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with-love-from-hell · 2 years

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Nullify

{ft. Satan}

Part 6 of the Fortification Series (based on this request)

Genre: hurt/comfort, angst, some fluff

Written for a GN!MC (you/yours, they/them), though the partner is written as male.

WC: ~3.4k

TRIGGER WARNING: Each part contains graphic depictions of various types of abuse, please see specific content warnings for each individual part.

CW: emotional abuse, verbal abuse, yelling, manipulation, sexual coercion, cheating, gaslighting, light skin-picking, swearing, physical abuse, negative self-talk, graphic violence and gore, torture, urination

Series Masterlist

Note: Though I do have a masters degree in Psychology and clinical training in treating survivors of abuse, I am not your therapist, nor is this fic intended to take the place of professional help. If you are experiencing any type of abuse, please seek support from a professional. Utilize the Victim Connect Resource Center to get connected to the appropriate helpline.

Satan tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for you in the RAD library. He was tucked away in his usual corner, trying desperately to focus on the book in his hand. Usual something you suggested to him would keep his attention, but right now, all he could focus on was what had been keeping you for so long.

The study session he set up was supposed to have begun nearly an hour ago, though Satan knew it was typical for you to be late. At first, he was very insulted by the behavior, thinking that any time set aside for you should be cherished. His time was valuable, after all...even if the only thing he would be doing was reading in the library anyways. Over time though, he grew accustomed to the fact that you would typically be between ten and twenty minutes late to everything, and adjusted the way he set up your study sessions.

However, as the clock approached the 55 minute mark without so much as a text message to indicate your whereabouts, he began to grow concerned.

Satan stood and paced around the nearby shelves. One by one his thoughts flew by, the content of which becoming darker and more terrifying with each passing moment.

Did they just so happen to forget about today? It was every week at the same time, so I doubt that. Maybe one of my brothers carted them off somewhere...or did one of my brothers leave them by themselves? Maybe another demon showed up and cornered them...What if they’re hurt somewhere and need help??

Just as he was packing his bag to leave and find you, one of the large doors to the library creaked open in the distance. Satan snapped his attention to the direction of the sound of the door shutting hard against the thick wooden frame. Familiar footsteps approached quickly from the distance. Soon enough, you rounded the corner, panting hard with sweat beads sparkling on your brow.

“H-hey. I’m so, so sorry I’m late!” you managed to stutter out the words while trying to regain control over your breaths. Satan sighed in response, the action coming off as annoyance to you, when in reality it was a deep breath of relief that you were okay. You gulped, hoping you hadn’t annoyed him too much with your tardiness. “I un-understand if you don’t want to tutor me today because of me being late.”

Satan glanced up at you, giving you a half smile. “Its no trouble- we will just have to have a shorter session today. Though I must ask- what kept you, Mc?”

Your body becomes visibly tense. “I...I was with {name}. He insisted that I help him with his final Beast-Keeping project.”

Satan quirked an eyebrow at you. “What exactly did he need help with? The Beast Keeping course isn’t all that difficult.”

Shifting your weight between your feet, you cast your eyes away from him. “Well, I mean...no, it’s not. But...he needed my help with his final write up of the assignment, since he didn’t do much of the observations last week.”

“Is that so? Why didn’t he do it himself?” Satan muttered, moving his books back to the table and motioning for you to take a seat. You oblige, removing your own materials from your bag.

“Well, He was out with a few of his friends on Monday, on Tuesday and Wednesday he wasn’t feeling good, and on Thursday he had dinner duty. Plus, this weekend he went on a trip to Hell Dome to watch the Fangol tournament...So I did the observations for him. It only makes sense that I do the write up if I have all the information.”

Satan pinched the bridge of his nose. This wasn’t the first time you neglected your work in favor of basically doing your boyfriend’s work for him. In fact, this was why you needed the extra study sessions with Satan in the first place. Because of how much time and energy went into making sure his assignments were perfect, your own grades started to slip, causing Lucifer begin breathing down your neck. Satan stepped up to save you some grief, but he was becoming increasingly annoyed by how the man you were dating used your passiveness against you.

“Mc...You’re struggling to complete your own work- why do you keep doing his for him?”

You frown. “I...I was just trying to be supportive, you know?”

“There are other ways you can be supportive without running yourself into the ground by doing all his work.” Satan noted, annoyance clear in his tone.

“But...It’s my job as his partner to take care of him.”

Satan’s brow knitted in confusion. “Pardon?”

You rub your forearm sheepishly. “I mean...I’m not a good partner if I cant show him I can take care of him. There’s been many times where I’ve messed up and neglected his needs, so-”

“Name one time.”

“...huh?”

Satan crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at you. “Name one time that you ‘neglected his needs’.”

“Uhh...” You wrack your brain, trying to think of something to say in response. “Well...there was the one time where I went to the human world with you and Lucifer for a retreat when I had planned to help him with his laundry. And then when I made dinner during the retreat at the castle and he didn’t like it. Oh, and I also spend some Friday nights with all of you, when he said he’d rather have me at purgatory hall with him so we can have some intimate time.”

“Mc, none of that is neglecting his needs.” Satan sighs running his hand through his hair. “You do everything for that man and prioritize him in everything, and not once have I seen him make you a priority. It honestly seems to me like he’s just using you.”

Your frown intensifies and you drop your gaze away from him. “But...If I don’t make sure he’s happy...He’ll leave. He talks all the time about how he could find someone better. Without him I’m nothing.”

Satan stares at you, mortified by your assertion. “Mc, that is absolutely preposterous.”

You shrug in response, picking at a scab on your arm.

Satan shakes his head, snatching your hand in his. “You’re much more than a mule for him to pile his workload onto.- You’re intelligent, kind-hearted, caring, brave, and have a great sense of humor. If he thinks he can find someone better than you, then there must be a pile of manure where his brain should be.”

You let our a soft giggle, but the frown quickly makes its way back on your lips. “Thank you for saying that...but he’s right about everything. If I didn’t have him, I’m not sure who would really go for someone like me.”

“Wait a minute.” Satan squeezes your wrists gently. “Right about...what, exactly?”

“That I’m inconsiderate, prudish, useless, boring, ugly...” You pause, suddenly feeling stupid saying all of these things out loud. You start to wonder why someone who claimed to love you talked to you that way.

“Mc...seriously?” Satan huffs, anger growing at all of the things the man who claimed to love you had said about and to you. As you go on about the things he’s said and done, Satan feels the swell of wrath in his chest only grow more intense. You detail the ways he was clearly manipulating you into doing everything for him, and calling you a bad partner when you try to resist his desires- no matter how outlandish they were. Satan’s breaking point was the brief mention of him withholding affection if you declined to gratify him sexually, and how he had cheated on you multiple times under the guise of you not “putting out” enough.

“I think I’ve heard enough.” Satan murmured in a near growl, but tried his best to hold back his wrath. The last thing he wanted was for you to think he was mad at you. “Mc, why do you stay?”

You chew on the inside of your cheek for a moment before replying in another shrug.

He sighs. “There’s plenty of people who would cherish your company more than this ignoramus...and I am one of them.”

You blink back your surprise. “What..?”

Satan’s cheeks tint a deep pink, not having prepared himself for the confession he’d been holding in for so long. “I like you. A lot. And it hurts me to see you love this man who clearly treats you no better than a bag of trash. You deserve to be treated delicately, and encouraged to be your own person, rather than what he wants you to be...and you didn’t need to fix my family for that fact to be true.”

Your jaw hangs open slightly, not knowing what to say in response. Perhaps the years of your boyfriend tearing you down has made you blind to the fact that other people can- and do- like you beyond what you can offer for them.

Satan squeezes your hand in his. “I can’t force you to end the relationship- nor can I force you to date me instead. But I hope you take the time to think about the words I’ve said today. You’re more than what’s he’s made you believe you are.”

The two of you sit in silence for a moment before turning your attention to your study materials. Not much was done considering all of the time that had been used up by being late to the session and the conversation with Satan that ended up deeper than you anticipated. By the end of it, though, you were finally having second thoughts about the relationship, believing finally that perhaps you did deserve better.

--------------------------------------------

A week had passed since your conversation with Satan. Much to his dismay, you still remained within the relationship with your boyfriend. He watched him scold and criticize you for the poor marks he got on his Beast Keeping assignment- though the reason was not because of the quality of the work you had done. Satan had tipped the professor off to the fact that the man had been cheating on his assignments, reducing his grade so significantly that he would never be able to raise it past failing.

Since then, he had been non-stop berating you each time Satan saw the two of you together. It was clearly grating on you too. The way your eyes were stained in a permanent state of blood-shot and the deep bags underneath indicated to him that you had spent many nights up sobbing because of his words. He silently wondered when you would have enough. Though, little did he know, that day would come sooner than he anticipated.

The sound of yelling drew Satan’s attention away from his book. It was coming from the courtyard just outside the window he was sitting near in the Library. Satan closed his book and approached the window to see what had drew in a crowd of demons. He froze upon seeing you and your boyfriend in the midst of all the staring eyes, though something about it seemed different. Your boyfriend looked angrier than ever, his words coming out of his mouth so intensely that spittle was flung into your face, given how close his was to yours. You looked hesitant, but your stance appeared much more confident than the usual demure stature you held.

Satan quickly packed up his bad and darted out the door, ready to come to your aid should you need protection. He didn’t think the man would be so bold as to try to physically harm you, but he didn’t want to risk it. As he approached the two of you in the courtyard, his heart fluttered as the firm sentiment he instilled in you escaped your own lips.

“I deserve better than this. I already told you, and I’m not going to say it again- We’re done.” You crossed your arms over your chest and straightened your back further, the action clearly indicating conviction in your statement.

Satan smiled at you from behind your boyfriend, catching your eyes briefly. His eyes shimmered with pride at your ability to stand up for yourself and tell this loser to fuck off. You make a point to glance toward the Library before turning away from your boyfriend, walking away in the opposite direction. If Satan hadn’t known better, he would have missed the signal you gave to meet him in your usual spot.

“Get the fuck back here!” your ex-boyfriend shouted as he stomped toward you. You turned in time to see he had raised his arm up as if to strike you, and felt your heart drop to your stomach. Squeezing your eyes shut, you prepared for the impact of his hand striking your face.

When the impact didn’t come, you open your eyes to find the man gone. The rest of the demons murmured amongst themselves, but nothing intelligible could be gained from their conversation. You happened to notice that Satan, too, was gone. Without further hesitation, you quickly paced to the meeting spot to find Satan, wanting so desperately to be rid of the terrible feeling you had in the pit of your stomach.

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Within seconds, Satan had snatched your ex’s hand out of the air and jerked him backwards to the ground. Before the man had time to react, Satan uttered an teleportation spell that sent both he and the man to the front steps of Diavolo’s castle, preventing you from seeing what he was intending on doing. Satan dropped gracefully from the portal while the man fell from mid-air, slamming face-first on the marble steps leading into the large front doors.

The man groaned, setting his jaw as he rolled over. Satan towered over the man as he regained his bearings, chest heaving as the wrath he felt began to boil over. The audacity this man had in trying to hit you when you tried to leave- he only thanked whatever higher power at work that he had been there to stop it from happening. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became, demon form slipping out effortlessly between growls and labored breaths.

The man’s breath caught in his throat as he witnessed Satan morph into his demon form, and then into something...different. It was almost ethereal; well, if it wasn’t so terrifying, that is. A black mist-like fog encapsulated his entire being, and all that could be seen from where he lay atop the steps was the demon’s intense green irises, and elongated fangs that were pulled up in a snarl. The man felt his heart rate become rapid, the urge to flee increasing- but it was as if he was frozen in place. The air became thicker and thicker as the fog increased its radius, sucking all of the air out of the area in along with it. The man struggled to breathe, beginning to gasp for air as he finally found his body movements return to his control.

An attempt to flee turned into the man’s face hitting the ground once more as Satan’s gripped his leg with his tail, ultimately tripping the man. The serrated scales tore the skin of his calf as Satan dragged him back toward him. He lifted him upside-down in front of his face so that their eyes met. He was so close that he could smell the iron off Satan’s breath- as his gums bled profusely from his growing teeth.

“L-let me go!” The man screamed desperately, darting his gaze around for anyone who could be of assistance to him.

Satan hissed in response; the sound sending chills down the mans spine. He refused to meet any of the man’s words with a dignified response. He only wished to strike true terror into his soul, and engaging in conversation- albeit an intimidating one- didn’t much appeal to him.

Satan’s tail gripped the man’s leg tighter, eliciting screams of pain deep from within him. The ripping of flesh beneath his grasp only fed into Satan’s theatrics, earing a satisfied, toothy grin. He continued constricting the mans leg until his tail met bone, and then- in an action as quick as snapping one’s fingers- the man’s tibia was snapped in two.

The man bellowed in pain as Satan dropped him to the ground. Upon seeing his mutilated leg, the man lost all sense. He scooted backwards away from Satan, mumbling please to be released as he lost control of his bladder. A trail of urine followed him as he backed all the way against the castle door, desperately trying to put as much space between he and Satan as physically possible.

A scoff was all that was given in response to the man’s actions. Satan began flexing his claws in anticipation for their use.

How pathetic.

Satan whipped his tail toward the man, pulling him to his feet by the arm and yanking him forward. Before the man could protest, Satan slashed his claws against the man’s face. Blood and chunks of flesh flew from his cheeks as he wailed, painting the beautifully polished marble steps a deep scarlet color. Satan nearly purred at the sound of his agony, finding deep pleasure in his pain. The man continued to beg as Satan clawed at the man’s face and chest until he was nearly unrecognizable, with the exception of the badge on his RAD uniform indicating he was an exchange student.

When the man had lost enough blood to the point where he was barely conscious, Satan dragged his body back up to the front doors of the castle. He left him in a pile of flesh and sinew, blood soaking the marble as it cascaded like waterfalls down the steps. the action was similar to that of a cat who had killed its prey to display for their owner- a way to display his pride in being able to protect you.

Satan watxhed the mans body for a moment while he calmed himself back down. Just as his breathing stopped, Satan's demon form dissipated and a wave of relief washed over him. He made his way back to RAD with the help of another teleportation spell, feeling exhausted from the mauling dealt out to your ex boyfriend.

As Satan entered the library, he immediately noticed you pacing the floor, picking nervously at the skin on your arms. When you saw him, you followed your immediate instinct and captured Satan in a tight hug. After pulling away and noticing his blood-soaked clothes that had subsequently stained your own attire, you figured you were in for another lengthy conversation in place of your normal study session. To your surprise though, Satan took you by the hand and lead you back to the House of Lamentation to spend the evening with him- in whatever capacity you would have him in.

Before leaving, you notice him glance at a notification on his phone before shutting the device off. You couldn't see all of what it said, but the message appeared to be from Lucifer, asking about the mutilated remains of your boyfriend on the steps to the castle.

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earlgreydream · 3 years

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time for us.

| loki x reader | angst | fluff |

anon requested. loki has been working a lot lately and hasn’t really had anytime for the reader and he completely forgets about their anniversary and she doesn’t tell him for a couple of days but then he snaps at her and they have a huge argument

a/n: this doesn’t have any spoilers for the show— just mention that Loki works for the TVA (which isn’t canon at the time of me writing this)

You loathed Loki’s new job, working for the Time Variance Authority.

Ever since Loki began at the TVA, they’d managed to occupy nearly all of his time and energy, leaving little to none left for you. Your relationship was strong, but only a few weeks of work had put a strain on the two of you.

He’d become more short tempered, and easily agitated. You tried to be patient, but little things seemed to antagonize you, and soon every small thing was becoming huge.

Above all, you hated to fight with Loki. You bottled up your frustration, shoving them down inside of you and keeping them hidden and locked away. Your limited time with Loki was precious, and you didn’t want to poison it with your annoyance. However, it was doing damage that you hadn’t yet comprehended, building a pressurized weapon that was bound to explode.

It took weeks, but the explosion came.

Loki had been so caught up in work that he missed your anniversary. It had escaped his mind entirely, passing like any other day. He was distracted by variants running wild, and the need to please his new boss. He felt responsible for things that were going wrong, and he had put your relationship on the backburner.

You’d been certain he’d take you out during the night, or at least do something to acknowledge the anniversary of your love, but you’d been dead wrong. You waited at home as hours passed, and when his normal arrival time had long passed, the pain in your chest grew until your entire body was throbbing with hurt.

You took your makeup off, along with the pretty dress you wore-- the green one that your husband adored.

Loki had stayed late at work, taking overtime and showing up just before ten. You were so hurt you could hardly speak, but Loki’s mind was too muddled with work to even notice. You were already in bed when he returned home, and he’d kissed your forehead and gone to sleep with less than five words leaving his lips.

You laid awake in bed that night, staring at the wall. You should have told Loki you were angry, said something then and at least gotten it in the open. But you shoved it down with everything else— every other hurt and grievance and annoyance that poisoned you.

“Can you set that down, please?” You asked, four days later. You tried to keep your tone even, but you were impatient. The bite in your words was all you could do to keep from tearing the file from his delicate hands.

Loki was in the kitchen, his face buried in a variant case file. He was supposed to be helping you make dinner, but you were dismissed and cast aside once again as his work outshined you.

“I’m working, Y/N! It’s important. Don’t you want me to get paid so you can have your pretty things?” Loki snapped, shocking you.

“No!” You screamed, slamming the cabinet door shut.

He stared at you, turquoise eyes wide in shock at your outburst. He dropped the file on the counter, a harsh glare adorning his stunning face.

“No, Loki! I don’t fucking care about the pretty things. I don’t even know that I care about YOU!” The words were coming out before you could stop them.

“You don’t care about me?! All I ever do is for you!” Loki met your anger, matching your energy and only fueling the fire of rage that was building in your stomach.

“You’re such a selfish liar! You don’t give a fuck about me, Loki! You’re in a relationship with your bullshit job, you don’t give a damn about me! All of your time and your energy... and fuck, even your kindness goes to the stupid fucking TVA!! There’s nothing left for me, and I don’t want your scraps!” You shoved him back when he took a step toward you.

“I’m selfish? You’re needy and dramatic! You’re a spoiled brat, acting out when not every ounce of my attention is being given to you. What, you’re mad that I didn’t help you make this salad? Grow up, Y/N!” Loki’s hateful words poured out, tasting like acid in his mouth.

“No! I’m mad that you forgot our anniversary and that you haven’t seen how much you’ve hurt me!” Tears burned as they streamed down your face, blurring your vision that was bleeding at the edges.

Loki’s lips parted, and realization suddenly crossed his features. He took a step back, recognizing his anger had spiraled out of control, and that your anger was justified.

“I didn’t mean it… I do care about you, I just want you to care about me.” Your voice broke, and shaky hands went to your mouth, stifling a sob. Guilt swelled in Loki’s chest as he saw you fall apart, unable to bear the weight of your anger.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I don’t know how I’ve forgotten. Please, my love, forgive me,” Loki’s tone softened, and he knelt down to his knees before you.

He didn’t care about the messy floors ruining his perfect suit, nothing mattered to him then except for you.

“I shouldn’t have gotten so angry, I just miss you,” you were weeping, unable to hold the sobs at bay.

“It’s okay, scream and cry if you need to, but know I love you more than anything and I am terribly, terribly sorry.”

Loki gently pulled you forward, closing his arms around you. His forehead rested against your stomach, and you laid your hands on top of his head.

“I know. I know,” you stammered in shaky breaths. Your fingers trembled as you dragged them through his hair, overwhelmed with every emotion that washed over you all at once.

You got home from work, a couple of days after your fight. You had both apologized, easing the tension over. Loki hadn’t stopped apologizing, even when you promised him it was okay. It had been better since-- you weren’t keeping secrets or harboring anger, and you felt exceedingly better in the aftermath of your fight.

You walked into your master suite, considering a hot bath or a shower after your day. You were lost in your thoughts as you kicked your shoes off, before turning to the bed. A dress was laid out on the end of the bed, glittery heels and jewelry in a box beside it. Loki wasn’t home, but a note was attached, telling you to get dressed and he’d meet you.

You smiled, lifting the black cocktail dress. You changed, fixing your hair and makeup in the mirror. Your day at work had been long, and you didn’t know what Loki had in store for you, but you were excited.

The lock clicked open on the door, signaling the arrival of your husband. You stepped into the foyer to greet him, met with Loki in an all-black suit. A grin spread across his expression as he noticed you, making warmth bloom in your chest.

“You look-” you both started at the same time.

You smiled and tilted your head, letting him speak.

“You look beautiful,” Loki spoke softly before giving you a kiss.

“Thank you. You look sharp. What’s the occasion, what are we doing?”

“I’m so sorry I missed our anniversary. I thought we could celebrate us tonight.”

You broke into a grin, nodding excitedly.

“Yes. Yes, let’s do it.”

“Of course. Let me set my things down,” he kissed your cheek and stepped into your master, cleaning up and dropping his bag.

You were driven to a fancy restaurant, one hand in Loki’s as the other smoothed over the wheel of his black sports car. He dropped the keys with a valet, and you were escorted to a table in the back of the place.

