arm. “What’s that supposed to mean!”

Jungkook laughs, no time to respond before your group is trotting off, everyone shouting out random sights to see, like the Shrieking Shack or Zonko’s, the snow making everyone’s hearts a little colder, a little softer, and a little lighter.

You bounce around, making stops at all of your favorite locations around the area, including The Three Broomsticks for a round of celebratory Butterbeer, marking your final year at Hogwarts and praying that you’ll all graduate.

“Okay, sue me, but hot apple cider is way better than Butterbeer,” Jungkook says loudly, a moustache of Butterbeer foam decorating his mouth. His words spark an eruption of indignant exclamations, Muggleborns and purebloods alike insisting that Jungkook’s tastebuds are incorrect and have to be clinically checked. Because he is wrong.

Except he isn’t, and hot apple cider on a cold day by a lit fireplace is better than lukewarm Butterbeer, or even hot Butterbeer, any day.

“This might be the only thing we ever agree on, but you’re right,” you mutter to him, leaning over to whisper it in his ear.

Jungkook grins proudly.

Later that day finds you in Honeydukes, which is objectively the best location in all of Hogsmeade, no arguments. What more could you want out of a place other than constant, never-ending sweets? Nothing. Every time you visit Hogsmeade you make sure to drop by Honeydukes, say hello to the kind old lady behind the counter (who knows you by name), and buy a couple of your favorite items.

“I’m so tempted to get like, five slices of the lemon merengue pie,” Yuju says with a sigh, eyeing the display case longingly.

“Aren’t you lactose intolerant?” You say, more of a reminder than a question.

“And what about it?” Yuju says, almost like a challenge, before marching up to the register, already fishing through her pockets for her purse.

Your eyes wander back to the glass case, thinking that maybe, after five years of coming to Hogsmeade, you should branch out and not get the exact same thing that you get every time you come to Honeydukes (the aforementioned Pumpkin Pasties). The peppermint toffee looks delicious, and even though you’ve never tried them before, Yeeun always fawns over the Fizzing Whizbees—says it’s a better way to levitate than trying to cast Wingardium Leviosa on yourself. Chocolate Frogs are a classic you very rarely indulge yourself in, and you could never go wrong with Cauldron Cakes—

“Pumpkin,” Jungkook says, giving you a small shove as he arrives next to you with a bag from Honeydukes, taped shut. His scarf has been pulled down below his chin, revealing his bright red nose from the sudden change in temperature from the chilly outside to the heated store. “Here.”

You narrow your eyes. “If this is a cockroach cluster I’m going to sock you in the face.”

“Just open it,” Jungkook says with a roll of his eyes.

You do as you’re instructed, albeit hesitantly, only to find three neatly-wrapped Pumpkin Pasties sitting at the bottom of the Honeydukes branded paper bag, waiting to be devoured.

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” you say softly, unable to stop the smile that spreads across your face. No one’s ever bought you sweets before. “Here, let me pay you back—”

“No need, Pumpkin,” Jungkook says, placing a cold hand on top of yours to stop you from getting your wallet out. “Consider it a thank you for all the time you spent helping me with Transfiguration.” You nearly shiver at the sensation of his skin meeting yours.

“Really?” You ask. “Well, thank you for thinking of me. I don’t know why you’re being so… nice to me, but it’s a pleasant change.”

Jungkook pouts. “Don’t you remember how I’m madly in love with you?” Of course, the moment you compliment him he turns back into his regular self. You shouldn’t have put it past him. “Had to honor your nickname, didn’t I?”

“Hey, do you want one?” You ask, figuring that it’s only right he gets to eat one of the treats he paid for.

“Sure,” Jungkook says happily, letting you pull one of the neatly packaged desserts out of the bag and place it in his hand. “Promise me you won’t throw up this one this time?”

For once, the memory of you vomiting up the contents of your stomach into a trashcan outside of Honeydukes doesn’t make you want to cringe. Instead, you laugh, recalling it with fondness as you and Jungkook clink together your Pumpkin Pasties like goblets filled with wine.

You giggle. “Don’t hold me to that.”

Thursday night finds you right where you always are, but with a new face across from you. Jungkook’s taken it upon himself to add onto your Wednesday evening study sessions, insisting he accompany you to dinner when you’re finished, and even on the next day as well, sometimes. You keep telling yourself that it’s because you’re best friends with Yuju, who knew Jungkook first through Quidditch. Because it’s highly improbable that Jungkook would want to join in on your Great Hall dinners just for you. Right?

“When’s the mail getting here?” Yuju huffs, poking at her half-eaten bowl of peas. “Dog’s the only one I know who’d actually want to finish my lukewarm buttered peas.”

“You know that the butter makes him throw up, Yuju,” you berate her. “Feed him something else. Preferably the food that I buy him that is meant for owls to consume.”

“But what else am I supposed to do with my peas? I don’t want to just leave them. That’s a waste,” Yuju exclaims.

“I’ll have ‘em,” Jungkook offers up. That’s one bonus of his sudden appearance at your dinner table—he’ll eat anything you won’t, like a food vacuum cleaner. “I love vegetables.”

Yuju looks hesitant. “I think I’ll just let Dog throw up.”

“Hey!” You shout at her.

Speaking of Dog, the mail begins to filter in, dozens of owls entering the Great Hall with packages hanging from their talons on their beaks, to be dropped off at their owners’ tables, right in front of their eyes. In the middle of the year, not many students are getting mail, but just like every other week, Dog appears faithfully to deliver your letters for the week.

“Is this the stuff for the Witches’ and Wizards’ Counsel?” Jungkook asks over a mouthful of chicken.

“Yeah,” you tell him, rubbing the side of Dog’s head as a thank you. “Oh, it’s a pretty small stack this week.”

“Guess no one’s having troubles this time of year,” Yuju comments, already beginning to spoon-feed Dog her peas. At this point, you don’t even care if Dog throws up. As long as he does it in the owlery, it won’t greatly inconvenience you.

You unwrap the tweed, letting it fall to the floor for one of the cats that roam the hallways of Hogwarts to play with, and begin to shuffle through the few letters that people sent you. It’s just enough for a full issue for the newspaper, thank God. “Hey, look. Bambi’s sent another one.”

Jungkook drops his fork onto his plate, the metal making a loud, disruptive clanking sound as it hits the glass. You, Yuju, and Dog, all turn to him, watching as he smiles guiltily, slowly picking up his fork and pretending that his clumsiness never happened.

“What’s this one about?” Yuju asks, hissing at Dog when he accidentally bites her finger.

“Lemme see,” you say, making to open the envelope.

“Who’s—Who’s Bambi?” Jungkook asks, mouth full. Dog seems to have notice the plethora of food still left on Jungkook’s plate, and is slowly making his way over to peck at Jungkook’s dinner rather than Yuju’s.

“Oh, just this guy who’s been sending me letters since the beginning of sixth year,” you muse happily. Jungkook nods, mumbling something unintelligible over his mouthful of food. “Sometimes he asks for advice but sometimes he just sends me kind words, which is honestly so thoughtful of him.”

“That’s nice,” Jungkook seems to say, though his words are quiet and muffled.

“And recently he’s been coming to me with questions about a girl that he likes and I just wish that I could give him better advice, you know?” You say, watching as Dog marches over to Jungkook, happily chewing on a piece of chicken he’s stolen from Jungkook’s plate, cooing contentedly. “Like, I feel like the advice I’m giving him on how to confess to this girl is the just what I would want if I was the girl, but obviously that’s not universal. Or at least, I don’t think it is. I don’t know. He’s always been so nice to me and I wish that I could give him better advice than what I’m giving him now.”

Jungkook nods again as acknowledgement that he’s still listening, though his eyes are trained on his plate as his hand instinctively comes up to rub at Dog.

Which strikes you as odd, because Dog doesn’t really cozy up to strangers, even if he will pick food off of their plates. He’s a relatively amicable owl—which is why he’s good for the your advice column, because he won’t bite at anybody’s fingers when they drop off their letters—but he won’t let just anyone pet him like Jungkook does. Like Jungkook is.

“Um,” you say, getting Jungkook’s attention. “Do you and Dog… know each other?” You ask, watching in some sort of trance as Jungkook scratches at Dog’s neck, making him coo happily.

“Me?” Jungkook asks, nearly sputtering. “No,” he says immediately. “I didn’t even know he was named Dog until today. Which, clever name, by the way. Why? Is he not normally, uh, like this?”

“No,” you say, suspiciously but of no one in particular. More just of the situation in general. “He doesn’t normally accept pets from strangers.”

Jungkook smiles down at Dog, who looks plenty happy to be receiving a good petting, regardless of the hand that’s giving it to him. “Guess I’m just different, then.”

“Yeah,” you say, nodding. You reach your fingers out to see if Dog will return to you, his rightful owner, but he’s firm in his will to stay right where Jungkook can rub him. “I guess so.”

Not even animals are immune to the bewitching charms of a certain Jeon Jungkook.

Dear Y/N,

Okay, maybe it’s just because I’m clueless but I’m not really sure if she’s picking up what I’m putting down, if you know what I mean. Maybe she is and I just haven’t noticed, but as far as I’m aware, we’re still just friends. Which is fine, and I’ll totally accept that without complaining, but I haven’t even told her how I feel. Do you think I should just go for it? I mean, I don’t know what else to do at this point. Honestly, I feel like I just need to come clean and deal with the consequences in an appropriate and relaxed manner. She probably doesn’t even feel the same, but that’s okay. As long as I try, right?

Yours truly, A Very Fretful Bambi

Dear A Very Fretful Bambi,

At this point, I think that you can take matters into your own hands. If you want to confess to her, I’d say go for it! You’ve made your intentions fairly clear at this point. And it’s okay if she doesn’t feel the same—you guys are still friends, after all! I don’t know you personally, but you seem like a confident, strong-willed person and if you feel ready, then there’s no reason not to tell her. The worst she can do is say no, right? But, if you’re as kind as you’ve made yourself out to be since you first began to message me, then I don’t think she will. Good luck!

Yours truly, Y/N

The halls of the castle are eerily quiet at this hour. The moon shines through the big glass windows that line the corridors, casting its pale white light along the frescos that decorate the walls. You’ve been down this path plenty of times before, plenty of sleepless nights and tired eyes behind you, behind your seven years here. By now, you could walk this road in your sleep. You bet you have.

The astronomy tower is the most beautiful place in all of Hogwarts. Sure, students may insist that the ceiling of the Great Hall is the most picturesque, or their common rooms are the most homey, but the grounds are the most breathtaking, but all of those pale in comparison to the glass ceiling of the astronomy tower, showered in stars and planets above on a clear night, like your very own planetarium. Pale in comparison to the telescope you look through during class, catching glimpses of faraway galaxies that light up their own little corners of the universe.

It’s a wondrous place to be, the astronomy tower on a clear night, where you can empty your thoughts into the world and let the stars see inside your mind, watch as they twinkle their responses. And so, it’s no wonder that you most often find yourself here when the comfort of your dormitory isn’t enough, when sleep just won’t overtake you like it does most other nights.

