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cursedcola · 1 year

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Prompt: "Will You Marry Me?" - Proposal Headcannons Characters: Everyone :) Part(s): Heartslabyul (here!), Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasomnia(Pt.1)(Pt.2) Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Warning(s): None. I mean, unless you don't want to marry any of them. Just don't read if that's the case. Note: These are all if he is the one proposing btw. I've been thinking about maybe programming a small fan-made mini-otome using these ideas. Just for some practice for school while also being self indulgent hehe

Riddle Rosehearts

Very traditional, but this is expected. He asks your closest of kin (a cat, to his horror) for permission to propose. Regardless of Grimm's answer, there is already a ring that's been purchased. This is merely formality

He comes up with an elaborate plan to execute the 'perfect' proposal. Riddle maps it all out and runs multiple drafts by his childhood friends. Everything must go perfectly - or else you might not accept. Is it likely that not presenting you with exactly 12 red roses with the spikes trimmed and arranged with 6 sprigs of baby's breath will be the reason you decline? Likely not. Will he chance it though? No.

Despite all his planning, he is a nervous wreak. Our red prince is great at masking it though. He plans an entire evening down to the last detail. You both go to a upscale restaurant that serves your favorite cuisine under the pretense that you're celebrating an amazing jab offer Riddle received the day prior. There's dinner, dancing, a romantic atmosphere, and delightful conversation (he prepared conversation topics in advance in case he felt nervous).

Oh look, there just so happens to be an outdoor garden to take an evening stroll through. Would you like to go?

Of course you would, and he asks you to wait outside as he visits the restroom. After you pass through the back door, a nearby waiter slips him the bouquet of twelve roses that he dropped off in the morning. He counts them, checks the stems, the ribbon holding them together, and with a relieved sigh he reaches into his pocket.

Riddle nestles the engagement ring within the core of the center rose, and for a moment his anxiety quells. He looks through the outside door's windowpane, and sees you patiently waiting for him while admiring the garden lights. The anxiety returns, but he's ready. With a knuckle-white grip on the flowers, he passes through the doors.

"Hello...I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. I had a matter of great importance to attend to - wha? No! Not that- ugh. I wasn't in the restroom! Only you would make such a childish remark on such an important day...No, do not apologize. I was not referring to my career. Perhaps these flowers will provide some clarity. I hope they are to you liking,"

When you notice the ring, he gently takes it and gets down on one knee. Riddles heart rattles against his ribcage, and his the mask of calm falters. He holds out the ring with one hand, and the other lightly trembles as it reaches for yours.

"Would you do me the honor of becoming my spouse? I promise that you will be cared for dearly, and that I will work tirelessly to become a husband that you will be proud of,"

{Riddle's ring is a mix of new and old. Tradition dictates a diamond for a wedding ring, but he knows better. Riddle wants you to think of him every time you see this ring, so he chooses to stray. Three rubies sit nested in diamonds. The color of his hair, which you love to poke fun of so much. It represents how he is willing to consistently change while still holding on to his core values, all so he can become a husband worthy of you}

Trey Clover

A simple man, and therefore takes a simple approach. The depth of his proposal lies in the timing. He does not know when he will be ready to commit, or how to tell if you are ready to as well.

Trey puts proposing off for the longest time. He acts in baby steps. The idea toys with him for months, until one day he convinces himself that he is ready. After that he slowly begins to look at rings, and think of ideas. He wants to be original, but would that overwhelm you? He would sooner die than do something tacky like a public proposal at a concert or event...but is that something you might want?

If there is one thing Trey is certain about, its that rejection would break him. He knows that your relationship would never be the same if he proposed too early, or if he managed to royally screw it up. He's not a fan of attention. This is awful. Oh Great Sevens it's a pressure that he never dreamed of having to undergo.

But if he doesn't propose...would you? Are you waiting for him? what if you're thought process is the same as his?

Completely out of character for Trey, he ends up proposing on impulse. He woke up one morning and saw the ring tucked away in his sock drawer. For the millionth time he had to face the "I should just do it," thoughts and decided to act on them

The day is new, neither of you had work, and a quick glance over his shoulder proves that you would be soundly sleeping for at least the next hour. So what's he do? Trey puts on his nicest casual clothes. Nothing formal, but also nothing that is sloppy. Then he marches downstairs and starts to make breakfast. He decides to prepare tarts, a reminiscence of your days as students and where you first met. As he arranges them on a platter, he places the ring inside one made with your favorite flavor. It peaks out just enough for anyone to notice, and with a huff Trey steps back to admire his work.

His hands are slightly clammy, and quickly moves to busy himself in fear he might chicken out. It helps for a time, until he hears your footsteps approach the kitchen, followed by a sleepy 'good morning' and arms wrapping around his torso

He steels himself, and turns over in your arms to kiss the top of your head. With a nervous laugh, Trey gestures to the platter of fruit tarts and smiles at how the sight of food causes you to perk up. Like clockwork, you reach for your favorite flavor and quickly notice the metal chunk inside

He reigns in panic as you dig the ring out and eye it with a quirked brow. A moment of silence passes before it clicks, and you whip to gawk at him with the largest bugeyes he has ever seen. Wordlessly, Trey takes the ring, wipes off any crumbs with his shirt, and takes your hands in his

"I'm sorry to spring this on you so early in the morning. It must be quite the wakeup call, huh? Haha...The truth is, I have wanted to give this to you for such a long time. I simply did not know how. I had a burst of courage this morning, and am honestly running on pure adrenaline. I love you...I want to spend our lives together. Will you marry me?"

{Trey's ring is a single pearl on a gold band. He feels that the ring should reflect it's wearer, and you are one of the most naturally beautiful people he has ever seen. There is beauty in simplicity - in seeing things as they are with no modifications. You do that for him, and he loves how your relationship is authentic}

Cater Diamond

Marriage? Huh. See, in the past that was a no-go. Very constricting and he didn't enjoy the idea of getting linked to someone in that regard. An s/o with no legal binding? Sure. It's just a title anyways, right? That kind of thing shouldn't matter in the long run.

Except it did end up being relevant, and now Cater wants to beat himself up because he explicitly told you once things were getting serious that he wasn't interested in marriage. You were fine with doing either and left the decision up to him. Very nice of you to be so nonchalant , and now he knows that marriage isn't 'off the table'. There is a chance.

A chance that requires him to both propose and take back his initial stance. Which is kind of humiliating. The take back part, not the proposal. Cater is confident that he can blow you away. He doesn't need shoddy internet advice, or to to do extensive research to be perfect. Nope. It's all in his noggin. He knows you like the back of his hand and therefore can concoct a speech to woo you easily.

So what comes first, the chicken or the egg? Does he try to casually tip you of that he's interested in getting married before trying to propose? No. That would be incredibly dull and ruin the element of surprise. Cater always hated those crappy half-baked romance films where the loser male lead is all 'oh honey I promise I will propose. Just give me time,' because hello???? You spoiled it??? Also don't make promises that you don't plan to keep, douchebag. How dull.

He decides that it's all or nothing. Cater spends an entire night online shopping for a ring. He already knows all of your sizes...don't ask how or why. Anyway, ordering is a cinche. Just ignore his eyebags the next day and his snappy attitude. He can't even whine about how tired he is because that would mean he has to say why he didn't sleep and -EUGH. He is torn between his two loves. Complaining for attention, and wooing you for attention. It's rough.

It comes in the mail, and after checking the package he decides to seal it back up again. It looks untouched thanks to his skills. Then, he sets up the living room to look like he is filming a video for his magicam. Specifically an unboxing video, and makes sure to let you know that it's from one of your favorite companies.

You take the bait, and he asks you to join him. Even if your camera shy, he insists that for just this one video you hop on. He might be a bit tricky and give you ideas about the product in the box (making sure to align them with a hobby or fandom that you're into). He sets the camera to record, plops down casually at your side, and hands you the box cutter. Go crazy.

Cater can't help but giggle when you open the box - just to pull out another small box. You eye it cautiously, now suspicious that this might be a prank. He urges you to open the box, and you do so while holding it at arms-length away from your face.

The ring's gem sparkles in the camera light, and he watches amused as you pull it closer. With a shaky hand, you take it out of the box and inspect it. With the way you side-eye him, Cater can tell that you're wondering if this situation is a cruel prank...

"Tada~~ You like? -- WAIT! Before you get upset just let me explain! There is no video. That was a lie, and I'm sorry for it. I surprised you good though, right?...ahem, uhm. I'm not pranking you. If you feel the same, then I want for us to get married! I know what I said before, and I take it back. The time we have spent together made me realize that I only felt that way - well, because I was unable to imagine liking someone enough to share my life. So...do you want to marry me?"

{A diamond for a diamond. Diamonds are reflective. They glitter, and are clear. They are also viewed as the best choice for a ring, but in actuality they have are not. They're only considered perfect because of marketing. In actuality, they're quite the opposite. This same reasoning applies to Cater - and you understand. Yet, you still love him. The diamond represents himself, and the heart shape is to remind you how much you mean to him}

Deuce Spade

He may be young, but he is not stupid...alright. Deuce is not always stupid. Sometimes? Yes. He makes poor decisions and lets his emotions get the better of him.

This? Not a poor decision, and he will never EVER think twice about it. From the moment the idea entered Deuce's head, it was decided. HE would become your husband. Nothing would stop him.

It began during his final year at Night Raven College. Graduation approached, and everyone was excited. Everyone, except for one person. You. He didn't notice it at first, being too hung up over how he actually managed to do well in school. Get this, he even became Heartslabyul Drumhead after Riddle graduated! What an honor! His mother was proud of him, and he was proud of himself! He had career aspirations, plans to get a home back home, and even a lovely s/o to flaunt. Life was great.

What...do you mean? That you're not going back with him? The Queendom of Roses is such a beautiful place! He's certain that you'll love it and can become adjusted. Why do you want to stay at this academy? Was three years not enough?

Deuce has never gotten mad at you before. A little miffed, sure, but never frustrated. He didn't like it. Not these feelings, or how he failed to notice that you planned this from the start. He was so wrapped up in his own happiness, that he failed to see that you felt troubled over his assumptions. It stung. In a moment of weakness, he left you alone, scared that he might raise his voice at you.

He needed to think. Alone. Thankfully he moved past sharing a room with Ace when Deuce became Housewarden. His phone rang many times. Some calls from you, Ace, his mother...for once, Deuce didn't think her advice could help him. Not when he was so confused.

He thought over his dreams for after college. They were the same that he had since prior to enrolling. Nothing changed...except for you and the other unexpected friends he made along the way. It began to settle within him that the unpredicted parts were more important to him than what he initially planned. The image of him as a successful worker, on his own, and being successful were all hollow if they didn't include you. Deuce wasn't upset that you planned to stay at NRC, he was upset that you didn't plan to stay with him.

Or did you? He interpreted it as such in the moment, but he's not so sure. All Deuce knows is that you're his best friend and the love of his life. If you stay here without him, will that change? He doesn't want to find out.

The next day, he's determined. It's impulsive, this he knows. Yet it's what feels right in his heart and Deuce has always trusted his gut instinct. This choice is entirely on him. No one's advice to excuse it if you don't reciprocate, and yet he isn't afraid. He might not have a ring, or fancy offerings. All he has is his love to offer, and a willingness to work around any obstacle. The hurt from the night prior sill aches in his chest, but he has done difficult things before. The pain merely serves as a reminder for how he hurt you, and what his future might be like if he doesn't act.

He finds you before breakfast. When the first rays of sunshine peak over the horizon and the air is still moist with morning dew. You lingered in the hall of mirrors, specifically near the portal to Heartslabyul Hall. Your presence startled him, and he nearly headbutt you from the speed he was going through the portal. Were you...planning to visit him? His heart shuddered in a mix of guilt and happiness. Even after the way he behaved, you still cared.

Upon closer inspection, you appear just as disheveled as him. He must have caused you a great deal of worry...damn it. He can't even be mad at himself. Not with things as they are.

Before you have a chance to speak, he hushes you. Deuce's jaw sets in determination and he reaches into his uniform pocket. He pulls out a paper ring. One that children often give each other on the playground when playing family. He then gets down on one knee, and holds it out with both hands.

"I am sorry. I never intended to hurt you, or push my ambitions on to you. I simply love you more than anything else, and was afraid that you did not want to be together anymore. I was afraid...that being apart would take away what we have. I realize that I was wrong. I didn't see it happening, but being with you has caused me to develop dreams beyond what I initially planned. Nothing I imagine feels right, unless you are in the picture. I don't have a proper ring prepared just yet...but will you marry me? I promise that no matter where we are - for better or worse, I will make you happy. I swear it!

{Your initial ring is made out of his most recent homework assignment. It's frail, and one drop of water will break it. However, he meticulously folded it and it is the byproduct of many imperfect prototypes. The paper ring truly represents who Deuce is. It's rushed, fragile, and full of love}

{He chooses a vintage ring. With both of your initials engraved on the center, he hopes that this ring attests to a promise no matter where you both are. It's rose-gold, not as bright as pure gold but still beautiful. The mixed color represents the different worlds you both come from, as well as your melded life}

Ace Trappolla

Ace tends to get comfortable, and when that happens it is difficult to ignite change. However, he is also headstrong. More than many give him credit for. So once the problem is identified, it's only a matter of time until he does something about it. What he does isn't necessarily always the best solution, sure; however, when threatened he will indeed act.

Initially Ace did not plan to find love. For a long time, he rejected it and passed his feelings off as a small crush. You're attractive, he's a man, a lil of this and a lil of that - who wouldn't feel a little heart throb once in a while? It only became an issue when you became one of his best friends. It felt like he was betraying you with these thoughts. They became a problem.

His first solution was to repress them further. Like stated, he noticed a problem and so he acted. Was this the best choice? No. It ended in a dumpster-fire. Any time another student even remotely expressed interest in you, Ace felt threatened. He couldn't spend time at your side without indecent thoughts popping up. Not like 'that' (geez, get your mind out of the gutter people), but more so domestic. Ick. What was happening?!

He couldn't hold it in, and his confession will forever be known as a feels-dump that started with you sharing half of your grilled-cheese with him because he missed lunch.

Yeah. Humiliating. Ugh.

Now you're his partner, of a long time. A very, very, very long time. Years post graduation. You both have settled into life together, so why tack a title? It's not like those mean anything, right? Everything was perfect as is, and weddings are expensive. You never brought it up either, so why worry?

Well, those titles do mean things in the eyes of the law. Ace never thought to get documentation about emergency contacts and whatnot updated. So when hit his head and got a concussion when jogging? The hospital wouldn't let you in. Not until he woke up, which was the longest four hours of your life.

You didn't express how much it bothered you, but words weren't necessary. The muted panic that you tried to hold back was enough. He expected you to enter his room angry, but instead all he got was defeat. That sight alone hurt worse than the leg.

The event got Ace thinking about things he hadn't in a long time - like marriage. He got too comfortable after letting the thought go once. To him, you were already irreplicable. Years do that, and he's certain that you feel the same way about him. If his young self could see him now...pah, he was such a turd. All 'I don't need anyone,' and empty words to play tough-guy. Little did he know that the person he would need the most in life was only a dimension-hop away haha.

It's that simple, really. No panic or nervousness. Ace decided definitively that he was going to marry you, and it only took years of being an airhead to figure it out.

He spends the night in the hospital for surveillance, and the staff is kind enough to prove you with a cot to sleep on. He stubbornly drags it next to his bed, and once you're sleeping soundly he 3slips a bandage over your ring finger to take the measurement

He planned to go buy the ring instantly after being discharged, but you wouldn't leave his side. Nagging about bed-rest and taking it easy...ugh! He needs to do this thing! No, he can't tell you about it. It's a secret!.....ugh, fine. One more day. Just because he loves the attention.

The next morning after, he's excitedly going to the nearest jewelers. He doesn't have a particular ring in mind, but he's done some research! It's the idea behind the ring that's important anyways....alright. Maybe he'll call up Cater.

Ace does nothing extravagant. He sticks to comfort. You, him, both eating dinner while watching a movie on the TV that evening. He quickly scarfs down his meal within the first 10 minutes and runs to your shared room after ditching his dishes. Stashed in his wallet, he pulls put the ring and hides it in his palm.

Ace tries to be smooth. He dims the living room lights, and sits down closer to you than before. He moves to take your hand with the one holding the ring, and sneak it on to your finger.

It fails, obviously. Who wouldn't notice someone trying to shove a piece of metal on their finger? You pull away on instinct, and the ring falls between the couch cushions. He freaks out for a moment and sifts through them as you continue to eat between giggles. Only when he holds the ring up in triumph do you quiet down.

"Not so funny now, is it? - Nah, just kidding. It was pretty funny....although I wanted this to be a bit more romantic. Eh. It's fine. From the look on your face, I'm guessing that you know what this is?...Uhh. Yeah. I thought it was a good time, y'know? We've been together so long that I already do think of you as my partner. I think you feel the same? Feel free to jump in if not....but, yeah. I love you. A lot. I'd really like to make it official, and I'm sorry it took me so long to get the guts to ask. Will you marry me?"

{Tradition is for chumps. Ace wanted to get something fun and eye-catching. Many suggested otherwise, but this felt right. Your relationship has never been conventional and never will be. Hell, screw 'conventional,' because it's perfect as it is and so is this ring. He knows that this ring will draw your attention, and that's all he cares about}

End Note: None of the ring pictures are mine. I pulled them off of google images because - well, I had ideas and tried to find rings to match them. I write fanfic, not weld jewelry.

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nyoomerr · 2 months

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Demon!SY? It's interesting to think of this ridiculous, doting man finding a persona that lets him exist within that culture

i adore all iterations of demon!sy and honestly would love to make a longer fic of it at some point... every version of it is just so tasty, shout out especially to every single person who's done abyssal monster! sy ....

---

When Shen Yuan first realizes the particulars of his transmigration - that is, the fact that he’s a moderately powerful demon in this life - he’s absolutely delighted.

For normal reasons, obviously!! For normal, not-weird reasons!! Like - like the fact that Shen Yuan has the power to help Luo Binghe, as a demon!! Not because of the extra eyes he has, or the too-long limbs, or the scales that glisten in the sun, or three rows of teeth that snap through anything -!

Ahem. Not those things. Just the parts about how Shen Yuan could be useful to Luo Binghe!!

Still, when it comes to actually doing the whole be-useful-to-Binghe thing, it isn’t so simple as waiting around in the demon realm for Luo Binghe to show up before volunteering to be his advisor or whatever. By the time Luo Binghe makes it to the demon realm, he’ll be full steam ahead focusing on conquering and gathering power, and Shen Yuan falling into line wouldn’t really be seen as anything especially useful.

Shen Yuan wants to help Luo Binghe when it counts, when Luo Binghe will need the help - so naturally, Shen Yuan finds a way into the Endless Abyss.

It’s the perfect plan! Shen Yuan may not know exactly where Luo Binghe gets dropped, but he knows the general topography. On top of that, there are places where the boundary between the Abyss and the human realm is weaker and more prone to tears - if Shen Yuan uses that to map out potential places for the Abyss to open during the Immortal Alliance Conference, and cross references that with what Luo Binghe experienced in the Abyss, then Shen Yuan can certainly find the general area to wait for Luo Binghe in!

And, while he’s waiting, Shen Yuan may as well prepare to be useful! He can make a sturdy little shelter for Luo Binghe to rest and recover in before he has to face the rest of the Abyss - or, wait, should Shen Yuan make more shelters, scattered around the Abyss in the general path from where Luo Binghe will fall all the way to Xin Mo?

Shen Yuan found Xin Mo no problem, after all - of course he wasn’t going to take it, that’s Luo Binghe’s! He just wanted to make sure it was all ready for Luo Binghe when he got there! And really, it isn’t necessary that Luo Binghe fetch the stupid sword from the carcass of a beast, so Shen Yuan can just fetch Xin Mo out of there himself and get it cleaned up, and perhaps put it on a nice little pedestal for Luo Binghe to find later -

Wait, should Shen Yuan just take Xin Mo and have it ready to give to Luo Binghe in the very first little shelter, the one Luo Binghe will stay in after falling into the Abyss? No, of course not, a little bun protagonist like he’ll be when he first falls wouldn’t be ready to wield something as nasty as this toxic sword stinking up Shen Yuan’s yard - the journey through the Abyss is what prepares Luo Binghe for it.