“Wine, Mrs. Laufeyson?”

“Please,” you nodded, and the waiter poured you a glass of sparkling pink moscato.

“I’ve gotten us a suite at the resort in the city. I have a bag packed for you in the car, I thought we could enjoy a weekend away. You deserve it,” Loki brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles.

“You’re spoiling me,” you giggled, sipping your wine.

“As I should be.”

Elaborate French dishes were brought out on gorgeous plates, looking like something from a food blog. It tasted divine, and Loki told you some history about the dish from some time he was living or traveling in Paris. You listened to his animated stories, thinking about how you were so in love with him.

“Why’re you staring at me like that?” Loki laughed softly, spooning sorbet into your mouth.

“Because I love you. And you’re charming and cute when you get excited,” you confessed with a grin.

“I love you too. I’m sorry about everything,” he apologized.

“It’s okay. We’re past it. Time moves forward for us.”

Loki nodded, leaning forward and smearing a kiss over your temple before retrieving your car from the valet.

“To the hotel?” he asked, sliding his hands over your hips and kissing your neck as you waited.

“Okay,” you giggled, squirming in his arms.

He squeezed your bum, making you gasp before opening the door for you, helping you into the passenger seat.

When you arrived at the hotel, there was a bouquet of roses on the table, and candles burning around. He kissed the back of your head, setting your bag down for you.

“Let me make this up to you,” his voice was deep as he unzipped your dress.

“Please,” you smiled, turning in his arms and pulling him into a heated kiss.

#earl grey loki #loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki angst #loki fluff #loki x reader #loki x reader fluff #loki x reader angst #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki imagine #loki oneshot #loki disney+#marvel #marvel au #avengers #avengers au #female reader

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bookstantrash · 3 years

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A/N: Just saw that I hit 200 followers! I didn’t expect that even in my wildest dreams, so thank you so much for those of you who follow me, like/retweet my posts!! 🥰

Thanks aside, enjoy this chapter! I ended up not making it as angst as I intended it to be, so lucky you!

In which she makes a friend, Part Eight

Cassian’s headache was going to kill him.

The past week had been exhausting. Azriel had left only a day ago, leaving Cassian with more work and more troubled thoughts regarding the advance of the rebels.

At least now he had something to occupy his time during his sleepless nights, preferring to work instead of simply staring at his bedroom’s wall until the first rays of sunrise appeared.

Cassian was also worried about Kaelin. The young Illyrian had dismissed Nesta’s worried look, simply stating that his hair had been bothering him and that a few bruises were common. He had only been unfortunate enough to receive most of the blows on his face.

Both Cassian and Azriel had confirmed Kaelin’s words, but he had caught Nesta whispering with the young Illyrian when they thought nobody was looking, and Cassian was starting to get worried that Kaelin was hiding something.

Nesta also occupied his thoughts. Now more than ever.

Although she had actually sided with Azriel, both messing with him non stop — Azriel’s dark humour having surprisingly matched perfectly with Nesta’s ironic one — Cassian would see how she sometimes appeared to be lost in thought, becoming a little quieter once in a while, no doubt with her mind busy with Kaelin.

Cassian had to discover what was happening. He had to make sure that Nesta’s rare and easy smiles — even the way her stormy blue eyes softened more than less nowadays — would not disappear. She deserved all the happiness in the world. As did Kaelin.

But first, he had to rid himself of the nasty headache that had been bothering him all day.

“Now I know why Azriel rubs his temple so often” Cassian thought as he made his way for the healers tents, rubbing his own temple in a vain attempt to ease the pounding inside his head.

As he walked further into the tent, the smell of different herbs assaulted him, and Cassian took a deep breath, an expecting scent he could not name laying a blanket of calmness over him, easing his pain.

“Somebody give me some salt! An evil spirit has arrived!” Cassian heard a familiar grumpy voice shout.

“I missed you too Esmée” he said, stopping near the table where the matron of the healers appeared to be making a complicate looking potion.

“Bah, missed me! You missed coming here and charming my healers to give you extra bandages to wrap your fists, that’s what happened” Esmée replied, snorting.

“You usually need to wrap your hands or else they’ll get hurt even more. Am I wrong ladies?” Cassian playfully said, winking at one of the healers, who blushed.

“Hurt hands!! As if!” Esmée indignantly exclaimed “You are one vain warrior who does it for the aesthetics in four out of five cases!”

“And stop flirting with my healers! You’re distracting them!” she added, hitting him on the head with the small wooden stick she used to grind the herbs.

Cassian gave a surprised yelp, earning giggles from the healers.

“Great, now I’ll have a pump in the morning along with a headache” he thought, massaging his head.

“Esmée” Cassian charmingly tried, giving the old female his best puppy eyes “Uyara of the healers”

“Flattery will not get you anywhere kunumim” she huffed, but Cassian could see her eyes shining with secret delight.

Uyara meant Lady, owner and even dominant in the Illyrian tong. And Cassian may use flattery, but he was no liar while doing it. Esmée was the best healer the Illyrians had. She knew secrets long lost, passed only from matron to matron of camp. And her abilities were just as legendary. She truly was the Lady of the Healers.

“This time I did not come here to ask for bandages” Cassian said “I was wondering if you had any herbs for headaches. Mine is killing me”

Esmée surprised Cassian by raising her hands and cupping his cheeks, bringing his face down so she could inspect it.

“You have dark shadows under your eyes. Your eyes are tired, and you are a little anaemic” the old healer’s voice got unusually soft, maternal concern lacing it “You work too much. Have you been having trouble sleeping kunumim?”

Cassian felt his chest tighten a bit at Esmée’s words.

It had been a long time since someone had noticed how tired he felt beneath his happy facade. Since someone had cared to stop and really look at him.

Cassian loved his family. But even around them he felt the need to keep up the appearances.

He had to be the funny one. The one always there to make sure everyone was happy and comfortable.

Cassian sometimes wanted to scream. Wanted to cry and complain.

Wanted someone to hug him and let him slip his mask off.

Wanted someone who loved him enough to hear his troubles.

But Cassian could not afford to be selfish right now.

He had a camp to take care of.

“I’m fine Uyara” smiling weakly, Cassian gently took her hands off his face, squeezing them in reassurance.

Esmée clicked her tong in annoyance, her mean and grumpy attitude back in an instant, as if she was not worried at all about him.

“Lucky for you,” Esmée said, motioning for him to follow her to the back of the tent “we have recently made some painkiller tonics”

Her next words, however, got lost when Cassian smelled that calming scent again.

Closer now, he could clearly smell lavender and vanilla, a familiar scent.

And that’s when he saw her.

Nesta, an apron tied over her dark green dress, her sleeves pushed back — Cassian caught himself staring at her bare forearms and resisting the urge to run his fingertips softly against her milky skin — and brows knotted in concentration while she filled some vials.

“Nesta, grab two of those vials and pack them for this headstrong Commander”

At Esmée’s words, Nesta raised her head and looked in their direction, stormy blue eyes widening slightly when she spotted Cassian beside the healer.

“So this is where she disappears to everyday after lunch”

Nesta quickly recomposed herself, effortlessly filling the small glass flasks and placing them in a little pouch, Cassian not taking his eyes off of her for a single moment.

Esmée huffed in approval, but when Nesta tried to hand it to her, the healer refused it.

“You also need to rest. You think I did not see you dozing off? Or the way you were blinking heavily while mixing the herbs?”

Cassian’s attention peaked at that, and he noticed the shadows underneath Nesta’s eyes. They were faint, fainter than his, but they were still there.

“I’m fine Esmée” Nesta strongly argued, not backing off.

“You’re off duties until you’ve had some sleep and that’s final” the matron replied “What’s the problem with you two and not sleeping? It’s not as if you don’t have a bed”

And before they even knew what had happened, Esmée had ripped the apron from around Nesta’s waist, threw her coat and banned them from the tent.

“If that overexcited pitanga appears I’ll let him know that you already left with the Commander” with this last warning, Esmée left them outside, both a little lost.

Nesta was the first one to recompose herself. She wore her coat and started walking back to the cabin, not waiting to see if Cassian was following her.

Which he obviously was, effortlessly catching up to her given his long strides.

“You seem to be very fond of walking” he tried, casting her a side glance.

“I have no wings” she snorted “How else am I supposed to get anywhere then?

“Is that an invitation to fly with me Ness?” Cassian said, half joking and half expectant of her answer.

He would not lie and say the opportunity to hold her close to him did not tempt him. And he would not lie further by saying he had not been dying to show her how beautiful Illyria could be from above.

“No” she swiftly cut his offer down, staring straight ahead.

“It’ll be fun” he tried again.

“What’s so fun about making someone sick?” Nesta snapped, and Cassian remembered the last time she had flown.

How Rhysand had purposely flew faster than she could possibly stomach, no doubt a petty move from his side.

“I would fly very slowly” he tentatively said “And not even that high”

Cassian only received silence in answer, but he could tell from the way Nesta was pursing her lips that she was tempted to say yes.

“It is faster this way” Cassian added.

“Fine,” Nesta finally answered, a hint of annoyance in her voice “but one smart trick from you and you’ll wake up with burnt eyebrows tomorrow”

“I wouldn’t dare and try to make Your Highness uncomfortable”

They stopped walking, Cassian hesitating to take the first step and embrace Nesta.

The same could not be said about her, however, who boldly got close to him.

“So? Are we going or not?”

“Eager aren’t we sweetheart” Cassian gathered her on his arms, Nesta lacing her own around his shoulders “If I knew you were so desperate to hold me I would have brought this ideia up sooner”

Before she could throw a barbed reply his way, Cassian opened his wings and shot to the sky, feeling Nesta tighten her hold and bury her head on his shoulder.

Siphons flashing, Cassian pulled a shield over them, the air that high up being colder, specially when autumn was nearing its end.

He may or may not have taken the opportunity to discreetly take a better look at Nesta.

At the way the few strands of her hair had escaped her braid, tickling his cheek as they were blew by the wind.

At the way she got braver and raised her head a little, her blue eyes the colour of the cloud free sky and sparkling with wonder.

“It’s beautiful” and Nesta’s voice was so soft, so full of wonder, that Cassian imagined if that was how she had been before the war. When she was human and all she wanted was to keep Elain happy and travel the world.

“It is”

But he was not looking at the view.

Was not looking at how the sun sparkled against the shiny peeks of the mountains, how the vast green forest beneath them looked like a gigantic carpet laid over Illyria.

Cassian was looking at the female on his arms, savouring every precious second of the moment and thanking the gods he had promised to fly slowly, just so he could hold Nesta longer.

Letting her go once they were back on the ground was one of the hardest things he had ever done, missing her warmth and her jasmine and vanilla scent as if he was missing one of his own limbs.

He hoped he affected her the same way she affected him.

Hoped she felt even a minuscule fragment of what he felt for her.

Hoped he had not misunderstood the way she too seemed to regret letting him go.

~•~

Cassian didn’t even have to take the medicine for his headache, that annoying pounding having disappeared mid flight.

Nesta Archeron, he decided, was the best medicine he could have.

And it seemed that luck was finally on his side, for when they had arrived and Cassian asked her if she’d like to eat something, Nesta surprisingly said yes, going as far as to put the kettle on the stove to boil some water for tea.

Feeling bashful and enjoying his luck, Cassian attempted to make some small talk with Nesta, asking her about her day, what she liked about learning to be a healer, what she thought about Esmée.

He had been scared she’d shut him out, but she answered his questions with no problem, asking him some in return.

Cassian’s day had started awful but seemed to be walking towards being the best he’d ever had, specially when he appeared in living room after a warm bath and spotted Nesta, once again sitting comfortably on the couch — one of her new books laid on her lap — hair in a simple braid and wearing that mouth watering leggings, combined with a white tunic that drew attention to her eyes.

The fireplace was, as usual, empty.

Cassian could not understand how Nesta managed to make do with only fur blankets, specially now that winter was fast approaching.

“The fireplace.... why don’t you like to light it?”

That caught Nesta’s attention, and he saw how she flinched.

Dangerous. It was a dangerous ground that he was walking on.

They had only talked about futilities so far. But to ask her something so personal, something he suspected was related to the war and her traumas...

He didn’t want to see her back to the dark and empty place she used to go when she had first arrived, eyes faraway and empty.

“You don’t have to answer that if you’re not comfortable, but I’m... worried” Cassian flapped his wings a little, an evident sign of his anxiousness “Winter in Illyria is ruthless”

“It was no different from when I was human” Nesta snapped, but her voice had a slight tremble to it.

“It is. And you...we won’t be able to go through it if we don’t have a fire burning” he walked towards the sofa, daring to sit down beside Nesta, but holding himself back from touching her hand, which clutched the hardcover of the book “Even the wards and walls here are not enough to keep the cold away. Winter at Illyria won’t be like winter in the human land. Or in Velaris”

Nesta only stared and stared at the fireplace, as if it would light up any minute. After some time, she spoke, her voice almost a whisper.

“The sound that the fire makes...when it burns...it reminds me of bones” she shuddered “Of bones breaking”

Her father’s neck.

Maybe even his wings.

He hadn’t known.

Hadn’t known and last solstice she had stayed all night, without complaining about the noise. Without asking to diminish the fire or even make it soundless — Cassian knew that Rhysand, Amren or even Mor would be able to do it. But she had not asked to. Had not wanted to appear weak. To most probably not worry Feyre.

Nesta had been suffering all this time.

Alone.

“I... I have no magic. At least not any apart from the killing power every Illyrian has. So I’m not able to make the fire soundless”

“But you could do it” he added softly “If you lit the fire with your powers... I think you’d be able to turn the sound of the wood snapping off. The fire would be yours to tame. To control”

“You think it would work?” she asked, and Cassian felt a sliver of hope in her tone.

Control. It was all about control. And if Nesta felt like she was in control of the situation, she would be able to support a burning fireplace, sound or not.

“I think you are able to do whatever you wish to, but the first step is to try”

“Grab the wood then” Nesta said.

And Cassian did. He piled the wood neatly, and Nesta moved to stand in front of the fireplace, standing her hands in front of her.

“Just like we practiced” Cassian softly said, moving behind her, his front only a couple of inches from her back “Reach deep within you for it, and then redirect it to the wood”

He could picture Nesta knotting her eyebrows in concentration, and her silver flames soon appeared on her hands.

“Good, now project them towards the fire” Cassian’s voice took the tone he usually used during training, a way to ground her.

Nesta’s flames got brighter and with a little push of arms they flew towards the wood, burning it.

It started small, but soon the fire was roaring, the crack crack of wood filling the air.

“Now turn it off Nesta”

“I-I can’t” she said, her whole body starting to tremble “I don’t know how”

“You can. And you will” he placed a hand on her lower back, like he had once done a lifetime ago in a war tent “You’re the one in control. The flames obey you and no else”

Nesta’s breath was coming in pants now, but the cracking of the fire gradually began to get quieter.

“Just like that Ness” he encouraged, daring to get a little closer, until his front almost touched her back “You’re doing amazing xe nhia”

With a grunt, the sound of the burning wood died out completely, and Nesta staggered back into Cassian’s chest, the flames around her fists also disappearing.

He held her against him, filled with awe and proud of her for meeting her fear head on.

Nesta straightened herself, turning to face Cassian, her blue-gray eyes shining with some hidden emotion.

“Thank you” she whispered, and Cassian swore he had never heard more precious words.

“It was all you” he shrugged “You don’t have to thank me sweetheart”

“I wouldn’t have tried it if it weren’t for you” she stubbornly replied “So accept my thanks and stop being so headstrong”

“Me? Headstrong?” Cassian chuckled, his arms tightening around her “Aren’t you talking about yourself Nessie?”

Nesta snorted, placing her hands on his chest and Cassian prayed to the gods that she wouldn’t notice how fast his heart was beating.

Being so close to Nesta did things to his heart.

And to other parts of him.

“Go make dinner you stupid bat” she said, pushing him away “Kaelin should be arriving, and I bet he’ll be starving after training”

As if on cue, the door opened and the Illyrian walked in.

“Hey...” Kaelin greeted weakly, and Cassian noticed fresh bruises on the kid’s face, the older ones barely healed.

“Kaelin!” Nesta exclaimed, practically running towards the young Illyrian “What happened?”

“Oh this is nothing” he shrugged, wincing slightly “Just lost at an one on one spar today”

“Kaelin...” Nesta tried to touch him, but the kid swiftly backed off, avoiding her.

Cassian saw the look of hurt flashing on Nesta’s face before she concealed it beneath a mask of coolness.

“I’ll just wash up and then help with dinner” saying that, Kaelin quickly left the room.

It seemed that Cassian’s luck could only go so far, for his worries about Kaelin seemed to have doubled.

•

Fixed tag list: @sayosdreams @thewayshedreamed @sjm-things @perseusannabeth @arinbelle @caotica-e-quieta @vidalinav @swankii-art-teacher @ireallyshouldsleeprn @duskandstarlight @greerlunna @thegoddessaltenia @dayanna-hatter @verypaleninja @awesomelena555 @courtofjurdan @allilal @sensitiveillyrian @moe8 @illyrianwitchling13 @silvernesta @bri-loves-sunflowers @queenestarcheron @imwritingthesewords @vasudharaghavan @rainbowcheetah512 @darkshadowqueensrule @letstakethedawn @starlightorstarfire @city-of-fae

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#sarah j maas #sjmaas #sjm books #sjm fanfic #nesta archeron #cassian #nessian #cassian x nesta

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scarasimplysimping · 3 years

Text

These Books Of You

Xingqiu x Adepti Reader

Sypnosis: A boy of noble blood and disciple to the Guhua Clan, Xingqiu has been reading books of the heroic adventures of an elusive adepti, [Y/N] ever since he was a little boy.

Now a bit older, he sets everything aside in a journey to meet you.

(A/N): I planned to put it all in one post but like it wouldn't fit. Part 2 link below.

"How long will you stay with me?"

"Forever."

Liar.

It was midnight. All of liyue was quiet and asleep except for a certain room where you could here the rustling sound of packing made by a young man eager to leave before dusk.

"Are you sure about this?" Chongyun asks, catching his breath after climbing his friend's window.

"Most definitely!" Xingqiu says excitedly as he picks out the books he would be bringing.

Chongyun furrows his eyebrows, "You don't even have a plan!"

"These books are my plan," The dark haired boy says in a wise tone.

"WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?!"

Xingqiu chuckles in response.

Chongyun begins to rant again. "Where will you go? Where will you search? What will you eat? What if you get mugged?"

Xingqiu laughs harder, "My friend, I appreciate your concern but I assure you. Nothing you say will change my mind. I will search all of Teyvat if I must."

"What if they don't exist? What if it's all fiction? Mere children's fairytales."

This makes Xingqiu stop in his tracks, contemplating the possibility for a few moments before coming to the conclusion, "They are real. I can feel it."

"And what of your family? Your brother?"

"I've left them a letter."

"What will they do with the letter? Teach it chivalry?" Chongyun says sarcastically.

Xingqiu does not bother to reply.

The exorcist sighs in defeat, "Xingqiu, if you don't come back alive, I will kill you."

"Then perhaps it's best if I don't come completely," He teases.

"Then I shall kill you right now and you won't get to leave at all."

The two friends bicker like this for a while until it is time for one's departure.

"Be careful, Xingqiu," Chongyun bids.

"I will. Make sure my family doesn't do anything rash while I'm gone."

The light haired boy rolls his eyes.

"Dear Chongyun, If in any case I don't come back, know that I've always appreciated your friendship."

And just like that, Xingqiu climbs out the window and disappears into the dark of night.

In the early afternoon, you sat peacefully, having tea with Cloud Retainer and Zhongli atop of Mt. Aozang. The breeze was nice and so was the view.

"It's a shame only we came to this tea party. It's been ages since we've gathered with the adeptus," The geo archon spoke.

"This is not a petty tea party. One has called a meeting to discuss the next move regarding a matter of great importance," Cloud Retainer retorted.

"And what might this matter be?" You ask while slouching on your seat, showing no interest.

"One has come to notice that ever since the incident of Osial's return and defeat, mortal's have come to One's domain asking for favors or offering goods much more times than One is comfortable with. The mortal, Aether has also-"

Cloud Retainer could not finish because the sound of your intentionally loud sigh interrupted her.

"Is the almighty Cloud Retainer scared of mortal affection and admiration?" You tease. Even Zhongli could not help but smile a bit.

Cloud Retainer threw you both a look that.. well you could only assume was a glare since she was in the shape of a bird after all.

The light-hearted argument continues until you here a soft grunting from a distance.

You all pause, listening as the voice becomes louder and louder and then, you see a hand grip the edge of the mountain, then another. A dark blue haired young man lifts himself up and throws himself onto the mountain surface, panting heavily.

"Oh.. Sweet.. sweet ground.," He says. You can almost hear him thank the Archons that he's made it this far.

"And what is your purpose of interrupting an important gathering?" Cloud Retainer's voice boomed.