Only, this time, when you open the door, the shadow of someone sitting on the steps that look out onto the glass balcony is waiting for you.

“Hello?” You ask into the silence, hearing your voice echo along the walls.

The shadow turns, and suddenly the side of Jungkook’s face is bathed in the light from the moon and the stars, half of his profile hidden from view and the other basking in a white, nightly glow. It’s stunning.

“Pumpkin?” He asks in response.

“What are you doing up here?” You ask, walking over to him. He’s curled up on the steps, leaning against one of the pillars with his knees pulled up to his chest, like a baby.

“’M just thinking, Pumpkin,” Jungkook muses. “Care to join me?”

Your legs move before your brain does, making to sit down next to him, when you falter, thinking that if Jungkook’s going to blab to you at two in the morning on a spring night, you’d rather just go back to your common room and do your thinking there. That’s the beauty of thinking—it’s in silence.

“I mean, I don’t really want to disturb you, you know,” you say tentatively, backing up.

“Aw, please?” Jungkook asks, pushing his lip out into a pout as he blinks up at you. In the moonlight, in the starlight, in the light of the faraway galaxies and planets and supernovas, Jungkook’s eyes look like they’re swimming in stars. “It’s lonely up here.”

And maybe it’s your love for the astronomy tower that keeps you there, or maybe it’s the way he looks at you or the way he’s curled up like a pillbug as he watches the stars slowly shift across the sky, but you take your seat next to him, a good bit of distance between the two of you as you slowly make yourself comfortable, watching out onto the glass balcony at the quiet of the world beneath you.

There aren’t enough words in the English language to describe what this feels like. To describe how, after years of toil and trouble, years of back-and-forth teasing and insults, you and Jungkook have found yourself sitting together in the dim light of the astronomy tower late one weekday night at the end of your final year of school, watching the stars together. It’s almost surreal, in a way. That every moment in the universe has led up to this. Up to you being here.

Never have you spent so much time together in silence.

Jungkook seems to shimmer in the moonlight. Perhaps it’s just because the moonlight bathes everyone in a heavenly glimmer, but Jungkook looks particularly dazzling, like the very fabric of his bones were made of stardust. Strange. You’d never felt particularly attracted to him, not when his big mouth and obnoxious personality overshadowed his looks, but you’ve never been one to deny his timelessness. He’s always been handsome—his looks will never go out of style. So maybe that’s why, when he sits beneath the moon and the stars, he glows. Because the moon knows that Jungkook can only get prettier.

“Pumpkin,” Jungkook says, breaking the silence with nothing more than a whisper. “I’ve got a question.”

“What?”

“Do you ever think that maybe, with certain things, you should just give up? Because you don’t know if you’ll ever get what you really want?”

“What?” You ask again, eyes wide open as you look at him. “You? Giving up? What alternate universe is this?”

Jungkook laughs, but it’s soft and half-hearted. “I don’t know. I’m just—I’m not sure if this thing that I’m trying to do is going to work out, you know?”

In the five years you have known Jungkook, as a student, as a Quidditch player, and even, dare you say, a friend, never have you imagined him being one to give up.

“Okay,” you say, “I know that maybe right now, the outlook isn’t looking promising. But you should never give up, especially if you haven’t gotten an outright no. If you don’t know for certain the future of your situation, then why should you stop working for the future that you want? You’re Jeon Jungkook, you don’t give up on anything. You work super hard for your grades and when you don’t understand something in Transfiguration you work at it until you do, and you spend hours on the Quidditch field trying to perfect ur eyesight to catch the Snitch even though there’s no magical spell for 20/20 vision, and you work your hardest and do your best and thats why you’re good at school and amazing at Quidditch and—”

“You think I’m amazing at Quidditch?”

You look over at Jungkook to see that he’s closed the gap between the two of you, his shoulder coming to rest right next to yours, and he’s looking at you with a misty haze in his eyes, the stars above you clouded and foggy in his dark irises. But he’s grinning, and grinning wide, because you just gave this totally unwarranted pep talk to him and told him he was amazing at Quidditch and a great student and everything else that you said, and Oh, God.

“Yeah��” You say hesitantly, “but don’t get a big head, asshole.”

“Believe me,” Jungkook says with a scoff, “the only big parts about me are my love for you.” You narrow your eyes. “That, and one other thing.”

You gasp in shock, totally unsurprised yet caught off guard nonetheless by his words, giving him a small shove against the staircase. But you’re not scowling, or frowning, or glaring at him. You’re laughing, because suddenly Jeon Jungkook is not just amazing at Quidditch, and a great student. He’s wonderful. In every way he is, and it might just be the way the moon illuminates him ever so perfectly that’s making you feel this way, but maybe this has been a long time coming.

Here’s the thing about Jeon Jungkook: he wasn’t always such a nuisance.

Because when you weren’t watching him, when he was sitting in his dorm room studying, or hiding in the astronomy tower, or wandering through the bookshelves in the library, he was quiet, and beautiful, and looked at the world like it had so much to offer him. When Jeon Jungkook let the world around him exist without him being in the spotlight, he was everything but a nuisance.

And even when he was acting loud, and being big, and teasing you, he wasn’t doing it to hurt. He was doing it because all he could tease you about was how much he loved you, whatever that meant, and how his heart was yours and how if you just opened your eyes you’d see him, and suddenly your vision’s never been clearer and he’s right there, in front of you. And it’s crazy, how these things work. How suddenly, everything’s been flipped on its side because, as it turns out, your heart is his.

How this moment, right here, sitting on the steps in the astronomy tower as the stars twinkle like Christmas lights above you, was fourteen billion years in the making. And the best part? It was worth the wait.

“Come on, hurry up!” Yeeun shouts at you as you’re quickly filing through the letters you received last night. You were too rushed to check them at dinner, what with Yuju on your arm stress-eating because of the Quidditch match she had to compete in the next day, the final one of the season. “I want good seats so we can see Yuju!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” you say, quickly tearing open the first envelope so you can give it a quick glance over, planning on writing your responses over the weekend, after the Quidditch Cup. Yeeun’s standing in front of the mirror, trying to fix her Slytherin beanie, alongside the rest of the green and silver memorabilia she’s decked herself out in.

You open the first one and recognize the handwriting instantly, the familiar calligraphy of Dear Y/N, this one looking particularly nice. Like the person writing it had taken their time, done it with purpose.

Dear Y/N,

This may or may not be my last letter, depending on how this goes. But I just wanted you to know that on Friday, I’ll be in the air with the rest of my house, playing our very best game of the season. And I’ll be searching for the Snitch, as I’m supposed to, but above even that, I’ll be looking out for you. Because I love you, and more than anything else, I just wanted you to know that.

P.S.: Feel free not to respond to this one publicly.

Yours truly, Bambi

And the piece of paper drops to the floor, the hard edges of it hitting the hardwood with a soft thud.

Because that letter, and all of the ones coming before it, ever since the beginning of sixth year, could have only been written by one person. Someone who’s in your year, and a seeker for their house’s Quidditch team. And it’s certainly not your team’s seeker, because she’s a girl and also a fifth year. Someone who’s playing in this year’s Quidditch Cup. A Ravenclaw.

Holy shit.

“Come on, slowpoke! We have to go!” Yeeun says excitedly, running over to you and grabbing onto your arm. She pulls you out the door before your brain has a chance to process the information you just learned, the letter you just read. And you spend the entire journey to the bleachers of the Quidditch field in a daze, barely cognizant of the world around you, even as Madam Hooch blows her whistle and begins the game, even as the players whiz around on their brooms above you. Next to you, Yeeun’s screeching, or maybe she isn’t—you can’t really be sure, with the noise in your brain. You think that you wave to Yuju when she passes by your section of the bleachers, winking down at your group, but you’re not sure.

The only thing you remember is seeing Jungkook, in all of his Ravenclaw glory, sitting proudly atop his Firebolt as he darts around the field like a bullet, eyes keenly looking out for the Snitch. You only ever see him play when it’s against Slytherin, but you can say with certainty that in his entire Quidditch career, this is the best he’s ever played. The most he’s dedicated himself to his sport, the hardest he’s ever worked. He flies above the crowd and it’s as if the very fabric of the air is at his beck and call, bends to his will. You don’t need to know much about Quidditch to know that Jungkook is a good player, but this game is better than good. It’s inspiring.

And it pays off, too, because suddenly the commentator is screaming into the microphone that “Jeon Jungkook has caught the Snitch! Ravenclaw wins!” and the entire quarter of Ravenclaws have burst into cheers while the Slytherin quarter begins to sulk, beaten at their chance to win the Quidditch Cup. And Jungkook is coming to a halt in the middle of the field, the golden Snitch, sparkling in the sun, clenched tightly in between his fingers as the rest of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team crowds around him, chanting “Jeon Jungkook! Jeon Jungkook! Jeon Jungkook!”

Your very last Quidditch Cup as a Hogwarts student and you couldn’t remember more than ten seconds of it if you tried. It passed you by in a blur, a haze of movement and shouts and cheers, and suddenly the bleachers around you are half as filled as they were before, and then a quarter as filled, and then only stragglers are left, gathering their belongings and heading back to the Slytherin common room, where your house is bound to party despite losing, as a celebration of a team that worked as hard as they possibly could.

“Hey, Y/N,” Yeeun says, a hand on your arm. She looks awfully sad, but she’s still got one more year to see Slytherin win the Quidditch Cup. She’ll be alright. “You coming?”

You look out onto the field to see the Ravenclaw Quidditch team pulling each other into a giant hug, everyone patting each other on the backs and cheering after a successful season. And somewhere, in the center of that pile, is a certain brown-haired boy with the stars lacing his eyes.

“In a second, I just have to do something first,” you tell Yeeun, who shrugs in response and flutters off by herself.

You move before your brain can tell you to stop, for fear that if your mind catches up to your legs, you’ll chicken out. Slowly, but certainly, you make your way out of the bleachers and onto the field, feeling so much smaller now that your feet are firmly on the ground, the seats meters above you. You’ve never been onto the actual Quidditch field. Well, until now, at least.

Blinking, you take a deep breath and march right up to the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, who have given Jungkook hug after hug for bringing their team and house to victory, and you shout, “JEON JUNGKOOK!”

And Jungkook whips his head around, sweaty and gross and exhausted and beautiful, and he says, “Yes, Pumpkin?”

And you fist your hand into his damp Ravenclaw Quidditch uniform and pull him into a bruising kiss, his lips crashing against yours, still warm from all the blood rushing through his veins. He makes a pleasantly surprised non-sound into your mouth, eyes crinkling up into half moons as he pulls you in, letting his gloved hand wrap around your waist. Behind him, the entire Ravenclaw Quidditch team has burst into hoots and hollers, but you barely hear them. All you can see, feel, and imagine, is him.