Shen Yuan will just leave Xin Mo where he found it, guarded off from other predators but otherwise cleaned and sharpened and ready for Luo Binghe, and go back to waiting for Luo Binghe in the starting area.

…What if Luo Binghe can’t make it between shelters fast enough, though? What if Shen Yuan had built them too far apart??

Ah, he’ll have to wrangle a Snake Headed Horse Monkey for Luo Binghe to ride on! Shen Yuan can train a few of them, even, so Luo Binghe can have his pick, and -

Luo Binghe falls from the sky, landing perfectly safely in the pile of Abyssal Weed Stalks that Shen Yuan keeps to feed his farm animals with.

“Oh!” He cries, brushing dust and grime from his robes, trying to make himself presentable as Luo Binghe scrambles to sit up. “Binghe, you’re here! Ah, but I haven’t finished preparing all the maps you’ll need, and I only have enough food stored for you to last several months, and -”

Luo Binghe blinks at him, looking around with wide eyes at the stable he crashed through on his fall down into the Abyss. His robes are stained with blood - and wow, Heavenly Demon blood really does smell good! Or, haha, Shen Yuan just means that it looks so pretty! Because it came from inside of Luo Binghe! Who is very pretty!!

….Shen Yuan looks away from the blood stains. He has enough miracle healing plants in his garden for Luo Binghe to have his pick of them later, anyway, it’s fine!!

“...Do you know me?” Luo Binghe asks, wary.

“Of course!” Shen Yuan says, delighted to be asked about his knowledge of Luo Binghe. “You’re the most incredible person in the world!”

Luo Binghe, somehow, grows more suspicious.

“Who are you?” He asks, standing and taking on a ready stance despite his missing sword.

His expression has sharpened into something dark and distrustful, lacking all of the cute confusion he’d worn when first taking in his surroundings, and it makes Shen Yuan want to tut at him. Cute boy, sweet boy, Shen Yuan won’t hurt you!!

Shen Yuan moves closer to Luo Binghe, curling one of his extra arms around him dotingly.

“Binghe can call me anything he likes,” he says, which is true. Shen Yuan wasn’t given a proper name in this world, after all! “Why don’t you think of something while I get you inside, hm? I have some swords for you to choose from to replace Zheng Yang, and you’ll let me wash your hair for you, and you can get a good night’s rest before you head off to Xin Mo.”

Luo Binghe tries to duck under Shen Yuan’s arm, but Shen Yuan catches him with several of his others.

“Let go of me -!” Luo Binghe cries, eyes wide and panicked, and Shen Yuan sighs.

“There’s no need to be afraid,” he says soothingly, his teeth clicking reassuringly at Luo Binghe. “Here, look -”

Shen Yuan pulls Luo Binghe up off the ground, cradling him in his arms and leaning down to press his mouth gently to Luo Binghe’s forehead.

It isn’t a kiss, for the record!! Shen Yuan would never dare to kiss Luo Binghe, or a man in general, or -

Anyway, it’s not a kiss!! Shen Yuan is just showing Luo Binghe that no matter how cool and dangerous his mouth looks, it won’t ever hurt Luo Binghe!!

“See?” Shen Yuan says, straightening but not setting Luo Binghe down. “I won’t hurt you.”

Luo Binghe stares up at Shen Yuan with wide, shocked eyes, his cheeks flushing with color, and stops struggling. Shen Yuan hums, pleased, and uses one of his spare arms to pat indulgently at Luo Binghe’s head.

“Good boy,” Shen Yuan says. “Now, let’s get you taken care of, hm?”

#MAN i love abyssal demon sy....#svsss #scum villain's self saving system #bingqiu #fic drabble

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demonvibez · 6 months

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[Yandere] Satan ♡

Characters: Yan! Satan x GN! Reader Rating: Mature [Minors DNI] Tags: dark content, stalking, manipulation, possessiveness, dubcon, drugging, implied violence/murder, reprogramming, spanking, smut, penetration, dom/sub, hand binding, whipping, mind control, no specified pronouns/body parts for reader Word Count: 2k+ A/N: Happy Birthday to the Avatar of Wrath! Love my lil angy demon so so much, just had to give him a yan hc ♡ Pls enjoy!

♡ Yandere Satan, who studies you like one of his favorite murder mysteries. He yearns to know everything about you - every like or dislike, thoughts, dreams, nightmares... He needs to know everything about you.

-> He slips into your room and looks through your things when you're not home, making sure to look through your private notes. He's gone through your phone once or twice - and once he gets closer to you, he bullies Leviathan into showing him how to put spyware and keyloggers on your DDD.

-> He even goes so far as to breaking into Lucifer's private study to find your file and gain every little bit of insight he can about you. Any info from your life in the human realm, and he'll take it to use to his advantage - all so he can map out the perfect plan to guide you right into his arms.

-> He keeps all of this information about you in a secret journal, cursed for his eyes only. Every single one of your preferences - whether it is your favorite foods, or music, your personal opinions, your past memories, your turn-ons, your preferred sleeping positions, what makes you smile, what makes you wrathful…anything he can find. He has it all perfectly organized in his Little Black Book of You.

♡ Yandere Satan, who meticulously plans the perfect dates for the two of you - every detail thought of in advance.

-> He pours hours and hours into researching the perfect evening together, daydreaming your reactions in his mind as he plans it all out. Sometimes his daydreams get carried away, thoughts of having his way with you dancing in his head - causing him to need to relieve himself with the pair of panties he stole from your room.

-> Sometimes the dates seem too perfect, with bizarre details you don't remember telling him about yourself. Best not to question it - he went through all the trouble to make the day perfect for you.

-> He has all of your anniversaries committed to memory - he'd certainly never forget such an important day. He has a section in his secret journal with all of your special days charted out - every little first in your relationship, and he plans dates to commemorate them all. He's sickly romantic, to the point that he may build his expectation of these events a little too high. And on the days that you don't remember these little anniversaries, his rages builds up, threatening to spill over through gritted teeth and a sinister smile - Do you not love him?!?

♡ Yandere Satan, who uses his connections to keep tabs on you - even when you think he's not there, he's got an eye on you. He's just keeping you safe.

-> Of course he is able to get his brothers to easily comply with him in regards to keeping an eye on you - since they all adore you, it isn't hard for Satan to convince them that it's in your best interest. He's the demon closest to you, and he needs this information in order to adequately keep you safe - one of the rare times in all of Devildom history that he willingly follows an order from Lucifer…or at least, that's what he told them.

-> He also has his network of spies looking after you - regardless of if you are with his brothers or not. He can't always trust them to be completely honest with all of the details of their whereabouts with you - they adore you far too much, after all. A little Grimm and a few thinly veiled threats, and Satan's spies are always trailing you in the shadows, eagerly ready to report back. Whether it is Mammon and Asmodeus getting too handsy, or the Majolish shopkeeper's eyes lingering on you for too long, Satan punishes each of them accordingly.

-> And if any of his little spies get too close to you, or so much as look at you in a way he deems unfit, his wrath will eviscerate them in the utmost agonizing ways - mercy is not his strong suit. It only takes one or two of his spies to go missing, before other demons start to get the hint and start showing you proper respect. They never address you directly, or even so much as look at you - everyone always report directly to him, and scatter quickly after, fearful that the slightest mistakes may cost them their lives.

-> The same goes for anyone his spies tells him of; anyone getting too touchy or chatty with you would suddenly disappear, and your time would slowly start being dominated by him. This even applies to your classes as well - your potions lab partner? You were told they suddenly transferred. That one group project for Seductive Speechcraft? Oddly enough, your entire group contracted some type of rare Devildom virus and had to be quarantined indefinitely - but luckily for you, your loving boyfriend was right there to help pick up their slack the entire way. He always insists.

♡ Yandere Satan, who would stop at nothing to keep you by his side forever.

-> He'll forge whatever documents needed to keep you in the realm far past the exchange program ends. He believes Diavolo and Lucifer will be none the wiser, but they do notice and ultimately let it slide - wanting nothing more than to avoid a reimagining of the Celestial Rebellion.

-> While he's manipulating documents, he takes it upon himself to alter your class schedule. What better way to keep you on a tight leash than to have you be his little shadow throughout the school day - this way he can keep you close, and continue keep an eye out for any undesirables.

♡ Yandere Satan, who insists you spend all of your time, reading with him, alone in his room.

-> He wants to fill your mind with a curated knowledge, brainwashing you into being his perfect little darling pet. Everything from dark romantic novels, blood ritual spell books, BDSM manuals...he spends hours reciting them all with you, his eager little student, perched upon his lap.

-> Despite how stern his tone may be, and the scowl displayed on his face, he secretly loves it when your attention wanes or you start to fall asleep - he loves giving you a little punishment. The way you perk up, the way his hand stings as the flesh of your thigh ripples, the way you apologize profusely with your eyes wide and promises of being a good little kitten…he just can't over how obedient you can be for him, or how much it truly arouses him.

-> It's through his lectures that he breaks you down and remolds you into his perfect little pet, your identity one of his creation. Slowly your thoughts and interests shift, so that you and him are of the same mind. He loves being able to anticipate what you're going to say next and answering for you instead, a feeling of satisfaction washing over him as you just stand there and nod along with him.

-> The use of your pact has been tested to the point where he can now take control of you, if he ultimately has to. He only truly enjoys using that in the bedroom with you, but he takes complete control of you if he feels he needs to. He wants your feelings and actions towards him to be (mostly) genuine, so he tries to keep that to a minimum.

♡ Yandere Satan, who cooks all of your meals for you, slipping a lil something extra into your food or drinks every so often.

-> Sometimes he slips an aphrodisiac into your wine, teasing you mercilessly about how needy you are for him before he fucks you raw into the early hours of the next morning. Of course you'd beg for him and his cock, don't you know he's the only one for you? Such a silly human, he'll have you whining it before long.

-> Other times, he doesn't want you to leave - so he casually slips various sedatives into your drinks or your snacks, and keeps you in his room for himself. He always teases you when you wake up, joking about how tired you always are. He makes you put on his shirt and get comfortable - you might as well make yourself at home.

♡ Yandere Satan, who starts wars with his brothers when it comes to you.

-> You've lost track of the amount of times he has destroyed parts of the house in retaliation to Lucifer's punishment of you - you've stopped trying to prevent it, lest the wrath be turned on you. You learned that the hard way one day, and now just let him interact with his brothers as he sees fit.

-> Which he certainly is training his brothers how to interact with you. Lucifer eventually begins to grow tired of the Avatar of Wrath's explosive fits, prompting him to somewhat avoid the two of you. The brothers that are more prone to showing you physical affection, well...he physically threatens them, and you start to see them reign themselves in and be more platonic.

♡ Yandere Satan, who has no idea of the difference between love and obsession.

-> He is extremely possessive of you, getting easily irritated if you accept invitations for plans with other people - why would you want to spend your time with them when you have him? He'll be having a chat with them, unbeknownst to you, and out of the blue you get a text cancelling. He holds you in his arms and kisses you as he talks about how you don't need flaky friends like them anyway - you'll always have him and he's all that you need.

-> He needs to be with you every second of every day. You're the first person in his life that's ever made him feel like this - why wouldn't he wanna spend every moment of his time with you? Not only have you been spending more time in his room, but you start to notice his insistence on keeping the gifts he gives you in his room permanently. Then, one random night while you were asleep in his bed, a mysterious fire burns down your room - and most of your belongings with it. 'No need to worry though, darling. I've got everything you need; you've already been staying here anyways, lets look at this as an opportunity.'

♡ Yandere Satan, who wears a mask around you, the ever poised and refined demon he makes himself out to be in public - it's so easy with you around after all, you have an effect that naturally calms him.

-> He does occasionally fly into a rage, but it's always in a private room with one of his targets - someone he'll be sure you never see again. The screams of his victims are like a soothing lullaby, the taste of their blood satisfying him like a delicious Demonus.

-> There are the very rare occasions in which his anger is pointed at you. He'd never raise a hand to you - he'd rather burn down the realm than truly hurt you. But he will be rough with you when he fucks you angrily - binding you with ropes, whipping you with his tail, and using your holes to his satisfaction. Don't you know that you're his to do with as he pleases? Maybe if he fucks your head empty, you'll be a more obedient little kitten for him.

♡ Yandere Satan, who will never let go once he sinks his claws into you.

-> While holding you in his arms he laments to you over the turmoil of learning to love, kissing you gently and passionately as he professes he only feels this way for you. "You must have me under some kind of spell," he whispers sweetly into your ear. He knows for a fact that you have bewitched him, even if you didn't mean to, making him feel all of these emotions that were so foreign to him before he met you. He never wants to let this feeling go - and he doesn't ever intend to.

-> He would tear all three realms to the ground with his own bare hands if it means he can keep you at his side - and you know he has the ability to do precisely that. No one is safe when they try to stand between the two of you...

"You truly are something else, kitten. There is nothing in existence that can keep you away from me."

· demonvibez ♡ 2023 · do not copy, repost or modify · · likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! ♡ ·

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suniix · 8 months

Text

perfect match | (botw) link x reader

synopsis | you find a rock that perfectly matches link’s eye color

word count | 2.2k

note | saw this trend on tiktok and thought it was adorable :((

UPDATE my amazing moot rain made like an angsty continuation to this AND YOU SHOULD LIKE TOTALLY GO CHECK IT OUT!!

Summer had hit Hyrule, hard.

Of course, the heat was not as bad as it was on Death Mountain, but it was damn near close. Fanning yourself was proving to do nothing, but you liked to think it helped just a little bit.

Link walked not too far ahead of you, seemingly unaffected by the heat. Despite keeping a steady pace you could see sweat beginning to drip down his neck. He was feeling the heat too.

“Link,” you called out, jogging a bit to catch up to him. “Why don’t we take a break for a bit? This heat is killing me.”

He paused, contemplating your words. Sensing his hesitation you leaned into him to look at the sheikah slate in his hands. “Look!” You pointed at the map. “There’s a river nearby! We can rest there for the rest of the day then head out at first light!”

You knew you won him over when he sighed. Giggling, you gently tugged him to follow you. “Come on! The river awaits us!”

Link can’t help but laugh at your excitement, allowing himself to be pulled along by you. The sound of running water is quickly heard as the two of you make your way past the trees, revealing the river.

You quickly dropped your backpack and Link did the same, squatting down to look for ingredients for tonight’s dinner. “Craving anything specific tonight?” He asked.

“Mm, not really. I’m fine with anything you cook! It always comes out amazing.” You replied, clumsily taking off your shoes before running off to the water.

Link is shocked for a moment but plays it off by laughing. He never got used to you complimenting his cooking, no matter how many times you told him. He’d gladly cook you any meal if you wished it.

Nearing the river you noticed the water was crystal clear enough to see a couple of tiny fish swimming by. You could also see various small stones littering the riverbed, painful for your feet but it was a small price to pay to cool off.

Cautiously dipping your toes in the water you nearly scream at the cold feeling. Although it was cold you gladly welcomed it. You take a few steps, slightly wincing at the feeling of sharp rocks digging into your feet. You were about ankle-deep when you heard Link clear his throat from behind you. Turning to look at him you see him standing a few feet away from you, quiver filled with arrows and a bow in hand. “I’m gonna go hunt, we don’t have much and I doubt you wanna eat mushroom skewers again.”

You made a disgusted face. “You’re right, as much as I love your cooking, if I have to eat one more mushroom I think I’ll vomit, no offense!”

Link merely laughs, shoulders shaking slightly as he does so. “None taken, I won’t be long.” He begins to walk away from your temporary camp.

“Stay safe!”

For a moment you think he’s too far to hear you, but to your surprise, he turns around and gives you a small wave. It’s a small gesture, but it’s enough to make you feel butterflies.

Once he’s out of sight you continue to walk into the river, bending down to roll up your pants so they wouldn’t get too wet. You’re about knee-deep when you stop, looking up to admire the scenery around you.

The branches from the trees extend about halfway across the river, if you walk any further you’d be in the sun. Despite the branches being long beams of sunlight manage to peak past the leaves and create patches of sunlight that reflect off the water. You look down, feeling the water rush past your legs. Beneath the surface, something catches your eye. Reaching down into the water you pull out a dark blue rock that shines once it catches the light.

Suddenly, an idea hits you.

To say Link was surprised was an understatement.

He knew you were going to cool off in the river while he was out, but he didn’t expect to come back and see you fully drenched from head to toe while digging around in the river looking for something.

When you notice him you’re quick to stand, greeting him with a giant smile. “Oh, you’re here! Welcome back Link! Did you catch anything good?”

Link dropped his quiver and bow and walked towards you. “What happened?”

“I stepped on a big rock that wasn’t sturdy so I ended up slipping.” You shrug. “You should get in! I promise the water feels amazing!”

Before Link has the chance to respond you’re quick to splash him, a giant grin making its way onto your face when you see his pants had gotten soaked. He smirks before quickly kicking off his boots. “It’s on!”

He quickly ran into the river and chaos ensued. The two of you splashed around for a couple of minutes before you noticed the day was nearing its end. Knowing there was no way the two of you would be able to dry off properly in the dark, you both walked out of the river.

You get a fire started as Link rummages through his backpack for a towel. Once he finds it he walks over to you and crouches, placing the towel over your head and ruffling your hair. You can’t help but laugh at the action. “You don’t need to do that you know, I can do it myself.”

“I want to do it.”

His response is quick, which catches you off guard. You look down, feeling your cheeks and ears begin to heat up. If Link notices (he does) he doesn’t comment on it.

He leans down to catch your eyes, intentionally leaning in closer so you can’t escape his gaze. “You’re shaking, are you cold?”

It’s then that you notice a teasing smirk on his face. You punch his shoulder and he dramatically grabs it. “Ouch!” He pretends to cry out in pain.

“Stop teasing! Aren’t you supposed to be cooking?” You quickly try to change the subject.

“Yes yes, I’m on it. Are you ok with meat skewers?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You say and stretch your legs by the fire. You place the towel over your shoulders and wrap it around yourself. Link was right, you are cold.

As Link throws ingredients onto the fire you fish around in your pocket, momentarily panicking when you don’t feel it. When you find it you breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Hey, did you lose something today?” Link asks while placing the cooked food on a plate.

“Mm? No, why do you ask?”

“Earlier in the river, when I came back it looked like you were looking for something.”

“Oh! I was actually looking for something for you!”

Link raises an eyebrow. “Me?”

You nod your head enthusiastically. “Hold out your hand.” He looks at you confused for a second before doing what you asked. You pull out what is in your pocket and place it in his palm.

Link immediately feels the wet and rough texture of the item. When you pull away he sees a blue rock in his palm.

“Tada! I found a rock that’s the same shade as your eyes!”

Link’s eyes widen upon seeing the small stone. “This is what you were looking for while I was gone? The whole time?” He questioned.

You sheepishly rubbed the back of your neck, thinking he was mad at you for wasting your time looking for a rock. “Well, yeah, but if you don’t like it that’s fine I just thought—”

“No!” Link quickly cut off your rambling. He clears his throat and you swear you see a hint of blush on his cheeks. He holds the rock close to his heart and looks at you, eyes overflowing with an adoration you thought only existed in fairytales.

“I love it, thank you. I’ll cherish it forever.” His tone was serious, you knew he wasn’t lying.

You quickly look away in embarrassment and grab the bowl of food he placed down. “You’re welcome..” You mumble, eyes refusing to leave the bowl.

He only chuckles before the two of you eat in a comfortable silence.

You wake up to the sounds of splashing.

Groaning, you slowly sit up while attempting to rub the sleep out of your eyes. “Ugh.. Link?..” You call out, expecting him to respond.

When he doesn’t you look around and see his sleeping bag is empty and the fire has long been put out. “Link?” You call out again, this time a little worried when you don’t immediately spot him.

The sound of a yelp followed by a giant splash is heard and you immediately head to the river, sword in hand. You half expected to see him fighting a bokoblin or some other sort of enemy, but when you spotted him he was nearly fully submerged in the river. The only thing peeking out was his head, and judging by the look on his face he had taken a nasty fall.

You immediately run into the river, not caring if your shoes or pants got wet. “Are you ok?” You ask, holding out a hand for him to take. He nods and accepts your hand, allowing you to pull him up. You couldn’t see before, but now you can see he was completely shirtless. You clear your throat and quickly pretend to inspect him for any injuries. “What happened?”

“I stepped on a rock and.. ended up slipping..” He sighed, keeping a hand on his lower back.