Xingqiu blinked a bit before remembering why he was here in the first place. Quickly, he got up and bowed, still woozy from all the climbing. "I've been traveling for two days, seeking an adepti. I've heard that there's another adepti who lives here and I respectfully ask guidance in my journey," he says, still in a bowing position.

Zhongli recognizes him, "Xingqiu, are you not a little to far from Liyue Harbor?"

Xingqiu, in turn also recognizes the man but dares not question Zhongli's purpose. His only concern was finding you. "Please don't tell my family, Mister Zhongli."

You decide to entertain the mortal, "Well Xingqiu of Liyue Harbor, which adepti is it that you're looking for?"

Only then does he make eye contact with you, Xingqiu is taken in by your beauty. He stares a little too long before answering, "The heroic (Y/N)! The legendary adepti of great legends! They who saved thousands of lives and vanquished thousands more foes!" He says enthusiastically.

You are dumbfounded, never have you been sought after by a mortal for your heroic deeds. This was new. "And where do these legends come from?" You ask nervously.

"The books I've read! I've read every single one of the books that mention them."

Conveniently, you remember that time, thousands of years ago where you saved a family of writers who thanked you relentlessly and swore they'd write of your heroics.

While you are contemplating, Cloud Retainer speaks, "Look no further, mortal. The one you seek is here," She gestures to you.

You glare at her. "Is the mighty (Y/N) scared of mortal affection and admiration?" She mocks.

Xingqiu stares at you, trying to imprint this moment into his brain. "You... you weren't what I was expecting."

"And what were you expecting exactly?" You ask, offended.

"To be honest, I assumed you looked like a bird or fox! I was not expecting someone human and... beautiful." He says almost absent-mindedly.

Beautiful? As in attractive to a mortal's eyes? How dare he use such methods of flattery.

"How long will you stay with-"

Liar. Liar. Liar.

Zhongli and Cloud Retainer decide it was best for them to leave, they quietly dismiss themselves and leave you alone in this awkward situation.

The young man before you just stares at you with dazzled eyes.

"Now that you've found me, what do you plan?" You finally question.

Xingqiu stops for a moment. He didn't really think this far and didn't expect to find you so soon.

"I want to be your friend," Xingqiu blurts out.

You are again, taken aback by his straight-forwardness.

This was unnecessary. A mortal of such fleeting lifespan. How would this benefit you? This wouldn't benefit him either; you think to yourself. This is nothing but mortal entertainment. You had no interest in entertaining a mortal at your expense.

"I have no need for mortal company," You say firmly, all your nervousness replaced with a cold gaze.

"Please? I've dreamt of meeting you my whole life-"

"And now you have. Go."

"I swear to the Seven Archons I shall serve you well-"

"No!" This time, you raise your voice. "Go home," and with that, you vanish into thin air.

Xingqiu is sad and dejected, even on verge of tears but he does his best to keep it together. "Very well," He quietly whispers.

Xingqiu, climbing down the mountain is several feet away from the ground when his mind wonders back to you and the harsh rejection. "Well it's not like an adepti to mortal friendship is common anyway. At least I got to meet them," He says, trying to look on the bright side. He assures himself that he will return.

Tears start bluring his vision and he takes a wrong step, causing him to plummet down and make a loud thump sound.

He groans in pain. For the most part, he was unharmed except for his right hand which was twisted in a weird position.

"Drat! Xingqiu, how pathetic can you be? You fall and just had to break your right arm, you're sword hand!" He scolds himself.

The good part of this was that it was nightfall now, if he was lucky, all the hilichurls around the area would be asleep and he could avoid combat.

Unfortunately, fate had other plans as he sees a hydro abyss mage that he could have sworn was not there before. And the abyss mage sees him.

Xingqiu curses and tries to make a run for it, but as he was still limping from the fall, the mage catches up to him and teleports in front of him. Xingqiu stumbles backwards. In a desperate attempt, he shouts your name. But the abyss mage wasn't going to wait for you to show up. The young man suddenly feels himself getting drowned. So was this it? Rejected by a childhood dream, almost fell to his death and was currently being drowned? What a weird day. What a sad way to die. It's almost poetic. Xingqiu was slowly beginning to lose consciousness, coming to terms with this tragic death when he felt the bubble burst, quite literally.

He fell to the ground, the last thing he saw was the vanishing particles of a defeated abyss mage and what appeared to be a silhouette of a person- Xingqiu was saved!... and falling unconscious.

After you rescued him, you hurriedly brought him to Wangshu Inn, blurting out to Verr Goldet that you almost let a mortal die.

You paced back and fourth at the terrace. While the vigilant yaksha, Xiao watches you with annoyance.

"What if he dies?" You ask frantically.

"You dressed his wounds quiet well. He won't die unless someone comes in and murders him," Xiao says as if trying to be comforting.

Xingqiu awakens from his slumber, body still aching. A cast of bandages was made in order to support his broken arm.

The door slowly opens, you walk in with some hot soup and set it on the bedside table. It didn't take him long to realize that you were the one who saved him.

"You're awake," You state the obvious but almost sigh in relief. "Despite the attack, you managed to go almost unscathed.. except for well, your broken arm."

"Thank you... You really are my hero," Xingqiu says, once again beaming at you.

"Don't come back to Mt. Aozang,"

"Wait- what?" His face falls. And all the feelings of being rejected earlier come back.

"If...," You hesitantly start, "If you must see me, then I spend one night a week at the statue of Pervases." This was a lie, of course. But you were willing to do as you said if that meant the mortal, Xingqiu would stop going through such dangerous measures in order to meet you.

As if like a switch, his bright smile returned almost instantly. "My liege, you won't regret this!"

"Drink your soup and meet me at the terrace when you're prepared to return for Liyue Harbor." You don't know why you say what you say next but it felt right, "and call me (Y/N)."

You shut the door behind yourself quickly, leaving Xingqiu alone in the room, euphoric.

"You should not get too close to mortals," Xiao warns once you reach the terrace.

"I will not."

"In the thousand that I've known you, never once have I seen you prepare soup for a mortal.. or immortal."

"That means nothing."

"And I suppose your made up visits to the statue of Pervases mean nothing as well?"

He had a point there."Don't eavesdrop on my conversations, Alatus."

He glares at the sudden mention of the name. "Their lives are fleeting, (Y/N). The peace at the end of their journey is just a thousand years of grief for us if we so choose to befriend them. I just warn you because I care for you," Xiao says before vanishing from your sight.

He was right. You knew that. Of all the adepti, Xiao knew you the most. He was there when the mortal part of you was taken away in exchange for eternal life, after all.

You loved once. But that did not end well.

"How long will you stay with me?"

"Forever."

Liar

Never again.

Shortly after Xiao's departure, Xingqiu arrives with that ever so charming smile.

Charming? Did you just think that? Right after promising yourself to solitude? Oh dear...

"I've prepared! Will we go on foot or will you fly us there? I must warn you I get motion sick-" He stops talking when he notices you taking steps toward him. You put a hand on his shoulder and Xingqiu's mind goes blank. Was this approval? Mutual admiration? Were you friends now?

"Close your eyes," You tell him.

To which he obeys without hesitation. He's read enough romance books to know where this is going. Xingqiu would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous but at the same time he was extremely excited. His train of thought is cut short when he feels a harsh gust of wind blow his way.

"You may open them now."

He does and to his surprise, the both of you are back at Liyue Harbor, specifically the bridge.

"We... teleported?" He asks, embarrassed of his thoughts just moments ago.

You nod. "This is as far as I'll go. Make it back to your residence carefully and get some rest."

"Can't you come with me?"

"No."

"I have a friend who-"

"No."

"We can grab some countryside delicacy-"

"No."

He sighs in defeat, "But I'll see you tomorrow night, right?"

"Perhaps."

Xingqiu, in a moment of elation and not thinking properly, abruptly takes your hand and places a kiss on your knuckles.

Realizing what he had done the dark haired boy glows red as apples and lets go as quick as he took hold of you. "W-well... good-bye then."

The boy leaves you dumbfounded once again.

Part 2

#xingqiu x reader #xingqiu #genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin angst #genshin fluff

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bitch-butter · 3 years

Text

Little bit of a rivers prequel exploration. I've mentioned this scene a few times in the series, but it's not really my intention to do anything that takes place before part one, so this was just going to like slowly asphyxiate in my drafts unless I released it lol

She's going to live on Tumblr unless I somehow decide I want to do more of Whatever This Is in the future, but since it takes place before the series you don't need to have read the other parts which is sexy.

Read More for like 3k of Gay Shit~

* * *

Hay wasn’t the smell that Joe would have gravitated to normally. The mulchy wetness in combination with the dry and yeasty texture always made him think of bugs, and this feeling was not a welcome one when forced to be bedded down on a big pile of the stuff. Each breath full of the smell was nearly enough to make him gag.

Still, beat sleeping outside. And the smell was strong enough to cancel out his own smell, which, he knows from experience, isn’t a walk in the park right now either.

He had settled into a comfortable enough doze by the time his mind caught onto the frankly annoying fucking snoring emanating from the corner of the barn. Cracking his eyes open, he glared into the corner where a Hoobler shape slump is curled up against the wall, snoring away into the dark with an unfamiliar body sprawled on the ground a few feet away, seeming unperturbed.

One fucking night is all he’s asking for. Fuck.

Pulling in an aggravated breath, Joe sat up from his hay-bed, contemplating whether or not to try and ignore the sound or move out completely to a quieter spot. He glanced towards the door of the barn, where clear moonlight cut across the ground to illuminate the dry, if a hint cold, night beyond. It wouldn’t be the worst thing to sleep out tonight if he had to, he supposed.

He’s taking in the details of the scene outside when he spots what looks to be the toe of a boot popping out from beside the doorway. For a moment his heart picks up, hand moving to grasp onto his rifle, but the boot doesn’t move, just remains planted solidly in the dirt. The longer he looks, though, the more he makes out a calf, leading to a body sitting against the wall outside.

It’s curiosity more than anything that brings him to his feet. What kind of guy doesn’t fucking drop the second he gets an opportunity?

Of course it’s Webster.

He doesn’t know why the realization brings a smile to his face. Why the sight of the other man leaning up against the barn, legs bent and beaten up notebook in his lap, makes him feel oddly alive. He doesn’t even know Webster that well, only spoken to him one-on-one maybe a handful of times at most, and definitely doesn’t know him as well as he knows some of the other guys.

But still, he feels light. Light enough to step outside and look down in amusement at Webster, who in turn looks up at Joe in bewilderment. “Trouble sleeping in the dirt, Web?”

Bewilderment turns critical as Web frowns, eyes falling back down to his book as he continues writing. “Not tired.”

Snickering, Joe stepped around Web to let his own back hit the barn, sliding down to slouch beside the other man. “Always knew there was something wrong with you.”

He’s digging for his smokes in his pocket when he realizes that Web’s hand has stilled, and that the other man is looking aside at him with an inscrutable expression, eyes glancing over Joe’s face in the near-dark. “What?” he asked, an edge of anxiety in his voice.

Web’s face clears in an instant. “Nothing,” he sighed, turning back to his book. Even in the shadows Joe can see the tips of his ears are red.

“Right,” Joe nods disbelievingly, holding out his pack in an attempt to dispel the strange air surrounding them. Web takes one gratefully, mumbling a thanks as Joe placed one between his lips, holding his lighter up between them. They bend in towards each other, close enough that Joe can smell Web; a dirty, grass-like smell with an undercurrent of that same sweat all the guys have now.

Better than hay, he thinks as Web draws back with his cigarette lit, before snapping the lighter closed and smoking in silence for a few moments. He finds his eyes drawn ceaselessly to Web’s pale hand as it moves across the page, turns to the next, and continues on. Web has good hands, he thinks to himself, before blinking the thought away.

Doesn’t mean he stops looking, though.

“What are you writing about?” he asks softly, voice creaking a bit.

Web looks at him, face more open as he sighs out a stream of smoke. “Eindhoven.”

“Got a dame you want to remember, huh?”

Web huffs a small laugh. “No,” he takes another pull on his smoke, breathing deep and exhaling steadily. “I just don’t want to forget what it was like. How it felt.”

Joe smiled quizzically. “Writing a book or something?”

“I don’t know,” Web replies, and it’s such an obvious lie Joe can’t help but laugh. This earns him a withering glare. “Even if I was, why do you care, Liebgott?”

“I don’t,” Joe bites, and it’s such an obvious lie of his own that Web laughs at him. “Guess I’m having trouble imagining anybody wanting to read about you.”

Web scowled at him. “Well, it wouldn’t be just about me, that’s not the point.”

“So you are writing a book?” Joe grinned, bringing his dying cigarette back to his lips.

Mouth opening and then closing just to open again, Web looks at Joe in bare-faced annoyance. “You...” he trailed, seemingly having trouble finding the exact right word to express how irritated he was.

“You’re going to catch flies, buddy,” Joe smirked, grinding the butt of his smoke in the dirt and almost snickering as Web’s lips clamped shut. “Anyway, don’t count your chickens, Webster. War ain’t over yet and I doubt anything you replacements have to say would be worth a damn.”

This snaps Web out of whatever annoyance induced fugue state he was entering. “I’m not a fucking replacement, Liebgott,” he snapped, eyes glinting at Joe’s in the moonlight. “I was in Normandy, same as you. And even if I hadn’t been, what gives you the right to treat me or any of the other guys like that?”

Scoffing, Joe found himself toeing the line between being amused at Web’s reaction and finding himself somehow actually getting hot. “Way I see it I get to talk to you or any of the other guys however I want,” he said, meeting Web’s eyes with no small degree of challenge. “Seeing as I was here from the beginning and all of you are just showing up to chew on the bones.”

Web stares at him for a moment, his pale face unguarded and awash with surprised pain. “So, what then? Babe isn’t Easy to you? I’m not Easy to you?”

“Babe proved himself.”

A sharp “Ha!” stung in Joe’s face as Web’s head tilted back momentarily, before the other man levelled him with a skeptical look. “You’re so full of shit that you don’t even realize you are, Liebgott.”

Joe shook his head, unsure of why the back of his neck was heating so rapidly. “Keep telling yourself that, Webster. Fact is, what you do out there’s going to matter more than whatever bullshit you’re scribbling in your diary.”

Web nodded mockingly. “Alright, Joe, so I just need to earn the approval of who? You?”

It’s said so sneeringly that Joe can’t help but be nasty back. “Eh, we’ll see if you make it back.”

The hum Web emits might be mistaken for a tease, but Joe can see the lines drawn on the other man’s face as he shoots his eyes down to the ground. “Right,” he nods, swiftly standing and grabbing his pack from the ground beside him, crushing his smoke under his boot. “I’ll take it into consideration,” he says, shooting Joe a dark look over his shoulder. “‘Night.”

Joe blinks and Web is striding away, almost in the space of a breath. “Sleeping outside is for suckers!” he calls.

“Fuck you!” Web called back, casual and unaffected as anything, blue eyes glancing over his shoulder and back at Joe. They shot fire at him, and Joe all of a sudden feels as though he’s been struck by lightning, heat zig-zagging from his head all the way down through his bones.

Inexplicably, he wants more of it.

As fast as Web was disappearing into the dark and the trees of the orchard beyond Joe is scrambling up, nearly running just to catch up with him. He settles at Web’s side as though they had not just devolved into verbal fisticuffs a few moments prior, and gleans some pleasure from the clearly agitated face the other man gives him as they continue moving along side by side.

“Yes?” Web prompts impatiently.

“What?”

He holds back a smile at the roll of Web’s eyes. “What do you want, Joe?”

Joe has to scoff, shaking his head in the splintering shadows the darkened trees cast over them. “Like I’d want a goddamn thing from you, Web.”

The chuckle that greets him catches him slightly off guard, and he finds himself glancing back at the other man’s dark profile, the smile turning up the edges of Web’s full lips -

He shakes his head.

“I don’t think you actually know what you want,” Web said teasingly, voice low in the quiet of the night, eyes darting over to catch onto Joe’s like hooks. “If you did you wouldn’t be following me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Joe challenged, eyes still caught up in the knowing gleam of Web’s even as he tried in vain to gather the strength to break the connection.

“You don’t know?” Web asked obliquely, an air of casual imperiousness settling over his words like a heavy fog.

All of a sudden they’re stopped in the dark, trees sprouted up all around them in a pattern that, were it light out, might have been effortlessly beautiful, but in the dark gave the distinct impression of a cage surrounding them, stars glimmering beyond the branches above like shattered glass. But he can see Web in uncomfortable clarity, stood before him with his eyes looking down on Joe like he knows something, like he has a secret that he stole away in the fucking dark of the night, and damn it Joe wants it back.

“I know a hell of a lot more than you think I do,” he utters in what he intended to resemble a growl, but comes out sounding much more like a rasp.

“Oh, really?”

He steps into Web’s space, expecting Web to do what any other guy would have done and take a step back, and is met instead with Web’s unflinching conceit. With this added proximity he finds himself swallowing down some unnamable wave that rushes up through his body and threatens to spill out of him and straight onto Web, and in the dark he can feel his neck flushing.

If he can see Web in the dark then no doubt Web can see him right back.

He does, because his eyes move effortlessly from amusement, to annoyance, to resignation. “You don’t know,” he says definitively, and Joe can almost feel the words moving through the air between them.

Web says this as though it’s supposed to end the matter, break the connection, and yet if anything Joe can feel him moving in even closer, and it’s pure stubbornness that keeps him rooted to his spot. “What are you doing?” he murmurs, eyes moving down along the planes of Web’s pale face, drawn like a magnet to the sight of the other man’s lips, which are pink, and parted, and -

“What am I doing?” Web whispered back, sounding almost as though he was talking to himself, but their faces hovered close to each other in the dark for too long for him to not know what he’s doing, and the way his eyes aren’t on Joe’s eyes but lower, lower -

“I…” Web trails away in the second before suddenly their lips are meeting. And Joe knows he didn’t move, and he didn’t feel Web move, but they’re together, they’re connected, their mouths are moving against each other as soft as fucking clouds and their noses nudge and Joe’s neck is hot and it feels perfect, it feels like heaven to kiss Web, he’s kissing Webster -

Reality shoots back into him like the sear of a bullet to the head, and as fast as their lips meet he’s shoving Web away. His hands meet Web’s shoulders roughly, pushing him with strength that he almost didn’t know he had in him, and where the fuck was this side of him back in Toccoa?

But he only gets to relish the gasp of air back into his body for a moment, as his forceful push sends Web careening back, feet tripping backwards over the knobby roots of the trees surrounding them, and he hits the ground hard.

“Oh, shit,” he spits, immediately moving to narrow the space between them yet again, dropping to his knees beside Web’s downed form. “Are you alright? I’m sorry, are you alright?”

For his part, Web looks a little dazed by the quick pivots of Joe’s mood in just the last few seconds, and blinks rapidly in the shadows before coughing. “You’re like a fucking child, Christ.”

“Hey,” Joe mutters, flush deepening with embarrassment, with confusion.

Web’s eyes are on him again, and he only just keeps himself from shrinking back because where he had anticipated the usual swell of annoyance or of, please, anger, Web appears almost hesitant and...what? Fearful? His gaze moves over Joe’s face quickly, as though measuring every line, every angle, searching for something.

“What?” Joe croaks. “You scared?”

Swallowing heavily, the other man quirks a disbelieving eyebrow. “Aren’t you?”

“No, I -” he starts, before abruptly halting. It’s a lie, he is afraid. But not of Web, who’s still looking at Joe like he half believes Joe’s going to clobber him, but of himself. He’s never done anything like that before, never even allowed himself to linger on the thought of it for longer than the space of one thought between another. Certainly he hadn’t ever drawn Web into those fleeting moments. Well, not in a traditional way at least.

If he palmed his cock and saw Web’s hands, or the curve of his jaw, then that’s nobody’s business. He thinks about a lot of things.

“No,” he settles.

Web doesn’t look like he quite believes him, if the distressed curve of his lips is anything to go by, and Joe reaches out to settle a hand on his neck just to see the way his eyes widen. He swallows, feeling a shiver pass through him at this simple, voluntary touch, and before he knows it he’s smiling, and at the sight of his smile Web is smiling back. And if he’s been paying special attention to parts of Web lately his smile hasn’t been one.

It is now.

“Alright,” Joe whispers through half of a chuckle, shaking his head. “Can I kiss you again?”

Smile melting from relief to happiness, Web looks as though he’d do just about anything Joe asked him to, but he manages to huff a tiny laugh first. “Are you going to push me again?”

Rolling his eyes, Joe tugged at his light hold on Web’s neck, blood heating at the way the other man’s eyes fluttered. “No.”

Shifting up from where he’d been braced back on his arms, Web reached out to take gentle hold of either side of Joe’s face, one hand combing back through his dirty hair. “Then yes,” he nodded. “Yes, please.”

This time they pull each other into the kiss, their lips meeting again just as softly as before, slotting together with an ease that felt almost unnatural with disuse. His hand rubbed clumsily at the skin of Web’s neck, easing himself back into the rhythm of kissing. It wasn’t enough that he hadn’t kissed anyone since Georgia, but now he’s kissing a man on top of that, and the combination of sensations has him shuddering and hardening in his pants even before he feels Web’s tongue gently asking permission into his mouth.