When you part, he looks dazed, kiss drunk, grinning his lopsided grin. He’s never looked prettier. “What’s all this about, Pumpkin?” He asks, even though he already knows the answer. “I thought you hated me.”

“Wrong again, Jeon,” you tell him instantly, shaking your head. “I don’t hate you. I love you.”

Jungkook can’t help but smile, wide as the goddamn ocean, wrapping his hand around you once more and pulling you back into another kiss, this one even more intense than the last. Your hands come up to rest against his cheeks, blushing red from the adrenaline pumping through him, letting your body melt against the heat of his own. He keeps you close, pulls you in impossibly closer, lets his entire body wrap around yours, lets his lips dance along your own, plush and warm and searing. And Jungkook is beautiful, and wonderful, and perfect, and suddenly, he’s yours.

Dear Y/N,

Okay, this is definitely my final letter. Because I can just talk to you if I actually have a problem. I just wanted to remind you, Thursday-night Y/N, as you read through all of the letters for this week, that I love you. In case you forgot. So, I love you.

Yours truly, Bambi

hard to believe this series is over already!! thank you so much to everyone, from my silent followers to the ones that message me daily, you guys are the reason i did this. the reason i wrote 70k of pure hogwarts aus. for you guys!!! i’m extremely proud of where i’ve come with this series, and it’s crazy that it’s over !

as i previously mentioned, it’s my blog’s 2 year anniversary today, and i suppose it’s only fitting i post a self-indulgent jungkook fic to commemorate it, seeing as that very genre was the first fic i ever posted on this blog. thank you again, to everyone, for these past two years. despite the trash pile that is tumblr, you make this website a wonderful place to be. here’s to many more!

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts fluff #bts angst #bts scenario #jungkook scenario #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #bts au #jungkook au #bts hogwarts au #bts hogwarts #jungkook hogwarts au #w: do you want me (dead?)#w: sorted #OHHHH MY GOD ITS OVER !!!!

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curly-bangtan · 5 years

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Blizzard Sneak Peak ❄️

Pairing: roommate!Jungkook x reader

Summary: When a blizzard hits your town, you and your shy awkward roommate are forced to spend time together, not being able to leave the house due to the strong snowstorm. To make matters worse, the power gets cut in the middle of his shower. Which also means no heating.

Genre: roommate au, domestic au, smut, fluff

Warnings: vanilla!Jungkook, virgin!reader, dry humping, penetrative sex, fingering, oral (m receiving), losing virginity, shy soft boy Koo with a crush and a noona kink, your heart could possibly burst from how cute he is

A/N: I know this is a bit long for a sneak peak but I just wanted to put sth out there for anyone who’s waiting... :) This will hopefully be up by Jungkook’s birthday!

Gathering all the courage you can muster, you knock on his door.

The wood sends shivers of cold into your knuckles. There’s a pause at first which leaves you thinking that he’s asleep, and to be fair, it is late at night so he has every reason to be. You’re about to turn away and head back to your room when you hear sheets moving, then his muffled come in.

Timidly, you step into his room, mind fresh with the memory of what had happened last time you entered here unannounced, mere hours ago. Let’s not think about that right now, shall we?

Jungkook is sat up in his bed, black hood engulfing half his head. A single scented candle lit on his bedside table beside him illuminates the whole room into a golden ochre hue, it smells of freshly washed sheets.

‘Hi…’ You peep out, stopping in front of his bed.

‘Everything ok, noona?’ His eyes are fixed on your face in concern, but when you meet them, they dart to your socks.

‘Um, yes.’ How do you put this? How do you formulate those words? ‘I just… It’s absolutely freezing with the radiators not working. Maybe- D-’ You exhale shakily. He’s gaze is slowly crawling back up to your face as he realises where you’re going with this. ‘You know how you suggested that we should… sleep tog- on the same bed… to keep each other warm…? Well...’

Jungkook blinks at you. For a heartbeat, all you want to do is curl up into a ball and roll out of here. You couldn’t even finish what you were saying because your jaw has simply refused to move, refused to let you carry on embarrass yourself.

Then, although he was already on one side of the bed, he scooches over to the left. He doesn’t look at you when he replies, ‘Of course.’

Your heart is pumping fast, almost making you choke on your constricting throat. Warily you clamber onto his bed, but stop when only your knee is on the mattress. The bedframe creaks. Jungkook is regarding you with an unreadable expression, nibbling on his bottom lip. ‘Wait, if this is weird, just tell me to go.’

‘N-No. It’s fine.’ Pulling the covers over his chest, he crosses his arms shyly. There’s a pink tint to his cheeks, though you could be mistaken due to the odd lighting. ‘I was struggling to fall asleep from the cold as well.’ He adds when you don’t seem convinced.

Both of you are making this a bigger deal than it actually is, you are fully aware. It honestly pains you how awkward you two are with each other; if this were Jimin, he’d be dragging you onto his bed by the waist, letting you flounder about in his arms like a cat trying to escape before smothering you with his affection. But this is Jungkook. Quiet, shy, awkward Jungkook. Jungkook who hasn’t spoken more than ten words a day to you before the events of tonight even though you live together. Jungkook who you’re slowly learning more and more about during this blizzard.

Plus, he was the one who offered to share his bed earlier in the first place. This is fine, just fine. Act normal.

Overly conscious of how he’s watching your every movement carefully, you slowly burrow into the comfort of his bed. Immediately you’re enveloped in his residual body heat under the duvet. Now you realise that he moved over to the other side of the bed, the cold side, so you can relish in the warmth that he’s been collecting under these covers.

Why is Jungkook so… considerate?

Again, the same fuzzy feeling as before tugs at your heartstrings. Suddenly you want to reach out to him, but instead, you tug at your sleeves.

You’re both staring at the blank ceiling as if it is some fascinating art piece, with enough space between you to fit a Jimin. The candle has casted long grey shadows across the room, occasionally flickering haphazardly.

Everything that is currently whizzing through your head is driving you insane. This is actually happening. You are sharing a bed with Jungkook, the guy who you can’t even look in the eye when speaking to, your roommate who has only ever tried to avoid you. This day is a jack-in-the-box of Jungkook-themed surprises. What’s going to be next?

‘Feeling warmer, noona?’ He breaks the silence first, and you can’t help but glance over at him. His side profile is mostly masked by his hood, yet you can still see his jaw clenching. You can only imagine how uneasy he is currently feeling.

‘Yes.’ It’s barely a whisper you manage, so you clear your throat. ‘Much better Jungkook, thank you.’

Another silence. Though this is an improvement from before, you still feel a chill in your bones; the cold is a resilient pest that aches your muscles and numbs your face.

‘Should I blow out the candle then?’ You ask.

‘Oh right, yeah.’

You huff at the small flame but it refuses to go out, and you kind of don’t want it to as it provides a strong beacon of heat as its smoke licks at your face. You huff again. Still, it only wavers. You’re so cold that you don’t even have the strength to take out a candle. Peaking over at Jungkook, his eyes are locked on you patiently.

‘I’ll do it.’ He leans across the bed, over you, you feel his warmth radiate into your proximity as his should hovers over your face. His scent, a clean soft musk, swims up your nose; you never noticed how pleasant he smells. The veins on his neck are protruding as he strains to reach over. When he extinguishes the candle with a single harsh blow, embarrassment rains on you.

Darkness enshrouds you. As he returns to his position, you notice that he’s closer to you than before, now only less than a foot away. The sound of his breathing provides a steady rhythm that soothes your wild thoughts.

Though your social skills are subpar by nature, Jungkook has a way of magnifying your awkwardness. Should you say something? Good night? Thank him again?

Then you realise, he’s shivering. Of course, his hair must still be wet from his unfinished shower that was cut short by the blackout. God, he must be freezing.

‘You’re cold.’ You state, though you mean it more as a question.

‘I’m fine.’ Hums his response, yet his inhale is shaky.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you know what you’re going to do next is completely out of character and will require more guts than you actually possess. Your hand gropes at the space between you until you find his hand. It’s ice cold. Jungkook jumps at the contact and you hear him turn his head towards you. You hope his vision hasn’t adjusted to the dark yet so he can’t see how abashed you are.

‘You’re not fine.’ His fingers are stiff when you interlock yours between his. Everything is screaming inside you. What are you doing? What the heck? If Jimin were here to see this his jaw would drop all the way down to hell.

Unable to suppress the urge either, you also turn to look at him. In the dark, you can barely make out the outline of his face, the shape of his glossy eyes reflecting the moonlight seeping in through the window. Slowly, his fingers curl up around your hand. Your heart flips.

Blood roaring in your ears, you inch towards him like a frightened deer until your sides are pressed against each other. Your faces must be a hand’s width apart, but the darkness fuels you with a brazenness that allows you to not cringe away. His whole body tenses in response.

‘Better?’ Voice so soft he strains to hear you.

Jungkook nods, eyes never leaving yours. ‘Better.’ His response rumbles into your ear and percolate into your mind, and only now are you aware of how close he is.

An amalgamation of unidentifiable emotions stir inside you. You feel your own warmth trickle towards him as his does with you, and slowly his presence plucks away the cold you are plagued with.

‘Good night, Jungkook.’

‘Good night, Y/N noona.’

Though it’s only briefest of movements, you feel his thumb stroke over yours once, twice, as your eyelids fall shut.

The next morning, you wake up first with your head fitted cosily on his heavily breathing chest, his arm draped across your shoulder, shielding you from the chilly morning air.

#jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook oneshot #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook reaction #bts #bts smut #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts oneshot #jungkook imagines #bts scenarios #bts reactions #bts fanfic #jungkook roommate au #bts roommate au #jungkook x reader

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neverlandparker · 5 years

Text

“Yeah, my heart does that when I’m around you” (peter parker)

Word Count: 2.8k words

Warnings: yes there is angst but no worries, fluff also guaranteed too :)

Author: @neverlandparker

A/N: Hey guys! Sorry its been so long! I’ve had tremendous writer’s block and also school has been a lot lately but I’m super glad I finally got a chance to finish this :) I really hope you enjoy reading it as much I did writing it!

Prompt: “yeah, my heart does that when i’m around you.” for the amazing @sunshinehollandd‘s writing challenge. congrats on your milestone!! :) p.s. sorry its so so late!!!!

Homecoming was supposed to be a blast. It was supposed to be one night spent partying and dancing with your best friends, without a care in the world. Perhaps even a special night which you found yourself with a lucky date—with your arms wrapped around his neck while sharing your first slow dance. But those were all in your dreams compared to your current situation.

Instead of happily dancing amongst the massive crowd, you were sitting alone at one of the side tables. You sighed and stared hopelessly down at your hands, which were anxiously clutching and twirling the lacy overlay of your gorgeous new dress.

And when the loud music that was previously blaring was now replaced by a slow song, and all the couples united to sway to Ed Sheeran’s beautiful voice, you were filled with utter disappointment. You had been waiting for over an hour for him to arrive, but now, looking at the time, he probably never would. He, the one who you had waited all night for and hoping to share this special dance with, was none other than your best friend, Peter Parker.