You hold back a giggle, but Link spots your (very obvious) smile and pouts. “It’s not funny..” He grumbles while you walk him out of the river and back to camp. “It’s kind of funny..” You snicker.

He rolls his eyes and playfully pushes you away while you laugh. “What were you even doing in the river? If you craved fish you could’ve woken me up and I would’ve gotten some for us.” You asked while handing him a towel.

Link accepts it and wraps it around his body. “I wanted to get you this.” He says, fishing something from out of his pocket and holding his hand out for you to take it.

Hesitantly, you accept what’s in his hand and gasp when you see a rock. The color was scarily accurate to your eye color, with patterns swirling beautifully all over the rock. You wonder how long it took for him to find it. “Link, you didn’t need to!—”

“I wanted to.” He says while turning away, pretending to look for something in his bag so you wouldn’t see the very obvious blush on his cheeks.

You smile, holding the rock close to your heart. You felt warm inside, almost like holding the rock close to you was causing the feeling, but you knew better. Link always made you feel this way by doing the simplest of things, but for some reason, this gift had a bigger impact.

Walking over to him, you lean on his back and wrap your arms around his neck. “Thank you, Link.”

He turns to look over his shoulder, seeing you smiling against his back. If it meant seeing that look on your face again he’d find you a million rocks just like the one he’d given you. Anything to see you smile like that again. Chuckling he fully turns around with a flint in hand, not even attempting to hide his blush now. “Don’t mention it, now, how about you catch us some of those fish?”

Extra (because I had I cute thought last minute)

“Hey, you still have the rock I gave you?” Link asked, turning to look at you from over his shoulder.

“Of course I do! Why?”

He held out his hand and made a grabby hand motion, wordlessly asking you to hand it over. Confused, you pull out the rock from your pocket and hand it to him. He gently takes it from your hand and turns around so you don’t see what he’s about to do.

You try peaking over his shoulder. “Link, what’re you doing—”

“Don’t look, I’m almost done.”

Still confused, you take a step back and let him do whatever it is he’s doing. After a few seconds, he looks over his shoulder. “Close your eyes.”

You do as told and close your eyes, feeling him get closer to you. You feel something go over your head and your heart begins to beat faster at the thought of what it could be. “Alright, open them.” Link tells you.

Your hand immediately reaches to touch your chest and your previous thought is proven correct when you look down and see. The rock he had given you was now wrapped in thin rope, being held together at the top by a small knot and the rope continued upward around your neck. It had turned it into a necklace.

“Look, now we’re matching.” He grinned, showing you his own necklace.

Having no words, you could only stare at him in awe. He laughed at your reaction, tugging you forward so the two of you could continue your journey together.

thank you for reading till the end! reblogs are greatly appreciated :D

masterlist

#link x reader #link x y/n #link x you #botw link x reader #lu wild x reader #botw x reader #loz x reader #link imagine #link fluff #lu wild #botw #breath of the wild #[📝 sunni writes]

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pregnant-piggy · 1 year

Text

Opposites attract

Jesper Fahey x reader

word count: 3.8k

summary: Jesper and you are total opposites. You clash and bicker all the time and it makes working together near impossible, but when it comes to a matter of life and death, Jesper realises he’d put it all aside for you

warnings: reader gets shot, mentions of getting drunk, blood, and passing out

Jesper Fahey hated Kaz Brekker.

Granted, not all the time, but right now as his dark-haired, glove-wearing boss limped away from him, leaving him frustrated and out of focus at the tables, he hated Kaz. Not because he had scolded Jesper for being in the club again wasting his precious little money—Jesper had learned how to tune that out by now—but because he had brought the news of a slight change of plan.

“y/n is joining you on the job,” Kaz had said, not three minutes ago.

“y/n? Why?”

The plan had been for Jesper and Anika to infiltrate the opening of a new gallery at the Kunstmuseum and take home a painting of three milking maids from another exhibition. A fairly easy job—quickly in, quickly out. Hopefully without a fight, but if it came to that… Jesper wouldn't mind. He was long due for some action.

“They added new guests to the list,” Kaz had explained. “One of them is the stadwatch chief and Anika’s face is familiar to him. y/n isn’t.”

“You think maybe there’s a reason for that?”

But Kaz had turned around. “You’ll take y/n. I’m not asking you.”

Jesper sighed and hoisted himself up from his seat. If it was you he was going with, he better start preparing himself.

To say Jesper hated you was a bit of a stretch but there was no love lost between you two. You were everything that Jesper was not. Calm, silent, somehow always blending in with the background. But that was not to say that you were boring, on the contrary, whenever you were around Jesper he found it difficult to not engage in discussions with you. You irked him. You always knew exactly what to say to vex him and he hated how you seemed to enjoy getting him irritated.

There was a reason the chief of the stadwatch wouldn’t be able to recognize you—the same reason Jesper didn’t like doing jobs with you—you shied away from a fight. Not once had Jesper heard that you’d come back from a job with even as much as a bruise. You were a Dreg and there must be something you were good at, because Jesper knew Kaz wouldn’t keep you around otherwise, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why.

So he wasn’t so thrilled to do this job anymore. He knew perfectly well that he could save himself in a fight but even he had to admit that the odds of making it out unharmed when it was five to one and you were standing next to him watching were slim.

But he needed the money and could use some distraction for his mind seemed to be full of unimportant things lately. You being one of the biggest of them.

“Jesper!”

He looked up when he entered the Slat. You were sitting at a table with what Jesper recognised as blueprints from the Kunstmuseum in front of you. There was a steaming mug in your hand and Jesper rolled his eyes. Of course you were drinking tea.

“You ready?” you asked when Jesper sunk down at the table.

“Sure,” he said, pulling one of the maps closer. He hadn’t really looked at them, relying on Anika to lead him the way, although he doubted she had investigated them as much as you had. She was more like him in that aspect. Just go in and see what happens.

But that wasn’t you. You liked to be prepared, Jesper knew. The first time Jesper had gone on a job with you and you’d poured yourself over maps and blueprints he had thought it was a lame attempt to catch Kaz’s attention but since then he’d learned that you just did it for yourself. How exactly it would help you was lost on him this time, however, because the plan was already set. Still, he had to admire your dedication. Even if it seemed useless.

When Jesper said nothing else, you frowned. “You’re angry.”

“No.”

“Annoyed, at the very least.”

“I’m not.”

You pursed your lips. “Did you tell your face?”

“I’m fine,” Jesper snapped and you recoiled. He felt a pang of guilt and conjured a smile on his face. “Sorry.” He tried to come up with an excuse but all he could manage was, “Long night.”

“The sun hasn’t even set yet.”

“Imagine my torment.”

“Poor Jes,” you said, giving him a rueful smile. You refocused on the blueprints. “I’m not giving you a kiss to make it better, if that’s what you’re fishing for.”

“What makes you think I want you to kiss me?” Jesper ignored the odd thrill in his stomach and leaned forward. “Do you want to kiss me?”

You looked up, your face suddenly so close that Jesper sucked in his breath. You squeezed your eyes, pursed your lips to a pout in thinking. Jesper wasn’t so sure what he wanted the answer to the question to be.

“Hm, no,” you said finally, leaning back with a small smirk. “This really wouldn’t be the right place for a kiss, would it?”

“Yes. Good. Glad we’re on the same page.”

- -- - -- -

The alley next to the Kunstmuseum was dark and cold, but it hid you from the light of the streets and thus the prying eyes of the waiting guests outside. While you knew your—fake—names were on the guestlist, there was no reason for you and Jesper, two Barrel rats, to hang around people that would’ve liked to cut your part of the city off. The less people saw of you, the better, and while maybe you could blend in and become almost invisible, someone like Jesper was hard to miss. If not for his tall, lanky body that was literally impossible to look past, then for the way he was bouncing on his feet with excitement.

“Jesper, could you please stop doing that?”

“Doing what?”

You waved your hand in his direction. “Your… dancing.”

“Darling, if you think this is dancing you’ve had the worst dancing partners ever.”

You rolled your eyes. “Just stop it, please. It’s stressing me out.”

Jesper laughed, but stopped hopping around. He rested his back against the wall next to you and asked, “How long?”

“The doors open in fifteen minutes.” You dared a glance at him. “The guards should be done with their final round by now. We could sneak inside now and be done before the party even starts.”

“And miss it? There’ll be real champagne, not the watered down stuff they serve in the Barrel. I don’t want to miss out on that.”

“We can’t risk getting caught because you want to get drunk, Jesper!”

“Fine,” Jesper sighed. “I’ll just steal a bottle to celebrate our success later. Maybe if you’re nice, I’ll share.”

“Are you this annoying with everyone? Or is it some special treatment you save for me?”

“Aw, don’t flatter yourself, darling.” He didn’t look at you as he said it. “You’re hardly the only one vying for my attention.”

You shook your head. Glancing back at the guests that were waiting for the opening, you pushed off the wall. “Let’s go now.”

But Jesper shook his head. “That’s not the plan.”

“It’s a better plan.”

The plan Jesper and Anika had come up with was fine but it depended a lot on their confidence in a fight and you didn’t want to let it come that far. You had studied the lay-out of the museum the entire evening. It wasn’t that hard. There was a window in the exhibition room next to the one the target painting was in. You would go in before the party started, wait for the sounds of guests to block out any unwanted sounds you and Jesper might make while getting the painting out of its frame and putting a fake one back in, and then you’d climb out the same window again. It was a lot easier than trying to act like you belonged between a bunch of rich people.

“It’s not. It’s not even fun.”

You scoffed. “Jesper, this is not about fun. If you like getting arrested so much, do it on your own time.”

“No,” Jesper said. “I already had to take you along, I won’t let you spoil any more of my night.”

With a frown, you stared at Jesper. He always acted both annoyed and annoying around you, trying to get you to blush or flip out—you were never sure which one—but you had always thought that was a joke between the two of you. You liked him and you thought he liked you too, since he was always trying to get your attention, always flirting and teasing, joining in your bickering. But apparently you had been wrong. And that hurt.

“Fine,” you huffed, turning on your heels. “Have it your way.”

You grabbed the bag of tools and walked away.

“Where are you going?” Jesper called after you.

You looked over your shoulder. “I’m getting that painting.”

- -- - -- -

The opening had been ten minutes ago, but instead of getting sloshed on expensive champagne Jesper was crouched behind a dumpster, eyes trained on a window in the back of the Kunstmuseum. He was waiting for you to come out again, but with every minute that passed he got more worried.

He regretted getting angry with you, especially when you were right. Your plan was better and a whole lot easier. And, in all honesty, he didn’t mind that it was you he was doing this with after all. You weren’t as bold and, frankly, reckless as most other Dregs, but you were safe and cautious, and maybe that was why you never got hurt or caught, Jesper realised. It wasn’t because you were afraid, it was because you were smart.

He wanted to climb through the window after you, but he hadn’t really been listening when you’d briefed him on security schedules and he wasn’t sure if he’d jump right into a guard’s lap if he went in now.

But you were taking a long time, longer than necessary and Jesper was growing worried. He knew you were able to take care of yourself but what if something had gone miserably wrong and you were being carried out by the stadwatch while Jesper sat snug in an alley?

Just when he moved to get up from his crouch, Jesper heard voices. He sank lower behind the dumpster and peered over the top.

Two men in guard’s uniforms were approaching the back of the Kunstmuseum. They were talking loudly and paying little attention to the alley but even they wouldn’t miss you if you’d climb out of the window now.

Jesper sat with his knees folded up to his chest, praying to all saints and gods he knew that you would not come out now. His heart was beating in his chest with that familiar thrill of danger but also with something else. Something he couldn’t quite name.

The guards were close to turning the corner and having a clear view of the window. Jesper waited with held breath.

Then your head peeked over the window ledge. You looked to both sides and then began to climb out of the window.

Jesper cursed and tried to catch your attention, but he couldn’t rise above the dumpster without revealing his presence to the guards. He looked around for something to throw in your direction to warn you, but of course he’d ended up at the one dumpster that was completely clean.

With panic he watched as you dropped your legs from the window and the guards rounded the corner.

“Hey, you there!” one of the guards shouted.

You froze. Your arms were still inside the window, holding onto the ledge. Very slowly, you turned your head to the guards. Jesper could see the alarm on your face but, to your credit, you swallowed and smiled at the two men.

“Good evening,” you said. “Would any of you give me a hand?”

“What are you doing there?”

You gestured inside with your head. “Awfully boring party. I thought it was time to leave.”

“Through the back?”

“Well it would be insulting to walk out the front door now, wouldn’t it?” You smiled but Jesper could see the strain on your arms. You wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer. You were probably carrying the painting in your hands too. “So, is there anything I can help you gentlemen with?”

If Jesper hadn’t seen the guards reach for their guns, he would have laughed at the situation. He had clearly misjudged you.

“Come down,” the guard said, hand on his gun. “Get on the ground and we’ll figure this out.”

You pulled yourself a little higher, arms visibly struggling. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.” Your eyes flitted over the back alley, lingering on Jesper and the dumpster. “I have an important meeting to get to.”

You nodded almost invisibly and Jesper jumped up from his hiding spot. Before either of the guards had reacted, he shot the left man in his right arm. The guard dropped his own weapon and reached for his injured arm with a cry.

The other guard raised his gun at Jesper and shot but he rolled away. The bullet flew narrowly past his ear. The blood pumped through Jesper’s veins and he focused his energy on the guard that was coming for him. He reloaded his own gun, aimed for the guard, fired, and was sliding away again.

He looked over his shoulder to find the guard clutching his side, but he wasn’t down yet. The guard shot again but he was clearly fazed by his wound. He missed Jesper and sank down against the wall. When he raised his hand to aim for Jesper again, it shook so badly that he couldn’t pull the trigger.

Jesper kicked the gun from the guard’s hand and slammed the but of his own gun against the man’s temple.

“Sorry, buddy,” he muttered as the guard’s head fell to his chest.

The winning feeling in Jesper’s chest lasted all the way to when he turned around to you. As he spun on his heels he was just in time to hear the gunshot, to see you falling from the window, a cried-out “Jesper!” spilling from your lips.

Then you hit the ground and he heard a loud cracking sound.

- -- - -- -

You thought you’d pass out from the pain, but apparently you weren’t allowed that peace. The pain bloomed from a spot in your waist, but your entire body was burning and shaking. You struggled keeping your eyes open but closing them somehow made the pain worse. Jesper shouted your name but you hadn’t the energy to respond. Something wet was spreading under you, soaking into your clothes.

Your head was tilted to the side, cheek against the ground. Through the slits of your eyes you could see Jesper but he was a blur. He was moving, then you heard a shot and a startled cry before silence descended in the alley.

Jesper fell to his knees beside you.

“y/n, can you hear me?”

“Jesper,” you croaked and his face broke in relief.

“Oh, Saints, you’re alive.”

“Jes—”

But Jesper wasn’t listening. He checked your body for injuries and his gaze stuck to the bulletwound in your side.

“Okay, that’s not that bad.” He glanced up at your face and must have caught your frown because he added, “It’s not good either.”

He got up and bent down to pick you up. You hissed when he pulled you up and the skin around your wound stretched. A new wave of pain rushed through you and your eyes rolled back into your head.

“No, no, y/n,” Jesper said. “Don’t pass out on me. I need you to stay awake. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes.” It wasn’t a lie. Not entirely. You’d try, at least.

Jesper took the roll with the painting from where it hung from your shoulder. “What’s that smell?”

“What?”

He looked at you, brought his face down, and took a sniff. “It’s you. Why do you smell like alcohol?”

You thought of the crack when you had fallen down. “The bottle,” you sighed.

“What bottle?”

“Champagne. I got you a bottle of champagne.”

For a second Jesper stared at you. He shook his head in disbelief. “You got me a bottle of champagne? Was that why you stayed away for so long?”

A dark haze was coming over your vision. There was a pressing pain in your head. “Better than in the Barrel,” you mumbled, allowing your head to fall against Jesper’s shoulder. “Wanted to apologise.”

You closed your eyes. The peace you’d wanted was slowly enveloping your body. You felt Jesper’s chuckle but when he spoke his voice was far away. “Don’t die, please, y/n. You owe me a kiss.”

- -- - -- -

Jesper wasn’t entirely sure how long he had been sitting there in that small room, but it must have been the longest he had ever sat still. His legs were restless for movement, his hands aching to hold something, but he kept sitting.

You hadn’t opened your eyes since Jesper had carried you out of the alley of the Kunstmuseum. He had run as fast as he could without hurting you. In the end it probably was better that you had passed out because you would have never stopped teasing him if you’d seen the panic on his face.

He didn’t know what it was exactly, but seeing you falling and bleeding had unleashed something in Jesper. It was something more than worry and he didn’t like to admit that it probably was fear.

The wound in your waist had been healed and luckily left no permanent damage, but you’d still lost a lot of blood—the stains on Jesper’s jacket were painful proof—and you’d been somewhere between unconscious and asleep for the past hours. The sun had risen above the grim roofs of the city, but Jesper hadn’t noticed. He had been holding your hand the entire time, not letting himself close his eyes, afraid that he’d miss it when you woke up.

He couldn’t lose you. Just couldn’t. He had thought that you annoyed him, that him being near you all the time was some trick of bad luck, but he could not have been more wrong. It was him. He sought you out, always wanting to see your eyebrows crease into a frown when he said something or hear your laugh when you made a smart comment. He was drawn to you and he wished it hadn’t been this situation that had made him realise it.

His leg was bouncing up and down nervously, his fingers tapped an uneven rhythm on his thigh. He closed his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath to regain his concentration, but opened them immediately when he felt your fingers move in his hand.

“Jesper?”

Your eyes were still shut and if he hadn’t seen your lips move he might have believed that it was someone playing a prank on him. But you had spoken his name.

“Yes, I’m here. Right here.”

Very slowly you opened your eyes, looking around the room in confusion before settling on Jesper. A small smile reached your lips. You didn’t let go of his hand.

“Hello,” you said and it took all of Jesper’s strength not to throw his arms around you and hold you close.

“Hi, darling,” he said instead, giving your hand a soft squeeze. “How are you feeling?”

With your free hand you felt your waist, looked down at it, and shrugged. “Alive.”

Jesper laughed and you smiled a bit wider at him.

“I would’ve missed that laugh if I died.”

“Saints, y/n, you scared the hell out of me.”

You lifted one shoulder. “Gotta keep you on your toes.”

“There are less lethal ways to do that.”

A tired chuckle fell from your lips. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Jesper shook his head, once again bewildered by how greatly he had misjudged you. How could he have missed all that was sitting before him right now?

“Please don’t ever do that again,” he said, giving you a wry smile. “I’d rather carry you through Ketterdam while you’re alive.”

“Hm, might hold you to that.” You let go of Jesper’s hand and brought your own two hands together in your lap. You bit your lips before saying, “Thanks for, you know, saving my life.”

“Any time,” Jesper said, but he added softly, “I know I’ve never really been a good friend, but I need you to know that I would never not save you. I promise.”

You looked up. “Thank you.”

“But let’s keep the life-saving to a minimum. I don’t think I can survive seeing you like that again, love.”

You stared at Jesper for a minute, clearly catching on the emotions he had tried but desperately failed to keep out of his voice. There was something heavy in your eyes and he was sure that you were about to break his heart but instead you smirked.

“I guess I owe you one more thing now,” you said.

“More?” Jesper blinked, confused. “You don’t owe me anything?”

“I seem to recall differently. I believe I owe you… what was it you said? A kiss?”

The feeling that filled Jesper was so light he feared he might start floating. A strange sense of excitement that was nothing like a round at the tables or a dangerous situation filled his body when he leaned forward. “Is that so? Who says you didn’t just dream that while you were out?”

“Oh believe me, Jesper, if it was my dream we’d be doing a lot more than an innocent kiss.”

Jesper raised his brow. You had leaned in, too, and your face was close when he mumbled, “You must tell me about that dream someday. Sooner rather than later.”

You laughed and Jesper pressed his lips against your smiling mouth.

Kissing you was the best thing he’d done in the past twenty-four hours. Better than his evening in the Crow Club. Better than shooting those guards. Somehow you were those things together and then doubled. And doubled again. He wished he hadn’t been so blind and had done this a long time ago already.

When you pulled apart to catch your breath, there was a wide smile on your lips and Jesper kissed you again just because he could. He’d trade all his breaths to kiss you.

“Who knew that was on the schedule for today?” he asked eventually, out of breath but deliciously so.

“You make almost dying extremely rewarding,” you grinned, stroking your thumb over Jesper’s bottom lip.