His mouth falls open with the slightest pull to his hair, and he welcomes the other man’s tongue with a grace he honestly feels he should be lauded for. He’s been with some forthcoming dames, to be sure, but none of them have felt this strong or as sure in his arms, letting Joe take and taking Joe right back. It’s something he could easily get addicted to, he thinks, as his tongue presses in to play over Web’s and he firmly wraps his other arm around the other man’s waist.

Web’s arms wrapping around his neck are overwhelming at first, before he feels their bodies, pressed together, easing back to rest on the dark, mossy, ground. They settle side by side, facing each other, legs fumbling and maneuvering around until Web has one leg thrown easily over Joe’s hip and Joe has one knee pressed steadily between the spread of Web’s thighs.

They split apart at the first accidental nudge of their crotches against one another, Web gasping and Joe hissing, before Web begins gently kissing down along his jaw.

“You taste like olives, a bit,” Joe said hoarsely, catching his breath as though he just ran up Currahee.

“Oh, sorry,” Web apologized, glancing back up at Joe’s face with a furrowed brow.

Joe shook his head, pressing a kiss just off Web’s lips. “I like olives,” he rebuffed, pulling their mouths back together in a smacking kiss. “Fuck,” he gasped softly, pressing in to kiss along Web’s neck beside his ear. “You done this before?”

Web breathed out a little tremble, smoothing his hand up Joe’s back. “Kissed a man?”

“Yeah,” Joe rasped, swallowing heavily as his hips rolled against Web’s own, lazy but with intention.

The nod of the other man’s head draws him out of his fascination with Web’s neck, and he finds himself pressing an exhilarated kiss against Web’s cheek as he speaks. “Yes,” he admits in a whisper. “Not- ah, not many, but yes, I -”

He’s laying another, harder kiss against Web’s lips at the self-conscious wobble of the words, his tongue sweeping through Web’s mouth as though to gather them and take them back into himself. Groaning as the leg Web had thrown over him tightened, bringing them almost fully flush, he brought one hand down to grasp tightly at the meaty flesh of the other man’s thigh, pulling it gently upwards and had to smile at the pleased hum that rattled around Web’s body.

“Have you?” Web asked gently.

Joe shook his head. “No.”

“Oh,” Web murmured, pulling in a deep breath at the steady roll of Joe’s hips against his own, head falling back against the darkened soil and baring his neck for Joe, who immediately resumed kissing along its length. “Lieb...Lieb…” he breathed, almost absentmindedly as Joe realized exactly how much he enjoyed when Web said his name. “Joe...we should- we should pump the breaks a bit.”

Pulling his face from the hot expanse of Web’s neck, Joe frowned down at him. “What?”

“No, I -” Web swallowed, giving his head a clearing shake and blinking back towards Joe with a little more clarity. “I like it, I like it a lot, I’d just rather do this on the other side of tomorrow, if you know what I mean.”

The heat still pulsing through his veins screamed its discontent, but Joe reluctantly acknowledged that wherever this interaction was heading was now paused for the time being.

Figures, Web looks the part of a fucking tease, after all.

“Alright,” he muttered, releasing Web’s thigh with no small degree of bitterness, letting Web ease himself back just enough for Joe to feel distinctly burned. He sat up with a gently heating face, mindful to keep himself angled away enough that Web wouldn’t be able to see it, and looked around the orchard surrounding them, searching out anything to anchor his eyes to so that he didn’t have to think about Web’s lip, his legs, his eyes in the dark -

Eyes that meet his own once more, his chin caught gently in the other man’s warm palm as Web turned his face back. Web, at the very least, seems just as put out at stopping as he does, and for a moment he wants to be an asshole, wants to fight, but can’t bring his mouth to do anything but fall open, breathe.

“Can I?” Web asked quietly.

Joe could only nod.

The kiss is as light as a feather, whispering across his lips like dust settling, and he hums into the feeling and, suddenly, feels at peace. He runs one hand through Web’s hair, smoothing it, and gathers up the heat from the other man’s neck in the palm of his hand, bringing it back to himself like he had stolen his secret back from where Web had hidden it.

He pulls back softly, face still angled into Web’s sphere. “See you on the other side, huh?”

Web sighed, nose brushing Joe’s own, and closed his eyes for a moment before opening them to look teasingly back at him.

“Arschloch,” he drawled, pushing Joe back with a soft touch to the base of his neck before standing, brushing dirt from his pants, and taking off into the darkness of the orchard without a glance back at Joe.

Joe watches him go, seeing for the first time the length of his limbs, the curve of his ass, and allows himself to want. He, as fast as lightning, very badly wants to find a patch of darkness to crowd him into tomorrow night.

If Web makes it back. If they both do.

Without a second thought, he’s up and following Web into the dark, ignorant and uncaring of their destination.

#webgott #~rivers~#i write variations of webgott where they've lived in their dynamic for a while #so it was fun and interesting to write a bit about their early relationship to each other #for $10 i will stop posting long ass fic excerpts on tumblr

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barricadebops · 3 years

Note

Combeferre's mom once came home to find her son and his two best friends, tangled, sleeping in the couch, she has that picture framed next to Ferre's high school diploma.

Hi anon! I’m so sorry this took so long! Forgive me? I really loved this prompt and I wanted to do it justice.

---------------------------------------------------

Despite everything, Christmas and the holiday break surrounding the winter season had never really been stressful for Enjolras. Every year held the same routine: first Combeferre’s mother would sprint to the elementary school which soon gave way to the middle school which soon gave way to the high school he, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac would attend, and, gasping for breath, ask Enjolras if he would like to spend holiday break with their family. Right as Enjolras would open his mouth to answer the question, Courfeyrac’s mom would materialize out of the air and tug him to their side and ask him if he would like to spend holiday break at their house. Then each of the mother’s would demand to know how dare the other have the audacity to ask Enjolras to spend holiday break at her house when she knows that it’s her turn, and the fathers would passive aggressively try to nab the same parking spot to pick their son up from, and in the end, Enjolras would head home after having promised each family that he would think on it. Then, the next day, the cycle would start over again when both Combeferre and Courfeyrac latched onto either of his arms and tug, demanding he spend holiday break with him, and while he would scowl and pretend it’s an annoyance, he was never really able to tamp down the beam that would eventually make its way onto his face during the whole argument, and he knew that Combeferre and Courfeyrac too knew how much he loved it—loved feeling wanted, loved feeling like he’s part of a family even if he didn’t necessarily hold the blood relations within it, because God knew that what little he had of his family--his father--never welcomed him.

Usually, Enjolras alternated houses each holiday break, but it never stopped the arguments from occurring.

This year would have been the same. He was gearing up for the arguments even though he knew that this year he would be spending his time at Combeferre’s house.

But there were none. No one had to argue. There were no laughs or smiles or pretenses at being mad at each family as if they were the Montagues and the Capulets.

This year, Enjolras spent the first day of his junior year holiday break curled up in Combeferre’s bed while his two best friends and each of their parents all stood downstairs in the living room, speaking in hushed tones about the only person who wasn’t present in the room.

Beside the bed on the nightstand stood the few barebone possessions Enjolras had stored in his pocket when his father had finally thrown him out of the house. There laid his wallet, filled only with a few measly dollars and his ID and license, among a few other things, his phone, a pack of gum, and a granola bar wrapper.

He doesn’t think sleep will come to him tonight. Not while the sight of the little he has left to his name stares at him, a reminder of the fact that his father believes he’s only valuable to be allowed a pack of gum as edibles when he locked the door in his face.

Enjolras knows his father is no fool; he knows that as soon as he uttered the words “get out,” that his son would appear on the doorstep of either the Combeferres or the de Courferyacs, that they would plunge their household into an emergency situation and get him in the shower, into new clothes, into a new bed, after having some warm food—but he also knows that if they hadn’t been there for him, he wouldn’t care either way where his son ended up.

And then Courfeyrac and his family had been called over, and here he was, shaking in bed, a nuisance, rather than be out there, discussing the logistics of the situation with everyone.

He doesn’t think motion will come easy to him either for a while.

The door creaks open, spilling streams of light from the bright hallway into the dark room, and he finds he has to squint to make out the distinct figure of Courfeyrac gently padding into the room and gingerly seating himself at his bedside, right beside his face. His best friend cards a gentle hand through his hair.

“Combeferre?” he mumbles unintelligibly, wondering where he was. His mouth feels dry—like no amount of water will get rid of that sharp feeling when he swallows and his throat cries out for nourishment.

Courfeyrac gives him a small smile. “He’s gone over to your house with his father. He’s getting your stuff.”

Enjolras coughs. When had he been coming down with a cold? “He’s probably thrown it all away by now,” he responds, shutting his eyes for a moment, trying to ignore the little he has on the nightstand. Courfeyrac cards his hand through his hair once more, and Enjolras leans in a little closer. This touch, at least, is gentle. He hasn’t felt such a thing in a while.

“That fast?” Courfeyrac asks quietly. He nods with another cough. His friend gives him a pained look, and Enjolras knows how it must pain him not to portray his comfort through some form of touch—it’s how Courfeyrac expresses love and care, and Enjolras doesn’t want to see that look on his face, and truth be told he too wants it, but he doesn’t know how to ask for it, not like this, not in this situation—

But then, Courfeyrac comes through, like he always does, because he’s always there, he’s always been there just as Combeferre has, since they each met each other in kindergarten and decided through means of their friendship bracelets that they would always be there for each other, like the first time Courfeyrac’s heart had been broken, or the first time Combeferre failed a biology exam and started to doubt his potential to pursue his dreams of becoming a doctor, or the first time Enjolras had the courage to tell his friends about the verbal abuses his father would throw him, and Courfeyrac is there, real and solid, he’s not just an apparition, or a friend his father says simply “tolerates him,” and he’s asking him, “Can I hug you?”

And Enjolras is nodding, nodding because he needs this, he lets Courfeyrac wrap his arms around him tight, he caves in and fists his friend’s shirt, and reality is crashing down on him, but as real as his father’s words to never come back, as real as the uncertainty of his future is, so too is the reality of his friends’ love for him.

And if they both fall asleep like that, and Combeferre gently opens the door to the sight of his two friends curled around each other, as if the past few hours never occurred, if he joins them on the bed, then that just serves as further proof that even if the world comes crumbling down around them, at least they’ll be together, salvaging what little they can and rebuilding their own, better world.

_________________________________________

They managed to retrieve most of his possessions, actually.

Well. His father would argue that they’re really his possessions because they were bought with his money, but Combeferre and his father wouldn’t hear of it. The important thing is they retrieved the legal documents necessary, and quite a few of Enjolras’ clothes and books, amongst various other things.

When they finish raiding the house, Enjolras’ father asks with a sneer to leave him alone from then on.

How ridiculous, thinks Combeferre. If Enjolras was going to start living with his family now, he does realize there’s going to have to be some legal discussion on the transference of possession of a minor, doesn’t he?

---------------------------------------------------

They’re sitting on the couch, bundled underneath a blanket while Combeferre’s parents are out dealing with the legalities of the situation, and they are watching, of all shows, Maury, and Enjolras can’t stop complaining, but Courfeyrac won’t change it, even if he loathes the show (honestly just loathes daytime television—who actually enjoys this stuff?) because there—there—there’s that relaxed, unstressed attitude he’s been trying for so hard to coax from Enjolras in the past few weeks that Courfeyrac has been staying with Combeferre’s family, trying to ease Enjolras into this new transition with as much support as he can give.

“You… are… the… FATHER!!!” Maury screams on tv, pointing to the man everyone already knew would have been. From his position—head in Enjolras’ lap, he can see the way Enjolras’ expressions contort to one of exasperation and irritation at having to watch something so unbelievably garbage.

“Okay, you know who the father is, now can we please watch something else?” he asks for the hundredth time.

Reaching up, he pokes a finger in Enjolras’ cheek. “But, Enjolras! There’s a new episode starting up right after this! Don’t you want to know about…” he casts his arm around for the remote, reading the description for the next episode, “...Garth cheating on Cheryl with her friend… Helen?”

Enjolras looks down at him, incredulous. “Courfeyrac, please.”

“Yes, Courfeyrac,” Combeferre says as he drops down on the couch, a bowl of popcorn in his hands, “change the channel. There’s only so much of Kathy accusing Abigail of carrying her husband’s child that I can take.” Setting it aside on the coffee table in front of them all, he drapes an arm around Enjolras, a silent invitation.

And when Enjolras leans in, settling his head on Combeferre’s chest without flinching or tensing up for the first time in so many days, Courfeyrac smiles.

Pouting, he pretends to be upset at the way Enjolras and Combeferre gang up on him. “Fine, then what do you say we watch—and no, Ferre, we’re not watching a Nat Geo documentary. This isn’t the time for Nat Geo documentaries.”

Combeferre looks affronted. “Fine. But that means we’re not watching Bridget Jones’ Diary again.”

He gasps, outraged. “Excuse you! Bridget Jones’ Diary is a cult classic.” He glances back up at Enjolras. “Back me up here, Enj.”

Enjolras snorts. “Why would I waste my time watching Bridget Jones get together with knock off Mr. Darcy when I can instead watch Elizabeth Bennet get together with real-deal Mr. Darcy? After some due insults, that is,” he ends, smiling a little.

Sighing dramatically, he reached up to twist one of Enjolras’ curls around his finger. “All this talk of Lizzy Bennet and Mr. Darcy from you Enjolras, and yet I still don’t see you looking for your own Mr. Darcy. You’ve roasted the shit out of plenty of people. When are we going to find someone who tells you that you’ve bewitched them body and soul?”

Enjolras scrunches his nose as Combeferre shakes his head. “Enjolras ‘roasts the shit’ out of bigots in school. I doubt he’d want to go out with racist Randy from history class.”

“I thought we were deciding what movie we were going to watch, not my love life,” complains Enjolras.

“And I’m just trying to find you a love life!” he shoots back.

Enjolras raises an eyebrow. “If I’m Elizabeth Bennet, and you’re unjustly interfering in my love life, wouldn’t that make you Mrs. Bennet, then?”

He gasps. “You take that back!”

Enjolras smiles smugly, resuming carding his fingers through Courfeyrac’s hair. “I can think very well of another bookworm who Mr. Bennet would be,” he says with an air of superiority. Courfeyrac blushes and glares up at him, just as Combeferre breaks from looking through Netflix and goes hm?

“Let’s get back to looking for a movie,” he mutters.

And then—

Then—

Courfeyrac would risk his crush being exposed hundreds of times if it meant he could hear Enjolras laugh again like that, laugh after so long, after so many weeks of being so tense, so much more tense than boys their age should be. He beams as he watches Enjolras try and recover himself from his fit of laughter, and under the blanket, he squeezes Combeferre’s hand, and he smiles even brighter when as he watches Combeferre watch their best friend softly, some of the past few days’ tension dissipate, though they all know it’s not gone completely.

But here in this moment, as Enjolras laughs, which makes Courfeyrac laugh, and in turn makes Combeferre furrow his eyebrows trying to figure out what he missed, it exists as something outside their reality.

“You know what we should watch?” Enjolras finally manages to say when he’s caught his breath. Combeferre sees the look in Enjolras’ eyes and sighs.

“But it’ll be the second time this month.”

Courfeyrac catches on quickly. “As if you haven’t watched the same Nat Geo documentary four times in the same month.” He casts his eyes back up to Enjolras and gives him a small salute. “I second the motion, dear leader!”

As Enjolras bursts out into laughter once more, Combeferre heaves another sigh and begins to look through Netflix, resigned to his fate. Though, he admits it’s a rather good fate. Honestly, who doesn’t love this movie?

Enjolras snuggles closer into Combeferre’s chest. Combeferre tightens his arm around Enjolras’ shoulder. Enjolras continues to card his fingers through Courfeyrac’s curls. Courfeyrac has his feet thrown up on Combeferre’s lap. All three of them burrow under the blankets as, on screen, Grandpa begins to recite the tale of Westley and Buttercup’s love story.

_________________________________________

Unsurprisingly, it is Enjolras who falls asleep first, head heavy on Combeferre’s chest. Courfeyrac would have smiled at the sight, if he wasn’t also on the verge of falling asleep. Combeferre considers making two trips and carrying his two friends up the stairs and two his room, but his own eyes are drooping closed, and the blankets were warm, and so were his friends.

He figures they’ll all wake up later anyways.

---------------------------------------------------

They don’t wake up for a while.

The movie is over and something absurd Netflix has suggested is playing, but dimly, as her son, Enjolras, and Courfeyrac all sleep on, bundled together.

Can anyone blame her, really, when Mme. Combeferre cannot resist and snap a picture?

Right now, the entire world seemed to be crashing down on those three, and on her family and the de Courfeyracs.

But here is a moment in which they reside in this little space of bliss they have—carefree, the weight of the world off their shoulders, the weight of problems they shouldn’t have to deal with—and it is a moment worth capturing, a reminder that maybe, hopefully, soon enough, things will be okay.

Two years later, as her son and his two best friends—one of which she had considered another one of her sons the moment she had seen him when the three were all in kindergarten—leave for university, she breathes out, looks back, and nods.

Yes, things had turned out okay.

Next to her son’s and Enjolras’ high school diplomas hangs that same picture—the three all snuggled on the couch. At the de Courfeyrac’s the same hangs in the living room, and as the three boys—the triumvirate, she thinks with a fond roll of her eyes—head off to their new residence at university where they’ll stay together, as they had always meant to, she knows that the framed copy she sent with her son will hang there too.

Things turned out okay.

#les miserables #enjolras #combeferre #courfeyrac #enjolras & combeferre & courfeyrac #triumvirate friendship #les mis fic #annie writes stories #I loved this prompt #sorry for the angst at the beginning :(#fun game find the 'Hasan Minhaj: Homecoming King' reference #it's 'racist randy' that's the reference

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fallinnflower · 4 years

Text

keep the sunshine (in my heart)

minghao x reader (university!au, trip!au, fluff)

wc: 7k

a/n: this has been in the works for far too long. everyone pokes fun at mingyu but out of love. title based on the song “summer’s gone” by ashmute which i highly recommend. i once again attempted not to gender the reader but they do have long hair idk. this was posted twice before but tags didn’t work so it’s being posted again and hopefully it works now lol

The first time you meet Minghao, you're getting a piggyback ride from Mingyu because your walk on the beach ended with one of your sandals breaking irreparably. Thankfully, there are plenty of shops ready to sell you a new pair — once they open for the day. You'd forced Mingyu out to see the sunrise with you on this first day of vacation before the gaggle of friends you'd both invited showed up and made the house party central. He said this was just karma.

Your tall friend is walking with an exaggerated sway, and you squeeze your arms around his neck tighter.

"Yah, Kim Mingyu!" You snap, blowing at a strand of hair that fell in front of your eye. "Walk normally, I'm getting motion sick, you punk."

"You don't get motion sick, Y/N," Mingyu replies, and you huff in annoyance because he's right. Leave it to Mingyu to remember the stupidest things about you. As you're about to tell him to put you down, you'll just walk with one foot bare, he comes to an abrupt stop. You peer over the top of his head, eyebrows furrowed, but can't see anything notable. More people are on the beach, but you don't see anyone important.

You lift one arm to poke at Mingyu's cheek—

Suddenly, your friend starts running back towards the coast, leaving you to redouble your grip. You let out an awful screeching sound, cursing directly into his ear, but he pays you no mind.

"Minghao!" he yells. A lanky guy in a denim jacket who's squatting in the sand with a camera pointed at the horizon turns towards you both. His expression remains decidedly nonplussed as Mingyu continues barreling down the beach towards him like an excited puppy. As soon as Mingyu stops, you start pounding on his chest.

"Put me down, you maniac!" He lets go of your legs and stoops a bit to let you off his back. You grumble and begin tying your hair back into a ponytail, barely sparing his friend a glance.

"You're early," Mingyu says, totally delighted at the sight of his friend. Minghao lets his camera fall against his chest as he stands, nodding.

"Yeah, I decided I wanted to take some photos. I haven't gone to the house yet." His sharp gaze travels over to you, squinting slightly against the early morning sunlight.

"You must be Y/N."

"The one and only," you reply, ducking your head. "I hear you're Mingyu's smartest friend. Well, aside from me."

The Chinese boy smirks, snorting slightly at your comment.

"Well, if you're headed to the house then we'll just go with you. Then Y/N can change into some different shoes," Mingyu snickers, and you swat at his arm.

You take off your sandals, following the boys as they start up to the beach towards the house.

"Wasn't Jun coming with you?" Mingyu asks.

"He decided to drive himself. He wasn't done packing yet."

"Sounds like him," he laughs. "I'll just test my cooking on the two of you tonight then."

"And what's on the menu, Chef Mingyu?" You ask, poking him in the ribs. Minghao chuckles as Mingyu swats your hand away.

"If you keep acting like this, then all you'll get is ramen."

"You say that like it's a punishment," you retort.

"Depends on how much he's making," Minghao chimes in, leaning forward to look around Mingyu at you.