...

Weeks ago, you were complaining to Peter about how much Ned was beginning to bother you by his constant conversation about Betty. “Betty this, Betty that...,” you mocked him as you rolled your eyes. Peter just smiled at this, shaking his head at how his friend was so obviously head over heels for his crush. But then, sensing your slight jealousy, he spoke up, well, to be more accurate, he rather stuttered out a long-strung-together sentence.

“Wellifyoudon’thaveadatewillyougotohomecomingwithme?” he breathed out. “um you know...as friends?” he added as his gaze on you shifted and settled for staring at his feet. He nervously waited your reply and although your heart somewhat sank at the addition of “as friends” but nevertheless, you replied with, “Of course, Peter.” Even though he had asked to go “just as friends” you were more than happy to attend the dance with your best friend. After all, it seemed as if you had been lacking some quality time together lately, especially recently, since he kept having to cancel Friday movie nights with you and Ned, blaming it on the Stark internship. And then, you both smiled, glad knowing you would have your best friend as company and reassured that you weren’t going to be alone on the night of homecoming.

...

Whatever homecoming was supposed to feel like, it definitely was not supposed to feel like this.

You sighed and looked up out of the corner of your eye to see your friend Ned Leeds dancing with his long time crush, Betty Brant. You gave a half-hearted smile, happy for your friend, but that smile quickly disappeared again as your eyes lingered on the sight of the happy couple. That could have been you tonight. But no, Peter Parker had to disappear and not show up and ditch you to go with Ned and Betty to the homecoming dance. Especially after he had promised you that you would go together.

He wasn’t here. What did it matter? And the beautiful girl smiling almost giddily at her own reflection in the mirror earlier, twirling around in her new navy dress that hugged her figure perfectly and her hair that she had especially braided and curled for tonight was now reduced to the disappointed sophomore that you were, and some part of you still hoping that Peter would still make it in time. You sighed and frowned again.

How could you have agreed? To let your best friend, Peter Parker, ask you to homecoming “as friends?” You had begun to develop feelings for him lately and because you were scared to ruin your friendship, you stuffed them deep down and ignored them as you were almost certain he didn’t reciprocate those same feelings toward you. The disbelief and disappointment filled your emotions and you felt a newfound surge of anger rising. You clenched your fists and willed yourself not to cry.

“Y/N! Y/N!” upon hearing your name, you hesitantly shook yourself out of your thoughts and looked up to see who had called you. Your head snapped up to see your friends, Ned and Betty dancing, now a tad wildly to the blasting music that filled the school. They made wide arm motions as if inviting you to join them, but you just shook your head politely and gave them a faint and watery smile, one that felt too fake.

All of a sudden, it felt too much. All to much. And you wanted to get out, out of this place where it would only serve as a painful reminder of how you had let your best friend ask you to be his date “as friends” and to promise to go together, only to realize that he didn’t even show up and probably never would. Your chest ached with what could only be described as heartbreak. You were so mad that you let him treat you this way. He knew how important this was to you, and decided not to show up anyways. But Peter Parker had never been one to pull a jerk move, right? It just wasn’t him. Was there a reason why he couldn’t be here tonight? Well, than it gotta be a heck of a good one.

“Gosh, how could I have been so stupid?” you muttered angrily to yourself as you gathered your jacket and quickly made your way out of the school before anyone could stop you. Now, you couldn’t hold back your emotions and tears that threatened to spill over blurred your vision as you shivered from the cold, pulling your coat tighter around you as you picked up your pace, aware of the dull ache of your heels.

Thankfully you lived within walking distance of the school, and at the quicker pace you had been walking, it only took you less than 10 minutes to reach your apartment. You reached into your pocket, dug out the key, inserted it into the lock, and turned it to allow yourself in. Grateful that no one was currently home to see your current mess-of-a-condition, you shut the door, took off your heels, and slid down to the floor, burying your head into your knees as you willed this horrible night to be some kind of nightmare that would be over as soon as you pinched yourself.

Unfortunately, that was not the case.

After wallowing in the thoughts of your disastrous night, you shook your head again to clear your pitiful thoughts as you slowly got up and headed to your room. You flopped yourself face down on the bed, and it was only there that you let all your accumulated feelings out in the form of tears as your cries were muffled by your pillow as you felt your conflicting and confusing love/hate feelings for your best friend began to consume you once again.

...

However, you weren’t able to catch a wink of sleep due to a certain brunette nerd being on your mind. Groaning as you got up from out of your cozy bed, you pulled your jacket on, and settled for going to sit outside on your fire escape.

Like a kid’s blanket fort or treehouse, this was your special place you always went to when things got too much or when you just simply wanted a moment to yourself. You sat down on the fire escape stairs, stretched your legs out, and stared out towards the city. Queens really was a beautiful sight, especially at night. You didn’t know how long you were sitting there for, completely lost in your thoughts, staring out into the city lights. It wasn’t until you heard the loud noise behind you that you shook out of your thoughts.

THUNK.

You stiffened immediately and your blood ran cold. You were almost afraid of turning around in fear of who or what you would find.

It wasn’t until you heard a familiar voice call out to you that you finally whipped around, finding yourself almost a mere footsteps away from none other than Peter in his tux with the tie done up sloppily and hair disheveled. You felt a stab of heartbreak as you clenched your jaw and bit down on your lip in an effort not to unleash your anger out at him.

And when you finally collected yourself enough, you looked up to meet his gaze, only barely managing to whisper in a hoarse voice.

“Why?”

“Look I’m so sorry—please, Y/N give me a chance to explain I’m so—“

”—No Peter! Sorry doesn’t cut it okay? Do you have any idea of what you made me go through tonight?” your voice came out shaky and you paced around nervously and desperately trying to contain your anger.

“Y/N—I—look—uh...I mean....I’m sorry I’m—” he stuttered

“Look, Pete. I hope you had a very good reason for not showing up, okay? so please, just....tell me...please,” your voice breaking as tears were again threatening to spill over again as they clouded your vision. You had to bite down hard on your bottom lip in order to not break down into sobs right then and there.

“I...…” his eyes darted around nervously looking everywhere but at you. And when it became quite clear that he was unable to formulate a response, you felt your hopes plummet as you felt the pain of your heart shattering into a million pieces.

“Okay I see, you don’t trust me?” you spit those words at him, and a look of hurt crossed over his features as an uneasy silence settled between the two of you.

“...You know, I thought we were friends,” you said with a bitter laugh. Then, you turned your back on him, trying to hide the tears that were now streaming down your cheeks and began heading back to your room but when you were about to reach for your window, you heard Peter call out after you.

”Y/N, Y/N, wait, Y/N! Please!”

You sighed as you squeezed your eyes shut but ignored him in fear of more heartbreak. You bit your lip as you tried to tune him out and resumed your concentration on opening your window.

When it became apparent that he wasn’t going to be able to stop you with just his words, he reached for your arm, and ended up catching your wrist. You squeezed your eyes shut bracing yourself for what was to come and turned around to face him.

His heart wrenched at the sight of you with tears trickling down your face and he hated himself for being the reason to cause them. Taking a shaky breath, he revealed, “I-I’m—I-I’m S-Spider-Man.” and when the look of disbelief crossed your face, he quickly popped open the top of his tux to reveal the all-familiar Spider-Man suit. No it wasn’t a party trick. Your best friend, Peter Parker was indeed Spider-Man. And finally, it all clicked.

This explained the Stark internship and why he constantly had to cancel plans on you and Ned.

It was real.

He was Queen’s very own web slinging hero.

Your best friend, Peter Parker, was Spider-Man.

“Oh my—”

Your inner thoughts ran through your mind rapidly as you struggled to comprehend all that had happened in such a short period of time. But knowing your best friend was out risking his life every night to save the city seemed to make your anger subside.

“I’m sorry Y/N I couldn’t tell you because I was afraid—afraid that you would be a target—afraid of getting you hurt. I didn’t want to involve you, I’m so—“

“Peter.”

“so sorry and I—I...”

“Peter.” his eyes snapped up to meet yours.

“Suddenly knowing that you were out there putting your life on the line to help people makes things different and more acceptable that—“

“—No.”

“What?”

He shook his head, meeting your glance and as you saw the tremendous guilt reflected in his eyes. “Y/N no, n-no it doesn’t make it acceptable—but I’m so so sorry—you..y-you don’t deserve this...” he trailed off as he looked down again, “—L-look I’m not asking for you to forgive me right now but at least—can I try to make it up to you?” the last part sounded almost timid as he looked back up at you, tensing as if bracing himself for rejection.

“Yeah?” you breathed, and with that, his features and stance visibly seemed to relax a little as he let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding.

Then, he extended his hand out toward you.

“Um...what are you doing?” you stated, caught off guard.

“Well...I still owe you a dance,” his gaze flickered down to his feet and then back up at you, “...so...may I?” his puppy eyes now in full effect.

“But there’s no music,” you deadpanned but your contrasting expression said something completely different as you struggled to contain what seemed like your first happy smile tonight.

“Come on Y/N,” he groaned and you chuckled as you felt the wide smile spread across your lips. After the whirlwind of emotions and events of tonight you were glad you finally settled as you accepted his invitation to dance as you gently placed your hand in his.

He slowly pulled you closer as you helped to close the distance by taking a step towards him. He cautiously placed his hands on your waist (just like May taught him) but not before asking your permission. “Is this okay?” he had mumbled softly while gazing at you and when you looked up to meet his tender gaze, you felt your heart soar and an uncontrollable smile pulling at your lips.

You looped your arms around Peter’s neck and his hands were on your waist and there the two of you were, dancing on your fire escape without a care in the world, dancing to the imaginary music. You gazed into his eyes and couldn’t help but admire his dreamy qualities. The glow of the city lights perfectly accentuated his handsome features and made his chocolate brown eyes sparkle.

Peter took this opportunity to admire your beauty. Even with tear stained cheeks, you still looked beautiful and he felt like the luckiest person on Earth that you still trusted him enough to let him dance with you.

But Peter broke the peaceful silence as he gently brushed his thumb across your cheekbone, wiping your tear stained cheeks in the process. “By the way, you look stunning tonight,” he whispered not feeling the need to speak any louder due to your close proximity. At his meaningful words, you felt your heart flutter and the light blush that had found its way to your cheeks.

Somehow, even without the music, you still kept in sync as he twirled you around and when you shifted to swaying, you rested your head on to Peter’s chest and you swear you heard his heartbeat pick up. You smile graced your lips knowing that perhaps you had the same effect on him as he did on you. Little did you know, it really did. As he was twirling you around he could feel his heart pounding erratically as he admired the gorgeous sight that was you, standing right in front of him.

“Yeah, um, my heart does that when I’m around you,” he chuckled sheepishly as a raging blush crawled up his neck. You felt your smile get impossibly wider as you found his confession incredibly adorable and endearing.

“Yeah? Mine too,” you admitted and this time, it was your turn to be embarrassed as you tried to hide your blushing face by burying your head even closer to Peter’s chest.