He laughed, catching your hand to press a kiss to your palm. “It’s my specialty, darling.”

- - - - - - - -

six of crows taglist: @xxinvisiblexx @awritingtree

MASTERLIST

#jesper fahey x reader #jesper fahey imagine #six of crows #six of crows imagine #six of crows x reader #shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone x reader #jesper fahey #soc

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yoonjiwonsstuff · 5 months

Text

Freckled fascination

Genre: humor, fluffy, no shipping, casual

“Hyung, did you notice that your freckles look like little heart shapes? It’s so cute,” Jiwon exclaimed excitedly, pointing out Felix’s endearing feature. Felix, well-aware of the younger’s fascination with his freckles, didn’t mind at all.

With a chuckle, Felix replied, “Well, I guess they are. They’re just freckles, though.”

“No way, they’re so cool! It’s almost like you could see a whole constellation of little stars,” Jiwon expressed, his eyes shining with admiration.

Changbin, always one for playful banter, seized the opportunity to tease their maknae, not missing a beat. “Jiwon, I didn’t know you were into astronomy. Felix’s face is your whole new galaxy!”

Amidst the playful banter, Jeongin couldn’t hide his jealousy. He crossed his arms, adopting a grumpy expression. “I thought you liked my dimples more,” Jeongin mumbled, trying to mask his feelings but failing to hide his sulky tone.

Minho, always ready to stir the pot, teased Jeongin, “Jealous of Felix’s freckles, huh? Feeling left out?”

Jiwon, still in awe of Felix’s freckles, glanced at Jeongin. “Oh, Innie, your dimples are cute too! They’re like small, little smiles on your face.”

Changbin, unable to resist adding to the playful banter, teased, “Looks like our Jeonginnie got a rival for Jiwon’s attention award. Freckles vs Dimples.”

Jeongin’s cheeks flushed pink as he tried to conceal his embarrassment being caught out of guard. “Whatever.”

Felix, amused by the whole situation, added with a smile, “Seriously, Jiwon, you find a whole galaxy in freckles?”

Jiwon nodded enthusiastically, “Yep! I can count them all day, it’s like a constellation on your face.”

Seungmin, intrigued, interjected, “Wait, Jiwon, do you really count Felix’s freckles?”

Jiwon proudly exclaimed, “Of course! I’ve counted them once. Felix has exactly 62 freckles on his face!”

Felix, baffled and slightly amused, raised an eyebrow. “Wait, seriously? I never knew that! ”

Minho joined in, grinning mischievously, “Jiwon, buddy, are you planning to create a freckle map constellation for Felix?”

Jisung chuckled, “Yeah, Jiwon, what’s next? Constellations on everyone’s faces?”

Jiwon shrugged, unfazed by the teasing. “Hey, freckles are fascinating! And Felix’s freckles are like tiny little hearts.”

Felix laughed, enjoying the banter. “You’re making my freckles feel special sounding all magical like that, Jiwon.”

With a gleeful spark in his eyes, Jiwon extended his small hand, pointing at Felix’s freckles one by one, connecting them in an intricate pattern. “See this cluster? That’s Taurus, and those ones right there make up Sagittarius! Oh, and here, this spot perfectly forms the Big Dipper!”

Felix couldn’t suppress his laughter at Jiwon’s imaginative interpretation in a playfull way . “Wow, who knew my freckles were a map to a whole galaxy?”

Chan, thoroughly entertained, joined in the playful banter. “Wony, you’ve discovered a whole galaxy of Felix’s freckles! What’s next, a freckle-based horoscope?”

Jeongin, rolling his eyes at the playful exchange, muttered, “I still think my dimples are cuter, anyways.”

As Jiwon proceeded to detail each freckle’s celestial representation, the other members chuckled at the unexpected twist, finding Jiwon’s exploration of Felix’s freckles both endearing and amusing.

•

Later:

Jeongin, feeling more and more left out, couldn't resist a dramatic reaction when Jiwon moved closer to cuddle with him. "Well, now you want my attention, Am I just a second choice to you? If you like Felix hyung's freckles so much, why don't you just go and stay with him instead of me then?" He said it in a comically grumpy, sulky tone, almost pouting.

Jiwon, still oblivious to Jeongin's mounting jealousy, paused, blinking in surprise. "Oh, Innie, that's not what I meant! I love your dimples too," he exclaimed, trying to reassure his sulky roommate.

Their hyungs couldn't help but chuckle at the entire exchange. Hyunjin, in his typical teasing manner, chimed in, "Oh, looks like we've got a freckle drama in the house now!"

Jisung in his playfully way didn’t let go the chance to tease, saying to the others “I’ve never expected it the day where Jeongin’s gets all jealous over freckles”

Jiwon, in his usual exuberant manner, couldn’t resist teasing Jeongin playfully leaning on the other. As he gazed at Jeongin’s dimple, he reached out, gently poking it with his small finger. “Hey, Innie-hyung, don’t be grumpy. Your dimples are adorable and unique too!.”

Jeongin’s cheeks flushed instantly at the unexpected touch and praise, caught off guard by Jiwon’s antics. “H-hey! Cut it out!” he protested, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and amusement. Despite his efforts to appear unaffected, the sight of Jiwon poking his dimple made him feel unexpectedly flustered.

Jeongin, though still grumpy, couldn't help but crack a small smile at the teasing. "I don't care about freckles! Who needs them anyway? I have dimples" he muttered, trying to keep up his façade.

Meanwhile, Jiwon, seeing Jeongin's feigned annoyance, leaned in, playfully ruffling his hair. "Come on, Innie, you know I love bothering you the most."

Their playful bickering and teasing continued, the atmosphere light and fun as always, while Jiwon remained clueless about the real reason behind Jeongin's sulkiness. Eventually, their camaraderie triumphed over any fleeting moments of jealousy, leaving them all in good spirits by the end of it.

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vinnoa-articles · 8 months

Text

Just a Sip

[Image by Eiichiro Oda]

Habit Substitute Drabble Series! This will be 2 out of the 8 drabbles I will be writing, because, why not? Some characters like certain things on a daily. But what if you were there?

Here are the links for the others.

[Luffy] [Zoro] [Usopp] [Sanji] [Law] [Smoker] [Crocodile]

Rating: +18, you have been warned. If you are a minor, leave now.

Word count: 871

Type: Smut

Characters: Zoro, reader (Female)

Trigger warnings/content: Sexual implications at the end, drinking, swearing

His lips met the gourd of sake, leaning against the rail of the Thousand-Sunny as his legs were outstretched, going through his simple schedule of working out, a nap, snacking, a short closing of the eyes, then working out, maybe a jog on the island, eating, then rest, only to repeat it the next day. However, today was different. Everyone demanded he stay on the ship, for he would get lost like he always did. Sense of direction was never his forte, but his mind was mapped out perfectly. This perfect routine that never strayed far away from its course.

“Drinking again?”

“Hm?” His right eye opened, his scar twitched to only see you sitting cross-legged in front of him. Since when did she get here? When? “Huh? What do you want?” Raising the gourd back up, the soothing burn that he craved slid down his throat. Easing his mind, which was already at peace, yet something about not sensing her presence was something else. His eyes wandered from her slightly bent legs, leaning on her fist, her eyes unfazed by his question.

“Let me have some,” her free hand outstretched, just out of reach from the bottle. Zoro just stared, him? Share? Why on earth would he do that, when Sanji uses the majority of it for cooking. There was no way.

“Why should I?” Almost spitting at her, as her hand didn’t falter. Steady as the calm waves, her hand tried to creep closer, but it stopped, her eyes still lazily staring at his face. “No!”

“Why not?” The same outstretched hand now slapping her knee, almost pouting. Just for a split second, she looked cute, her stubbornness definitely was similar to his, and he loved a challenge here and there. This was the only time though, he could enjoy the lack of his captain running around screaming with Usopp and Chopper, along with the ero-cook fawning over the other women on the ship, and off, almost drooling over them which agitated him. “Come on!”

“No! Look-” Zoro pointed at her face, her eyebrow raised now, curious as to what he would say. It was written all over her face, she was unimpressed, unfazed, and right now he was going to make sure she understood. “This is MY liquor that I worked hard for. Can’t you see that I get only one luxury around- HEY!” She snatched the gourd as he used his hands to express his emotions, yet she didn’t seem to care. Slowly, her lips touched the gourd, yet Zoro lunged forward, the bottle grazing his fingertips, his eyes only focused on the prize. The slow-motion of the bottle releasing from her palm as it slid onto the deck, cracking and the contents spilling out. “Ah...ugh” He held up his weight above the ground, his other hand smacking his forehead, upset that the only bottle he could secure was now broken all over the grassy deck.

“Hey”

“You!” His grip grasped her top, almost stretching it out, as he could see her collar bone, her head hung slightly above the floor, “why can’t you fucking listen!?”

“Zoro…”

“And you just like fucking with my things! I caught you touching my swords, which I still don’t trust you with. Then you constantly badger me about my bounty being lower than that perverted cook’s, and now-”

“Are you going to just keep me pinned on the ground, or are you going to move?” He finally took a breath, his vision clearing a little, seeing exactly what it looked like. His thigh was between her legs, one on the right side near her thigh, one hand holding himself, as his grip nearly tore her shirt. Her unbothered stare, finally cracked into a small smile. “Alright, since you craved the taste of that shitty booze…” Her head turned, what was her antic this time? What ploy this time? He felt a tug on the top of his green long jacket, it was firm, he was going to fall onto the ground? There was no way. Her lips gently touched his, the taste of the liquor lingered on her tongue, it was intoxicating; shocking.

“Hey…”

“Yes?” Her eyes staring into his soul, the feeling of longing, he was getting drunk off of just a single kiss. “Well, that was kind of boring, thought I would get a rise out of you,” sighing as she let go, still gripping her shirt, making sure her body was in limbo.

“You took what’s mine, and now I am about to take what is yours,” Zoro’s eyes ignited, and what a perfect opportunity it was for him to find something to do, a new activity to do other than drink. “I guess instead of a drink, I’ll have to take you now won’t I?” His smile creeped onto his face, “unless you are too weak to handle me…of course I guess I could just…” his grip loosening on her shirt, but she grabbed his hand, gripping it to signal for him to hold her firm.

“About time don’t you think?” As his lips crashed into hers, her assertiveness clashed with his.

“Well, then I guess I should show you how to properly take things, yes?”

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fizzydrink698 · 2 years

Text

flames | hyunjin

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader

word-count: 3.7k

genre: fantasy au, assassin!hyunjin, enemies to lovers

warnings: swearing, violence, choking (almost not in a flirty way, but not quite), super sexy hand-holding

(because that main sparks!couple is just too fun to not write again)

summary:

You frown. “Is it so hard to believe I find you attractive?”

Hyunjin raises an eyebrow, eyeing you with pure scepticism. “You’ve tried to kill me. Multiple times.”

“I fail to see how one negates the other,” you reply with a shrug.

You’re a little disappointed.

The bedchambers are so…bare. Not a hint of personality, not a taste of individuality, just bare walls and simple furniture and plain bedsheets. If you didn’t know any better, you would call this a cell, not someone’s personal quarters.

You’re not sure what you were hoping for, you muse as you open up the wardrobe. Maybe some sort of clutter, anything that gave just the smallest detail about the man who slept in these chambers. A chessboard, pieces abandoned halfway through a match. Maps of the territory, with little markings added by hand. Singed body armour. A beloved teddy-bear. Something.

No. Of course he wouldn’t make things so easy.

With a sigh, you grab at the hem of your shirt and pull it up over your head, letting it drop to the floor with barely a second thought. You fight back a shiver as cool air hits the newly bare skin of your back and chest, and you rummage through the wardrobe until you extract a suitable replacement.

You wonder how his clothes will look on you. The man is built so strangely – for a fighter as fearsome, as deadly, as he is, there’s almost no bulk to him. He’s lithe, almost scrawny, like an alley cat.

In the distance, floors and floors below you, you hear the faintest sounds of a kerfuffle. A common enough occurrence in a compound as large as this one. You pay it little notice.

The shirt fits well enough – the fabric is a little thicker than your previous shirt, suited for a colder climate than you’re used to.

You suppose trousers are a no-go. With long lanky limbs like his, anything that remotely fit him would pool around your ankles, and you’re not exactly in a position to start sacrificing mobility.

But you do help yourself to a belt, pulling it around your waist, cinching it in. You’d grown a fondness for form-fitting clothes – the weight was reassuring, almost like armour.

More noises downstairs. Footsteps, shouts of alarm. You weigh up the advantages and disadvantages of such acoustics in this compound, briefly, before abandoning this train of thought for more interesting things.

There’s no mirror in here to check if you look as good as you feel. Instead, you have to make do with taking a seat at his desk, sprawling your legs over the arm of the chair rather than sitting normally.

Your back still aches a little. Your ankles and wrists even more so.

You can’t help but eye that bed, and those soft, inviting sheets – but you know not to take things too far.

This is a bold enough strategy as it is. You’re smart enough to admit that.

So, instead, you sit. And wait.

Hyunjin doesn’t disappoint.

Less than a few minutes pass by before you hear his footsteps. Never rushed, always steady, composed, no matter how quickly he moves.

His door flies open.

It’s a testament to his instincts as a warrior that you barely get a glance at his expression when he sees you sitting there, perfectly at ease, in his chambers, before his sword is already drawn and pointed directly at your neck.

You’re smart enough to keep still. Years of combat experience has trained you well to analyse your opponent, and you waste no time taking in Hyunjin’s appearance. Hair pulled back into a ponytail, slightly more formal attire than the armour you’ve seen on the battlefield and the simple clothes he’d worn during your interrogation. They were made to move easily in, to fight in. These were not, they’re too stiff, the collar of his jacket is too high, the sleeves are a touch too tight.

You wonder if he came up here to change into something more battle-ready before joining the search for you.

A small part of you wonders if he knew you well enough to guess where you’d run off to, whether coming up here was intuition.

Still, you keep your eyes fixed on that blade at your neck, just in case.

Hyunjin’s voice is as low as ever, but you take no small amount of delight in the hint of confusion in his tone. You’ve thrown him off, just as you always love to do. “What are you doing here?”

“Finishing our conversation,” you say, so calm that you could almost be mistaken as innocent. Almost.

“Conversation?” Hyunjin repeats, perfectly neutral, as if he isn’t aware that you could count the number of conversations the two of you have had on one hand. As if he isn’t aware that your last conversation was by far the most interesting of the bunch.

“The one we had downstairs. You ran away just as it was getting interesting.”

Hyunjin’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t run awa–”

“And since you refused to come down to me to finish it,” you interrupt, ignoring him. “I was forced to come up here to you.”

“Chan might order you dead for this. He’d be well within his right,” Hyunjin warns.

You straighten up, noting the way Hyunjin’s sword shifts, rising up to stay level with your neck. This is a delicate situation you’ve thrown yourself into, and you’re aware you might need to tread carefully.

Glancing away from him, towards the door he’d just entered, your expression turns serious. “You’ll notice I incapacitated the guards on the way here. Not killed. And you of all people should know that was a deliberate choice on my part.”

There’s a long pause, as Hyunjin weighs your words carefully against what he knows about you. The similarities between the two of you, how lethal you can be with the right motivation, even the simple fact of how much more difficult it is to knock out a horde of enemies instead of killing them outright.

To your delight – and, you have to admit, a little relief – Hyunjin lowers his sword. He doesn’t sheathe it, but it’s progress enough. “That doesn’t change the fact that you tried to escape your cell.”

You can’t help it.

You snort.

“There wasn’t much ‘trying’ involved, if I’m being honest. Your security measures are…” you trail off, eyes meeting his with no small amount of mischief. “Well, as you can see, inadequate.”

“I’ll be sure to let Chan know,” Hyunjin says, stiff.

You eye him for a moment, and you fight the sudden urge to pout. Riling Hyunjin up was never an easy task, but you were never the patient type. You badly want to say something, something bold. You hate tiptoeing around the topic, testing the waters.

“If it’s any consolation,” you say, tilting your head. “If our roles were reversed, I imagine you would have broken out far sooner than I did. Imperial cells are pathetic, I’m amazed they can keep as many prisoners as they have.”

“I’m flattered,” Hyunjin replies – and you know he means it to be sarcastic, but you recognise that little flicker in his eyes. He is a little flattered.

You wonder if it’s praise in general that incites that kind of reaction in him, or specifically praise from you.

That’s an interesting new thought to consider.

“What do you want?” Hyunjin asks, suddenly serious again. Wary. Maybe he doesn’t like how silent you’ve become. Maybe he’s wary at all the thoughts that could be circling in your head.

He shouldn’t be. Well, mostly shouldn’t.

“I think I already made that clear last time,” you say brightly, lips curling up into a smile.

He doesn’t rise to the bait, but you’re not too disappointed. There’s a reason Hyunjin is such a worthy opponent, of course he’d make you work for it.

“What else do you want?”

You hum, pretending to be deep in thought. “Money. A new pair of boots. A cottage by the river. A good harvest–”

“You’re wasti–”

“Oh,” you snap your fingers suddenly, looking back at him and pointing. “To see you with your hair down. I bet it’s so pretty.”

“Stop flirting with me,” Hyunjin demands, but that commanding tone of voice he’d used just moments ago has wavered slightly.

“No.”

“My patience is starting to wear out,” Hyunjin warns. “Don’t make me ask again.”

You sigh, but eventually relent. “Fine. I want out of that cell. It’s dull, and if you’re not going to visit me, what’s the point?”

“What’s the point?” Hyunjin asks, incredulous for a second, until he recovers. Then, slowly, as if stating the obvious, he answers his own question. “To imprison you. Because you’re a threat.”

“I can be just as easily imprisoned here in your room,” you shrug, glancing around as if you’re inspecting his chambers, assessing its security measures.

Hyunjin stills, staring at you. And then, with a voice so sharp, you’re not sure if he’s directing the words at you or himself, he replies. “You’re not sharing my bed.”

You blink, staring up at him, completely innocent.

“Who said anything about your bed, Hyunjin? I said ‘room’, I don’t know where your mind plucked ‘bed’ from,” you point out, and you can’t help the grin that creeps across your face. “What an overactive imagination you have.”

Hyunjin’s reaction does not disappoint. His expression goes from shock to indignation in a flash, grip tightening on his sword as if he’s genuinely contemplating running you through just to save his embarrassment.

And there, just faintly, if you look hard enough, you can see the slightest tinge of pink peeking out under the collar of that jacket.

You’re ecstatic.

You’ve made him flush. You’ve made Hyunjin flush. This might rank among your greatest accomplishments.

Your feelings must be clear on your face, because Hyunjin grows even angrier, even more defensive. “Enough. Whatever this scheme of yours is, stop it.”

It’s interesting. A man like Hyunjin, so at ease in battle, in killing his way through swarms and swarms of people, cutting them down and burning them alive without a second thought. And yet so uncomfortable, so immediately on edge with something as small as flirtation.

A thought flickers at the back of your mind, and it’s enough to give you pause.

“There is no scheme,” you say, completely honest. Sure, you’ve got a plan or two to get yourself out of the dungeons – and a few more to escape this compound entirely, before Chan decides to have you executed. But none of those plans involve Hyunjin. “If you’re looking for ulterior motives, there aren’t any.”

This is just…fun. Curiosity. You enjoy it. You enjoy him.

Hyunjin scoffs.

You frown. “Is it so hard to believe I find you attractive?”

Hyunjin raises an eyebrow, eyeing you with pure scepticism. “You’ve tried to kill me. Multiple times.”

“I fail to see how one negates the other,” you reply with a shrug. “You should know. You’ve done the same to me, and yet…”

You trail off, eyes still on him. You don’t say it out loud. If you say it out loud, he’s just going to deny it, whether that’s the truth or not.

You just let it hang there, silent. Unspoken.

“…Chan’s not going to let you out of the dungeons,” Hyunjin eventually says. His tone is even, impassive – but no longer suspicious, so you’ll take what you can get.

You bite your lip, pausing. Hesitating. There’s a certain card hidden in your deck, one you’re unsure whether to play.

“What if I told you…” you swallow, but eventually press on before you lose your nerve. “I could be…persuaded to pull out of this war?”

Hyunjin stares at you, visibly surprised. You’re a little shocked yourself at your own words. No matter how much you’ve thought about it, actually hearing them out loud feels like a big step.

Hyunjin takes a step forward, suddenly urgent. “Would you join us?”