"Maybe I won't make you dinner at all!" Mingyu huffs, though his pout dissipates quickly when confronted with both yours and Minghao's laughter. As the Chinese boy shoots you a conspiratorial smile, you can't help but think that you like having someone like him around.

The three of you spend the evening together, preparing the house for the others to come tomorrow. You turn in relatively early, all sufficiently exhausted from the previous day.

After how yesterday morning had gone, you opted to go out to the beach on your own in the morning. Over the course of your years working and going to school you'd gotten into the habit of waking up early, especially when in unfamiliar places, so you were up shortly before the dawn.

You're putting on your spare shoes by the door when suddenly someone else starts down the stairs.

"Morning," you call, not looking up. The voice that replies surprises you into looking back, startled when you find Minghao grinning down at you.

"You're up early," you say, standing up and running a hand through your hair. Minghao looks exceptionally stylish, especially in comparison to you in your tank top and ratty shorts. His camera is still slung around his neck, and he motions to it as he replies.

"I wanted more photos of the sunrise. The forecast for today looked promising."

"Well," you reply, watching as he puts on his own shoes. "I'm not much of a photographer, but we could always go for breakfast after. If you don't mind me tagging along, that is."

"Sure." His response is cool, but his eyes seem to light up a bit at your offer. With that, the two of you head out the door.

The walk to the beach isn't far, and it's spent in surprisingly comfortable silence. You had expected Minghao to be more intimidating, but he seems relaxed as you make your way down the sandy sidewalk to the shore. The breeze is almost chilly, the coastline quiet with all the seabirds still sleeping. You can't help but cast glances at the boy beside you as you walk, noticing once again how attractive he looks. Even in such a casual setting, he's gorgeous, practically a work of art, his brown bangs gently ruffling in the wind. Catching a glimpse of his camera, you think that if you were any kind of photographer you would rather take photos of Minghao instead of the sunrise. He seems like a rarer kind of beauty in your eyes.

As the two of you walk, you're content to follow his lead. The sunrise is pretty from anywhere to you, but Minghao seems to have an artist's vision — so you decide to trust his judgement, especially since the window for his work is so briefly open.

He pauses for a moment when you both step into the sand, and you halt a few steps later. His brows are furrowed as he looks off into the distance, and you cock your head to the side.

"What's up?"

"I think we should head to the pier," he says.

"Fine by me," you shrug. "There's a restaurant over there." Minghao rolls his eyes at the playful grin you give him before nodding and leading the way once more.

The tide is gentle, the waves rolling in slow and short. Once you near the pier and Minghao finally settles into a place to take photos, you find yourself wandering towards the water. You may not have an eye for photography, but you've always loved collecting seashells.

As the waves continue rolling in, you find yourself wishing your sandals hadn't broken, trying to dodge the water so as not to ruin your sneakers.

You find a small handful of shells as you wander, none that are particularly extraordinary but a couple that look very similar with holes in them. You make your way back up the beach to Minghao, dropping into a squat beside him and holding one of those two similar looking shells out in each of your palms.

"Which do you like more?" you ask, and Minghao turns his gaze to you, though he keeps his camera pointed at the horizon. His brows furrow in concentration, and you find yourself amused by how seriously he's taking it. It's actually a bit heartwarming.

"The one in your left hand." You hum and place the shell atop his knee nearest to you, smiling.

"A token of our newfound friendship," you explain, turning your body to look out where his camera is pointed. "They'd make good necklaces."

"How fashion-forward of you," he says drily, but you catch him putting the shell in his pocket with a smile nonetheless.

After getting what he seems to deem a sufficient number of photos, he puts the lens cap back on his camera and stands, offering you a hand to help you.

"You said there was a restaurant by the pier?" he asks as you brush the sand off your shorts. His hand lingers in yours for a moment too long, but you try not to think too much of it — maybe he's still just tired.

"Yep," you jerk your chin towards the point where the wood of the pier meets the asphalt. "It's on the base of the pier."

"Lead the way."

You do. Soon enough the two of you are seated on the pier, overlooking the ocean with two steaming mugs of coffee between you and waiting on breakfast platters. The restaurant is otherwise pretty empty; you imagine it isn't exactly prime time, but it makes it all the better for you. Minghao has set his camera on the table and is leaning back in his chair, both of you looking out across the ocean.

"I think the view is better from here," you muse, chin propped in your hand. Minghao responds with a hum, then, lowly,

"Yeah, I agree." You turn and find him staring at you, a small smile curling at the corners of his lips, but before you can say anything your food suddenly arrives.

The moment you can see and smell it in front of you, you realize just how hungry you are. Forgetting any possible pretense of manners, you dig in hurriedly, shoveling a forkful of French toast eagerly into your mouth. Minghao chuckles, though he looks away in mock surrender when you shoot him a pointed look.

The two of you finish breakfast just in time for some of the shops to open, and so you resolve to buy yourself a new pair of sandals. Although you told Minghao he didn't have to accompany you, he decides to do so nonetheless, holding the door open for you as you enter one of the many shops on the main road.

You're in the middle of perusing sandals when suddenly you feel a slight pressure on your head. You turn in confusion only to find Minghao laughing under his breath, fixing a bucket hat onto his head. It's a faux denim number, ridiculous but not awful, and yet you can tell he hasn't been so kind to you. You glare at him as you pull your own bucket hat off, though even you can't hold back a snort of laughter when you see the ridiculous design. You reach up and pull Minghao's hat off his head, replacing it with the green frog hat, giggling as you look at the tiny little eyes sticking off the top.

"Mm, that's more like it," you say. "I think you should get it."

Minghao laughs and turns towards a small mirror near the sunglasses display messing with his bangs under the brim of the hat.

"Maybe I will." You laugh and turn back to the shoes. You finally find a plain black pair in your size, though when you turn you find Minghao laughing at something once more, with his back to you.

"What?" You ask, peering around him curiously. He shuffles off to the side, pointing out a bucket hat with ramen printed all over it.

"We have to get it," you say, looking over at him. Minghao shakes his head, turning the corners of his mouth down in an attempt to hide his obvious smile. You nudge him with your elbow until he finally breaks into an open-mouthed grin.

"If we don't get him a hat, he'll feel left out," you continue, and he sighs.

"Fine, fine."

By the time the two of you make it back to the house, Mingyu has woken up and is on his second cup of coffee. He offers a relatively lazy greeting when you enter, sprawled across the couch. You walk over and shove his feet off, making a space for yourself as Mingyu grumbles under his breath. Minghao rounds the couch and places the hat on Mingyu’s head, only for the taller boy to immediately pull it off and take a look. He laughs and places it back on his head, and Minghao takes a seat.

"Any word from Jun?" you ask, reaching for the television remote. Mingyu shrugs, gulping down more coffee before responding,

"He texted a few minutes ago that he’s on the road, but that's it. Anything from the girls?"

"Yeri had a final this morning, but I think it's finishing up around ten or something."

"So we're on our own for lunch, is what I'm hearing," Minghao says, and both you and Mingyu nod. After a moment of watching TV mindlessly, you suddenly turn to Mingyu again.

"Do we need to do anything before they get here? Like, grocery shopping or anything?" The mere mention of errands causes Mingyu to slump further into the couch, as you reach over to swat his arm, rolling your eyes.

"Not now, you're no use without enough caffeine in you. Once you've entered the land of the living, I mean." Mingyu huffs at your comment, taking another sip of his coffee before responding. He also takes the opportunity to drape his legs across your lap, and you roll your eyes and pinch his calves in an effort to get him to move.

"Yah," he says, pulling his legs away with a whine. "What do you guys want for dinner?"

"We should get seafood while we're here," you say, then fix your gaze on Minghao. "What's a seafood dish you like?" The Chinese boy looks startled for a moment, but quickly settles into a more thoughtful expression.

"Maeuntang?"

"Ohh, I love stew," you say, turning your gaze to Mingyu. You give him your best puppy dog eyes, but are met with his hand extended in front of your face.

"Stop looking at me like that, it's creepy."

"It's supposed to be cute!" you pout, moving his hand. "If I stop, will you make the stew?"

"Yes," he sighs, putting his hand down.

"Thank you!" you squeal, upping the cuteness to a level you know your friend will hate. He quickly pulls his legs off of you as he wedges himself into the far corner of the couch.

"Stop," he whines. "Did you have too much sugar or something? Minghao, help me!"

"You're on your own," Minghao responds drily, and you finally relent, using the opportunity to bring your legs up onto the couch instead. Mingyu shoots you a scandalized, hurt look.

"You're mean."

"Only to my bestest friends," you coo, reaching over to pinch Mingyu's cheek. The boy huffs in annoyance, slumping against the arm of the couch and bringing his mug back up to his lips.

"How long have you two known each other, again?" Minghao asks, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

"Too long—"

"Our whole lives," you say at the same time, cutting Mingyu off. "He's like the brother I never had."

"You're annoying," he grumbles, and you laugh, pinching his cheeks again and forcing him to smile.

"Says the one who followed me to college." Mingyu's ears begin turning red, and you ruffle his hair with an ever-widening grin.

"Just because you got your acceptance letter first doesn't mean I followed you."

"I don't know," Minghao chimes in, leaning forward in his seat. "Y/N makes a pretty convincing case."

"I thought you were supposed to be my friend," Mingyu grumbles, giving Minghao an accusatory look as he squirms out of your arms. There's a resounding thump as he slips off the couch and lands on the floor. He picks up his mug off the coffee table and downs the rest of its contents in one swig before sighing and getting up,

"I'm going to the grocery store."

"Want help?" Minghao asks, starting to rise from his seat, and Mingyu hurriedly shakes his head.

"No! Just stay here and then help me carry the bags in when I'm back."

"Fine," you say, as you cross the room to sit beside Minghao on the loveseat. You sling an arm around the Chinese boy's shoulders,

"I'll just stay here and hang out with my new best friend."

"You're so mean!" Mingyu calls, then slips out the front door, leaving you and Minghao to chuckle in his wake. You retract your arm and lean into the corner of the seat, stretching your neck slightly. Minghao fixes you with his sharp, inquisitive gaze, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Do you always give him such a hard time?" You immediately laugh at his question.

"Always," you confirm. "Unless it's really serious, you know? I mean it when I say he's like the brother I've never had. I give him a hard time but, like, I'd fuck someone up for him."

Minghao laughs again, leaning into the opposite corner of the loveseat. He runs one graceful hand through his hair, the strands falling back into his eyes immediately.

"Yeah," he says. Then, in a softer tone of voice, gaze drifting out the window. You find yourself smiling as you look at Minghao, studying his profile for a moment. After a beat of silence he speaks up again.

"He's lucky to have you in his life." Your grin immediately widens,

"Damn right he is."

Later, when you've both settled into your own little routines to pass the time, you find yourself thinking — he hadn't said someone like you. He'd just said you. And you may be overthinking it, but it makes your heart flutter, nonetheless.

Jun arrives in the early afternoon having stopped for lunch along the way, and by the time he’s exiting the car Joy and Yeri are pulling into the driveway behind him. You throw your phone down onto the couch and run to the door to greet everyone, waving excitedly. Jun, despite not knowing you very well, is the first to run up and accept your hug, the girls quickly joining in to make it a group endeavor. With a sigh you let go of them all, ushering them into the house.

"Mingyu, be a man and carry the bags in," you say, linking arms with Joy and Jun, Yeri clinging to the former. Mingyu takes a step back to avoid the chain of people flooding through the door.

"I'm not the only man here!"

"Then be the manliest man," Jun jokes. Minghao waves from the stairs, laughing as he watches the four of you trying to maintain your chain as you take your shoes off.

"Where's Mingyu?" Minghao asks.

"Proving his worth," you reply, earning a laugh from him.

"Who am I sharing a room with?" Jun asks, and you shrug.

"Don't know, but it's not me. I paid for that master room!" you say.

"I'm calling dibs on Joy as my roommate!" Yeri chimes in, and you roll your eyes.

"That was the plan anyways, Yeri—"

"I know, I just needed to make sure everyone else knew it!"

As the four of you make your way into the living room, laughing and chattering, Minghao makes the rest of his way down the stairs.

"Need help?"

"Yes!" Mingyu cries, dragging the luggage through the doorway. Minghao chuckles and takes a suitcase in each hand, making his way back into the house.

"Alright, baggage claim is in the dining room," Minghao calls, and as he comes into the living room you watch the others leave. You flop onto the carpeted floor, staring at the ceiling as you listen to their footsteps eventually making their way upstairs.

"Resting after a hard day's work, I see."

"Shh." You press a finger to your lips, closing your eyes as you hear Minghao take a seat beside you. "I took care of the booking and planning, Mingyu does the manual labor. Fair trade."

"Mm. A match made in heaven." You scrunch your nose up in disgust, opening your eyes to fix the lanky boy with an accusatory glare,

"That makes it sound romantic. Try again." Minghao raises an eyebrow, letting out a laugh,

"Teamwork makes the dream work?"

"Better," you say with a nod. It seems as though Minghao is about to say something else, but suddenly Joy calls down the stairs,

"Are you guys going swimming with us?" You look over at Minghao as you sit up, offering a shrug.

"When in Rome," you say, more to him than to Joy. You stand up from your seat on the floor and shoot Joy a thumbs up; she flashes you a broad smile before running back up the stairs. Although Minghao hadn't done more than smile amusedly at your statement, you hear him behind you as you leave the living room — although you simply head down the hallways to your room while he goes upstairs.

After changing into your swimsuit you make your way out onto the porch to slather on sunscreen. Given your prime location and the fact that you've already unpacked all your things, you manage to be the first one out, followed shortly by Minghao and Mingyu.

"Get my back?" you ask, holding the tube out to the first person on the porch. Mingyu eyes it.

"Only if you get mine."

"Deal." Minghao lingers by the door, and you wave him over in front of you, squeezing sunscreen into your palm before passing the tube to Mingyu.

Although you had waved him over like it was nothing, you felt almost immediately embarrassed touching Minghao so casually. It isn't exactly a regular occurrence for you, putting sunscreen on a boy's back.

A cute boy's back.

You try not to think about it too much as you rub the sunscreen in, but when Minghao curls his shoulders forward slightly to make the plane of his back more flat and even for you, you find yourself mesmerized by the way his skin glistens under the bright sunshine. His skin is a warm but light tone, like honey in color and just as smooth. You hesitate for a moment, hands lingering near his shoulder blades, only shaken from your stupor when Mingyu announces that he's done and needs someone to do his back. Hurriedly, you clear your throat, rubbing the last of the sunscreen into Minghao's back in quick circles.

"Done," you announce, softer than you meant to. You barely see Minghao's grateful smile before turning around to Mingyu, trying desperately to hide the blush rising on your cheeks. Maybe you can just blame it on the sun…

Thankfully, the porch is soon crowded with the rest of your friends, all laughing and talking. Joy pulls her hair up into a bun and turns her back to you expectantly almost as soon as you finish with Mingyu's back, and although you roll your eyes you oblige.

Once all of you are properly covered with sunscreen — a fact which Mingyu is sure to double check before letting you all off the porch — you make your way down the beach.

The back porch leads off directly into the sand, although the path to the beach itself is too narrow for you all to walk in anything other than a single file line. That, of course, doesn't stop the conversation from flowing between you all as you follow Mingyu's lead down to the beach. You find yourself acutely aware of Minghao directly behind you, suddenly conscious even of the way you walked, wondering what his sharp gaze might notice about you.

You're snapped out of these thoughts once again by Mingyu — although this time it's out of reflex. Being his friend so long has made you finely attuned to his clumsy ways, and you register him tripping over his own flip flops almost before it even happens, quickly reaching out to grab his elbow. At first, you're so focused on saving your friend from falling flat on his face that you don't notice someone has taken hold of you as well, helping to provide a counterweight for you and your much taller friend.

Mingyu rights himself and chuckles awkwardly under the teasing remarks, flashing you a grateful smile. You glance back at Minghao just as he pulls his hand away.

"Thanks," you say, feeling oddly bashful. Minghao sweeps his windswept bangs out of his eyes, smiling.

"No problem." You stare for a moment too long before nodding and scrambling to catch up with Mingyu just a few steps away, trying to convince yourself that your heart is racing because Mingyu almost broke his nose and not because of a sudden, stupid crush.

It doesn't quite work, but your splashing match with Joy and Yeri takes your mind off of it at least.

The first afternoon with everyone at the beach house is spent in a relaxed state; after returning from the beach, almost everyone took showers and then naps. Unable to sleep, you simply sprawled out on the couch in the living room with a glass of tea and your laptop in your lap. With your earbuds in, just in case anyone decided they wanted to use the television, you caught up on some recent videos you had missed in the bustle of the past couple of days.

It isn’t until you’ve exhausted your YouTube subscription tab that you find yourself becoming restless, eager for something to do. You go into your room for your wallet, thinking it might be nice to get some ice cream and just walk along the beach, and then you spot the shell from earlier sitting on the top of the dresser beside it. You examine the hole in it once more, smiling as you remember your morning with Minghao. On a moment of impulse, you start digging through your bag until you finally find the necklaces you had packed — or, well, left in the bag from your last trip and hadn’t bothered to put away. You unclasp them both and let the pendants slip off the chains, replacing one with the shell and clasping the other closed again; the other chain you let pool atop the dresser, fully intending to give it to Minghao later.

Only to find said boy standing outside the door to your bedroom, one fist raised in preparation to knock. The two of you jump slightly at the sight of the other, but you quickly dissolve into laughter with Minghao following shortly behind.

“Hey,” you say. “I thought you were napping.” He shakes his head.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he replies. “So I was hoping you’d want to go for a walk.”

“Perfect timing,” you chirp. “I was about to go get some ice cream, care to tag along?” Minghao’s expression slips into a grin, and he chuckles,

“Sure, why not.”

He’s already turned and started towards the front door when you remember the chain on your dresser, and you quickly duck back into your room to retrieve it.

“Wait!” you call, and Minghao does so, looking back at you with a puzzled expression. “Do you still have the shell from earlier?” An amused smile once again makes its way across his face as he notices the chain in your hands.

“Yeah, I think so.” After fishing around in the pocket of his jeans, he brandishes the shell. You eagerly hold out your hands for it, passing him the new jewelry item with pride.

“There, now we can match!” You hook your thumb under your own shell to show Minghao, who only chuckles and shakes his head. However, you think you see a faint wash of pink across his cheeks, even though his hair hides some of his face from you as he looks around for his shoes. You watch him for a moment longer, unable to keep from smiling, before finding your own sandals and slipping them on — only to realize you left your phone in your room.

“I’ll be right back!”

As you dart back to your bedroom, Minghao takes the chain and wraps it twice around his wrist, fashioning it into a bracelet. After pulling the shell around to rest atop his wrist, he pulls out his own phone and snaps a picture of it in front of the window, smiling fondly at the image once he’s cropped it and adjusted the coloring. By the time he’s pocketed his phone, you’ve re-emerged with your own. You slip on your shoes again and offer him a breathless grin,

“Ready?”

“Yeah, my treat,” he says, grinning to himself in amusement as he listens to you whine as you follow him out the door.

“Good morning!” you hear from behind you as you’re putting on your shoes. Just the sound of Minghao’s voice is enough to bring a smile to your face as you stand back up fully.

“Do you ever sleep?” Minghao asks teasingly as he makes the rest of his way down the stairs. You shrug,

“What’s the point of a beach-house if you’re not taking walks on the beach?”

“Or photos,” he adds. You step aside to give Minghao room to put his shoes on, shoving your hands in your pockets. While you wait, you lean back and peer out the windows bordering the front door, smiling when you see that the skies are still relatively dark. The two of you will make it out to the coast just in time to see the sunrise. You rock back on your heels as Minghao stands up, opening the door and motioning for him to lead the way.

It’s quiet as you stroll down the driveway of the house, with even the birds remaining quiet prior to the dawn. Minghao’s camera thumps gently against his chest in tandem with his feet falling on the pavement. As the two of you make your way onto the sand towards the water, you let out a sigh and let your gaze fall on the waves.

“You know, it’s kinda nice to have someone to walk with,” you say.

“Is that your way of saying you like my company, Y/N?” Minghao’s grin is annoyingly smug, and you elbow him slightly, rolling your eyes.

“Don’t get too excited,” you say. “Mingyu still has years over you.” He laughs into the wind, and you watch as he begins to slow his steps, looking for a good place to sit down and take photos. You follow him halfway down the coast before he finally stops in his tracks, squinting out at the sea before finally dropping into a squat. You stand beside him, trying to pick out exactly what he’s taking photos of like a game.

However, after barely becoming settled, your hair starts getting in your face, with the wind seeming to change directions every few seconds rendering it impossible for you to keep it out of your eyes. The only sound to disrupt that of the natural seaside is the shutter of Minghao's camera. As your hair once again whips against your eyes, blocking your view, you let out a frustrated grumble and stoop down behind the Chinese boy. He turns curiously to look at you as you bow your head, and you nudge him,

"Stay put and block the wind for me." You rake your fingers down through the strands, twirling them up into a haphazard bun. With a contented sigh you drop back off your heels to sit in the sand beside Minghao. He grins crookedly at you, eyes curved up into amused crescents.