After a while of swaying on the fire escape, Peter mumbled a “You know...Y/N, I really like you, you know?”

You hummed in response, another smile finding its way to your lips, “Well...Pete, I really like you too,” you whispered as you lifted your head from his chest, tilting your head at him playfully, complete with a happy smile on your face.

You were lost in each others gaze for the rest of the evening as your arms were wrapped around his neck and his hands were on your waist as you slowly danced the night away under the glow of a thousand city lights.

So...what is homecoming supposed to feel like?

Well, maybe you didn’t get to find out, but perhaps, perhaps, this—

—this is what homecoming was supposed to feel like.

…

A/N: Thank you so so much for reading! This is actually my first angsty-ish work haha :) Again, I’m sorry for not writing in the longest time, I’ve been really busy lately. Thanks for your continuous and amazing support! <3

Tagging some mutuals (thank you and hope you don’t mind!) <3: @broadwayshtuff @peterstrainingwheels @peterparklr @hollandsosterfield @lovelyspidey @sunshinehollandd @rachramblesstuff @h-osterfield @sergeanttpoliteness @parkerprotectionprogram @itsyoboypeter @darlingtaurus @uwu-peter-parker-uwu @mysteryavengers @i-am-steve-rogerss @underoos-shield @suncityparker @poetrypeter @poeticpeterecs @holland-peters @badhollandfluff @thisbitchemptylove @loverholland @blackberrywidow

...

#peter parker #tom holland #peter parker x reader #tom holland x reader #spider-man #spider-man homecoming #spider-man x reader #homecoming #fanfiction #fanfic #one-shot #fic #writing #neverlandparker #neverlandparker writes #emmaswc

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zombriekid · 5 years

Text

Attention [Alucard/Gender Neutral Reader]

Series: Hellsing

Summary: while infiltrating a banquet, maintaining the illusion quickly becomes a herculean task when your partner doesn’t want to play by the rules

General 98: “Not sure if you could tell, but I’m not exactly a people person.”

“You didn’t have to be such an ass, ya know...”

“The fact that he even bothered to approach warranted my reaction.”

The man in question is a young twenty-something who obviously comes from a background of wealth, what with his form-fitting refinery being cut from a crushed velvet, the shade a soft yet rich black, and the lapels and other trimmings as glossy as his oxfords. He’s handsome enough in your opinion. There’s a roundness to his jaw left over from adolescence yet there’s a sort of college age maturity around his brown eyes; he’s cradling a coupe of bubbling, golden champagne so he’s gotta at least be of legal drinking age- though you’re willing to bet that laws and other legalities are often bent to accommodate this crowd of greed and privilege.

“He only wanted a dance, though.” You mumble around a sigh.

Your companion’s red eyes slide your way before She merely scoffs in response.

Your vision follows the retreating silhouette of the young man, his head hanging low while his feet drag along the polished tile. The way his eyes tended to wander, or rather appraise as if he were inspecting trade goods and not talking to a person, isn’t lost on you but even still a fraction of your conscience goes out to him. He’s not predatory per say, just... very privileged.

“It’s not like he was being a creep about it.”

The vampire draws in a lungful of breath. “In case you couldn’t tell, revenant, I’m not exactly a people person, and there is no way that that boy ‘only wanted a dance’.”

Now that you can’t necessarily disagree with, however you can’t blame the young man either. See no matter the occasion or situation Alucard always tends to stick out from the crowd, whether it’s the imposing profile He cuts due to His monumental height or the sheer miasmic capacity of His ancient power, either way He never fails to snatch everybody’s eye. Even now, in a form that maintains a traditionally feminine shape, He- or rather She, gotta keep up the illusion after all- is an attention gatherer.

The cashmere of Her dress is such a luxurious burgundy that not only does it look incredibly soft to the touch (not to mention expensive) it also makes the pallor of Her skin milk white; the plunging neckline draws the eye to Her modest bust, and it elongates the length of Her throat, while the skirt smooths out the roundness of Her hips. With long black curls tumbling down the small of Her back and Her lips painted a deep, dark rouge, it’s no wonder if that young man’s intentions were a tad more... intimate than one mere dance.

Heaven knows that your thoughts aren’t exactly chaste right now either.

“Regardless, we shouldn’t draw attention to ourselves,” you glance at Alucard through your peripheral, “and no doubt some of these boujee idiots heard the verbal abuse you just gave to that kid.”

The corner of Her lips curl a fraction, a subtle gesture that you would’ve otherwise missed were it not for the fact that you’ve begun to notice Her body’s involuntary reactions.

“Save your worrying for someone else, revenant. I have no need nor any desire for it.” She growls lowly.

You roll your eyes and hiss under your breath: “I’m not worried about you, asshole! I’m worried about blowing our cover!”

It occurs to you a second too late that maybe your statement wasn’t as quiet as you think when you notice some banquet attenders are staring at the two of you, and not even remotely trying to be discreet about it. The wind is immediately sucked out of your sails, clearing the dryness from your throat with a cough into your fist, and you hope that perhaps it’s the odd, mismatched paring you and Alucard make that’s catching their attention.

It’s just as likely an excuse, after all.

Probably.

A single exhale of air rushes through Her nose and in that moment your passive aggressive ass decides to put all of the blame of the staring entirely on Her and Her way too tight dress.

Then, in the ballroom where a crowd has gathered into a mass of lustrous silk and glittering jewels, the orchestra begins plucking their nylon strings and you become possessed in a moment of brave insanity.

You take a step towards the glistering cacophony and offer Her the crook of your elbow with a polite smirk. She in turn regards you with the slightest of sneers curling Her upper lip, yet another instinctual reaction that you’ve noticed as your partnership marches (more like shambles) on. “May I have this dance, Countess De Ville?”

...yeah, Alucard really should’ve chosen a better alias. It’s a little too on the nose for your comfort.

“We gotta blend in anyways,” you continue with a one-shoulder shrug, “and I promise I won’t try to get fresh.”

She scoffs under Her breath. “Do you know how to dance? Are you even classically trained?”

Nope.

“Mr. Holmward taught me a thing or two.”

Not even a little- well, unless you can include watching the old man waltz with his sweetheart, Mr. Morris, after a glass or two of amber whiskey and imported cigars. Which, to be frank, you actually don’t think that that counts but your pettiness knows no bounds, and you’re more than willing to potentially embarrass yourself just to prove to Alucard that She’s the attention whore here!

In the background you hear the brass section gradually slide in to the crescendo and you level your companion with an arched brow.

“I swear on my granddaddy’s grave that I won’t try anything.”

Perhaps you’ve just uttered the magic word(s) for the shape-shifting vampire straightens Her spine until She towers over you with Her impressive height, thus causing Her shoulders to lay back and Her bust to arch forward, and the grin that slips across Her lips stretches a little too far beyond human limitations.

It’s as She loops Her arm around yours that you realize something, a little factor that you didn’t take into consideration when formulating this revenge-fueled cockamamie plan. Alucard might know how to dance, even classically.

“Very well then.” The “countess” purrs, “your lead, revenant.”

Your mouth suddenly feels dry.

a/u: so i’m not quite ready to jump back into the series just yet i don’t think, but i’m gonna try to fill out other requests until i am. also this ain’t gonna be the last time we see lady alucard cause my useless queer ass will take whatever form he comes in- except for girlycard or any other minor passing form. i picture lady alucard as something of a cross between anjelica huston’s morticia addams and vampira- sultry, dark, alluring, and likes to wear tight dresses; and yer goddamn right she’s a 6′4″ gorgeous forty something year old! like, reblog, and/or comment if you enjoyed this and i’ll catch you cool cats next time!

#hellsing #hellsing alucard #hellsing alucard x reader #hellsing alucard x you #alucard x reader #alucard x you #alucard #hellsing ultimate #hellsing fanfic #hellsing fanfiction #writing #hunter murray

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pervasivescariness · 5 years

Text

[ Catching Up ]

[ This is a small scene @ivaan-ffxiv and I did a bit ago that I wanted to share because it is super cute. ;w; It’s a bit longer than what I usually post, so I put it under a cut~ Thank you for reading <3 ]

"He really has taken a liking to you, you know. That is a pretty special thing.”

The late afternoon sun glittered off the rolling waves as Ivaan's voice pulled Bee's attention from the distant shore below. She looked over her shoulder as he and Mossfoot crested the hill, first to Mossfoot, then to Ivaan with a smile.

“I’m just happy that he’s at least stopped trying to preen me all the time.” she laughed, turning back to face her companion, crossing her arms as the two joined her upon the hill.

“He might have consigned your curls to being a lost cause.” The gentle breeze picked up to rustle the long blades of grass which surrounded them as Ivaan lead the chocobo over to where Bee stood.

“How terribly rude. What does a bird know of fashion?" she tossed her head indignantly in response, curls tumbling over her shoulder and across her back, "No matter, as long as it is enough to keep his beak out of my hair…”

Bee watched as the chocobo in question ignored her, choosing instead to find a comfortable place among the greenery to rest. Following suit, Bee settled in herself, curling among the swaying grass and flowers which carpeted the cliffside. Ivaan soon followed suit, taking up a place adjacent to the miqo'te, eyes still on Mossfoot.

"I think he does have his moments of vanity. I have caught him picking up feathers he has dropped, and tucking them back into his tail.”

“Does he now?” Bee eyed the bird with a smirk, “So then perhaps he does understand, but his opinions are just wrong.”

“You do know that you are trying to insult a chocobo, yes?”

“Yes, and?”

“And that he cannot understand you? Because he is a chocobo?”

“And just how do you know he can’t understand me exactly?" Bee turned her attention back to the bird, eyeing him suspiciously, "I have a sneaking suspicion that he understands perfectly well. ”

“Are you suggesting chocobo understand common, but choose not to resp-” Bee's enthusiastic and eager nods were enough to halt Ivaan mid-sentence. Easing back with a smile, he sighed, " You really haven’t changed, have you…”

“Have you any proof to the contrary?” Bee challenged with the rise of an eyebrow and a lash of her tail.

“Well, he has never spoken to me…”

“Perhaps he has and you merely weren’t paying attention?”

“How about it?” Ivaan looked up at the courser, who merely looked back at him with a cheerful whistle.

“Perhaps he simply doesn’t feel he needs to speak?” Bee gave the bird a thoughtful look and a slow flick of her tail.

“Mmm...we have a good enough rapport that I usually do not need to even give a verbal command. I do not even wear spurs.”

“Then what need of a common tongue does he have?”

“None then, I suppose…”

“And in a way, it proves he does understand...you at least.” Bee beamed at Ivaan, sitting up straight and giving him a victorious wiggle of her ear. “Which means I am correct.” Her focus snapped to the red-plumed chocobo resting across from them as she pointed dramatically at him, crying out, “And he knows what he is doing!”

“Then perhaps you should be nicer to him. He does have a short temper.” Ivaan retorted.

Shock crossed her face as she whipped her head back to Ivaan, a picture of innocence, “What do you mean? I am perfectly nice to him!”