“No,” you say, flatly. “Chan’s killed too many of my men.”

“I’ve killed some of your men,” Hyunjin reminds you.

“On whose orders?”

He doesn’t respond, but you can tell from his expression that you’ve made your point.

“But I would stay neutral, for a price,” you relent. “For enough money to keep my men happy.”

And safe, you add in your mind. This war was spiralling out of control. Too many people were dying to justify such a stalemate. Every inch of territory gained by either side came with a body count in the hundreds. Before long, dear Chan and his estranged uncle would be warring over little more than a blood-stained burial pit

You don’t care for politics. You’ve made that very clear. You aren’t about to let your men die for nothing, not if you can find a way to get them out of the mess that a bunch of bored aristocrats had plunged the kingdom into.

Hyunjin doesn’t speak, but his interest is clearly piqued.

You try your best to seem nonchalant, as if your greatest offer was no big deal. “Just some food for thought, I suppose.”

“What would your conditions be?” Hyunjin asks, leaning forward just slightly. He’s too much of a seasoned warrior to step within arm’s reach, but the distance between you is certainly closing.

“Getting out of that cell,” you say immediately.

Hyunjin makes a face. “Chan’s not going to let you just go.”

“I gathered as much,” you sniff, just a little offended that he’d think you that naïve. “I’m open to being kept here, if he needs the reassurance of keeping an eye on me. Just not in a cell.”

“And what exactly would you be doing here?” Hyunjin asks.

You smirk at him, and he probably realises his mistake. “Sparring with you.”

He almost looks exasperated, as you’ve managed to lead the conversation right back to where you want it. But not angry. “What kind of sparring?”

“Whatever kind you’d like,” you say, your smirk only growing. “I’m open to suggestions.”

Hyunjin sighs, and you’re half-expecting him to shut you down once again. He surprises you, as his gaze drops downwards for just a moment. “The kind that doesn’t involve you stealing my clothes.”

At this point, your smirk’s so wide it’s making your cheeks ache. “Did it take you this long to notice?”

Hyunjin’s eyes flicker back up to meet yours. “…No.”

His admission, especially in a voice so quiet, so low, makes something in your stomach flutter. Your breath catches, just for a second, until you recover your composure. “Can you blame me? My old clothes are threadbare, practically about to break apart. I don’t suppose you could go ask for a pair of trousers that could fit me?”

Hyunjin throws you a look, trying to seem stern. You see right through it. “Don’t push your luck.”

You sigh. “A wise move. When these trousers fall to scraps, I would be far less likely to stage an escape in my underwear.”

For the first time this conversation, a hint of amusement sparks in Hyunjin’s eye. “No, you wouldn’t.”

He’s absolutely right. You grin. “You know me so well.”

He rolls his eyes – and you don’t know whether it’s this unexpected moment of bonding, or whether that eye-roll has pressed enough of your buttons to have you eager to ruffle him again – but you grow bold.

“Still,” you look down, faking a sigh, and reach for the drawstrings of your trousers, taking the string between your fingers and starting to pull. “With how filthy these are, needs must–”

Hyunjin grabs your wrist, shocking you into stillness. You stare down at his hand, gripping you firmly, still unable to process that he’s crossed the distance between you, that he’s in your space, he’s touching you–

Your head snaps up, eyes wide.

He realises a second too late that you were joking.

He drops your wrist as if it burned him – the irony isn’t lost on you – but he doesn’t take a step backwards. Perhaps embarrassment has rooted him to the spot.

That flush has returned, travelling upwards, almost reaching his face.

The thought that had flickered at the back of your mind, that tiny little whisper, burns brighter. Bright enough that it loosens your tongue, and has you asking.

“Are you a maiden, Hyunjin?”

You shouldn’t have phrased it like that. An old habit, from when you teased your men in countless taverns. It sounds like you’re criticising him, or making fun of him at the very least.

You’re not. You’re just curious.

His expression hardens, and you almost want to wince. All the progress you had made with him in the last few minutes, vanished in an instant.

It’s these sudden awful thoughts that cause you to slip up.

As he takes a step backward, you reach out impulsively, guiltily, to catch his wrist.

Immediately, you realise your mistake as his instincts kick in. Before you can blink, he’s twisting his arm, wrenching your own as he forces your own grip to work against you.

Somehow, it feels like an age and the briefest of seconds since the last time you and Hyunjin fought.

You don’t need to think to counteract him, like a dance you already know the steps to. You rise up from the chair before he can drag you, twisting under his arm with fluidity, like water, like smoke, before planting your feet and driving your other hand upwards against the bend of his elbow – seeking to break his grip, not his bones.

He catches on too quickly, striking away your free hand with his own before grasping at your throat. Fingers around the back of your neck, thumb positioned right under the point of your jawbone, digging into the flesh.

Not to incapacitate, you realise with a shock, but to control your balance, your movements, the twist of your head. Your free hand, knocked away, comes up to grab at his wrist.

But before you can even attempt to pry his hand away, he drops, still gripping you, forcing you downwards so abruptly that even your carefully planted stance is no match for the lurch of his movements. One foot of his rises upwards to catch you in the gut, and before you can fully comprehend what’s happening, he’s using it to hoist you over his head. You leave the ground entirely for the briefest of seconds, and when you land, you’re on your back.

He rolls backwards onto you, quick as a flash, hands never leaving your wrist and neck, knee planted on one shoulder to hold you down.

But nothing more than that.

You exhale, breath struggling to right itself, as you try to make sense of that sudden burst of movement, of combat, of old familiar sensations, and now this sudden quiet.

Hyunjin is staring down at you, his face scarily calm. Not a hint of emotion.

“Do not lay a hand on me,” he warns. It’s not angry, it’s not even cold, it’s so horribly neutral.

You inhale, sharply. That hand of his is pressing on your neck, thumb right in the squishy part under your jaw. Your own hand still clutches at his wrist, squeezing it, ready for you to make an ill-fated attempt to force him off of you.

And yet all you can think about is what a tiny shift it would be, if he let that thumb relax, if he let it just…graze your jaw. How quickly, how subtly, this position could transform.

You keep your gaze on him, refusing to break eye contact. “…That’s not what you’re angry about.”

His eyes narrow, but to your surprise, he doesn’t argue.

You take a deep breath, laboured slightly by the pressure of his hand on you. Already, the combatant in you is thinking on how to break his grip. The exact pressure points on his wrists to squeeze, the direction in which you could jerk his hand and feel a bone snap.

But you don’t. You keep the hand around his wrist loose, gentle.

“It doesn’t matter, if you are. Not to me.”

You say ‘if’ because there’s no way to tell definitively. But he embarrasses too easily, at the mere mentions of a bed, at the possibility of seeing you undressed. He’s a fighter, he has to be used to bodies, but clearly not in this particular context. He’s been moulded for battle, for assassination. There’s been no room for anything else, not while Chan has him as his little personal killer. He might have experience, but definitely not much.

That doesn’t seem like something you should say out loud, not yet anyway. This could be a sore point for him. It seems like a sore point for him.

“It doesn’t change anything,” you promise him.

He pauses. And then, finally, finally, he responds. There’s even a slight quirk of his brow, as he regards you with distrust. “No?”

“No,” you affirm. And then, slowly, you let yourself smile. Even when you’re sincere, you can never keep yourself serious for too long. “But perhaps I should stop teasing you.”

Hyunjin’s jaw tightens. “Perhaps,” he repeats, and your stomach jolts when you hear the faintest traces of something in his voice.

And then, you let your grip on the hand around your neck relax, and your thumb very slowly and very softly drags over the vulnerable curve of his wrist, running up the sensitive edge of his palm, up to the base of his thumb, and back down again. “Perhaps I should be seducing you instead.”

You half-expect Hyunjin to turn away, or turn even colder. It’s very possible you’ve pushed too far.

Instead, his gaze only intensifies. It’s practically burning.

“Isn’t that what you’ve been trying to do this whole time?” Hyunjin asks.

That fluttering sensation is back in your gut with a vengeance.

“Not quite,” you admit, your voice dropping to almost a murmur. “But look at the effect I’ve had so far. Imagine what I could do.”

His eyes flash, a ghost of recognition in his features.

He knows what this is.

A challenge.

Finally, something he’s used to. Something he can play along with.

You might just have him.

He shifts his weight, the tension in his shoulders easing.

You relax, opening your mouth to continue speaking, when–

“Guards!” he shouts, loud and clear.

You tense again, eyes darting to the door, but it’s too late. You can hear the footsteps outside, scrambling towards you, growing louder and louder.

You have enough time to sigh, glancing back at Hyunjin, who looks far too smug with himself and the upper hand he’s gained.

You scowl.

“Do I get to keep the shirt, at least?”

517 notes · View notes

m1d-45 · 11 months

Note

I don't know when, i don't know how, but SOMEBODY has ruined my day by giving me flashbacks of my most embarrassing moments from years ago.

Tongue frozen on the iron bars, check, had to alert the peeps to get the teach to bring hot water and she kept giggling at me.

The first time i tried proper kissing? Fucken awkward.

Accidentally mixing my coca cola glass with dads wine glass, and spurting it out with ews in a FUCKEN BUFFET?! FULL OF PEOPLE?! WHO TURNED TO LOOK AT ME AS MY FAMILY LAUGHED AT MY MISFORTUNE?!

Getting whacked in the head by a ball during gym class when a classmate threw it? AND they had the AUDACITY TO LAUGH AT ME! (And people wondered why i skipped that class-)

But honestly, i want schadenfreude and a creator x a hot guy (you can choose who, i'll take anyone at this point to ease me) with just these scenarios in mind, if you could.

i have found that even forced exposure can help with younghood embarrassment.

-🥘Stew

tongue tied

a/n: maybe this isnt what you wanted. maybe it is. idk i have writers block like you wouldn't believe man.

word count: ~6.5k

→ warnings: none? mention of alcohol and injuries but nothing awful or severe. just nice :]

→ g/n reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me

< masterlist >

diluc is a man with many skills.

he’s led the dawn winery for many years and have taken hundreds of shifts at the angel’s share, every item on the menu practically muscle memory by now. he knew the regulars and their typical orders, he knew the quickest way to strip mint stalks of their leaves, how to stack wine barrels most efficiently and how hot he could make his flames without getting burned, practically every skill he could reasonably need mastered when he was young.

…practically was the operative word, of course.

in business, it was practical to learn how to perfectly sign his signature. it was practical to know how to be diplomatic, practical to know how to properly tie a tie or check if a suit was fitted properly, practical to learn all of the skills he’d need to be the head of the dawn winery when he was young, so that by the time it was him sweeping a heavy coat over his shoulders for a meeting, he’d have every ability necessary to tackle whatever faced him.

but of course, his “training” didn’t cover more… personal things. he was too busy learning dining etiquette to know how to make small talk—that didn’t revolve around one party trying to get something from the other, that is. he knew how to set tables and properly pour wine, but his greetings were industry-approved stiff, responses a standard dialogue that he had nearly memorized. everything he said was mapped out in his head far before he’d say it, neatly laid out in his mind as he guided the conversation where he wanted it to go. efficient for formal meetings, but it left him… he didn’t like the word ‘lost,’ but it was the only one he could reasonably apply.

diluc set down the glass he was cleaning, picking up another to keep his hands busy. yes, there was a formal dishwasher hired, but he didn’t like being idle. he didn’t quite know what to do or where to put his hands, feeling a bit exposed without his coat. the bar provided a wide berth between him and any customers, but he couldn’t quite get a handle on the easy banter charles had with the patrons during his shift. it was like he was locked in an odd limbo between work and rest hours; without his gloves, vest, or other protective layers, all shed to prevent them from being stained in the case that something went awry, but still needing to keep face in front of others. he didn’t have his gloves to pull down, no comforting weight of his coat, his vision on a clip on his belt instead of the knot it usually hung from. everything wasn’t quite where it should be, and he was reminded of that every time he reached or twisted in the right way and the small spikes on top of his vision pressed through his shirt and into his side.

he felt… exposed. lost. and he didn’t know what to do about it.

he looked up as the tavern door opened, whatever expression he had before falling away as he was brought out of his thoughts. relax, he tried to tell himself, but it’s hard to believe that when one of the worst reasons for his confusion just walked in.

you.

archons, diluc was awful when it came to interacting with you. his heart beat too quickly and a shockingly large part of his brain thought that this meant he was in some sort of stressful meeting, all of his words coming out flat. while in its intended environment that would keep him from losing his temper or showing any weakness, in here it just made him feel more weak.

your head dipped. “master diluc, captain kaeya.”

and his brother certainly didn’t help the situation.

kaeya had turned when you entered, and greeting you with a sweeping arm and a cheery call of your name. “i didn’t think i’d see you so late; how kind of the heavens to bless me with your presence once again.”

diluc’s jaw tensed, and he traded glasses again. the pile of dirty cups was quickly dwindling, in no small part due to his own thoughts. he tended to be a bit quicker at the rhythmic movements of washing when he was caught up in his own lackluster abilities.

you laughed, taking the seat next to kaeya at the bar. all at once diluc was hyper aware of every action he made, from the change of towels to wipe off the water lingering on the cup to the smallest twitches in his expression or shifts in his weight.

“got caught up in some last-minute stuff, a coworker needed my help. i do hope you weren’t waiting too long?”

kaeya’s eye flashed, and he downed the rest of his drink before launching into a clearly fake story, talking about how actually, in the half hour or so delay in your appearance, the angel’s share was stormed by hundreds of fatui.

as if either of them would let that happen.

you played along, though, asking questions in the right spots and getting him to spin the story further. diluc exchanged his glasses again, doing a double take at the empty rack once he did.

that was far from ideal.

“-right, diluc?”

he looked up in an instant, eyes flicking about as he assessed the situation. clearly, he’d missed some part of the conversation, but what?

you, blessed you, had noticed his confusion, a smile on your face as you rested your hand on your chin, leaning on the bar. “i don’t know, would you really waste a bottle of dandelion wine like that? surely your claymore would do just fine.”

with a sharp swallow and a quick prayer—not that that would do much, knowing the archon he was praying to—diluc took a chance.

“of course i would. one bottle is worth it to defend mondstat, and it’s quite unwieldy to use a claymore in such a confined space.”

he fought a grimace the second the words left his mouth. his tone was too flat, his words uninteresting, certainly less entertaining than whatever fantastical tale kaeya had spun.

you nodded, and he could thankfully see amusement in your eyes. “how noble, master diluc.”

kaeya cut in, picking up his empty cup. “if you can spare a bottle for the fatui, then you can spare a glass for the cavalry captain, can’t you?”

he took the cup, but added it to the dirty rack alongside the one in his hand, taking a new one and wiping it to remove any water despite the fact that he knew there was none. archons, when had he gotten so…

he pushed away that train of thought, pulling out a bottle as he set the fresh glass down. “certainly not. wine is to be drank and paid for, that bottle was… an unfortunate accident.”

“my my, you’re no fun.” diluc poured his glass quickly—”not too much, not too little, okay? a little more, a bit… there, that’s good. well done, son.”—and moved it in front of him, pushing the cork back into the bottle with the heel of his palm. he set it back in its place, and noticed kaeya’s eyes on him as he took a sip.

no, not him, on-

“not worth a bottle, but worth a new glass? perhaps i am a hero after all…”

why was he unsurprised he noticed?

“i don’t want it to stain,” he lied, knowing damn well that stained glasses was something he was more than capable of handling. kaeya hummed, swirling his cup once before you prodded him about his day and he was back to his usual self, talking with significantly less grandeur than his tale from before.

diluc tried to pace himself, being extra meticulous in his cleaning, but there was only so many times he could twist a glass before he had to accept that he was done with it. an odd sort of dread settled over him as he reached for the last cup. today was a slower day, and he normally didn’t run out of cups until everybody was too drunk to notice how awkwardly he stood behind the bar. but kaeya was too smart to get properly drunk, you’d just arrived, and the night was far younger than he’d like.

he was cleaning too quickly again. normally, getting everything he needed to done with fast was a good thing, but now it just left him uneasy. charles didn’t have this problem, and he didn’t even clean glasses during the downtime. no, he struck up conversation with every single person that sat at the bar, no matter how downtrodden or celebratory. he was naturally friendly, always knowing exactly what to say despite the fact that diluc would bet serious mora on the fact that he didn’t have the faintest idea what he’d say until the other person was done. if he thought about it… even kaeya had a script of sorts, a certain way to twist the situation back in his favor, but he managed to talk to people just fine. no, that wasn’t the problem.

the clatter of the cup in his hands on the drying rack pulled him from his mind. he shouldn’t be zoning out so much on the job, but what took his attention first was the fact that he was now seriously out of tasks to complete.

…beautiful.

“diluc? is everything alright?”

it’s your voice, surprisingly, that asks for him, and he fixes his expression in the split second it takes to look at you instead of the glasses. his mind reaches, grabbing the familiar sentence that must have left his lips a thousand times.

“everything is as it should be. why do you ask?”

a defense of his position, dismissing any ideas of weakness, and a prompt as to why that line of thinking was in discussion at all. part of him recoiled at the idea of treating you with the same recited lines he did a business partner, but he genuinely didn’t know what else to say. he was distracted, to come up with another acceptable response would make him hesitate, which would set off yours or kaeya’s alarms- or both, if he was particularly clumsy with his speech.

“did the glasses offend you, or something? you’re glaring.”

and yet, despite his prerecorded reliability, he is at a loss once more. genuine inquiries about his well-being were rare in the spaces he typically interacted in, and it didn’t help that he was still stuck in work mode.

“…they have not,” he decides, picking his language carefully. “i am simply thinking about something else.”

horribly vague, and would almost certainly warrant a follow-up question. before you even opened your mouth, he knew what you’d say.

“what are you thinking about? do you need help?”

the second part was a shock, but he blessedly had an answer for the first. “nothing important. it will be handled in due time.”

kaeya raised a brow, and diluc pointedly ignored his questioning look. it wasn’t often that he resorted to diplomatic language in the presence of civilians, but you… he could never quite think right when you were around. he could only hope you never misinterpreted his odd words as mistrust.

you hummed, changing the subject shortly after with a question about the vineyards, something about a particularly bad season for crops you’d heard from sara. he paused for a moment—an acceptable pause, he told himself, as most people did think before speaking—before settling on giving you an update on the winery as a whole. anybody that listened in would only find what they could learn by asking his workers, and no trade secrets were to be found in the fact that his grapevines were regularly checked.

with the slightest twitch of his hand, he realized he was speaking to you like a businessman again.

kaeya’s cup had emptied at some point, and diluc reached for the bottle of dandelion wine without stopping his sentence, a small nod from kaeya the only confirmation he needed to pull off the cork.

“the staff have been doing well, though this is shaping up to be a rather warm summer.” not that you asked, he notes, internally chiding himself as he pulls over kaeya’s glass. he considers swapping it for a new one to give himself something to do, but decides against it. he rattles off a few details about some dahlias that adelinde is trying to grow, how they keep seeming to wilt. he doesn’t stop talking to pour kaeya’s wine, eyes focused on his task as he continues talking nonsense about flowers. flowers. since when did he talk about the hobbies of his staff when asked about the vineyards?

he twisted the bottle as he pulled away—“this way any wine that drips will land on the back label. you don’t want the front to look messy.”—corking the bottle and forcing himself to finish this childish line of speech.

it wasn’t childish, not if you seemed genuinely interested, but any more and kaeya would have too much to leverage against him later. granted, he likely knew more about diluc than he’d like given how irritatingly good he was at reading people, but that was a problem for another day. for now, he let kaeya grab his cup on his own, wiping his hands of nothing as he waited for your response to what had certainly come off as nervous ramble.

your head tilted. “has she asked flora?”

“assumedly, or she had another worker do so for her. it’s not like her to let something rot like that.”

“that’s good to hear. and you?”

“pardon?” his hands had frozen, towel still in his hands, and he turned your words over in his mind. his reply had been instinctual, mostly to buy him time to think.

“how are you doing? don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to hear the winery is well, but you seem nervous.”

kaeya chuckled into his wine, and diluc’s jaw ticked.

“i am well, my apologies if i have worried you.”