"What?" You ask, noticing his gaze.

"Your hair's a mess," he says. You open your mouth to respond, but before you can manage to form a word Minghao has let his camera fall back against his chest. His long, slender fingers suddenly reach towards your face, gently tucking some hair behind your ears. As his fingertips skim against your jaw you find yourself falling breathless. Minghao leans back, dipping his chin in a nod of satisfaction at his work. You clear your throat and look back out towards the sea, hoping the light of the rising sun masks your blush.

"It was because of the wind," you grumble. Then, after hearing Minghao's shutter go off once again you mutter, "Thanks."

Out of the corner of your eye you see Minghao smiling smugly, and so you shove him with your elbow — though you yourself can't keep a smile off your face. You draw your knees to your chest and cross your arms atop them, dropping your chin atop them.

With a long breath you close your eyes, the backs of your eyelids burning redder than the sunlight on the sea—

And with them closed you don't see where Minghao's camera is suddenly pointed when the shutter goes off, leaving him smiling to himself as he looks at the image.

"We should order a pizza," Joy says, lying back on the living room floor. The half-open window lets the evening breeze into the house, and you watch the fan spinning in lazy circles above your heads.

"Ooh, and beer! Do we have beer?" Yeri chimes in, looking towards you. You shrug and jerk your chin towards Mingyu.

"Ask the chef," you say, earning a playful glare from him.

“Fine by me!” Mingyu pipes up, “You all have bottomless pits for stomachs anyways, feeding you is a hassle.”

“But you still love us, right?” Jun asks, and you bat your lashes exaggeratedly at Mingyu,

“Yeah, you still love us, right, mom?”

“Shut up, no child of mine would behave like you do. Or be as ugly,” Mingyu whines, throwing a pillow in your direction. You catch it with a laugh, wrinkling your nose in amusement.

“Mm, you’re right — with your genetics, they’d be even uglier.” Joy and Yeri break into giggles at your words, Jun following suit and Minghao snickering alongside them. Your best friend glares at everyone in the room, folding his arms across his chest with a huff.

“You guys are gonna have to order pizza every night from now on! Such ungrateful children.”

“Alright, someone find a local place that delivers!” Yeri demands, clapping her hands together as everyone continues to laugh at Mingyu’s expense. Minghao pats his shoulder, still chuckling however, as Joy lifts her phone above her face announcing,

“On it!”

The next few minutes pass in a whirlwind of chatter, everyone pitching in their ideas about what pizzas should be ordered until finally your group settles on three — and play through multiple rounds of rock-paper-scissors to determine who’s going to get the beer.

“Here, Mingyu, here’s the money — remember, at least four packs, okay?”

“I hate you all!” he grumbles, but he shoves the money in his pocket regardless as all of you swarm around him, forcing him out the door.

It’s only once you’re all at least a few drinks deep, reclining in the living room full with your stomachs full of pizza, that Yeri suddenly sits up from where she’d been leaning against Joy’s shoulder and makes the animated suggestion:

“We should play truth or dare!” When nobody disagrees with her, she picks up her half-empty bottle of beer and downs the rest before setting it down on its side in front of her. The rest of you shuffle into an approximation of a circle, lopsided and elliptical at best, watching intently as Yeri spins the bottle for the first time.

It lands on Mingyu, who’s still sober enough to take one look at Yeri’s devious grin and choose truth. The game goes on for what seems like forever, and by the time it’s Yeri’s turn to spin again your cheeks and stomach hurt from laughing so much. Breathlessly, you lean against Minghao’s side and watch the bottle spin around, ooh-ing dramatically with the rest of your friends when it lands on Joy.

“Dare,” Joy says without even being asked, looking confidently at Yeri. The youngest grins with the same degree of confidence, smugly announcing,

“I dare you to stare into the eyes of the most attractive person here for as long as possible without reacting!” Your drunken selves all lean in to see Joy’s reaction, which is in exaggerated pout.

“How am I supposed to compete with myself?”

“Yah!” Yeri cries, swatting at the tall girl’s shoulder as Joy dissolves into laughter.

“Okay, okay!” Joy finally says, pushing at Yeri’s hands. “Since you came up with it, why don’t we compete?” Yeri tips her chin up confidently, and you scramble for your phone as the two girls shift so they’re facing one another.

“I have the timer,” you say, before counting down for the competition to start. Barely fifteen seconds pass before Joy begins to slip into a smile, causing your small group to break into disappointed groans.

“Come on, did you even try?” Mingyu laments, and Joy narrows her eyes at him,

“Are you saying you could do better?”

“Anyone could do better!” you chime in, and both Joy and Mingyu turn to you.

“Then let’s all try it,” Yeri suggests, eyes glimmering with mischief. “Everyone find a partner, and we’ll each have a timer. Losers have to clean up!”

You turn to look at Minghao who’s seated beside you, and he offers you a smile as the both of you reposition yourselves. Joy demands a rematch against Yeri, leaving Jun and Mingyu as partners. Once everyone has their stopwatches at the ready and poker faces on, the competition begins, the only sound in the room is the faint music you’d almost forgotten was playing off the smart TV. A new music video starts up as you stare into Minghao’s eyes, and you find yourself lost in the swirls of color reflected there, the bright reflections from the television making his eyes kaleidoscopic.

It’s Jun and Mingyu who end up losing, with Jun taking advantage of Mingyu’s obvious embarrassment by leaning in closer and closer to the tall boy until he falls onto his back on the floor.

“Yah, why were you so close to me?” Your best friend cries, and you bite the inside of your cheek in an attempt to keep from smiling. It proves futile, however, once Jun begins laughing, and you find yourself giggling. You catch a glimpse of Minghao’s smile as you lean forward to rest your forehead against his shoulder, closing your eyes for a moment. He shifts his opposite arm to tap the stop button on the stopwatch app, and silence falls over the room once more for a few seconds. With your eyes closed, you focus on the rhythm of Minghao’s breathing, all other sounds slipping away.

Joy’s victorious cries eventually cause you to lift your head, and you turn to watch her as she excitedly announces the new time — just over one minute. Yeri pouts as Jun affectionately pats her head, and you notice Mingyu is still lying down, one arm laid over his eyes. You lie down on your side, snickering when you see through the gap that his eyes are closed; he’d managed to fall asleep. Of course, being his best friend, you’re quick to point out to everyone that he’s totally passed out, prompting Jun to sneak towards the kitchen in search of a marker. Joy and Yeri follow in search of more beer from the fridge, and you roll onto your back, watching the shadows play across the ceiling for a moment as Minghao stands up to stretch his back and legs. You hear the gentle fluttering of the curtains and feel overcome with a sudden desire to see the ocean once again. Looking up at the Chinese boy, you can’t help but smile, and make the decision to take him along on your little field trip.

"I need fresh air," you declare before rolling onto your stomach and pushing yourself up onto your knees. You hear Minghao huff out a laugh under his breath as he reaches a hand down to help you up, which you accept. The room tilts slightly, and you let out a short laugh as you lean into him, forcing him to bear your weight as he leads you out the back door. Although you’re sure he expects you to stay on the porch, you move immediately towards the stairs. You jump down into the sand, laughing as the grains seem to spring up around your feet. Minghao follows behind you, less energetically. Eventually, you both sit down a few yards from the house, in view of the waves.

You pull your knees up to your chest, resting your chin on your crossed arms. The night air is humid as it rolls off the sea, but not quite warm, leaving your skin feeling sticky yet covered in goosebumps. Out of the corner of your eye you see Minghao pulling out his phone and aiming the camera towards the moon where it shines into the water. You find your gaze drawn to him like the tides to that silvery orb, unable to keep from smiling as you tilt your head to the side. With your cheek pressed against your folded arms you watch him snap photo after photo. After a moment you close your eyes, trying to breathe in time with the waves as they crash along the shore, the only other sound that of Minghao’s phone camera going off intermittently.

"You like taking photos of the beach, don't you?" you say without thinking, cracking one eye open and watching as he pushes his bangs back out of his eyes. Minghao lets out a laugh that's more of a breath than anything,

"I like taking photos of anything beautiful." You giggle, the laughter fading into a sigh as you sprawl out onto your back in the sand. With less alcohol you know that you would be annoyed by the feeling of it sticking to your skin, tangling in your hair — but that's a problem for sober you, morning you. For now, you find yourself content with looking up at the sky. It's cloudless, probably the best view of the stars you've had in years. You can see when Minghao turns his phone off again, plunging you both into darkness.

"Minghao," you say, drawing out the last syllable as far as possible. You like the feeling of saying his name, the openness of it, the smoothness as it rolls off your tongue. The stars above look like they're moving, spinning in lazy circles.

"Hm?"

You watch the spinning stars, laughing a little to yourself. With a sigh, you pull your gaze back down to earth, focusing on Minghao's face. Even with the alcohol in your system, his features are sharp, distinct, attractive.

"I think you're the coolest person I know."

He might be smiling. But before you can say anything more about it, a breeze blows off the water, spewing sand onto your face. You let out a squeal and scramble onto your feet. The sand seems to give way beneath them the moment you stand, but as you dip sideways you find yourself in Minghao's ready arms. He holds onto you for a moment, looking you over for any sign of injuries, and you lock your gaze onto his face. Center yourself. Once he's confident you're not going to keel over, he loosens his grip on you.

"Come on," he says, finally, sighing. "Let's go inside."

Without a word, Minghao takes your hand. Your fingers lace together naturally, and you focus on the warmth of his palm compared to the cool night wind, smiling broadly and unabashedly as you follow him back up onto the porch.

“By the way,” he says, pausing before pulling the sliding door open to let you back in. “I think you’re pretty cool too.” You giggle.

“Is that your way of saying you like me?”

Minghao holds your gaze, and you feel your breath catch in your throat for a moment. But he doesn’t say a word, just gives your hand a squeeze and offers you a playful, mysterious smile before opening the door and pulling you back into the room where Jun is drawing what he calls catstronauts on Mingyu’s arms. As you take a seat, trying not to laugh too loud, Minghao leaves his hand in yours, and the smile remains on your face for the rest of the night.

#caratwritersclub #kpop scenarios #kpop fanfiction #kpop texts #kpop writing #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenarios #seventeen reactions #my writing

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curlymantis · 3 years

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aaaa pls tell me stuff abt your ocs they're all so cool!! 🥺💚

Omg I finally finished answering this!!!!! 👀👀

Farcry 5: Zoë Seed!!

Omg that’s me 😏 she was an entomologist checking out the cool insects of Hope county and unfortunately for her she doesn’t believe in private property when it comes to discovering nature. One day chosen find her trespassing on John seeds property. They think she’s a spy for the resistance as she has a camera, binoculars etc. They take her to the main church (conveniently was a Sunday) once service is over shes handed over to the father and himself and John go through her camera. They only find insect pictures and omg wow she’s not a spy. She’s indoctrinated into the cult and ends up eventually becoming John’s right hand of god 😌🙏 sinners who happen to be an extra annoyance go to her where she makes them confess in whatever way possible. Or they die in the process, whoops 💅🏻 She’s polyamorous with all of the seed siblings including Faith cos like come on now let’s be real they all crave and need loving. However she’s married to John Seed because that baby boy is everything 😤❤️ She also likes to do cult posters and help write songs and sing them cos it’s fun as hell. She is closest with John and Faith Seed specifically out of the 4 Seeds. Other cultists are scared of her, or is it respect? Hmm who knows 😌 She also tortures sinners for fun and chases them around the forest making them as shit scared as possible. Oops 😏

The Magnus Archives: is my oc who is an Avatar of the eye and Rayn Porter is my oc who a avatar of the corruption. They both have the same last name as they are both the same person just if they had gone down different entity routes in their life. I’ll talk about Rose first! (I also have an avatar of the flesh and the vast but I haven’t worked on them yet or got them ‘fully fleshed out’ 😏

Rose Porter: avatar of the Eye, marked by the stranger, the spiral and the vast.

From an early age Rose always felt the need to watch people, to know, to understand. As she got older these feelings only became stronger and she begins to stalk people, not because she finds that person special for any particular reason they just happened to look to long at her and she saw them doing so. That just sets something off In her so now they must be followed, acknowledged, understood and scrutinised (me self projecting right into my ocs 😌). She found the Magnus institute one day as she started stalking Rosie. when she had seen the woman walking into a large glorious building she knew something was off, like the itching feeling you get, the feeling in your gut, the sensation of something important. She did not know what had over come her to walk in the building so quickly as that would ruin her chances of learning further about this person who dared make her feel so uncomfortable. But there she was. She was hired immediately of course as a librarian, then moving on the be an archival assistant, shocking to her. But obviously not to Elias Bouchard who knew just how useful her alignment to his almighty beholder. To say she had a crush on him would be an understatement. She can’t explain it. Some would call infatuation, some would call it chemistry, but smart ones say it’s because they are both devotees to the eye and she is in so much deeper than she has ever anticipated or even realises 👀

Rayn Porter: avatar of the corruption, marked by the flesh, the lonely and the stranger.

Rayn despises people (same queen 🙄) they put animals on a higher level of respect than humans. The corruption took ahold of them as a young child, they would always follow and play with cockroaches as a child. However their mother was to say the least an unempathetic, transphobic and cruel woman to say the least. Rayn was raised in a household full of scrutiny, hate and fear. Because of this had very little friends as the only social interaction they knew was their bitch ass mother they turned to the ‘pests’ of their home. Whether these were the slugs and snails in the basement of their home, or they were the cockroaches, house centipedes and rats that dwelled in their attic. They loved and appreciated them all, but their was still something deeper to it. A deep rot had started to form in Rayn and they hated their mother and family. They hated them for how they had cast them aside for not being female, they hated them for all the mistreatment they had faced as a child. The rot started small, a odd old smell that started to lurk around Rayn. Eventually others would notice the smell but would shrug it off as the smell would soon be covered by the smell of Rayns chain smoking. Then one day Rayn was staring in mirror poking at their face and squeezing. They found a sore on her face and squeezed it, pus comes out but something moves underneath. They squeeze harder and something wriggles forth, it’s a very small, juvenile cockroach, streaked slightly in something slimey. As you can imagine that fucked them up a bit, but they learnt to embrace it. Learnt to love that crawling away just underneath their skin are thousands of little legs connected to cockroach’s of many sizes. Sometimes if not managed roaches will find themselves sneaking out of nostrils, mouth and ears. Sometimes even out from behind her eyes. One way they feed the corruption is they set forth the filth at a selected location. All it takes is for them to place a cockroach down in a building and within a week there will be a infestation so strong causing the people in said building to be taken down with it. The Cockroaches will feed on those that they can over power and The Corruption always needs feeding... (Also just want to add cockroaches themselves aren’t actually dirty, they’re actually obsessive cleaners. the locations they live in are dirty)

Telltale Batman- Roz Traegers:

first encounter with John Doe (the eventually to be known Joker) was at the bar he frequented. They had never once seen him drink a drop of alcohol. He would order beer constantly for his alcoholic sure but never consume it himself. Aside from his alabaster white skin nothing about him seemed out of the ordinary to them. Well except the fact he liked to stare, a lot. You would constantly worry it’s because he was just judging you based on your appearance (a lot of people do) however John just likes to stare at people and found you interesting for some reason (cliches I know, but me and John Doe are basically the same person and I like to think he’d think I’m interesting). Roz has a great dislike towards the people John works with, they don’t appreciate how badly they treat him. Especially Harley. John is so obsessed with Harley and she treats him like absolute shit. Roz had a plan to get Harley arrested, however John found out and threatened to never speak to Roz again. Roz has a soft spot for Mr Freeze specifically from the gang also.

Vampyr: Rose Pine

works as an assistant to Camellia at the florist. Rose isn’t a very chatty person and has had quite a traumatic up bringing. Her mother, sister and father are all unfortunately deceased. Her father killed her mother, then sister, then Rose, then turned the knife on himself. Rose survived her injuries (hence the scar on her throat) and was put out into the adoption system. Roses father believed he had been doing his family a service by taking their lives before they could be claimed by Ekons. Roses father had been a vampire believer long before they had even breeched the city. Rose always waves hello to Jonathan Reid when she sees him galavanting around. He always waves back and occasionally they will exchange a conversation. One evening they exchange more than just brief chit chat when Jonathan is required to save her from a group of feral Skals. Rose is very badly injured from her encounter and Jonathan ends up having to change the sweet little florist he sees most evenings into a Ekon. Rose is also good friends with Charlotte Ashbury and Charlottes mother Elisabeth. I haven’t played Vampyr in a wee while, I want to get back into it soon so plan on adding more to her story.

Outlast: Rosie Porter

Rosie worked as a live in psychiatrist for those at mount massive asylum. She lives on the premises that way patient can be attended to at any time. Her experiences throughout life gives her empathy for those that are locked up, that the other guards and majority of other staff just don’t have. Rosie has always been able to empathise with those who would be considered ‘evil’ whether she empathised out of her own sick fascination or because of her heart hurting too much is another question. Rosies favourite patients are Eddie Gluskin and Chris Walker. She was hired after Jeremy Blaire forcibly admitted Chris Walker. Rosie is enamoured with Eddie and he knows it. Knows he has his little psychologist wrapped around his finger. However Eddie would be a hypocrite if he said he also wasn’t wrapped around her finger. Rosie is forcibly committed to the asylum by Jeremy Blaire they start Project Walrider on the patients. Rosie was against it and threatened to blow the whistle on the whole thing (dumb idea) and Jeremy uses her as the first female Walrider test subject. Rosie has engaged in an affair with her boss Jeremy Blaire when she first started working there. Due to their past ‘hands on’ relationship, Rosie is allowed more time with her patients and allowed to be alone with her patients. This has allowed for her to further her work with her patients, as they’re quite open when the know they aren’t being openly judged by the security staff.

Hannibal: Jessi Trees

is a forensic entomologist who works alongside Beverly, Jimmy and Brian analysing dead people n shit. Jessi first met Will Graham on the scene of a crime when they had both been called out. It was the mushroom killer from memory as the soil was packed with invertebrates filled with evidence. Will has just finished doing his whole ‘this is my design’ when Jessi walks up to him and stands quietly beside him, where they say: “These fuckers are filled with worms and I don’t know shit about worms” Will Graham turns and looks at them like what the fuck? Those are dead people. Jessi merely shrugs, smirks and walks off. Jessi can be described by a lot of people as ‘a cold person’ or ‘indifferent’ but passionate. They dehumanise the corpses they’re working with at that’s the only way they can get justice for them. If they get too caught up in all the sadness of it, they can’t move forward from it. Jessi has a crush on Will Graham and Beverly Katz. Jessi questions Will and Hannibals relationship quietly from the background but never really comments.

Bonus character!! Stardew Valley: Zoë

This bad ass came all the way from Zuzu city in need of a better and different life. They inherit their grandfathers old farm and get it up and running. The town is filled with wonderful, amazing people. But of course Zoë has to want to become close friends with the person who hates me everyone: Shane (they’re kindred spirits, Shane isn’t aware of this however because he seems to think he’s the only person who can suffer from substance abuse and sever depression haha.) Shane hates them of course until they keep harassing him and he reasilizes she’s a lot more screwed up than he was aware. Zoë is close friends with Shane (ends up marrying him one day), Linus (I would fucking die for him and anyone who’s cruel to him gets my foot in the butthole), Leah (they hang out frequently and like to paint in the forest together), Emily (I have a massive crush on Emily haha, she’s so similar to me it’s great), is also friends with Sam’s dad and Jodis husband Kent (Kent suffers from PTSD and I’ve developed a lot of my own techniques to help with my own PTSD so we help each other out. Also Jodi I’m stealing your husband, just kidding, unless). Zoë’s favourite animals on her farm are her blue chickens (raised by Shane) and her horse Aaron. Zoë’s favourite yearly event is the moonlight jellies festival!

#farcry 5 #the Magnus archives #telltale Batman #Vampyr #Hannibal #outlast #stardewvalley #stardew #own character

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deejadabbles · 3 years

Text

A Thousand Songs (Atem/Yami x Reader)

Chapter Two: Leave Out All The Rest

One /// Two /// Three /// Four /// [Five Coming Soon]

Summary: You knew that you and your band could make it big. Not only that, but stay together while doing it; the five of you were family, after all. The only problem was that despite all your musical talents...none of you were particularly good at lyrics. After years of struggling to put out your first full album, the solution finally made himself know in chance meeting on an empty stage.

Rock Band AU, Atem x Reader, gender neutral reader.

A.N. In case they weren't gay enough in the last chapter, Yugi and Jonouchi are boyfriends in this series <3 Is it a bit unrealistic to think they could be in a band and remain happy n healthy in their relationship? Probably. Do I care? No.

"This ain't working at all- and I told you it wouldn't!"

Yugi sighed as his beloved boyfriend tossed his phone on the table and leaned back in his metal folding chair.

Immediately, Yugi picked up the phone and handed it back to Jonouchi. "You can't dismiss them on looks alone," he scolded in a light tone.