“You were just saying he had no fashion sense not a minute ago.”

“That’s not being mean, that’s merely stating facts.” Bee crossed her arms once more, nodding once for emphasis.

“Would you not be offended, were I to tell you the same?”

“That’s wholly different!” she protested, “You’ve no reason to tell me that, as it simply isn’t true.”

“Say you met somebody on a bad laundry day, where you had to make do with a less than stellar ensemble, and somebody said something questioning your taste. You would be offended.”

She scoffed, “Ivaan, I have never had a bad laundry day. I can make any outfit stellar. It simply wouldn’t happen!”

“That is the trouble right there! You need to prepare mentally for any scenario, no matter how unlikely.”

At this, Bee broke into laughter, “There you go again! Always so serious!”

“It has kept me alive.” He shrugged, matter of fact.

“Is that what you do when you get all quiet and thoughtful then? Sit there and prepare for any and all scenarios?” Bee teased him with a playful grin.

He nodded, the teasing going right over his head. “It is always safe to assume that I have already formulated a plan to kill everyone in the room, as well as plotted every means of egress.” The miqo'te stared at him flatly as he added, “Be polite. Be efficient. Have a plan to kill everyone you meet.”

“How dreadful! You’re not very fun at parties, are you?”

“I do not find myself attending them often. Besides, they make for a good place to stage an ambush.”

Again, another laugh from the woman as she shook her head, "Can one even truly prepare themselves for any scenario?”

Ivaan paused to think her question over, “I suppose not...but the more you can prepare for, the harder you are to take by surprise.” Leaning forward, Ivaan rest his forearms on his knees, "For example, during my time clearing the Crystal Tower, we had a researcher with us who specialized in voidsent. So adamant they were that they knew everything there was to know about imps, succubi, demons and the like, that when one of them reacted in a way that he did not anticipate...Well, he was dead before we could intervene.”

“I feel that is perhaps different, Ivaan. You speak of battle! It is always wise to consider every scenario going into dangerous situations, I will agree with you there. However! Not everything is a danger! There is a vast difference between not being prepared to handle a rude stranger and tangling with a bunch of voidsent.” She looked upon the hyur with an exasperated look.

"A rude stranger may have a knife behind their back, or friends waiting nearby. I have learned countless times the value of being ready for anything."

"So you go into every interaction expecting a knife? Where does that leave you exactly? How would you ever enjoy anything if you are always preparing for the worst of it?"

"Yes. And I am alive, to continue my work. That is all that matters."

Bee stared at him in disappointment, the only sound between them the crash of distant waves upon the shore and the quiet rustle of grass which surrounded them. Then, very quietly she asked, "Are you even enjoying yourself now?"

There was a pause. Ivaan regarded her with a concerned look, taking on a slightly softer, conciliatory tone when he spoke again. "...I am. Granted, I am keeping my eyes and ears peeled for anything approaching, but yes. I am genuinely enjoying this time with you."

Bee shook her head in defeat, “You really ought to learn to relax, Ivaan. You'd enjoy yourself more if you weren't so wound up over what could happen." She offered him a reassuring smile, "Besides, not much ever happens here, so there's really nothing to worry about. You can afford to relax, just for a little bit."

"...Not much used to happen in the Twelveswood, remember?" Ivaan sighed, looking out over the darkening horizon for a time. "...What did you have in mind?"

Bee motioned toward him and sighed to Mossfoot, with that same exasperated tone, "And again!" The chocobo tilted his head at Bee with a questioning whistle. Knowing that she'd get no further in her argument, she turned her attention back to the surrounding meadows. "I thought it might just be nice to take some time among the flowers, is all. Like we used to."

"Like we used to, huh..." Ivaan looked about at the various wildflowers carpeting the meadow. He leaned forward, regarding one carefully before reaching out and plucking it from the earth. And another... and another... The stem of each was carefully twisted into that of the one picked before it. A look of concentration fell over Ivaan's features, a distant memory fluttering through his thoughts.

Bee watched him pluck the nearby flowers from the soil, a small smile forcing the serious slant of her lips to leave once more. "I was always fond of those trips out to the meadow." Her focus fell from his thoughtful face to his hands as he twist the stems together. "The grass was always so much more lush and vibrant than here. And there were so many types of flowers!" Before long, Bee was beginning to pluck her own handfuls of flowers, mimicking Ivaan's movements.

"I remember telling you all about the different ones... Their names, little tricks you could do with them, like holding a buttercup under your chin." The smallest of smiles began to tug at Ivaan's lips, delicately weaving the thin stems of green together. Occasionally he would look at her out of the corner of his eye, roughly judging the size of the crown against her head.

"You remember, I would mix the names up sometimes...call one by the other..." Bee glanced up, taking note of the slightest of smiles forming on his face, which only broadened her own. "I didn't know so many different flowers even existed until that summer, you know." She dropped her eyes back to the small pile of flowers in her own lap as she saw his gaze shift towards her, busying herself with lining them upon her lap by size.

"You would tell me that I would probably get the names of all the fish your dad would catch mixed up too, when I teased you about it. I was always so excited for the summer to come... I would count the days. It was the highlight of the year, even more so than All Saint's, or Starlight..." He paused, looking up at her from his work. "I am sorry... That I never came looking for you, after... After everything happened. I was convinced I was going to hear of your deaths. I could not take that..."

Bee's movements stopped, the stem of a flower pinched delicately between her fingers, his words stealing the growing smile from her face. There was a brief silence before Bee resumed twisting stems together, a single slow curl of her tail to indicate her thought. "I...can't really blame you for that." Bee at last looked up at him, "After...everything that you'd gone through...well I suppose I might've done the same, really." She relaxed her tail, curling it back about herself. "I'm not angry with you for it. Not really."

"Part of me feels justified, but the other..." he trails off, taking the completed crown of flowers and placing it delicately atop her head. Bee tilt her head forward slightly, ears flattening so that he could slip the ring of flowers over them easily. "Part of me wonders if I would have been better off, finding you early on. If I had, maybe I would not be so... so..." He fell silent, not sure how to describe what he was getting at. His golden hues met hers, hoping she could understand what he was getting at.

That soft smile brushed her lips momentarily as she put the final twists in the stems of her own ring of flowers. "...serious?" She finished his sentence, a more playful grin spreading across her face now as she moved closer to him. Her arms were not so long as his, after all.

"So...stoic?" Once settled in, she leaned in to place her own crown of flowers upon his head, adjusting it so it sat correctly, pausing to tilt her head slightly.

"So...well...you?"

"Yeah..." He smiled in spite of himself, bowing his head forward for her to place the flowers upon it. "So me..." It was a small, sad smile, admitting the dim view he took of himself.

"For what it's worth..." She pulled away from him at last, once more placing her hands in her lap as she looked him over, "I hardly mind. I think you've turned out well enough....all things considered.”

The sun sank into the sea behind them as they exchanged quiet smiles, crowned with rings of colorful wildflowers; an image mirroring happier times.

#pervasivescarinessart #ffxiv #ff14 #ffxiv art #ff14 art #art #ffxiv rp #rp #Ivaan Arkwright #Bee Ohkabe #we're gonna need a tag methinks

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elementsofemotion · 3 years

Text

Chapter 2: The Eternal Forest

“Caelian, aren’t you done yet?” Nathaniel whined exasperatedly, as he hung limply in the air.

“Not yet,” Caelian said, as he ran his fingers down yet another individual feather.

“But you’ve been doing this for hours .”

Caelian glanced up at him before blinking up at the sun. It had certainly moved quite a bit in the sky, so the sprite probably wasn’t lying about the time.

“I have to preen all of them or it’s pointless, Nath. If I stop, I’ll lose track.”

“You’ve only done, like, three of your wings. It’s going to be another two hours before you’re done at this rate. Stop avoiding the town!” Nathaniel huffed.

“Fine, let me at least finish this wing.”

“Ugh. Fine. I’ll wait. Over there. Call me when you’re done.”

Caelian watched as Nathaniel zipped across the pond and to the other side of the meadow clearing. The sprite hovered above the flowers for a moment before settling down into one, using it as a makeshift bed.

The sun was high in the sky, leaning more towards the west now. There were probably only a few hours left before darkness fell. Nathaniel was right; he needed to hurry up and finish his task so that he could report back to Gaia. Preening wasn’t the best use of the remaining hours of daylight.

Caelian shifted on the rock that he sat on, and looked down into the sparkling water of the pond. He had mostly dried off from the water of Iaestia’s protective bubble, though his coat still felt slightly damp.

As he studied his reflection, he noticed a few leaves and twigs sticking out of his tangled hair. He brushed his hand through it, feeling his fingers getting caught in the tangles a few times. After a few more tries of running his fingers through, the stuck leaves eventually drifted out, and the twigs fell into the water, scaring away some of the nearby fish.

Caelian sat back onto his heels as he looked over at the spread out wing beside him. His white wings always ended up looking more dusty and dirty than his black ones, so he always did them first.

Maybe it wouldn’t be too noticeable if he walked into town with only half of his wings preened. The white ones were done, at least.

He returned his wing to a folded position against his back before sliding off of the rock and hitting his feet to the ground. He’d finish the other half of his wings after he was done with his job.

He walked gingerly around the pond, being careful—as always—to not step on any of the wildflowers that covered the ground. As he made it to the other side, he knelt down around the area where he had last seen Nathaniel, and inspected the larger flowers.

“Nath?” he called. Upon getting no response, he crawled over to the next patch of flowers, looking intently for the sprite’s jade green body amongst the bright colors. After a few more moments, he spotted the sprite curled up in a pale orange flower, appearing to be sound asleep. Caelian gently cupped his hands around the small sprite, lifting him up out of the pollen filled core. Nathaniel gave a small sneeze as he woke up.

“I thought you said it was too late in the day to be sleeping?” Caelian asked.

Nathaniel rubbed at his large eyes, “Yeah, well, it gets pretty tiring flying around all day. Not that’d you’d know, or anything. Can’t fly and all. Super exhausting.”

“I see,” Caelian couldn’t help but crack a soft smile. “Want to sleep in my hood for a bit?”

In response, Nathaniel flitted up and out of Caelian’s hands and into his hood. His weight was barely noticeable as he snuggled into the soft fur.

“Wake me up when we get there.” Nathaniel sighed.

Caelian pushed himself back up, steadying himself on his feet as he glanced back across the pond. A small family of deer had emerged from the other side of the clearing, some of them eyeing Caelian curiously as the others had a drink.

He had a heavy urge to go visit and play with them, as they admittedly were his favorite animal that inhabited the forest. But instead, he managed to tear his eyes away from them and step back underneath the canopy of leaves.

It wasn’t a terribly long walk. Not to Caelian, at least. An hour of pushing through the underbrush was nothing compared to the long hours he’d spend checking every corner of the realm, making sure Gaia’s barrier was still up.