“oh, alright… it can be hard to tell sometimes with you, i wanted to be safe.”

he knows. he’d meant his apology, but any sincerity was likely lost in whatever filter was placed between his mind and his mouth.

the air was awkward, and he didn’t know how to fill it. kaeya was looking at him, clearly expecting him to continue whatever tentative conversation was lingering, but he greatly overestimated diluc’s ability to do so.

he hung the towel back in its place, finally meeting his brother’s eyes. “behave.” they flicked to you, and his words were slower coming out. “make sure he doesn’t steal anything.”

you smiled, swearing on it even as the three of you knew kaeya wouldn’t do such a thing. diluc stepped out from behind the bar, grabbing a large serving tray and walking from table to table, collecting empty glasses.

maybe he was a coward for avoiding conversation- scratch that, he definitely was, but what was he to do about it? talk? that was already established to be off the table, and one could not typically make conversation without talking.

diluc shook off the topic, climbing the stairs to the second floor of the bar. all he could do was hope you didn’t hold it against him, or archons forbid think it were somehow your fault. hopefully you wouldn’t hate him by the time he managed to get his words in line with his thoughts.

diluc stared at the empty page in front of him, twisting the pen in his hand.

another skill he didn’t have. informal letter writing.

letters to merchants, fine, letters to buyers, he had a standard template for. letters to and from employees, informing him of upcoming leave or similar work related matters, all of this he was prepared for.

but this…

he sighed, watching as ink dripped onto the page, setting down his pen.

what did he say? what did he want to say? what was appropriate to say? you were rather close to his heart but how did he come across? would an inquiry about your well being be too forward? was a letter at all too forward? friends- no, you didn’t consider him a friend, right? or did you? how did people act around their friends? how did you act around your friends?

he tugged at his gloves, fiddling with the hem nervously. he’d finished most of his paperwork and had intended to take a break by writing you a letter, but… was it even a good idea? he- oh archons, he didn’t even know your address-

diluc crumpled up the paper in one hand, throwing it in the trash with the beginnings of an embarrassed blush on his face. writing a letter and not even knowing where you lived- he could count the amount of proper conversations he’d had with you that had progressed past basic small talk on one hand, and he wanted to write you a letter?

he covered his face with his hands, resting his elbows on his desk. papers shifted beneath him but he didn’t pay attention, his thoughts in circles.

he wasn’t an idiot. he knew exactly why his heart picked up when you were around, why he had to default to more familiar speech to not make an utter fool of himself. the entire reason he’d tried to write you a letter was because he wanted to clarify his behavior towards you, to hopefully build a prior relationship with you instead of learning about you by proxy from your conversations with kaeya. yet, in his hurry to fix what probably wasn’t even broken to begin with—he knew of his reputation, in reality you probably weren’t at all surprised at his inability to make small talk—he’d forgotten the most important detail.

on one hand, he probably could ask kaeya, or poke around in other ways, but that felt disingenuous. if he was going to try and… for now he’d call it making a friendship with you, then he wanted to do it right. of course, he didn’t know exactly what ‘doing it right’ entailed, but… he supposed he’d just have to guess.

diluc had learned a considerable amount in his childhood, yet none of his lessons taught him how to pursue a partner.

diluc swept his cloak around his shoulders, fastening the clasp with one hand and reaching for his vision with the other. with practiced movements, he undid the knot tying it in place, attaching it to the back of his other hand. he hooked his mask onto his belt and closed the door of his room behind him, walking down the stairs quickly.

“be safe, master diluc.”

“master kaeya has kindly informed us that the knights have a patrol for the whispering woods, so it would be wise not to stray too far.”

diluc paused at the door, mentally rearranging his patrol route with a nod. “thank you adelinde, elzer. pass on my gratitude, please.”

he pulled open the door to the manor, walking up the familiar trails and into wolvendom. his vision lit his path as his eyes adjusted, free hand affixing his mask to his face as he walked. since he couldn’t head as far north as he’d like, he’d settle for a loop around windrise and then one in wolvendom. not ideal, but it would have to do.

windrise was lighter than expected. a budding camp of hilichurls here, an abyss mage to the east (thankfully hydro, he’d been on a bad streak with pyro mages for a few days now) and a few slimes that got a bit too close to the merchant trails for his liking.

speaking of the trails, those were clean too. he snuck around springvale, keeping the hand with his vision on it tucked into his cloak to mask its light. hilichurls didn’t hang around this part of wolvendom, so unless he wanted to go shoving through wolf hook bushes for the chance to knock out a camp or two…

he looked between the two paths back to the winery. he could go through the gorge, or the typical way taken by his suppliers. the former was mostly guaranteed to have at least one or two monsters picking about, but it would be better if he cleared his trade routes…

it didn’t matter, in the end. he stepped out from the shadow of a tree, boot barely making contact with the dirt before he picked up the sound of another’s footsteps. heavy, quick, rapidly coming his way-

he summoned his claymore, turning north toward the sound, seeing a figure stumble from the bushes of wolvendom. they were wrapped in a too-thin jacket considering the weather, arm pressed to their chest. details were lost in the darkness, but he could see their head twist, how it snapped to him.

the figure waved with a shout to get his attention, and his heart dropped.

you. what were you doing up so late?

you jogged up to him, clearly out of breath, and he could see that you were holding an armful of unripe wolfhooks. “do.. do you know the way to springvale?”

by the archons, abyss, and celestia above-

“what business do you have there? it’s late,” he said, keeping his voice low. his hands trembled slightly in his gloves, eyes searching your figure for any injury. you had a nick or two on your arm, thankfully not bleeding, but everything else was obscured by shadows. you had clearly been running for quite a while, judging by how harshly you breathed, were you running from something? had you ran into trouble?

“i gotta get back to the city,” you explained breathlessly. “i kinda got lost in the forest.”

“lost?” his hand tensed around his claymore, the action reminding him it was still there. he dismissed it, crossing his arms to try and stabilize himself.

“long story, not worth telling.” you waved your hand, and he could see how it shook a bit. whether from adrenaline or exhaustion (both?) he knew he couldn’t point you toward mondstat in good faith. what if something happened to you? what if he’d missed a camp and you were attacked? you were weakened, tired, and his mind raced with all the potential injuries you could sustain just trying to go home-

“uh, stranger?” your hand waved again, this time to get his attention. “you with me?”

“the city’s too far. you’re better off seeking shelter at the dawn winery just up the road.” what was he saying? “besides, you could be injured, and not be feeling the pain due to adrenaline. let me walk you there.”

his heart hammered against his ribs, every single way you could reject him and then some swirling in his head. he was a stranger to you, you were clearly scared by something, and he directed you elsewhere out of what, selfishness? he knew that springvale was likely closer, that someone would be up and willing to help, and yet he was asking to walk you to the winery?

“are you sure? you don’t have to.”

“i’d rather not send you off when i’m not certain of your safety.” your eyes widened slightly, surprised at the care in his voice, and he forced his tone to flatten before you recognized him. “besides, the staff are friendly and willing to help. they’ll understand.”

you hesitated for a moment, then nodded, holding your wolfhooks closer. absently, he wondered if he had any at the winery. probably not, but he could likely ask-…

in barbatos’ name, how was he going to explain this to the staff?

“alright. lead the way.”

he turned before his expression could change, keeping his steps a bit slower than usual so you could keep pace easier. he wanted you inside as quickly as possible, obviously, but you had clearly strained yourself earlier. going quicker would only hurt you more, and it wasn’t as if there was any immediate threat. even if there was, he was confident in his ability to keep you safe. the trees lining the path were large, wide enough to protect you if trouble came up and he needed to use his vision.

he set aside that line of thinking, sparing a glance at you. you’d switched which arms held the wolfhooks, and in the more open light, he could see the small pricks on your skin where the points dug in. you winced when the fruit resettled, moving one away from your inner elbow, and he stopped walking.

“give me those. you’re hurting yourself.”

“it’s fine, don’t worry about it. we’re nearly there, right?”

“wolfhooks aren’t clean, you could get an infection. you’re supposed to harvest them with a basket and gloves, not carrying them bare armed.”

“you don’t have the thickest clothes either, what’s to say you won’t get hurt?”

diluc searched the small area of the path you were on, trying to find a compromise. his first instinct was to use his cloak, but his hair was tucked into the hood, and that with his silhouette would certainly give him away. his eyes caught on a tear in your jacket, just below the shoulder, and he held out his arms.

“use your jacket as a sling. it’s already torn from the forest, so it’s not the worst loss.”

firm solution, reasonable and immediate justification. he was doing it again, no matter how well it disguised itself as casual speech.

you gave in, thankfully, and he didn’t let the minor pain from the wolfhook’s points show on his face as you removed your jacket. it was as thin as it looked, and he found himself frowning as he helped you stow the berries inside.

still, it wasn’t his business. maybe if he were your friend he could suggest that you purchase a heavier coat, but… you were getting a new one anyway since this one was ruined, so that seemed like a null point to bring up.

he settled your stuffed jacket into your waiting arms, hands lingering for a moment to ensure your grip was stable. “better?” you nodded, and he began walking again. “good. and don’t forget to mention your wounds to the staff, the last thing you want is an infection from… why did you need wolfhooks?”

“bennett asked me to get some for him and his friend… i think razor is his name? but with bennett’s luck, he didn’t want to risk going in himself, so he asked me to help.”

diluc frowned. “why does he need wolfhooks?”

you shrugged. “he offered some mora in return, but i mostly accepted because i felt bad. his luck seems to ruin everything for him, the least i could to was try.”

“even at the risk of your own health?”

“the things you do for friends, you know how it is.” his hands twitched at his sides, curling into loose fists. did he? “but what about you? why are you out here?”

he thought over his answer carefully, mixing various bits of his typical sentences to craft a half-truth. it was getting easier, he noticed, but put that thought aside just as quickly as it came. “wandering, doing my part to keep the area safe.”

“that’s noble of you.”

it wasn’t. would you believe the same if you knew how selfish he was in his desires? he kept mondstat safe for himself, so that he could rest knowing he’d done what he could—he patrolled not out of some moral righteousness, but because it made him proud to know that he’d chipped in to the city’s safety, that he was handling threats the knights didn’t, that he could keep his staff, his brother, his life, keep you-

“have you considered joining the knights? i’m certain there’s some night patrols, and it would surely be nice to have backup.”

he almost responded, almost said that he was in the knights, at one point, before he remembered where he was. who he was. to tell you that would be too much, too much information and too much for you to identify him with.

when did he become so loose with his words? normally he was so uptight around you… was it the fact that you didn’t know he was him right now? did.. he seriously operate best under anonymity? archons, how weak was that, to only be able to say what he meant when you didn’t know anything? was he that socially inept? so desperate for a proper conversation that he’d nearly slipped a major part of his life to you, just based on an offhand comment? how pathetic was he?

he forcefully shut down that line of thought and grit his teeth, well aware it had been too long since you’d spoken. “i’ve considered it. it’s not for me.”

not an entire lie, at least.

you were silent, and he knew he’d ruined the atmosphere. crystalflies fluttered in the trees, lazily flapping through the air, but he couldn’t appreciate their beauty like he typically could. the walk all the way down to the manor was spent in silence, and aside from a minor stumble you had on a jutting rock, it was as if he was walking back on his own, as he typically would. he even began to reach for the doorknob, then caught himself and used the knocker instead.

it was weird. he knew the door wasn’t locked, yet he waited for footsteps to approach the door, seeing elder’s worried face greet him. “master diluc, are you-?”

elzer’s eyes found yours, a tiny hint of shock crossing his face before he settled it back into the same polite smile he always used when greeting guests.

“ah, my apologies. i wasn’t expecting visitors at such a late hour.”

diluc bowed his head in what he hoped came off as a thankful action. “my apologies for disturbing you.”

he explained the situation as swiftly as possible, elzer urging you towards adelinde to treat your injuries. the medical supplies were just inside, near to the door for the sake of diluc’s own health.

“and what of you, stranger?” elzer asked, a bit louder than necessary. “will you be staying?”

diluc sees you look up, understanding clicking in an instant. “no, i won’t,” he answers, “but i thank you for your hospitality.”

elzer reached for the coatrack, pulling down two, both his and diluc’s, keeping the door propped open and passing him his where you couldn’t see. “then let me walk you to the edge of the vineyards, in exchange for your chivalry.”

“it’s alright, thank you. have a nice night.”

“the same to you, stranger.”

the door closed, and diluc relaxed, clutching his coat close as he turned away from the manor.

that was too close. he shouldn’t have suggested to bring you here in the first place, and thank the gods that elzer was so quick on his feet. he’d completely forgotten that he would have to return to the manor as diluc at one point in his rush to get you here.

he ducked behind a tree at the edge of the winery, exchanging his cloak for his jacket. he folded it neatly, stowing his mask and gloves inside. he didn’t have his usual clothes on, but… he could make do. he’d lied before, he’d lie again… even to you.

his grip around his cloak tightened. especially to you. you had no business in his shady practices, in what he did in the dark. it was impossible to keep you entirely safe and sheltered, nor was that healthy or his place to do, but he could at least keep his darkness from encroaching upon your light.

by the time diluc returned to the manor, you had already been sent on your way to a guest room. blessedly, neither adelinde nor elzer were in the front room to make a remark to him about it, likely busy with other work or asleep themselves. he locked the door and hung up his coat, heading up to his room after a swift double check of the first of those facts.

he went about his night, changing into sleepwear and setting his boots by his bed, his vision on his nightstand. it was admittedly a little more difficult falling asleep than usual—were you comfortable? did you like the guest room?—but he managed, waking up with the sun. his routine was the same, but when he arrived at the bottom of the stairs, he paused, looking up at the guest rooms. it… was strange, to know you were here. he felt like he should be doing something, whether saying goodbye or good morning or-

he looked away and shook his head. or nothing. he wasn’t as close to you as you were to him, how did he keep forgetting that?

“is there a problem, master diluc?”

he turned, seeing adelinde setting down his breakfast on the table. “nothing at all, and thank you for the food. did you sleep well?”

“i was a bit late in going to bed, a strange guest brought us some worry.”

he smiled at the pointedness to her tone, “really? how odd, to have a visitor so late.”

her mouth opens, but another speaks before she does.

“sorry if i caused any trouble.”

he paused. blinked. took a moment to register the fact that he just heard your voice in his home.

then he turned, attempting a smile. “it’s alright. your being here is unexpected, yes, but not unwelcome.”

you had clearly just gotten up, clothes rumpled and pillow creases along your hands. you nod, stepping closer, and he grasps for any viable threads of conversation.

“is the manor to your liking?”

“it’s beautiful.”

pride bloomed in his chest. “i’m happy to hear it. come sit, have some breakfast.” adelinde excused herself with a bow and he moved to pull out a chair for you, praying the action looked as natural as it felt. you accepted with a smile, and he pushes you in with relief in his when he sits. “she should return shortly with your food, apologies for the delay.”

“it’s fine,” you said, looking around the main room. he tries to find something else to talk about, already feeling the awkward silence set in, but fumbles. the last time he had someone at his table was with the traveller for the weinlesefest, and they and paimon mostly carried the conversation along. he only ever heads business discussions, or staff meetings, or interrogations, and this was certainly none of those.

“are you alright?”

he blinked away his frown, realizing too late he’d been glaring at his cup of grape juice. an instinctual response rose to his tongue, but he hesitated. maybe it was the early morning hour, maybe it was the genuine concern on your face, maybe it was the light of dawn streaming in from the windows that fell across you so delicately, as if it knew how beautiful you were.

he discarded that response, but exchanged it for another. “are you? adelinde told me you were injured.”

a lie. he hadn’t spoken with anybody about your injuries. archons, was this worse?

your smile grows. apparently not? “just a few scrapes,” you say, lifting your arm to show where adelinde bandaged you. “wolfhooks are a lot sharper than they look.”

“wolfhooks?”

you waved a hand. “i needed some for bennett, long story. don’t worry, adelinde gave me a basket for them.”

“that’s good to hear.”

and just like that, the topic was exhausted. did he bring up something else? how much was too much? what was even an appropriate topic? what did the average person talk about? not that you were average, he’d never dare-

he’s talked himself into a corner in his own head. how in teyvat did that happen?

“you’re frowning again.”

“my apologies, i’m lost in thought.” he was quiet for a moment, then continued, “a problem i’ve encountered before is more prevalent now.”

…it wasn’t the most eloquent of phrasing, but it should do.

“do you want to talk about it?”

does he? how would he even put this into words that didn’t make him sound… is pathetic the word?

‘i can’t talk right around you because i’m not used to talking with someone that does so in good faith’? yeah, that’s something a well-adjusted adult says.

“i don’t have the words for it,” he decides. “the words…” he takes a quick glance at you to gauge your reaction but regrets it just as fast, whatever he had to say next vanishing into thin air. it’s unfair, really, how pretty you are, his eyes fixed to yours. “t-they-“

adelinde set your plate down in front of you, blessedly saving him from the situation. “thank you for your patience. please let me know if anything is unsatisfactory.”

diluc grabs his cup as you thank her, turning away to hide behind the grape juice. he can’t even really taste it, focused on how clumsily he had spoken. were he anywhere else he’d surely be laughed out of the room, and he’s certain adelinde’s going to tease him for it later as it is.

“diluc?” he looks over at you again, keeping his gaze quick before he fumbles again.

“what is it?”

too harsh, too cruel, he’s being cold to you again-

“are you busy today?”

he thinks over his schedule. no meetings that he can remember, nor any deadlines. he’d prefer to finish up some forms sooner rather than later, but if you need him for something…

“no, i’ve got time. what do you need?”

“would you like to go to good hunter for dinner later today?”

he can only hope you accept his nod as an answer because between the knowing smile on your face and the bright blush on his, there’s no way he’s getting a word out.

145 notes · View notes

beautifulchris · 10 months

Text

mischief managed

pairing: han jisung x gn!reader

wc: 3,2k

featuring: lee minho, kim seungmin, sf9’s chani, nct’s jaemin

summary: jisung tries to break every single rule with you

genres: hogwarts!au, partners-in-crime!au, ravenclaw!jisung, slytherin!reader, fluff, comedy

warnings: swearing

notes: I wanna apologize to jaemin for doing him so dirty, my baby doesn’t deserve this sdjkfqlk feedback is always appreciated! moodboard made by me, pictures found on the internet. reposting works from my old blog

order of writing: chan - jisung - minho - hyunjin - jeongin - seungmin - changbin - felix

networks: @kflixnet @k-labels @straykidsland

tag list: @badwithten @raethethey send ask/dm/comment to be added!

On the King’s Cross train station on your very first day, you almost missed the train because your dad absolutely wanted to take the best pic of his precious kid going to the mythic Hogwarts school. So you ended up in an almost empty compartment. The other compartments around were full and there was just this boy alone.

“Hey, can I sit here?” You probably startled him because he looked up at you with wild eyes but instantly smiled at your sight.

“Yeah, sure.”

“What are you doing all alone?” you asked as you sat in front of him.

He shrugged. “Looking at my chocolate frog cards collection.”

“Wow, nice. Can I see?”

He handed them to you, “Yes, of course. I’m Jisung by the way.”

“I’m Y/N.”

Since that day, you were inseparable and soon became partners-in-crime. Being put in different houses didn’t stop you.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ✿ฺ

After learning Alohomora in charms class, you wandered in the castle to find a forbidden office to open and what better one than the caretaker’s where a whole lot of interesting things were stored?

There, you found a few dungbombs that Jisung instantly took, confiscated brooms and chains. A lot of perfectly polished chains hung on the walls.

“I understand why he doesn’t stay here often,” you snorted and returned to your inspection. In a dusty cabinet named ‘Confiscated and Highly Dangerous’, you found an old piece of blank parchment. It was mysteriously well conserved taking into account where it was so you put it in your pocket. Further inspection will be done to know how a simple parchment could be ‘highly dangerous’.

“I’m kinda disappointed. Sure we’ll use the dungbombs wisely but I thought there were more interesting treasures.”

“Don’t be so down yet Ji, I found a mystery to resolve. Let’s go before we get caught.”

Fortunately, you didn’t get caught. You both went to your common room, being a quiet place with almost no students at this hour. You showed Jisung the parchment and counted on his intelligence and logic to figure out how it worked. After a few minutes, he looked up at you and smirked.

“I feel like it’s in good hands now.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Instead of answering, he put his wand out of his pocket and pointed it to the parchment.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” he simply said. You were going to question him when the parchment caught your eye. Ink was spreading on the paper and soon you could read:

“Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present…”

“The Marauder’s Map,” Jisung whispered with stars in his eyes.

“What is this? Open it!”