Jou looked aghast, "He looks like he sacrifices cats on Sundays!" He waved the screen at Yugi, which displayed a bearded man who cast a purposeful scowl at the camera. He had lots of tattoos and piercings on top of the studded leather clothes, but that just made Yugi more annoyed with his boyfriend.

"People can say the exact same thing about me!" He waved a hand, encompassing his leather pants, studded belt, collar-style choker, and the tattoo on his arm.

Honda let out an unsure hum as he scrolled through his own phone, "But you're still a cinnamon roll under all that leather, Yugi, I'm not sure this guy is. Don't think he's a bad dude or anything, but I don't think he's the right fit for us," he turned his phone so everyone else sitting at the table could see, "just look at the titles of the songs he sent."

Okay, Yugi would concede that the examples the applicant had sent were a little...extreme, the title "bled like a pig" stood out in particular, but he still thought the boys were being a bit judgy.

"I think I'm gonna agree," you mumbled, "these are pretty heavy."

"You wrote a song called "we are broken" that sounds pretty heavy," Yugi countered, not unkindly though still trying to play the middleman.

"Okay, heavy isn’t the right word,” you conceded with a frown as you looked over some rather grotesque lyrics, “yup, “ edge lord ” is more fitting. Just look at the contents of the songs."

At the suggestion, Yugi scrolled down the application on his own phone, passed the profile pic and down to the bottom of the "examples of my work" section. ….okay, you guys had a point. Yugi doubted that the guy actually performed blood sacrifices, but his song style was definitely a little too demonic.

"Alright, I'll send him a thanks but no thanks note."

As Yugi brought up his email app to do just that, Anzu let out a frustrated sigh and scrubbed her hands over her face. "That was, what, the sixtieth-something application we've gone through?" she groaned, setting her phone down too, “It’s been over a month, and we haven’t gotten anywhere.”

"I still can't believe we got so many responses to our ads," Jonouchi grunted.

You set your head on your hand, expression dropping and making the dark circles under your eyes look more pronounced, "Everyone's pretty eager to join a band, now if only getting fans was as easy as getting people who wanted in on the fame prospect."

"All this work would actually be worth it if we found someone who even remotely appealed to us," Honda commented, "But everyone's just a little too…"

"Hardcore?" Anzu offered, then looked over at you, "Nah, you’re right, edge lord-y seem to fit most of them. I think that's the real thing, our band name probably makes people think we're more broody and grim than we actually are. We have plenty of darker themes in our stuff but everyone else seems to take it just a bit too far than our tastes go."

You ran a hand over your eyes, “Anyone else feel like we’ve wasted five weeks looking these applications over?”

"Hey, I'm sure we'll find someone soon though!" Yugi chimed in, a valiant attempt to elevate the mood. You and Jonouchi were always saying (much to his embarrassment) that he was everyone’s ray of sunshine, so surely he could salvage the night’s mood. “We just have to keep trying, I’m sure the right person is just around the corner!”

Anzu threw him an appreciative smile, “You’re probably right, Yugi, but I think I’m done looking for the night, it’s pretty exhausting.” She leaned back in her chair more, stretching her arms over her head.

“It’s probably a good time to call it quits now anyways,” you offered after glancing at the time, “If I hurry home now I can catch a shower before my shift starts.”

Everyone mumbled and nodded their agreements at that, followed by the five of you meandering around the room to get your stuff together. Honda offered to drive you back to your apartment like usual and everyone waved goodbye to each other in the tiny parking lot of the studio, Jou and Yugi climbing into Jou’s truck, Anzu into her beat-up car, and you and Honda zipping away on his motorbike.

It wasn’t until Yugi and Jonouchi were back at their place and Jou was cooking their dinner that Yugi realized something with great annoyance. After dumping the content of his backpack out on their bed, rifling through his desk drawer, and scouring the floor, Yugi wandered into the living room/kitchen area with a frown.

“Hey, sweetie, have you seen my adapters?”

Jonouchi looked thoughtful as he stirred the contents of the pan, “Uh, you mean the ones you use for your turntables? Haven’t seen them since the last time we rehearsed, that was what, three days ago?”

Yugi mumbled a curse under his breath, double-checking the tables and other spots he might have absentmindedly set them. Nothing. “Darn, I must have left them at the theatre yesterday.”

“Sure they aren’t in the studio?”

“No, I looked to make sure I’d have them when we rehearse tomorrow, but they weren’t there, that’s why I had it on my mind to find them when we got home.” Yugi shrugged and checked the time, thinking. After making up his mind, he grabbed his purple jacket from the armchair, “It’s okay though, if I hurry I should be able to sneak back into the theatre to get it. I think some members of the orchestra practice together tonight, and even if they aren’t the janitor should still be there.”

Yugi bounded across the tile floor as he slipped his jacket on, jumping up to place a kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek before turning to the door.

“I won’t be long, be back before dinner’s done!”

“You better,” Jonouchi called as he grabbed some spices from the cabinet, “I ain’t fixing this masterpiece for one!”

Yugi chuckled and closed the door behind him, as if he’d miss a chance to taste his boyfriend’s amazing cooking.

There was barely any need for a jacket as he walked down the sidewalk, but the vanishing sun assured that it would probably get colder by the time he was walking back home. Although their apartment was a bit far from the band’s studio, the location at least allowed Yugi easy access to his other work place: Domino City’s “Pegasus Theatre”. It was a popular spot for the upper crust of Domino, since they not only hosted ballets, but a talented orchestra as well. Yugi and Anzu both worked there, Anzu as a dancer in the ballet, and Yugi in the sound department, providing tech aid for the shows. Well, for the ballets at least, the natural design of the theatre meant that he wasn’t usually needed when the orchestra played.

Yugi's assumption proved right and he found the door of the employee entrance unlocked. The sound of chatter greeted him as he approached the stage area, signaling that the orchestra was packing it in for the night. He took a brief glance at the stage as he walked up the rows of seats- he had to be quick, as there were only three lingerers, two chatting as they headed for the door and one quietly packing away his violin.

Yugi bounded up the narrow staircase to the sound booth, opening the door and crossing the room to the little employee cubbies. He found what he was looking for quick enough, after pushing aside his spare jacket and snack bag. The beat-up altoids case rattled, but Yugi made sure to double-check that the adapters were actually in there. They were and he sighed in relief, pushing the other contents back into the cubby before turning.

He peered out the booth's window to see if the violinist was still there, and to Yugi's surprise he was not only still in sight, but the man had actually lingered after packing away his instrument. Standing in the very center of the stage, the man was looking out at the empty seats, then trailing his eyes up to the magnificent red curtains.

Yugi smiled to himself, figuring the man was just having a moment of wonder or taking in a daydream during his moment alone, and Yugi couldn't blame him in the slightest. Yugi was slower when taking the steps down, letting the man have his moment before he ruined it by walking by.

Again though, Yugi found himself surprised. His pace slowed, the sound of a melodic voice carrying through the theatre like a wave that had Yugi stopping dead in his tracks.

I dreamed I was missing

You were so scared

But no one would listen

Cause no one else cared

After my dreaming

I woke with this fear

What am I leaving

When I'm done here?

The voice was deep, the rumble of a serene storm, almost haunting in a way.

So, if you're asking me, I want you to know

Yugi’s feet were moving before he even noticed and he soon stood on the red carpets leading to the stage.

When my time comes

Forget the wrong that I've done

Help me leave behind some reasons to be missed

And don't resent me

And when you're feeling empty

Keep me in your memory

Leave out all the rest

The violinist stood there, lost in his own world- or rather the words of his song. His eyes were closed, listening to a chorus of instruments only he could hear as his hands moved in short but meaningful gestures.

Don't be afraid

I've taken my beating

I've shared what I've made

I'm strong on the surface

Not all the way through

I've never been perfect

But neither have you

So, if you're asking me, I want you to know

The chorus of the song came again and Yugi finally snapped out of his reverie long enough to pull out his phone. With quick thumbs he searched the beautiful lyrics he had never heard before, wondering why he didn’t know the song.

No results came up, the song was unknown.

That only got Yugi’s attention more, and he gazed back up at the man, whose voice was filling with more and more emotion with every lyric. His fist clenched at the front of his shirt, over where his heart was, eyes screwed shut as he continued to pour his heart out to the empty theatre.

Forgetting

All the hurt inside you've learned to hide so well

Pretending

Someone else can come and save me from myself

A pause, an intake of breath, and Yugi found himself hanging on to every second the man gave.

I can't be who you are...

...I can’t be who you are

The singer drew out the last lyric in a prolonged, sorrowful note; breathy as he bowed his head, the song- his raw expression, finished.

Instantly Yugi found himself clapping, bounding down the red aisle between the seats to the stage. He only felt slightly guilty when the other man jumped in fright.

“That was amazing! Your voice is amazing- that song too!”

The man (who Yugi only now noticed has a similar hairstyle to his own) stared back at him with wide eyes, body stiff. “Uh- oh I- thank you. I...didn’t realize anyone else was here.”

The man’s speaking voice was deep too, and anyone could guess that he’d have a powerful set of pipes. Yugi was still too excited to pay the man’s nervousness much mind as he practically hopped to the foot of the stage.

“I didn’t mean to startle you- but I couldn’t help it, that was awesome! Did you write that song yourself? I googled some of the lyrics and nothing came up.”

The man took a while to respond and Yugi wondered if his dark complexion was hiding a blush. Eventually, though, the violinist/singer cleared his throat.

“Y-yes, I wrote it. I’ve never sung it in front of anyone though.”

“Do you write a lot of songs?” Yugi pressed and again it took his new friend a moment to respond.

“...Sometimes. I suppose it’s a bit of a hobby. Listen I-”

Finally, Yugi actually realized just how rude he was being with his aggressive ramblings, “Oh, gosh I’m sorry! I’m bombarding you with questions like some weirdo.” He gave a nervous laugh and to his relief, the man’s posture seemed to relax a little- though he still seemed a bit embarrassed. “My name’s Yugi, by the way, I’m one of the sound techs.”

The man gave a nod of his head, “Atem, I’m a violinist in the orchestra.”

“And a totally awesome singer, you’ve got some real talent,” Yugi reiterated, but pressed on before the man could get too bashful again, “The reason I asked you so many questions is because I think it’s fate that we met like this! See I’m in a band, we’re trying to put out our first full-length album but- honestly, we’re aren’t very fast at pumping out new songs. We’re great with coming up with the music, but the lyrics always get us stuck. We’ve actually been looking to hire a ghostwriter for our songs, but none of the people we’ve found seem right- but that song was amazing, just the kind of stuff we like!” Ignoring the unreadable expression on Atem’s face, Yugi dug out his cardholder and passed one of them up to Atem. “I don’t wanna blindside you more than I already have tonight- sorry about that again, but, I really think you’d be a perfect fit for us. Think about it, and if it seems interesting to you, come talk to me.”

Atem looked the card over for a second, before peering back at Yugi, “I’ve never really put my songs out there, it’s just a private hobby, I don’t want you and your bandmates to get your hopes up.”

Yugi waved off his concern, “Don’t worry about that. Like I said, just think about it, okay?” He didn’t move, nor look away from Atem until the man finally nodded in agreement. “Awesome! Take your time and come talk to me once you’ve thought about it some.” His outgoing steam was starting to run out, his bold and somewhat rude actions finally starting to catch up to him. In a sudden burst of embarrassment, Yugi brought his hand up to scratch at the back of his head. “Anyway, I’ll let you go now, I’m sure you want to get home or get on with your night. It was nice meeting you, Atem!”

And with a wave, Yugi was heading for the door, leaving a rather bewildered Atem in his wake.

#atem x reader #yami x reader #yugioh x reader #yugioh #Atem #yami yugi #band AU #Yugioh Band AU #series: a thousand songs

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beebrainedstudios · 3 years

Text

Never Fully Dressed Without A Smile

Here’s a little hint of the Swapped AU! Specifically a rewrite of ADSOM’s opening chapter from a slightly-different-Kell’s perspective. No particular warnings here besides the briefest mentions of blood. If you have any thoughts, please share them- I’m curious- and if you’re a little confused about the AU, check out the tag adsom swapped au below. Enjoy!

Kell wore a very peculiar coat. It had many sides and many secrets and a personality all its own. Sometimes it ate what was slid into its pockets. Sometimes it spat out something new.

Presently, it was covered in blood.

Kell sighed and stopped walking, causing a few of the bolder passerby to nearly walk right into him; he didn’t spare the grumbling commoners a glance, far more preoccupied with the crimson dotting his coat’s hem, a mass of patches ranging from the size of a single coin to as large as his palm staining the thick white fabric. The blood was fresh, still dark, wet, and rich, its scent thick in the air. It coated the edge of his train until the entire thing was damp with it, even leaving its mark along the top of his boots from where they had met it as he walked. Most of the spots were smudged (smeared by both his passage into Red and the brush of his heels) but a few had managed to keep a solid border, the extra liquid seeping instead into the seams that ran along the coat’s edge. It had even made its way to the lining, darkening the grey fabric until it was the color of a night on fire.

He huffed, his mood souring as he started to shrug the coat from his shoulders. What a waste. He’d liked this one- it made him look bigger and was long enough to swish around his ankles, covering every inch of the bony mess he’d become and blowing dramatically as he walked. Now it was ruined. Kell supposed he had no one to blame but himself; he should have known Astrid would make him clean up the square after Lila’s escapade that morning. He’d been caught off guard by the command- getting ready to travel, packing his knives and gloves- and had already switched the coat around, leaving him trapped in it after the bond had sent him scrambling to finish the task.

Note to self, swap coats after the transfer next time.

The warm, breezy air of Red London sparked along his skin; it was far warmer than the blistering air of White, but it wasn’t enough, and he shivered as what little heat he’d managed to trap with his coat fled into the atmosphere. Arnes was in full summer, he was in half-sleeves, and still he felt like he’d stepped bare-chested into the Sijlt. He expected a little chill as a matter of course- an Antari’s magic was their source of warmth, an inner fire, and his had been doused with a bucket of ice water- but this was ridiculous. His magical coat was the only thing that kept his teeth from chattering; now he’d been forced to take it off, and even the few seconds exposed it took to change was enough to plunge him back into shivers.

After a minute of swapping his items from pocket to pocket, Kell set off once again for the palace, a new, dusky-red coat slowly warming his shoulders and replacing the lost heat. He kept a brisk pace, knocking people aside in his haste, eager to get away from the crowds and their peering eyes. Even a world away from home he kept his guard up, the distraction cooling his annoyance back into simmering discontent; he wasn’t allowed to waste time and he didn’t need to scuffle over stolen tokens, though the idea of a fight briefly warmed his smoldering magic. It had been too long since he’d unleashed his strength, even just a little. Perhaps he should goad Lila into a fight when he arrived back in White (not that she needed much goading). He’d regret it, but it would at least pass the time until nightfall and perhaps sate her long enough for him to catch a little sleep.

Focus.

Kell shook himself out of his thoughts, unsure if it was Astrid’s voice or his own in his ears, and looked up just in time to see a pair of royal guards spot him among the crowd. He was nearing the palace bridge, the red light of the river Isle beneath it visible even in the afternoon sun, and as the streets had approached it they had held more and more soldiers. The sight of the guards’ faces blanching white beneath their helmets lifted Kell’s spirits slightly; he liked it when the guards saw him, trying not to cower as they ran to alert the king. He gave this particular pair a cheeky wave and one of his special smiles, feeling it slip onto his lips the moment a palace-goer's eyes landed on him. Astrid’s hold tightened on his heart then, a flash of pressure, and vindictive as he was feeling he didn’t mind it. Just this once.

Smile, Kell. Let them see your teeth.

He ran his tongue along his sharpened teeth as he watched them go, their cloaks little more than white flags, savoring the fear on their faces. Then, he turned away from the street and set a new course for a nearby alleyway, already prepped for his arrival with the marks that would carve him a door into the palace. Walking through the streets of London was only necessary insofar as to get the guards’ attention; he never used the front door to the palace, preferring to slip in undetected as the guards informed the royals of the looming correspondence. A surprise visit forced Maxim to be honest, catching him off guard in the middle of some other task and letting Kell and his world slip unwanted into the forefront of his mind. Astrid approved.

With the flash of a knife and a tiny flicker of pain, the world of Red London bent around him until he was pulled through the alley wall and into the palace. He’d landed in the royal gardens, beside a mossy stone wall and a massive apple tree, its boughs still laden with fruit despite the dozen full baskets that had been laid out beneath it. Kell squinted at a particularly shiny specimen on a lower branch, observing it for a moment before reaching up and tearing it away from the tree. The air was thick with the scent of summer fruit, so full of it that Kell could practically taste the sweetness- the apple in his hand was no exception. He admired its dappled surface, wondering what spell had been cast to grow it- apples weren’t in season for another month or two- and what would happen if he actually ate it. On one hand, neither his queen nor his empress had expressly forbidden him to eat today, a slip of the mind no doubt, but they would still probably take the chance to discipline him. On the other, traveling was exhausting, it was right here, and he’d already torn it off of the tree.

Kell looked around, shrugged, and took a bite, mentally organizing his excuses as he ate. Well, they were sitting there unguarded and I thought it would aggravate the queen. She’s so manners-driven, she’d take it as an affront… Another bite, so sweet he nearly choked. Besides, I brought some back for you both… He bent down to retrieve two more apples from the baskets, searching for the best ones before sliding them into his coat pockets, which held them well despite their size. And you might be able to taste it in dinner’s blood, so it’s beneficial for everyone...

Astrid and Lila would still tear him to pieces for eating without permission, but that wasn’t any different from his usual living, and if four years of servitude had taught him anything it was when to pick his battles. Sometimes you had to let things go. Other times, you accepted the blows and picked the fight anyway because you would never get to eat or bare your teeth otherwise. Speaking of which-

“Master Kell!”

Kell caught the scent of a guard- they always stank of metal, though here he could also catch the faint chill of an air magician- and with a sigh he finished his treat and set the core aflame. The acrid burning sugar filled the air, smothering the copper tone of the guard’s magic, but Kell could already guess where his voice had come from. He turned towards a small arch carved in the wall, letting the ashes of the stolen fruit fall from his hand. A royal guard stood red-faced in the doorway, obviously winded from what Kell assumed was the hunt to find him. The man’s eyes trailed the burnt dust until it hit the ground, but he wisely decided to ignore it, instead nodding his head the way he had come. Kell didn’t miss the way he kept his gaze carefully averted; he distantly appreciated the guard’s concern, even if it wasn’t for his benefit, but it wasn’t much use for either of them. Kell’s cheeks had twisted up anyway.

Kell didn’t bother letting him speak. “Lovely weather, isn’t it?” He said, pushing past the guard and into the rest of the gardens. He sniffed the air and started to walk, trailing the tangled scents of magic, searching for heat, for gold, for lilies and perfume. The guard huffed and trotted after him, unwilling either to stop him or to leave him alone. “Let’s see, it took ten minutes this time for one of you,” Kell mused, speaking idly to his companion. The guard behind him flushed- they were usually much quicker about finding him, but in their defense he’d been quieter about his entrance so he could eat without discovery. “And I was seen almost what, half an hour ago? The royal family must be close. Taking tea by the pond?” Queen Emira was predictable- she always took her tea where she could relax and watch the fish while Maxim and Rhy bickered.

“I will show you to them-”

“No need,” Kell cut him off with a laugh, watching with delight as the panting guard went even redder. He’d already caught the scent, confirming his suspicions about the royals’ whereabouts. “I’m very good at finding my way.” He stopped suddenly, letting his follower stumble past him, before he pointed in the direction of another arch, several voices heard spilling through it. Their destination. A booming laugh cracked through the air, echoing off of the path and walls. Kell’s smile widened, more snarl then grin, but he kept his tone light. “Tell you what, why don’t you go ahead and tell your king I’m here since he obviously hasn’t heard yet, and we can both pretend that you found me when I first came. Deal?” The guard didn’t move, and Kell could practically see his mind turning, weighing the choice between showing incompetence and leaving a foreign magician unguarded. Kell’s eyes narrowed, and his smile twisted further into an angry grimace. The man went white at the sight, his eyes darting along Kell’s teeth, no doubt surprised by the four sharpened fangs and the twisting scars beside them.

Kell nodded towards the arch, this time unable to hide his impatience. “Go. Shoo. Now.” The guard jumped at the growl and with no more contemplation sprinted for the archway. As soon as he was alone, Kell sighed and rubbed the rigor mortis out of his cheeks, drifting over to one of the numerous statues filling the square, a jagged image of a roaring lion, an armed soldier mounted on its back. The blood on his arm was still fresh, and it took him no time at all to paint a new mark along the soldier’s shield. The palace staff would probably find it- there was no time to find a better hiding place- but he still had plenty of entrances stashed around, and this one would serve fine as a decoy. He then pulled his sleeve back down and returned his knife to his sheath, wondering what mood he’d find the king in today. Perhaps if he was lucky he’d manage to avoid the princes; Rhy was little more than a minor annoyance, all too-bright sunshine and confidence, but the other…

Play nice, Kell. My brother will be your king one day.