Pathways didn’t exist in the forest. The spirits got around by memory and landmarks alone. The younger ones learned from their elders how to navigate through the giant trees. Sprites had been the ones to show Caelian how to navigate. Each and every scar on the trees was like an arrow pointing to a destination. Landmarks such as the fallen trees and mushroom patches- They were all neatly integrated into his mind.

If it weren’t for the fact that spirits could live for a millennia, he would’ve said that he had traveled throughout the forest more than anyone else had. But his short years in the realm simply weren’t comparable to some of the elders, who had surely explored the forest far more than he ever could in his 100 or so years of existence.

At least, he was pretty sure it had been around 100 years. It felt right, but it was a bit hard to keep track without a calendar. Maybe one of the denizens would be willing to let him have one? As he pondered on it, he wondered what he’d really do with one; he wouldn’t have much to mark into it, would he? He didn’t even know his own birthday, after all. The day Gaia found him wandering the forest was the closest substitute they had for that day. They merely guessed he was somewhere around 5 year old at that point.

To this day, it was a bit of a mystery where Caelian had come from. No forest spirit claimed him as their child. It was almost as if he simply appeared one day in the forest; a small toddler staring up at the numerous sprites as they watched him curiously.

Coincidentally, it had been Nathaniel that had told Gaia an unknown child had appeared in the forest, and it was she who personally went to retrieve him.

It was probably the very first vivid memory he had: Gaia, shrunken down to a more normal height, one of the numerous things she could accomplish with her powers, approaching him and kneeling down with a smile.

He remembered… not really thinking much when he saw her. He felt no emotion back then. The world felt like it was going on around him, with him as a mere spectator to his own life. Like he didn’t really exist. Gaia had said she immediately sensed something off about him, but that it had taken her a few weeks to fully understand what was going on.

It had then taken years for her to formulate her plan: to gather powerful enough sprites of each element who were willing to help an abandoned child that nobody knew. It was an ability only she and one other god had the power to do. Taking four different sprites from each element, with each element embodying their own set of emotions. They would be reduced to their pure elemental energy and bonded to the person through a soul link. This would grant that person the ability not only to use the elemental abilities of the sprites, but to feel the emotions they encompassed.

They took the forms of lanterns, containing their essence inside the glass. They worked without Caelian even needing to do anything. While some emotions that embodied the sprites could overlap in similarity, while working together in tandem, they let Caelian feel a wide range of emotion.

He felt normal.

… At least, those were his feelings on the matter. Perhaps not entirely normal. The forest denizens seemed to disagree on his thoughts of what normal was.

When he stepped into the edge of the clearing that nested the town, as soon as anyone nearby noticed him, they promptly turned their back to him or hurried off somewhere. Caelian only silently watched their reactions as he walked onward.

This was normal.

“Hey, Nath…” He spoke quietly, reaching behind to gently tug at his hood. A moment later he heard the sprite stir. He heard a soft yawn, and a moment later Nathaniel had climbed up onto his shoulder.

“We there already?” He yawned again.

Caelian gently lifted Nathaniel off his shoulder, cradling the small sprite in front of him as if he were some sort of protective shield.

It’s fine, he told himself. I don’t feel upset with them, so it’s not a big deal. I just feel… empty? I guess, like I used to. I’d rather not feel like that... But it will pass.

It was admittedly a strange sensation for Caelian, as if he and his elementals didn’t know how he should feel, so his emotions simply... ceased. Like a punch to the gut, the switch from feeling happy, content, anything, going to pure nothingness, always hit him like a bag of bricks. If he could experience truly feeling upset, if he had to guess, he would be upset over having to endure that feeling every time he went to the town.

But he was Gaia’s disciple, and as such, he had to endure this.

As he walked, while most of the looks he got were full of disdain, there were a few expressions of pity scattered throughout. Sure, not all of the denizens hated him. There were a handful that at the very least didn’t mind him, and even a few that were genuinely kind. But they were heavily numbered by those that dislike him. He would always visit the kinder ones last, so that he could better hold onto those memories when he had finally left for the day.

Caelian sauntered over to the town square, near the well. He didn’t actually need to visit and talk to everyone in the town; if someone needed him for anything, he simply needed to be visible long enough for them to potentially ask. But there were always a few particular individuals he’d take the time to seek out, as Gaia specifically asked it of him.

Garson’s home was only a few yards north of the well. It was a small home built into a hill, using a nearby fallen tree as an expansion. Caelian stepped onto the old, dirty doormat that laid at the partially covered entryway. Shifting Nathaniel over to be held with only one hand, he knocked.

A few moments later, an older man swung the door open, the smile on his face quickly falling at the sight of Caelian.

“Oh, well if it ain’t the little forest prince ,” he sighed, a hint of a sneer in his voice as he said Caelian’s nickname, “What d’you want?”

Caelian paused a moment before speaking, “Um, is there… has everything been alright in the town?”

Garson gave him a hard look, before taking a step forward out of the doorway. This forced Caelian to take a step back, and Garson tightly closed the door behind him.

“Look, kid. We’ve been over this. There ain’t no point for you to even keep comin’ here- not that you ever do to begin with. Go back to playin’ with your little forest animals.”

Caelian was quiet for a moment. It was true; he rarely visited the town these days.

“I’d come more often if anyone actually-”

“Kid,” Garson interrupted, placing a fisted hand onto his hip, “Ain’t no one here gonna ask anythin’ from a halfie .”

“I’m not a halfie,” Caelian shot back quickly, “You all just assume that because of how I used to act.”

Garson furrowed his brows, frowning as he pointed a fat, calloused finger at Caelian, causing the boy to lean back, “You ain’t a normal one, kid. You can’t even feel no emotion without those little lanterns of yours. That’s a halfie disease, guaranteed. One of your parents went and had a kid with a human- that’s the only way a spirit would have a disease like that.”

“It’s not a disease,” Caelian said quietly, “I just… I don’t know why I was like that. It’s fine now, Gaia helped me, so why does it matter? I’m just a nature spirit.”

Sure, it was known that if a spirit and human were to ever successfully have a child, that child would have serious complications. The two simply were not meant to mix, and their offspring would pay the price for it. There had been numerous ‘halfies’, or hemicaes, as they were more officially called, documented throughout the ages, all with unusual health problems or traits, but they were a rare occurrence, and not much was known about them as they typically ended up living lives of solitude, away from the judgement of others.

Garson shook his head, his hands falling back down to his sides. “You’re just playin’ pretend, is what you are. You can’t feel anythin’. It’s all the sprites tellin’ you what to do. You can’t relate to nothin’ and no one. I’ll never understand Gaia’s decision, choosin’ some defective, lost little halfie as her disciple,” he sighed before adding, “Shame Ezekial passed on. Him bein’ the disciple during these times would’ve been ‘lot more comfortin’.”

Caelian remained quiet. He didn’t believe what Garson said about his elementals dictating how he felt. If they did, he didn’t think they’d leave him feeling nothing right now. At least Caelian finally got out of the void at the mention of Ezekial, sparking Riemos and his own curiosity. Ezekial was the name of Gaia’s previous disciple, though he knew very little of him. He just knew that he had been with Gaia for millennia before finally passing on due to unknown causes.

Garson turned away from Caelian, opening the door to his home again and stepping inside. “Just go home, kid. Sure, you’re Gaia’s disciple now. You can store her excess power and help her with whatever she needs, fine. But don’t be expectin’ anyone here to want anythin’ to do with you.” With that, the door closed, leaving Caelian to quietly think about Garson’s words.

He was startled out of his thoughts when he felt Nathaniel wriggle away from his grasp, flitting up into the air with a huff. “What an asshole,” Nathaniel grumbled. “Don’t listen to him, Cae.”

“It’s fine. It doesn't bother me.” It was true. Caelian felt literally nothing from the conversation. He knew the words for how he should have felt, but not how those emotions would actually affect him. He couldn’t help but be curious what those emotions he still lacked were like. Gaia always told him it was for the better, but was that really true? “Well, whatever. He was no help,” Nathaniel folded his arms, “Let’s go check on everyone else.” “Alright…” He had agreed to check on the others, but he ended up wandering rather aimlessly through the town, quietly watching as the other spirits went about their lives. He often felt curious of what it was like to constantly be around other people; he had been isolated from other spirits for most of his life. Sure, the animals and sprites always kept him company, but the spirits here seemed so different.

Maybe Garson was right, that he couldn’t really relate to them.

He was broken out of his thoughts when he noticed a familiar face pass by him, causing him to immediately perk up and do a double take. A younger boy, closer to Caelian’s age, was carrying a large water jug filled to the brim with well water.

Upon noticing Caelian staring at the boy, Nathaniel quickly flew down in front of his face, blocking his line of sight, “Oh no. We’re not talking to Mathias today.” “Why not?” Caelian asked, leaning over to peer around Nathaniel’s tiny frame, “Maybe he needs help carrying water.” “Nope. He’s fine. No need for me to experience second-hand embarrassment today,” Nathaniel said flatly, moving to block Caelian again. “What’s that?” Caelian asked, taking a step back to look at Nathaniel, “Just let me check on him really quick.” “Don’t worry about it,” Nathaniel sighed with exasperation, “He’s fine, Caelian, we have other things to do, okay?” “... Okay.” “Okay, great. So let’s- HEY!” Nathaniel let out a high pitched screech as Caelian ducked under him and bounced over towards Mathias. “Mathi!” Caelian called excitedly, coming to an abrupt stop in front of the boy, causing him to nearly lose balance and fall over in surprise. “Ah- Caelian,” he shook some of his shaggy blond hair out of his eyes and gave the boy an unsure smile. “Can I help you?” “I, um- I actually wanted to ask you that. Do you need any help carrying water back to your place?” Caelian asked, his tail wagging excitedly. “Huh? Oh, this? No, it’s fine, I got it,” Mathias said, adjusting his grip on the clay jug slightly, “Thanks, though.” “Oh, okay. Um, hey, Mathias-” He spoke quickly when he saw the boy start to walk away, “I was actually wondering if we could like- hang out or something sometime?”

Mathias paused, looking back at Caelian with a concerned frown, “Ah… Well… I’m pretty busy, you know?” “I mean, whenever you’re not busy,” Caelian tilted his head slightly, leaving Mathias to let out a soft sigh. “Um, look- Everyone in the town that’s nice to you has everyone turn against them, too… You don’t seem that bad, but... I don’t really…” “... Yeah, I get it,” Caelian said softly. “Sorry,” Mathias said, giving him a genuine look of sympathy, “I need to go now.” He stood quietly as his tail slowly stopped wagging, lying limply in the dirt as he watched Mathias hurry off. A moment later, he felt the familiar plop of Nathaniel landing on his head. “Ya done?” he asked. “Yeah… I guess.” Nathaniel sighed, lightly patting the top of Caelian’s head, “Don’t worry, Cae. We’ll find you some nice friends someday.” “Huh? I have friends, though. I have the deer- and, well, you.” Nathaniel couldn’t help but snort, “Well, thanks for remembering me, I guess. Let’s just go visit Old Tamia and call it good, yeah?” Nathaniel said, jumping off Caelian’s head and back into the air. “Do you think Gaia will be upset?” Caelian asked as he turned and followed Nathaniel’s lead. Nathaniel paused for a moment, looking over his shoulder, “What makes you ask that?” “I still can’t really seem to get along with anyone.” “They won’t even give you the chance to get along, Cae.” Nathaniel sighed, “I don’t know what they expect- They get mad at you for not always knowing what to do, but if they never give you the chance to try you’re not going to improve.” “You mean back when they’d ask me questions and for help and stuff?” Caelian asked, tilting his head slightly. “Yeah- like when that one guy accused the other the other of stealing that- what was it? A pig? Goat?” Nathaniel shrugged, “I don’t remember, but they wanted you to do something about it? You’re still a baby and don’t know anyone here, of course you’re not gonna have any idea whose animal it was.”