Jisung did as told and both of you were dumbfounded by what you discovered. A map of the whole school, including the secret passages that are hidden within its walls and the location of every person in the grounds, portrayed by a dot. This map, a true masterpiece, within your hands was a disaster for everyone else.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ✿ฺ

Three years later, you knew everything you could possibly have learned about the school. Neither Ravenclaw or Slytherin could win the house cup as long as you both were in Hogwarts. No matter the amount of effort Seungmin, Changbin and Minho would make to earn points, they could never make up for your wickedness. You did earn points sometimes in classes when you answered correctly to a teacher’s question and you weren’t the only one to lose points either so you didn’t feel so bad. You did lose more points than you earned but shhh. Let's not talk about that.

One day, on your way to the lake after lunch, Gryffindor Jaemin called your name so you stopped in your tracks and waited for him to join you.

“Hey, Y/N, I was wondering if you would like to study with me after class? For transfiguration.”

Uh. Jaemin has never been your friend and the most he ever said to you before now was “Get out of my way, filthy Slytherin.” the second day of your first year. Therefore you were startled, to say the least. Plus you wanted to study with Jisung, not some acquaintance you never talked to and weren’t interested in.

“Not really, I already have plans for tonight. Thank you for the offer though.”

You tried to sound as nice as you could but without much convection and left before he could reply. A few meters away, Jisung saw the whole scene and wondered what you had told him because he looked displeased. He joined you and you smiled at him before intertwining fingers.

The next day, Jisung and you were sunbathing with a nice autumn breeze on a bench in the courtyard when someone came in front of you, preventing the sun from warming your face. You opened your eyes and were met with Jaemin and a few of his friends.

“Can you move please?” you politely demanded, since you didn’t want to start anything.

“Are you dating him?” he asked, pointing at your best friend.

“No?”

“Then why did you reject my date proposal?”

Oh my god. Really? You were going to put him in place but Jisung’s mocking laugh stopped you.

“Really dude? You want to do this here?”

“I don’t think you’re in the conversation.” Jaemin’s glare didn’t please you.

“Should’ve asked to talk to Y/N in person then instead of creating unnecessary drama.”

Jaemin looked like he was going to throw hands so you spoke before it went too far.

“Guys, let’s stay civil here. I rejected you cause I’m not interested in you, there's no other motive. Now can you let us be?” His friends laughed at him and you could swear you heard one of them say something about a bet.

“Wait, asking Y/N out on a date was a bet?”

“And what about it?” Jaemin said cockily. Jisung was fuming and you were disgusted by the boy.

“Can’t you respect people? No one deserves to be a bet’s victim. You guys suck.”

He scoffed. “I’m sure you’re the type of guy who hides when it comes to fight.”

“Try me.” You knew by his glare that he wasn’t playing anymore. Jaemin was smirking but not for long.

“Let’s duel.”

Jisung was so fast to put his wand out, it surprised Jaemin. You tried to stop them but it was useless because their pride was at stake.

Before you could blink, Jaemin ended up mouthless and you heard a woman screaming but you didn’t listen, being amazed by the spell’s effect. Jisung took your hand and ran through the corridors, hearing the professor yelling she would remove twenty points from his house.

You managed to catch your breath while Jisung was answering an easy riddle —for him— to enter the Ravenclaw common room.

“I can’t believe you really did it.”

“He challenged me! You know I can’t say no to that,” Jisung sighed.

“I know. That was brilliant, by the way.” You sat on one of the comfortable chairs like you lived there —it wasn’t totally false— and you were followed by your partner-in-crime.

“Thanks! I practiced this one a lot, I couldn’t wait to use it for real.”

“I hope you didn’t do anything foolish,” said a voice behind you.

“Oh, Seungmin! I didn’t see you there.” Jisung turned around and smiled. Seungmin was reading a book in a blue armchair. He closed it and gave his attention to his friends. “I hope you’re not hoping too hard.”

“How much?”

“What do you mean?” Jisung’s innocent act didn’t work since the second time he used it but he was still trying three years later.

“Twenty,” you answered. Seungmin gave Jisung a look and he shrugged.

“It was fun and I don’t regret it.” He folded his arms and pouted like a grounded kid.

“Of course you don’t,” Seungmin loudly exhaled.

“You’ll make it up for it, won’t you?”

Seungmin sighed deeply. He felt like he had to work twice as hard to win back the points Jisung made their house lose but it was never enough. “I always do, but don’t you think you should calm down a bit?”

“Absolutely not. There’s still a lot of rules Y/N and I haven't broken yet, so many adventures and exciting moments to live.” Jisung smiled widely at you while Seungmin implored you with his eyes to stop him. Your gaze went from one to another without really knowing what to say and before you could, someone sat next to Jisung and typed on the table.

“What mischief are you going to commit today pals?” It was Chani, one of the chasers of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team and a fellow 4th year.

“Hey Chani! Already done, Jaemin asked for a duel and I used Oscausi on him.”

“Oh I don’t know th-” Chani started.

“OSCAUSI? Jisung, are you crazy?” Seungmin got up so fast he startled everyone, including others around him.

“Don’t worry, he got his mouth back,” Jisung waved his hand with indifference, Jaemin deserved it after all. “Eventually.”

“You’re going to be the death of me, really.” Jisung and Chani just laughed at that and Jaemin unofficially became your target for a lot of future mischief.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ✿

“I haven’t lost any points in days, maybe I should start to pay attention in arithmancy class.”

It was this time of the year where the air was so cold you just stayed in your or Jisung’s common room and studied to prevent boredom.

Jisung pulled his robe hood over his head and gently slapped you in the back of the head. “Transfigure this quill into a rat and put it onto Jaemin’s head.”

“I mean, yeah, that’s a funnier idea.”

You lost ten points for it but you found it so fun you were back on track until the next cold day.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ✿

You always loved the Ravenclaw common room. You didn’t dislike the Slytherin one, but it was cold and unfriendly when you weren’t a Slytherin yourself. Plus you loved warm places. What you liked the most about the Ravenclaw common room was the domed ceiling painted with stars. You could literally watch it for hours until having to go to your own dorm to sleep. If you weren’t friends with Jisung, you probably would never have been able to lose yourself in the stars because you weren’t that close with Seungmin or Chani and you didn’t really know any other Ravenclaws.

You were currently lying down on one of the couches, your head on Jisung’s lap, helping each other revise (yes, it happens!) for the history of magic test about the goblin rebellions you would have the next day, more concentrated on the stars than the subject. It was calming and it helped you stress less about the tests.

“Where’s Muffin?” you asked out of nowhere.

It made Jisung flinch but when didn't he? Just like she knew her name, she appeared next to you, purring loudly. You put her on your belly and patted her head lovingly.

“Don’t forget she’s my cat,” whined Jisung as he closed his book and put it on the coffee table next to the couch.

You smirked. “Don’t be jealous cause she loves me more.”

The elegant Siberian cat got up and rubbed herself against your best friend’s chest, waving her tail on your face.

“You were saying?”

You rolled your eyes and opened your transfiguration book which was on the floor. It was going to be a long night and you’ll probably have to go back to your dorm after curfew. Bless the marauder’s map in those moments.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ✿

The Quidditch match between Ravenclaw and Slytherin was coming up and Jisung had to practice more than usual as the seeker. He was going to play against Changbin after all. They both were really good so you wondered who would win the match. Gryffindor had won the first match against Slytherin and Ravenclaw won the one against Hufflepuff thanks to Jisung’s agility and speed.

You always followed Jisung at his training, it was the only moments he wasn’t trying to break the rules. He was pretty serious about Quidditch actually, even if after each training since your 3rd year, you went to drink a mug of butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks with Chani. It was like tradition.

The day of the match, you cheered on your team and your friends, so basically both teams. The competitive mindset of the two seekers could be felt from afar, everybody knew the match was going to be intense. At the end, the score was 350-200 for Slytherin, because Yugyeom, one of the Slytherin beaters, sent a bludger on Jisung’s broom, causing him to spin around and allowing Changbin to catch the golden snitch. It was a good game and Jisung didn’t fall so it was a double win.

Of course you would say that cause you're a Slytherin.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ✿

Ravenclaws shared the defence against the dark arts class with Slytherins so, naturally, Jisung and you were seated together.

“Hello everyone! Today’s lesson is about acromentulas.” As the professor proceeded with his lecture, you felt your strong partner-in-crime shiver in his seat. You looked at him and were surprised by how much he looked terrified of acromentulas, not that you could blame him, these giant spiders were scary as hell.

“You okay there, bro?” He didn’t answer and was so pale you thought he was going to faint. You tried to comfort him but he was frozen.

The professor, not giving a care about what was happening in front of his face, decided to show some photos of acromentulas and as if it didn’t trigger Jisung enough, he eventually showed a real one in a big cage. From what you’ve seen in your books, it was nearly a teen so it wasn’t that big compared to his adult size but it was still big enough to scare the hell out of Jisung. He literally fell off his chair and the sound made the professor pay attention.

“Jisung? What happened?”

“He’s really scared of acromentulas, sir. Can you please put it away?”

“Oh. Yes, of course.”

While the professor finally put it away, you helped Jisung sit back.

“You okay?”

“Not really. That shit’s so grim.”

“I know, take deep breaths. It’s gone, everything’s alright.”

His breathing was unsteady for a few moments but he quickly got his composure back.

“I’m sorry Jisung, didn’t mean to frighten you. Class’ dismissed. Except you, Jisung.”

Everyone left except Seungmin, who checked on his friend, Jisung and you.

The professor went to his office and came back with chocolate.

“Here, eat this, you’ll feel better. I didn’t know it was this horrifying for you.”

He accepted the chocolate and ate it slowly. “It’s okay, you couldn’t know. Arachnophobia isn’t cool.”

“I won’t show any spider in this class from now on, I promise.”

“Thank you sir.”

“You can go now, drink water and rest.”

As you left class, Jisung whispered in your ear. “I don’t need water, I need a good butterbeer.”

You both chuckled and, after saying bye to Seungmin who certainly left to go to the library to do his homework, went to the Three Broomsticks using the secret passage beneath the one-eyed statue by the stairs of your last class to drink one or two mugs of butterbeer.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ✿

Two months before the end of the year, Jisung had the baddest yet boldest idea so far. It was remarkable how he never failed to impress you.

“I’m going to use this potion on Jaemin, he’ll definitely leave you alone after that.”

“He left me alone after I put a rat onto his head but suit yourself, bro.”

You were hiding behind stairs on the third floor, waiting for Jaemin to walk down. Jisung was holding his flask tight in his hand. When you heard people talking, you discreetly looked up and saw Jaemin. Jisung didn’t hesitate and before you could react, his flask was emptied on Jaemin’s head. His hair slowly stood on end but it wasn’t all, it also turned into candy apple red. He somehow added Colovaria to the hair-rising potion and you were about to congratulate him when you got a glimpse of Minho upstairs.

Jaemin left, horrified, to the nearest bathroom to see the damage while Minho was casually walking down the stairs. Jisung lost his smile when he saw him and swallowed hard. Once arrived at your height, he opened his mouth.

“Rules are put in place to prevent hundreds of magically gifted hormonal hazards from accidentally turning themselves into sharks or losing an eye, or provoking the wrath of a giant spider, or blowing themselves up, or whatever. But here you are, trying to break every single one of them.” You almost felt relieved he didn’t scream at you.

“Look, I’m stupid, okay? And stupid people do stupid things. That’s a fact.”

You could have laughed at his excuse if Minho wasn’t staring at both of you like he was about to end you. He wasn’t generally scary but he was a prefect so when you did something wrong… well, let’s say you better not be seen by him.

“Do you use this lame excuse every time you do shit?”

“My other excuse is that it was Y/N’s idea but no one buys it.”

You looked at him in disbelief. Of course no one bought it, you were more like his sidekick than the mastermind.

“Not surprising. Anyway, fifteen points from Ravenclaw. I would have taken twenty but adding a transfiguration spell to a potion was really clever.”

He asked Jisung for a favor, talking privately in the nearest classroom for a few minutes. Then Minho left and Jisung came back to you with a big smile and you high-fived him. The Marauders Map usually prevented incidents like this and he wasn’t near this place when you last checked the Map. Minho literally came out of nowhere.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ✿

On a fine and warm day, as Jisung and you successfully pranked Jaemin for the umpteenth time that year, he turned to you still laughing.

“You know what’s the strength of a duet? It’s to be two.”

“Thank you for your encouraging words. I now know you need me,” you winked.

The laughter slowly died down and the atmosphere became somehow serious. He sat on a bench and you joined him.

“Are you kidding? I’ll always need you.”

“Always? Sounds like a really long time,” you chuckled, more to tease him and put aside the fact that you need him just as much.

“Just wishing we’ll stay together forever,” he blurted out, his eyes concentrating on his shoes.

“You’re sweet. I would love that too.”

He lifted his head and looked you in the eye.

“Really? No need for the Imperius Curse then?” You blinked a few times, about to smack him when he smiled wildly. “Just kidding, I would never.”

“Anyway, go train for the match against Gryffindor, wouldn’t want Mark to catch the snitch before you, would you?”

“Won’t happen.”

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed, please let me know <3 and here's the masterlist!

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margowritesthings · 11 months

Text

The Long Night

pairing: modern day!Arthur Morgan x Reader word count: 914 words warnings: sick doggo, anxiety, vet waiting room authors note: I wrote this last week when my love @cowboydisaster was in the vets with her doggo Moose, but I've found myself reading it for comfort so I thought y'all might wanna read it too <3 it's just a lil comfort drabble, but I think it's kinda cute

taglist: @cowboydisaster @inkandbloodbound @counteveryfreckle @elifsukirdaghehe @reaveries @delilah-grimes @mrsarthurmorgan7 @twola @photo1030

You don’t know what time it is, can’t bring yourself to check your phone and see his little smiling face staring back at you from your wallpaper screen. Arthur is running his thumb over your knuckles softly, while you grip onto him as hard as you can. He’s your lifeline, your tether to the Earth right now and you can’t let go lest you fall off. The crook of Arthur’s neck fits your head perfectly, his muscular shoulder the perfect pillow in amongst possibly the least comfortable room you’ve ever had the displeasure of sitting in. His light blue shirt has little pools of a darker shade where your tears have fallen and clung to the cotton.

You tired eyes scan over the posters on the wall opposite you, seeing adverts for tick treatments and infographics on spaying and neutering. You and Arthur are the only two in the waiting room, as they said you could wait here until Moose was ready to be collected, so the silence is agonising. You focus hard on the sensation of his calloused thumb pad running over your softer skin, trying to keep your mind on Arthur as to not let it wander. It’s hard, not thinking of all the things that could be going wrong right now.

“He’ll be okay. Everything’s gonna be alright.” Arthur whispers, as if he has a map to exactly where your mind is right now. You exhale deeply through your nose, not enjoying how clinical everything smells whenever you try to inhale to calm yourself down.

“I know. I just miss him. Time goes so much slower when you’re in a waiting room…” you sigh, nuzzling more into Arthur’s side. You want to melt into him, want to shut your eyes and be back in your home with your boys, but you have to wait for one of them to come back from theatre.

“Lil’ man’s strong, darlin’. You raised him strong, and you did right by him. He’s gonna be fine.”

You’ll never understand how Arthur always knows just what to say. The worry swirling around in your mind that this is somehow your fault dies a little with each of your husband’s words. You did right by him. He’s gonna be fine.

“You think we did the right thing? He’s so small, I just don’t-“

“I know we did. You always do right by him. Hell, I ain’t ever seen you drive like that to get him here on time… you’re his momma, darlin’, of course you did right by him.”

There isn’t anything on this Earth but your lil guy in your arms that could possibly make you feel better, but somehow Arthur manages, just a little bit. You laugh weakly, shaking your head slightly.

“I did nearly run that poor old woman over, didn’t I?”

“I think I saw her get back up, should be alright.” He jokes, glancing down at you to witness the very first smile of the night creeping across your lips. You nudge Arthur in the side gently, just so grateful to have him. You’re about to attempt a witty comeback, but are interrupted (thank god, as you're sure reminding him of the time he ran John over on his own driveway wasn’t going to win this argument for you) by a nurse entering the room. In unison, you and Arthur stand, grasping each other's hand tightly.

“Moose Morgan?” She asks, despite you two being the only people in the room. You nod, feeling your heart pounding in your chest and your knees shake with pure anxiety. It’s only after a few seconds do you notice the smile adorning her tired face, “Everything went well. He’s awake. A little drowsy, but awake. Do you wanna see him?”

═══════☆═══════

“Hey, little Moose!” Arthur speaks in a hushed voice, not wanting to disrupt the peace of the room. Moose perks up, peering out of his tiny cone to find the origin of the noise. He loves Arthur, has done since the day you first brought him home to ‘meet the kids’ (your dogs and horses), and it shows by the way his tail wags at the very sound of his dad’s voice, “How you doin’, buddy? We missed ya’.”

Words fail you when you finally lay eyes on him, his fluffy little body all curled up in a blanket. He sits up when he sees you, so very excited to see his momma that he lets out a little yip. Tears pool in the corners of your eyes as you kneel down to him, lifting the blanket up and him with it. It takes a second of manoeuvring around the cone, but you managed to place a soft kiss on Moose’s head. He tries to return the gesture, but his tiny tongue won’t reach past his new outfit. You giggle, holding him close to you.

“It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you- Momma’s got you.”

Arthur wraps an arm around your shoulder, rubbing up and down your arm softly. He glances out of the window of the clinic, suddenly struck with the best idea when he realises the sun is rising.

“Hey, how ‘bout we go get you both a treat? Starbucks should be open soon, and I think this calls for one of them pup cup things. Whatchu’ think?”

Moose yips, apparently already feeling much improved.

“I think Moose has spoken.”

Arthur chuckles, reaching to scratch behind the little dog’s ear,

“Right you are, boss man.”

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan drabble #arthur morgan fanfiction

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assortedvillainvault · 3 months

Note

could you do a Hades and a trans male f/o with ocd and how he would help them/react to things? Only of you are comfy with it!

Hey there! Thanks for the ask and apologies for the snail trail it's taken to get these out.

I tried my best with these - I don't suffer from OCD/am not trans so if there's any inaccuracies please let me know!!

Hades x Trans+OCD!Reader Headcannons

Babe he has dealt, and will deal with, every single soul who has ever lived. Which is over 5 billion or so by now. This ain’t his first trans rodeo, just let him know and you’re good.

As a god he’s kinda beyond the whole 'gender' concept anyway, he just double checks his pronouns and moves on, busy guy whole realm to run and all that. But if someone disrespects you? You?? His S/O?? BOOM straight to Tartarus – he’s got your back babe just say the word.

While he might not be familiar with OCD through personal experience, or know the term, he’s not exactly unobservant.

If you’re particular about keeping your hands clean -and yeesh he can relate the soul stuff goop sticks – he just asks that you please please please don’t use the river water for washing. The Underworld's nine rivers ALL cause magic bullshit on contact, from accelerated ageing to memory loss, and neither of you need the stress ok. He can provide perfectly normal sterilised water on hand just ask the servants that’s what they're for.

You like everything just so, huh? Like down to the right angle and the minute? While he’s also gonna bring up practical issues of micromanaging (lack of time, fate, rampant minion idiocy and his family’s mere existence), he relates because he also runs a tight ship and hates his systems being disrupted – something simple being thrown off whack is a red flame rage trigger. You can be each-others chill pills. Hopefully.

If he spots you counting- shit babe want a job? There are reams of records in his office that need an organised eye and if you feel the need then who is he to stop you honestly. He’ll even pay you. Please help him.

Its almost soothing, in a used salesman board meeting type way, how he can talk you through the worst of the paranoia. Like. Ok, so what’s the worst that could happen babe? You could die? You are dating the Lord of The Dead. You’ve visited the underworld so often you’ve basically mapped the place! You know exactly what happens once ye old mortal coil is shuffled off! Who else can say that, huh? Course he’s gonna resurrect you, Olympus isn't exactly gonna notice.

And if you’re worried that through some kind of colossal, fates dammed fuckup, you’ll somehow harm him or the underworld? Babe. Sweetheart. Is your name Zeus? Or Hercules?? No?? You’re not knocking down walls or attempting to yoink a soul back upstairs? No?? You’re good. The place ain’t exactly made of tissue paper and neither is he.

Now c’mere, ok? He needs some snuggles and so you you. Lap time.