“Master Kell, the king will see you now.”

Another smile spread like frost across his face, tight as cord and just as binding. Kell looked towards the attendant who’d summoned him, wondering if Astrid’s smiles ever met his eyes. As he walked through the arch and into the next garden, he could guess probably not; the king, the royals, and the staff all looked politely uncomfortable, as if a wolf had asked them out to tea. Good. He didn’t want to get too chummy.

“Hello, your majesties.” He said, too loudly and with too much charm. “Did I hear it was somebody’s birthday?”

#if you thought kell was snippy before #swapped kell is worse #though to be fair #dealing with astrid and lila together can be a little stressful #adsom #adsom fic #a darker shade of magic #kell maresh #lila bard #rhy maresh #astrid dane #athos dane #the dane twins #bee writes #adsom swapped au #adsom fanfic #a faded shade of magic

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writingwithadinosaur · 4 years

Text

“Under the Knife” - Part 3

My Masterlist - Here

Story Masterlist - Here

My Tag List - Here

Hannibal Lecter x Reader, Will Graham x Sister!Reader

Word Count: 1,700-ish

Key: Chunks of text in italics are (Y/N)’s thoughts. Y/N = Your Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color

Warnings: Talk of Murder, Talk of Crime Scenes, Talk of Murder Victims, Cursing

Summary: You are Will Graham’s sister who works with him at the FBI. When you get offered a job promotion, life starts to change. Some changes for the better; Some for the worst.

Tag List: @fruitloopzzz @theeactress @melconnor2007 @ashenfallsof @geeksareunique @all-by-myself98 @sj-thefan @fuck-your-bad-vibes-dude @ntlmundy

Author’s Note: This is my first Hannibal piece and I am proud of it. There aren’t too many stories for Hannibal, so I figured I would add to the collection. This does take place in some happy medium where they are all alive and work together. Sort of a happier season 1 era.

This is beta-read by @theeactress, but please let me know if there is something that we missed or that we should look at again!

If you would like to be tagged in any of my future pieces, check out my tag list above and let me know! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

- DreaSaurusREX

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“As most of you know, this is (Y/N) Graham, she will be our profiler for this case.”

“Oh good. Another Graham.” Beverly commented over her clipboard, writing down something involving the case probably. Jack gave her a chastising glance and she held her hands up in defense.

“(Y/N) this is Beverly Katz, Brian Zeller, and Jimmy Price.” Jack introduced you very quickly to the science-ier part of the team very quickly before jumping right into work. “So, tell us what you got so far, (Y/N).”

You opened your small notebook and began summarizing your notes from last night’s reading.

“Alright. So far I’ve been able to see three patterns: the ways they were killed, the time frame, and the fact that all of the victims that were dismembered were doctors. The strongest thing I can think of is that this killer was wronged by doctors in some way. I’m not sure if it's a doctor in the general term or if there is some specific way that ties these three doctors, and our killer, together. That was something I was going to work on today.

The way that the bodies are taken apart is very particular. From what I could tell from the photos in the files, all of the cuts seemed to be straight lines all the way through. Which means that this guy’s gotta have access not only to the tools that can do this sort of stuff, but also whatever drug he got in their system to make them lay still while he... worked. So I’m assuming the murder weapon is nothing with a jagged blade or saw-like teeth until we get to the bone. Do we have any reports on striation patterns or anything that could help us with what was used?”

“It’s like you said, the cuts were almost completely straight lines, even through to the bone. The only things we could think of were surgical tools.” Zeller spoke up. “The skin and muscles were cut similarly to how a surgeon would with a scalpel. But the bone is where it gets tricky. You can’t cut like this through bone with just a scalpel.”

“Unless you have plenty of time and you're very persistent.” Beverly joked; you were the only one that slightly exhaled a laugh through your nose at her quip.

“Alright, so the killer has a medical background.” Jack tossed into the air. You nodded.

“Possibly. But why would a doctor be going after other doctors?”

“Maybe they’re taking all his patients?” Beverly shot out. You just nodded and looked back at your notes to see where you left off.

“The uh.. The most concerning thing is the time frame. They were all killed two weeks part from each other. Dr. Everet was almost 6 weeks ago, Dr. Chaseten almost 4, and Dr. Loriet about 2.”

“Which means we could have another dead doctor within the week.” Jack solemnly spoke as he realized the gravity of the situation. “Alright, you three keep looking over everything to see if we missed something. (Y/N), start working on possible correlations between the victims and the killer. Let’s get this son of a bitch.”

And that’s how the next two days went. Researching, thinking, and trying to get into a mindset that you weren’t totally sure of yet.

You had checked in with Will like you promised and said that you were fine but you were going to be very busy for at least the next few days. Hannibal had called you after your first day and could hear the slight exhaustion in your voice. He asked you to have lunch with him tomorrow and you very quickly agreed.

But the next day, you spent more time than you thought flipping through the databases to try to find any correlation between Everet, Chasten, and Loriet. The three of them never worked in the same hospital, clinic, or even the same city. Their wives didn’t know each other. Their neighbors didn’t know each other. They didn’t have any sort of communication with each other. They were all different types of doctors. Everet and Loriet went to the same med school, but they graduated 3 years apart.

So what the fuck am I missing?

You kept looking back over the crime scene photos. You couldn’t understand why the doctors were mutilated and positioned so intricately, but the others were cast aside. The focus has to be on the doctors. They must have done something to ‘wrong’ the killer. So what the hell did all three of you do to make someone want to murder?

Your train of thought was interrupted by a knock at your office door. You let out a slightly aggravated sigh.

“Jack, I told you I will let you know when I-- Oh! Hannibal! Hi!” You looked up from your computer screen to find Hannibal standing in the doorway with a bag in his hand.

“Should I come back later?”

“No! No. Come on in. I probably should take a break. I feel like I’m going in circles anyways.” You looked at your watch and saw it was almost 3:30 PM. The last time you looked at the clock, it was 10:30 AM. “And I missed our lunch meeting.” You put your head in your hands and groaned in annoyance with yourself. “I am so sorry, Hannibal. I--”

“No need for apologies, my dear. I figured Jack had put a lot on your plate, so I thought I would bring lunch to you.” Hannibal made his way into your office and shut the door behind him.

“You really didn’t have to.”

“When was the last time you ate, (Y/N)?” Hannibal questioned you, looking you dead in the eye after he sat down in one of your office chairs.

You weren’t entirely sure. You started to speak but then stopped yourself, really trying to remember when you ate last. I know I had ½ of my breakfast at 7:30 this morning. Did I have my granola bar? Does coffee count as a meal?

“The fact that you have to think about when your last meal was, is a bit concerning. But nonetheless, I am more than happy to remedy that. ” He smiled one of his rare but small smiles and began unpacking whatever culinary art he brought. You tried to condense some of your piles of papers and folders so you had enough room to put food down.

Hannibal had brought a home-cooked meal for the two of you to enjoy. A ginger salad with fresh pan-seared scallops and even some infused water that he had marinating in his fridge overnight. This was so much better than the PB&J you had packed.

As you began to dig in, Hannibal couldn’t help but look at some of the crime scene photos and your notes.

“So what are we calling this killer?”

“‘The Virginia Scalpel.’” You said with slight annoyance. “He has a medical background and is within a reasonable distance from all of the vics. Yet, we have no idea who he is.”

“Does the killer have to be a medical professional? Maybe they just have very steady hands.”

“True. But there is almost no way that a regular guy could cut through muscle and bone that cleanly without surgical tools or the knowledge of how to use them. Not to mention the fact that he would have some serious explaining to do on how he got the succinylcholine or whatever paralyzer he plans to use next.” You rub your eyes gently, feeling the strain from the computer screen hitting you. Hannibal could feel the stress radiating off of you.

“Do you want to talk about this case?”

“Not really. But I’m not sure what else to talk about. This has been my life for the last 3 days, the killer could strike again any day now, and I still don’t know why these three doctors were targeted or who will be next!”

You started to fidget with your ring unconsciously and a bit aggressively, a sign to Hannibal that your anxiety was starting to catch up. Despite the physical signs that you needed a break, you continued to glance over an open file near you while you took another bite of food. He leaned forward in his seat a bit as he closed the file that you had been rereading for what he assumed to be at least the tenth time.

“(Y/N), you need to breathe.” You just nodded and closed your eyes to try to help your deep breaths relax you faster. “How about we go for a walk? Get the blood flowing.”

“I would love to. But I feel like I can’t afford that break right now.” You shook your head slightly as you reached down for a stack of papers you had bundled and put on the floor earlier. You didn’t see him get up, but Hannibal was standing, adjusting his jacket before holding a hand out to you.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” You looked from his hand to his face before standing up, shrugging. A small walk around the building wouldn’t hurt, right?

Before your hand could land in his, your phone rang and you felt your heart sink, dreading what could be waiting for you on the other end of the line. Both you and Hannibal looked down at your phone and saw the caller ID: “Jack Crawford.” You took a deep inhale and hit the answer button.

“I really hope you’re calling just to bug me to work faster, Jack…” You tried your best to control your voice. You looked up and Hannibal was watching, trying to listen in and gauge how you were going to react.

“Afraid not. There’s another Scalpel vic. I’m texting you the address. Drop whatever you're doing and get down here.” Jack hung up before you could say anything, leaving you in a bit of shock.

Dammit! What the hell am I missing?! Someone else is dead--Another doctor is dead because I don’t have any answers yet. How can--

“(Y/N)?” Hannibal’s hand on your arm broke your stream of internal chastising before it could get too bad, but you did unintentionally jump at the contact. He instantly raised his hands up and let you process for a moment. “There’s another one, isn’t there?”

You just nod. A second later, your phone flashed a message from Jack with an address.

“Guess my ‘walk’ is going to be to a crime scene.” You try to joke despite feeling a tinge of guilt spreading through you. Hannibal tried to walk you to your car but you kindly denied him. You wanted to be alone as you prepared yourself for your first real crime scene.

#hannibal #hannibal fanfiction #hannibal fandom #hannibal imagine #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter / reader

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starandquill · 4 years

Text

Hunter’s Game

My excuse to write an interaction with these two and also to write a poem about Cater sknkjgdn cross-posted on Ao3!

Characters: Rook Hunt, Cater Diamond

Summary: Rook finds Cater in the woods and decides to mess around with him. Cater soon learns he can’t outsmart the hunter in his own game.

The sun was low on the afternoon horizon and a soft breeze rustled the leaves in the forest. There within the chilly undergrowth, a hunter stalked their prey. They were a skilled predator, a figure obscured in the shadows refracted by the leaves above with footfalls so delicate and swift that not a leaf or stick was left behind disturbed. The hunter watched with sharp eyes through an obscuring bush as their prey, a figure across a grassy flowered clearing, shifted directions and bright green eyes narrowed as their main target was left perfectly open.

Quickly and seemingly with the grace of an eagle taking flight, the hunter raised their weapon and an arrow alongside it. Nock, aim, pull back. All done in several swift movements. Release.

Thunk.

The arrow struck its target perfectly and Cater's phone was knocked from his hand just before he could snap a photo of the flowers in front of him. The Heartslabyul student exclaimed his surprise in the form of a shout and immediately spun on his heels to face the direction the arrow came from with wide eyes and a defensive arm raised, magic pen in hand.

"Ah, my apologies~" Rook took this moment to slide out from the bush. Once more with enough grace that only a singular leaf remained stuck to the fabric on the shoulder of his uniform. A leaf which he then plucked and cast aside without breaking eye contact. "I missed."

Cater knew very well that Rook was not the type to miss and that the close-eyed smile and exaggerated shrug the self-proclaimed hunter gave him was a sly mockery that made his eyebrow twitch.

Despite this, Cater forced himself to return the smile, pocketing his magic pen. Both knew exactly what the other was really thinking and inwardly both were staring daggers, but they kept niceties.

"Ah! No problem." Cater said, particularly making sure to let a bit of his annoyance drip through between the cheerful tone. He reached down to retrieve his phone, brushing some dirt off of it as he looked it over quickly for any cracks in the screen. When he found nothing damaged, he quickly shoved it in his back pocket and looked up again to see Rook had already crossed the space between them and was now standing practically in front of him. With the same shit-eating grin still plastered on his face, Rook knelt down and retrieved his arrow from where it had fallen, returning it to his quiver and slinging the bow he'd been carrying with him around his shoulder as well.

When he stood back up to his full height, a silent exchange passed between their smiling expressions. Cater's read something along the lines of 'Hey you shit-faced bastard, you could've cracked my screen. There are, like, a million other things out here to aim at. What did I do to you, dude?' And Rook's expression assured in return that he was perfectly capable of using enough strength and precision to pierce the device clean through and that Cater should count himself lucky Rook had decided to merely knock it away with one of the blunt arrows he saved for non-hunting purposes.

"I was aiming at a bird." Rook finally said. "Such a shame, it seems it flew away now." He says this with a dramatic sigh. Cater noted he was making an effort to purposefully emphasize the obvious lie. He tried not to fall victim to whatever it was Rook was clearly doing.

"Sorry to hear that! Good luck with the rest of your.. Er.. Hunt! I was just taking some photos of these pretty flowers here and I'd like to continue if you don’t mind." Cater gestured toward the bright yellow and blue scattered among the grass of the clearing they were standing in. When Rook remained uncharacteristically silent, Cater shrugged and went to retrieve his phone again. However, his hand was stopped short as Rook caught him by the wrist. Instinctively, Cater moved to twist his hand from the other's grasp but Rook's grip was firm and that shit-eating smirk remained.

"A trickle of color amongst a sea of green, colorful raindrops fallen upon the ground. Oui, le fleur, a true beauty of the forest.” His eyes pierced Cater’s. “Do you know what else is beautiful, Monsieur Magicam? The thrill of the hunt. Since you're here and a hunt is always better done in a pack, I'd like you to help me catch that sneaky little birdie."

"Ehh?! Wh-" Cater protested as Rook began to pull him into the trees. "Hey!"

There was no bird! Rook was no fool and neither was Cater. Cater was well aware he was just playing games and Rook clearly knew of this fact, yet he smoothly continued the lie and used it to his advantage rather forcefully and expertly without revealing his intentions. The hunter had cornered its prey merely to force the prey to hunt for it. What sort of game was Rook playing at? Or rather, what sort of game was Cater being asked to play?

"Come, I saw it fly off this way." They were nearly in a jog at this point. Rook was clearly athletic, his speed leaving him practically dragging Cater along behind. He leapt easily over rocks and protruding roots, leaving Cater to stumble over said obstacles.

Finally, Rook paused within the shade of a young tree, seemingly completely unfazed by the length of which he had run. When they halted to a stop, the Heartslabyul student doubled over, gasping desperately for air as he looked to Rook, who appeared to be smelling the air for scents that carried in the slight breeze. Again, searching for nothing in particular but keeping the facade.

It wasn't as if Cater was unfamiliar with spontaneity of mischief. After all, it was quite the familiar theme among the Heartslabyul dorm. He knew a game of wits when he saw one. Aha! That was it! If Rook wants a game he'll get a game. This was a game two could play at and two would play indeed. ..Or perhaps, more than just two..

A wide grin spread across his face.

"Don't you think it would be easier,” Cater suddenly said. “If we split up to find it?"

Before Rook could even open his mouth to speak, Cater used Split Card. He got a boost of confidence from the look of genuine surprise that crossed Rook's eyes for all but a tenth of a second and it allowed Cater just enough energy for all four versions of himself to split off and scatter into the trees.

“Hmm?” Rook called into the forest. “Playing games with a hunter are we? That's never a wise move.” A pause, no Caters answered. “But I guess I do enjoy a game of hide and seek. Alright, I give you 10 seconds to hide, Monsieur Magicam. Let's play a game. I know there are four of you, so if I find the real one, you must help me find my little bird. If I guess incorrectly, you win and you're free~” A beat. Then, “Neuf.” Another beat. “Huit.”

Cater realized he had begun counting and took off into the trees. The other Caters realized this too and all of him set off in completely different directions. The real Cater stumbled through the bushes as if his life depended on it (and perhaps it truly did) looking desperately for a place to hide. He glimpsed a dip in the ground ahead and dropped down into a creek bed where he flattened his back against the grasping roots of a tree. He then allowed his breathing to steady and his heart rate to calm. Mud stuck to his uniform and shoes from where he crouched and his hair had come undone at some point and cascaded across his face, obscuring parts of his eyesight.

“‐Deux. Un! Let the hunt begin~!” Rook’s voice rang through the trees. There were several beats of silence, then Rook's voice echoed from somewhere distantly off to his left.

It was.. Of course he was reciting poetry, leave it to Rook Hunt to add such a thing to the most unusual of situations.

"A card for the hunter, a card for the prey.

Neither side knows what the other might play.

A four of diamonds, or a joker?

A risky game, this game of poker."

Cater sank lower into the creek bed as Rook’s voice grew closer, praying that he’d chosen the best place to hide out of the other Caters.

"His pawns cannot protect him yet.

For they can only move ahead.

The others turn their path astray.

While the king can only outrun the fray."

He frowned. That was.. There was a deeper meaning to Rooks echoing words.When the hunter spoke again, he was closer. Much, much too close.

“He who waits upon his throne

Is first to fall when left alone.

He begs and pleads them, but alas,

They took the crown right from his grasp.

Diamond diamond in the mud,

the hunter calls out for your blood.

If you so truly wish to hide,”

A moment of silence.

“You really shouldn't shine so bright~”

It wasn't like Cater to freeze, and yet in that moment he'd been listening so carefully for Rook's next words so he would know when to run that he'd underestimated the hunter's location. When Rook spoke that last verse, he sounded as if now stood directly above the creek bed, close enough that Cater could hear his breathing. Rook took a breath, likely preparing to speak those final lines of his oddly morbid poem.

..When an obnoxious ringtone went off.

Cater's reflexes were automatically programmed to reach for his own cellular device when he suddenly stopped himself upon the realization that the ringtone was not his own.

“Bonjour!” He heard Rook answer from above him in a cheerful voice, an immediate switch from his previous tone. He was close enough that Cater could hear the murmurs of another voice on the other end of the line. “Roi de Poison! Is everything alright?” An exasperated tone answered and he heard Rook hum in surprise at something. “Really? Are you sure? Alright alright I'll be there soon. Au revoir~!” The other end of the call said something in a loud voice, likely protesting the abrupt hang up, but Rook ended the call regardless.

"It seems the little birdie got lucky. Ah well, I'm sure I'll catch it someday! You win today, Monsieur Magicam. Enjoy your victory, it's not every day someone escapes my hunter’s grasp~” He chuckled, then Cater heard his footsteps turn and begin to walk back the way he came. He let go of a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding as Rook’s steps grew distant and nearly slumped down in relief before remembering he was crouching over a mud puddle. As he stood up, he allowed his clones to disappear and his full magic returned to him. Regardless of the abrupt end, it was clear the hunter had given up on his game for the day as the previously tense and threatening air had dissipated entirely. Cater dug around in his pockets for a hair tie and double checked that his phone was still there. He tied his hair back up and went to brush the drying mud off his pants, knowing how much he'd get reprimanded by Riddle for returning in such a state regardless of his efforts to tidy his appearance.

The setting sun cast long shadows among the trees and the orange-red colors of the sunset sky above reflected in the water of the small creek making the steadily running water look much too similar to that familiar red paint that dripped from the roses in the Heartslabyul gardens before a party.

..Or perhaps a trail of blood, running over rocks and away from the ashes of the fallen and defeated among a broken battlefield.

He shook his head. No! Bad Cater! Stop that, you’re thinking too dark!

As he began wandering back through the forest the way he came, the hunter's poem remained on his mind. He hated admitting it to himself but though Rook hadn't gotten to finish his game properly - whatever that meant - the hunter had most certainly won. Whether intentional or not, the words cut deeper than any arrow would. That hunter.. He knew much more than he would ever say. Cater suddenly paused, drawn out of his thoughts as he remembered that he hadn't even gotten the chance to do what he originally came there for. Putting on a bright grin, he pulled up his phone and snapped a selfie.

#walkinthewoods #NRCforest #beautifulsunset #prettyflowers #checkoutthiscreek

Uploaded.

Anyone looking at the photo would not see the exhaustion behind his smile or how dirtied his lower uniform was. They wouldn't know the oddity of an afternoon he’d just been through and it would always continue to stay that way.

Humming a cheerful tune to himself, he began the walk back, the only goal currently on his mind now being to return before Riddle’s set curfew as it was quickly getting dark.

Much farther away, and hidden once more within the darkness of a shadow cast behind a gnarled tree, those green hunter’s eyes watched the Heartslabyul student as he left with a knowing gaze.

"Though ages to polish a diamond may take,

To sculpt to perfection without a mistake.

No gem is flawless, no effort doth matter.

For with enough pressure, that diamond can shatter.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland fanfiction #cater diamond #rook hunt #fanfic #apologies for my odd writing style sjgdgjgn #looks kinda like a ship but i swear that wasnt my intention pff #star writes

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