“I didn’t think anyone would lie about getting their animals stolen…” Caelian said as he looked up at Nathaniel, who was hovering above his head. “Exactly! You haven’t had time to learn. I think everyone here is too used to Ezekiel- they expect you to be able to settle everything as quickly as he did. Hell, I doubt anyone would’ve even tried a stunt like that if he were still around.”

“Everyone always talks about how much they miss him- I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to measure up to that,” Caelian said as he stared ahead. “Someday they’ll respect you. They have to. Or else Gaia will smite all of them,” Nathaniel huffed. “Wait, she’d do that?” Caelian asked, quickly looking back up to Nathaniel. “Well, no,” Nathaniel said after a pause, “But we can threaten them with it.” “I don’t think she’d like it if we threatened them with that,” Caelian said with a small laugh as he stepped up onto a rickety old porch. Nathaniel landed on his head again as his footsteps creaked across the wood.

The house that they had arrived at belonged to someone known as Mrs. Tamia. Her home was more typical than that of most of the other nature spirits. It was a simple looking house, built out of wood and red bricks. From the outside, it had quite the rustic feel to it, with numerous hanging and potted plants on the porch and numerous flowers throughout the surrounding gardens. The house itself, however, was a bit decrepit. The flowers and plants clearly received the brunt of the care. Caelian stepped up to the door and gently took it’s metal knocker into his hand. He rapped the metal against the wood a few times, before releasing it and taking a step back. He stood waiting patiently for a few minutes, before the door slowly creaked open. An older, hunched over woman with curly gray hair and large, round spectacles peeked out at him. “Oh, why if it isn’t little Caelian!” she rasped, opening the door wider as she balanced with one hand on her cane, “I was just wondering when you’d come visit again, dear. Come in, come in.” “Thanks, Mrs. Tamia,” Caelian said as he followed the woman into her home. The inside of the home felt smaller than how it looked outside, mostly due to the vast amount of things the woman had collected throughout the years. However, it did have an organized clutter to it that gave the home charm. Numerous dim lights were spread throughout the room, giving just enough light to see the various collections of knick-knacks and old books neatly displayed on the many shelves. “How have you been, Dear?” Tamia asked as she hobbled over to the kitchen area. “I’ve been well,” Caelian said, slowly keeping pace behind her. “How has Gaia been? Everything going well in the forest?” “Gaia’s fine. Everything seems normal right now. Just the usual stuff.” “Good, good. I'm glad to hear,” She said as she opened a cupboard, “I’ve been worried about the Goddess as of late. Keeping that barrier up isn’t an easy feat, especially with most of her excess power being gone. Not being able to leave the Great Tree, poor dear. But you take care of yourself too, Caelian- You're so young, I’m sure it’s not easy for you to handle all of this responsibility, either. Here, sit down.” “I’ve been doing my best,” Caelian said as he sat down at the table, “But how have you been, Mrs. Tamia? Is there anything you need help with or for me to relay to Gaia.” “Oh, I’ve been fine,” she said, pulling a container out of the cupboard, “Don’t you worry about an old hag like me. Here, love. I just made these this morning. Help yourself.” Caelian couldn’t help but wag his tail and gently tap the table in excitement as Tamia set the container down in front of him, removing the lid and revealing numerous different kinds of cookies, all of which were neatly sorted into compartments. “Thank you,” Caelian said, taking one of the cookies. He carefully broke it in half, trying to prevent any crumbs from falling onto the cream colored table cloth, before holding it up to his head for Nathaniel to grab onto and gnaw on. This was the one nice thing about visiting the town, at least; Tamia had always been kind to him. The first time she ushered him into her home, he had been amazed at all of her belongings and would spend hours inspecting them. His favorite was still the small, colorful bird that would tip back and forth, appearing to be drinking water.

It was also the first time he ever got to experience eating such delicious foods; things like sweets, pastries, and cooked meals weren’t things that he would ever have been able to find or make out in the forest, and Tamia was always delighted to share her baking and cooking with him. As an older spirit, her offspring didn’t come around to visit much anymore, so she was happy to treat Caelian. The first time he had ever tasted one of her cookies, he had squealed in delight. “Have you already visited everyone else in the town?” Tamia asked with a smile, as she slowly sat down in the chair across from him. “Most of them- Nobody really wanted to bother with me, though,” Caelian said, giving another piece of cookie to the small, greedy hand waving in his face. Tamia let out a sigh, “Yes, it's unfortunate how the others view you. They complain to me for always hosting you- halfie this, halfie that. Bah, as if it’d matter even if it were true. You’re a kind and gentle young man. I see why Gaia would have chosen you as her new disciple. You have much of the same qualities as Ezekiel.” “Do I?” He asked, gazing up at her, “People mention him all the time, but I’ve never actually heard much about him.” She nodded, “Granted, he was much older than you, but I remember when he was young and first appointed as Gaia’s disciple. He had the same childlike curiosity about the world as you have. He was a sweet boy, and a kind man, always going out of his way to help others.” “I guess we are a bit different, then.” Caelian mused, staring back down at the cookies, “I don’t really help others much.” “Your day will come,” she said as she slowly stood up from her chair. Caelian watched as she walked over to the window, gazing out at the pink sky. “It’s already getting late. Do you still sleep out in the forest, Caelian?” “Yeah…” Tamia frowned as she turned to look at him, “Will you still not consider moving into the disciple’s house? I worry for you, especially as the colder weather approaches.” Caelian’s eyes flicked over to the window. He had been shown the disciple’s house once, long ago. It was a lone cabin, isolated but not too far from the town, that was passed down and meant for each disciple to inhabit. He remembered the smooth wood floors, the blank, cream colored walls, and how strange it felt. Then there was the thought of being so close to the town at all times. Perhaps it was useful for the past disciples, but for him… Tamia sensed his hesitation. “I know you don’t enjoy coming here,” she said gently, “But perhaps familiarity will help the denizens become more used to you.” “That’s okay,” Caelian said with a smile. “I prefer the forest, honestly. It feels more natural to me. I like the roots and moss. Plus, I’m closer to Gaia there.” Tamia gave a soft smile. “I understand. But never forget I welcome you here with open arms, Caelian. Now, here,” she walked over to the table, placing the lid back on the cookie container and then extending it out towards Caelian, “Why don’t you take this with you as a treat?” “Oh, but I don’t want to take all of them-” Caelian started, but Tamia gently pushed the container into his hands. Nathaniel flew back up into the air, allowing Tamia to gently ruffle Caelian’s messy hair. “I can always make more- it’s a gift, dear. Whenever you run out, come back to visit a lonely old woman, won’t you?” “Ah- yeah, I’ll try,” Caelian smiled, “I guess I should go, now- Sorry I couldn’t visit for long, Mrs. Tamia.” “Don’t be sorry, my dear, I know you’ve got a lot to do. You’re always welcome here, even if it's just to grab a snack and leave. Never forget that.” “I’ll try to make sure I can visit for longer next time,” Caelian said, as he stood up and pushed in his chair. “Thank you, Mrs. Tamia.” “Of course,” the old woman smiled, walking with Caelian over to the door and gently opening it. “Stay safe out there, won’t you?” “I will,” Caelian said as he stepped out the door, Nathaniel following close behind him, “Bye, Mrs Tamia, see you next time!” The woman waved to him as he walked on until they were out of view. Nathaniel landed back down on Caelian’s head as the boy looked down at the cookie container. “Well, that wasn’t too bad, right?” “Mrs. Tamia is always nice, I’m glad,” Caelian smiled, “I’d like to do something for her next time we visit- I don’t know what, though…” “Maybe you can make her something?” “I don’t really know anything I could make, though… I can’t bake or cook like she does… or sew… or anything, really.” “Well… You’ll have time to figure it out,” Nathaniel said with a yawn. “Yeah, I guess.” The sun had nearly set by the time Caelian left the town, bumbling back into the forest. It was harder to navigate at night, so he wanted to get back as soon as possible. “I don’t think you’ll make it before dark,” Nathaniel commented, looking at the slowly disappearing blotches of light against the forest floor. “Want me to go on ahead and let Gaia know you’ll report back to her in the morning?” “But I want to make sure she knows I went,” Caelian looked up as Nathaniel flew up off his head. “I’ll tell her, don’t worry. Just go ahead and go back to hollow and I’ll meet you there- I don’t want you slipping and falling off the stairs or anything because you can’t see.” “But Iaestia will just-” Caelian paused as Nathaniel zipped off ahead of him, apparently having already decided what to do, regardless of Caelian’s input. “... Use her water shield.” Caelian trekked on alone, now at a less brisk pace. He really wanted to report to Gaia tonight, but he didn’t want to make Nathaniel mad, so he’d just do as the sprite said. Lost in his own thoughts, he continued on as he recalled his time spent at the town. Mrs. Tamia was probably right, and Gaia pushed for it often, too. He really should visit more, regardless of how empty it made him feel. Even if the denizens never fully accepted him, it was his duty as the Goddess’ disciple to take care of them. Maybe if he just focused on that, with Nyxidae’s help, it wouldn’t be so bad. He smiled to himself at the thought. It was then that he noticed that the forest seemed especially quiet. It was normal for the songbird’s chattering to have died down by this hour, but there was a distinct lack of the chirping crickets that he always fell asleep to at night. He couldn’t even hear the frog’s chorus, either, despite their calls always being loud enough to echo throughout the forest. He paused, standing quietly amongst the trees. The sun was gone at this point, the moonlight now taking over, doing its best to provide the forest with its soft light. It was a feeling he couldn’t quite place, like something familiar, but forgotten. Somehow, something felt off. The air he breathed in felt unusually cold, like an icy hand gripping his throat. It was then he heard the snap of a twig from somewhere behind him, causing him to turn and look. “Hello?” he asked, staring off into the empty forest. Predators weren’t a concern for him; none of the carnivorous animals in the forest ever hunted the mana beings. But there was still a weird feeling somewhere in the pit of his stomach. He stood there for a few moments, waiting. There was nothing but silence. He took a step back, before turning and running off into the direction of the hollow. He wasn’t sure why he ran.

#EOE #Elements of emotion #webnovel #chapter 2

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