#thalassa responds #thank you for the ask!!#hades x reader #disney villains #disney hades #x reader #hades strikes me as a hyper adaptable roll with the punches sort of guy #like he might not fully get it BUT if he can find a workaround that keeps things running and you happy then he's gonna do it full steam

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rosanna-writer · 8 months

Text

we said hello and your eyes look like coming home (11/?)

Summary: A canon-divergent AU where the bond snaps for Rhys on Calanmai, Feyre unwittingly accepts it, and Fire Night magic proves to be more transformative than anyone bargained for. Feyre drags a mate she hardly knows out from Under the Mountain, then puts him back together as war with Hybern approaches. Warnings: dubious consent, canon-typical sexual violence, canon-typical violence Rating: Explicit Chapter Word Count: ~3.1k

Feyre faces her first task Under the Mountain.

Some dialogue in this chapter is taken directly from ACOTAR book one.

Read on AO3 or you can find the eleventh chapter below the readmore.

ch. 1 - 10 | ch. 11 - she underestimated just who she was stealing from

I heard the crowd before I saw it. The passageway reverberated with the roaring, which could only mean that everyone Under the Mountain was here to witness this. As long as Rhys was among them, I didn't mind.

As the guards hauled me closer, the floor became slick and muddy. That was strange—all of the rooms and passages down here had been hewn from dry stone. I suspected it had something to do with the task ahead of me, but I couldn't imagine what. There hadn't been any mention of mud when I'd gone over maps of Under the Mountain in Velaris, and Rhys hadn't mentioned anything about it, either.

The shouting grew louder as we approached, and the faces of the fae closest to me were twisted in feral, bloodthirsty delight. I kept my chin high. Amarantha sat on a wooden platform erected above the crowd, surrounded by all seven High Lords. I didn't bother to look at Rhys or Tamlin, as much as I was tempted to.

Instead, I turned my attention to the strange labyrinth of tunnels and trenches along the floor. I was to be thrown into it, I realized. Perhaps there was something for me to find without getting lost, traps to avoid…

Then Amarantha raised a hand, and the crowd went quiet.

I looked straight at her, doing my best to seem faintly bored. She wore that usual mocking smile that was becoming far too familiar. Rhys kept out of my head, so I just waited for her to speak.

"There's not a scratch on you, Feyre. Don't tell me Rhysand decided to be a gentleman last night and make your first time soft," she said.

"Daemati don't leave marks," I said coolly, "but I'm not surprised you'd forget, considering how utterly unremarkable your whore turned out to be in bed."

The words were out of my mouth before I thought to warn Rhys I was about to insult him. He knew perfectly well that I had to keep up appearances, but to use that word that had been spat at him for fifty years…it might have gone too far. I sent a pulse of regret down the bond.

He slipped into my mind just long enough to say, Unremarkable in bed? It's difficult to be offended when you're being such a liar.

Good—he saw through the mask I was wearing, too. Forcing myself not to let my relief show, I kept watching Amarantha. Even from a distance, I caught the way her eyes flashed and her lip curled in the beginning of a snarl. My words had been a touch too defiant—I braced myself, ready to bear the brunt of her anger.

She merely rested a possessive hand on Tamlin's knee, a clear display of dominance that flaunted the ring with Jurian's eye. It was a miracle I managed not to look irritated. Even with the power of all seven High Lords at her disposal, she clearly seemed to consider my apparent devotion to Tamlin a threat. Pathetic, really. She could have him for all I cared.

"Did you solve my riddle yet?" she said, voice dripping with false sweetness. I said nothing and kept my face blank. "Of course not, and what a shame. It was so simple, but I suppose humans just can't handle faerie wine. You don't even remember it, do you?"

"No. I don't remember it at all," I lied, cheeks burning.

That, at least, seemed to satisfy her. She sat back in her throne contentedly, and I did my best not to look too relaxed.

"Then you'll have to face my tasks, I'm afraid. Though I suspect you'll like this one—Rhysand tells me you're a huntress."

I held back a smile at the confirmation Rhys had come through for me. I might not have a bow or supplies to make a snare, but I was by far the the best hunter Under the Mountain. I'd all but proven that on Calanmai.

My sense of relief was short-lived as claws dug into my armpits and lifted me into the air. I let out a shriek. The crowd laughed. I twisted to see what had grabbed me—the Attor. I was dangling from its claws like a mouse caught by an owl.

Two more powerful wingbeats, and it dropped me into the trench.

I fell to my knees, mud soaking through my pants. The muck seemed to suck me down, and I prayed I'd tied the laces of my boots tight enough to keep them on. I struggled to my feet and tried not to gag at the smell.

The smell—if I was hunting, I'd need to cover my scent. The mud itself might not be overwhelming to a creature that lived here, and it seemed safe enough to assume whatever beast she'd have me fight would have an acute sense of smell.

The sound of Amarantha's voice pulled me from my thoughts about the possible direction of the airflow through the arena. "Hunt this, Feyre," she said, then called, "Release it."

I barely kept my balance as a grate rose, sending rumbling vibrations throughout the trenches. Heart pounding, I bent my knees, ready to push off and run in any direction. Amarantha was saying something else, but I ignored her.

My quarry appeared.

And it was a worm.

A giant worm, surprisingly fast, with a mouth full of rings of sharp teeth, but a worm nonetheless. I barreled down the trench to put space between us, to give me time to think and come up with a plan. I'd hunted plenty of game in the woods, but I hadn't the faintest idea how to hunt a worm.

Rhysand had to be out of his mind if he thought this was part of my skillset.

I kept running, veering around corners and hoping it was enough to give me space to breathe. There were no weapons down here, nothing but mud. Perhaps I'd be able to hide myself in it, but that wouldn't do any good if all I had to kill the worm with was my bare hands.

After turning enough corners, the worm was nowhere in sight. I risked stopping in the middle of a long straightaway. It seemed safe enough to pause here, somewhere I'd see it coming. Bent forward with my hands on my knees, I considered what I'd seen. Most of my attention had been on that terrible mouth and razor-sharp teeth, but then I realized—I hadn't seen a pair of eyes.

The worm was blind.

It had to rely on smell to navigate, and it was almost certainly used to the mud. And the first rule of hunting was to conceal your scent. I dropped into the mud and rolled. There was precious little time before the worm came slithering around a corner, but I made sure every inch of me was covered—my hair, my face, my neck—even as the damp seeped through my clothes and chilled me down to my bones.

The crowd tittered, clearly confused by this turn of events, but I tuned it out. I was invisible now, but I still didn't have a weapon or a plan. Until I did, I couldn't waste a single shred of my attention on anything else, though I couldn't help but notice Rhys saying my name and something vaguely smug.

Now that I'd caught my breath, I hurried through the labyrinth and looked for something that could be of use other than mud. I had no weapons on me, nothing to use as a projectile beyond the clothes on my back. And my shoe would hardly be enough to fell the worm, no matter how hard I threw it.

I skidded to at stop at the end of another long straightaway, nearly falling into the pit before me. The Mother only knew how deep it went. If I fell in, I'd be trapped. But there was nothing in this labyrinth for me but mud. And the worm was coming.

So I dove.

I dipped my chin, tucking in my head to avoid landing on it just as Cassian had trained me. The mud softened my landing as I rolled, then got smoothly to my feet. There was some scattered applause from the crowd. I ignored it, intent on finding a tool. Or at least a way back up.

My eyes hadn't adjusted yet—I couldn't see what it was, but I nearly wept for joy when something hard crunched under my foot. I crouched down and dug it out. Bone. Piles of bones came into view, the remains of whatever the worm had been eating. But more importantly, my way out of here.

I could retreat farther into the darkness—there had to be a second way out—but I wouldn't be able to see. To get out, I'd have to scale the the mud walls. There was nothing to grab but mud that fell away in my hands. The bones would have to do.

I found a long, thin bone and broke it in half over my thigh. It snapped in half, even as my own body protested at the effort. But the ends were sharp. Deadly. And I felt better with a weapon in hand.

I fastened one half to my belt, then got to work setting my trap. I cracked as many bones as I could, breaking them over my knee until my thigh was probably dotted with bruises under my mud-soaked pants. I stuck them into the ground, sharp side up. When the pain of snapping them over my thigh became too much to bear, I broke more with my foot.

The crowd was roaring above me—at some point I was vaguely aware of a taunt from Amarantha and something else smug from Rhys. But I was too intent on what I was doing to care.

By the time it was done, my hands ached and stung, covered in scrapes from bone shards. The trap was set, but I still had work to do. None of this would matter if I didn't have a way back out. I pressed the last few long bones into the sides of the pit, a makeshift stepladder to haul myself out. That is, if they didn't snap under my full weight and send me falling onto the spikes I'd set up below. I fastened as many more bone fragments to my belt as I dared, hoping they'd prove useful later.

It had to work, if only to spare me the embarrassment of being killed by my own trap in front of an audience.

The bones wobbled under my weight as I scrambled up the makeshift ladder. My stomach flipped, the feeling too familiar after climbing up trees with too-thin branches. Before I could fall, I heaved myself upwards. I flopped forward, landing inelegantly on my stomach. But I'd made it.

Pulling the bone-spears from my belt, I pressed them into the mud so they jutted out sideways. They'd force the worm to slow down as it rounded these corners. It would buy me some time, a few precious seconds.

Now it was just a matter of baiting the worm into the trap.

I unfastened the last bone, holding it out like a sword, and stalked down the trench. With the dull roar of the crowd and my own heartbeat pounding in my ears, I could barely pick out the slithering sound the worm made as it moved. My instincts were screaming at me to go faster, but years of hunting had trained me to ignore them, to look and listen before every single step.

As I rounded a corner, it slithered by, completely unaware of me. I'd change that in a moment. Gritting my teeth, I cut open a gash along the side of my arm. It was small, but if the worm's sense of smell was as acute as I suspected, a few drops would be enough.

Leaving blood behind me in a trail, I ran.

The mud sucked my feet down, and my legs were groaning with the effort to pull my feet out with every step. The squelching sound seemed to echo in my ears, drowning nearly everything else out. I'd kick off my boots and run barefoot if I had to. I prayed it wouldn't come to that.

The trench didn't seem to end, and I'd half-convinced myself I'd spent the rest of my immortal life running from the worm when the pit opened up wide before me. I dove again.

But this time, my energy was sapped. I put every last drop of strength into the leap, but I didn't travel quite far enough, landing too close to spikes. I barely managed to remember to tuck my head and avoid slamming it into the mud.

A bone shard dug into my arm as I flipped myself over, crisscrossing the first gash with another one, tearing open the flesh all the way from my shoulder to my elbow. I screamed. Tears pricked at my eyes.

I scrambled back, away from the mouth of the pit, not thinking, just seeking the darkness on instinct. Even with pain clouding my mind, I knew darkness was safe. Bone-spear in hand, I pushed myself deeper into the worm's den.

I turned around just in time to watch the worm plummet after me into the pit. The wet, crunching noise that followed would replay in my nightmares for the rest of my days, the worst thing I'd ever heard since that very first snap of a rabbit's neck.

But the worm didn't move.

Out of habit, I reached towards my thigh for a hunting knife, ready to fight through the exhaustion to skin and butcher a kill, the way I'd done at the end of countless long days in the woods. But for once, I didn't have to.

I staggered forward, still clutching the bone-sword in my uninjured hand. The crowd was cheering, but the only thing I could focus on other than the pain was the gentle brush of talons at the edge of my mind. I let my shields down—it was a wonder I'd even managed to keep them up this long.

The wave of relief down the bond was so strong I nearly lost my grip as I climbed back out of the pit. But Rhys wasted no time, pressing his talons deeper to take away the pain from the wound in my arm. It cleared my head, at least somewhat.

As I walked back through the labyrinth, Rhys said, I have never been more grateful to have the bravest mate in Prythian.

And I had never been more tired of being brave. Yet again, I'd found myself in danger, setting a trap and killing a beast just to keep myself and the people I cared about alive. Rhys had been right that the task had played to my strengths—at the end of it all, the worm's labyrinth of muddy trenches wasn't any different from the labyrinth of snow and ice I hunted in each winter. For a while in the Spring Court, I'd thought I'd finally put hunting behind me, but after finding out that had all been a lie, ending up right back where I'd started was so much more infuriating.

"Well," Amarantha said with a little smirk as I approached the platform, "I suppose anyone could have done that."

The words broke the dam that had been straining to hold back my overwhelming rage. My lips pulled back from my teeth, I snarled like a faerie, took a few running steps, and hurled the bone-spear at her.

It landed just in front of her, embedded in the mud, quivering and splattering filth onto her gown. I nearly screamed in frustration—I'd been aiming for her heart, but my strength was too depleted to throw the bone far enough.

But then Rhys dropped his shields completely, and from his side of the bond, a wave of the best feeling in the world washed over me. I didn't recognize it at first, but it was warm and golden and beautiful, something far too good to exist in this hellhole Under the Mountain. Even as I wanted to let myself melt into the feeling, I struggled to find a name for it.

A sob nearly escaped me when I realized what it was: love.

Amarantha was picking up a piece of parchment and saying something about it, but I paid her no attention, just focused on the way Rhys's mind curled around mine. I love you, too, I said back, wishing that as I did it, I could look at him and not the see the mask, just this once.

But before that he'd called me brave, and something about it had been familiar. As Amarantha continued on with some nonsense about wagers, I wracked my brain, trying to figure out what it was about the word "brave" that had stuck in my mind. I'd heard it before, somewhere significant.

I drew enough strength from the feeling of Rhys's mind against mine to remember. But I bless all those who are brave enough to dare. I had been brave enough to dare to come Under the Mountain, and there was only one thing that had truly felt like a blessing since I'd arrived, the feeling he'd just sent me through the bond.

And it was the answer to the riddle.

I turned my attention back to Amarantha, who was saying, "…and just one person said you would win." I knew exactly who that person was, and it was all the confirmation I needed that I was right.

"By the way," I said, my voice strong as it rang through the arena and carried over the crowd, my cocky tone making me sound just a bit like my mate, "the answer to the riddle is love. And Tamlin isn't my High Lord—that honor belongs to Rhysand."

The whole room was instantly plunged into darkness. There were screams of terror from the crowd, but I wasn't the least bit afraid. This was the darkness that sang in Rhys's veins, the same power that had greeted me like an old friend the first time I'd set foot in the Night Court.

On the platform where Rhys was standing, I could just barely make out the outline of membranous wings, razor-sharp talons, and raven feathers, as if the darkness was letting me see through it, allowing me a glimpse of the monster that lurked underneath it all.

I smiled at it.

I could feel the sense of victory, though I wasn't sure if it was entirely mine or Rhys's or something that belonged to the magic I'd just released. But regardless of where it originated, I knew exactly what it was.

This was Night Triumphant.

#feysand #feyre archeron #we said hello and your eyes look like coming home

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kitcattales · 1 year

Text

Something There - Akaza x Fem! Reader Chapter 2: Wrapped in Lantern Light

Author's note: Here's chapter 2 of my Akaza fic, ya'll! c: If you're liking the story so far, please maybe consider supporting me and my work on AO3 and my other cross-post sites! c: Chapter 1 - 4 are all available on those sites! <3 Your support means the world to me! <3 If you've made it this far, thank you for keeping up with the story up to this point! As always, God bless and happy reading! <3

Please find information about warnings and the rating for the entire fic in the post featuring Chapter One linked below! I will also be doing my best to tag these posts with appropriate warnings as well!

CHAPTER ONE, CHAPTER THREE

Cross-posts: AO3, FFN, Wattpad, and Quotev (I am most active on AO3!)

Word count: 11,172

Chapter 2: Wrapped in Lantern Light

The forest had fallen into a peaceful silence when Akaza began to trek down paths familiar to him despite their unmarked existence.

His footsteps were quiet as they traversed the foliage around the cluster of cedars though he walked briskly with the unconscious woman in his arms. His bright golden gaze remained fixated ahead of him, trying to focus solely on the environment and the beings in the forest around them, but try as he might, he couldn’t dedicate his full attention on where he was going. There were subtle things about the girl in his arms which continued to cause his attention to stumble upon her repetitively, wordlessly beckoning those otherworldly hues of his onto her being.

The gentle, almost ticklish sensation of her hair brushing against his arm with every move he made when she’d sway just the slightest bit though he tried to maintain as stable a grip on her as possible; the rhythmic warmth of her constant, quiet breath blanketing the skin of his bare chest, causing gooseflesh to come to life along the length of his arms every so often; the occasional tear which slowly dripped and trailed from her cheeks to wet his flesh and soak into his open haori; the odd scent of her, so feminine and delicately mixed with the natural essence of the woods, something so foreign to him, it kept him wondering how long it had been since he had smelled something similar from this close.

In a word, the human woman was completely and utterly distracting.

He was normally much more focused and attentive when it came to his objectives, but this entire scenario with the Slayer in his arms was totally off-script from what he was accustomed to. It left him baffled with himself, almost at a complete loss on what he should be doing. He had some course of action to take for the time being, but whether that was the right move for him to make or not was still incredibly unclear to him.

As he pondered the thought, his walking slowed, and subconsciously, his gaze lowered upon the nameless woman swaying lightly in his arms. He didn’t really need to look where he was going. He had walked through the spaces in between the densely packed cedars so many times, he practically had every single seedling, adolescent, adult and fallen tree perfectly mapped out in his head. Effortlessly, he could sense the weaker beings which inhabited the forest alongside him, but he didn’t really care about their presences. Unlike the humans, he didn’t need to worry about the other demons. It truly had to be a mindless creature freshly born of rage and desolation with nary an idea on how the world around them works for one of them to charge at him like the weakling from earlier.

That in mind, he presumed he could devote a moment or two to observe the woman in his arms.

He found himself staring aimlessly at first, the sound of the breeze encouraging the leaves of the cedars to dance to the sound of the orchestrating crickets filling the space of existence around him.

Even asleep, she looked incredibly…sad. Somber. Distraught. Her brow was furrowed lightly, creasing her delicate skin on her forehead. Her lips, plush and softly reflecting the distant glow of the moon whenever the canopy allowed, were pulled downwards. A few of her tears had left their streaming trails on her skin alongside the corners of those lips of hers before they had dripped and disappeared beneath her chin.

He supposed it was only natural that she looked that way after what happened. He assumed most humans would be fairly distressed or troubled to have a confrontation with a couple of demons in the woods – but then again, she wasn’t just any ordinary human and he already knew he couldn’t have been the cause for her original strife.

Mimicking the expression on her face, Akaza’s brow had furrowed, perplexed once again by the thoughts running through his mind.

What a strange human, He thought to himself. Coming to me on her own like that. She must be out of her mind. If I had been any of the others, she would’ve been a pile of bones by now.

He frowned, stopping a moment to adjust his hold the slightest bit so he could carefully stroke a few strands of hair behind her ear the wind had blown astray. By then, the blood on his hands had dried and brushed off on the two of them, allowing her hair to remain dry this time when his ink-dipped fingers lightly tucked those silky strands back in place.

He stood still where he was, just staring at her, his eyes slowly trailing down her frame to take in the curves and contours of her plump, feminine figure before trailing back up to her face to take in the small detail of her long lashes gently brushing the tops of her wet cheeks. The world around them kept moving, the woods kept breathing life and eliciting excitement into the beings hiding amongst the cedar, but he felt like he was stuck in place despite knowing exactly where he had been going. Everything about what this woman was, what she represented and what he was doing with her was all completely against everything he knew and did throughout his lifetime as a demon. It caused things to stir in him which left him feeling unlike himself.

Uncertain.

Hesitant.

He didn’t like feeling like this. This feeling of instability on the ground he walked on no matter how firmly he planted his feet nor how sturdy he made his stance.

Tearing his gaze away from her figure, he turned to look towards the direction he knew led back to the village he assumed she came from. For an instant, he considered to just take her there. He could leave her at the edge of the village before any of the other humans saw him and disappear. He’d have saved her from death’s grip tonight and would be free of the uncertainty she planted in him.

Long, seemingly endless seconds passed him by as he considered it, his eyes staring into the distant empty foliage as far as his sight allowed him. Ultimately, he turned sharply on his heels, dismissing the idea and simply continuing along the paths he knew as well as the back of his hands.

Forward he walked with purpose and focus once more, the distractions of the woman in his arms pushed to the back of his mind for the time being. He didn’t want to linger on possibilities and open air anymore. He needed a sense of grounding, a sense of stability and concrete direction of the likes of which he thrived from. So, he kept walking, swiftly ducking and passing in between the gossiping cedars smoothly no matter how packed and dense the woods around them became.

Deeper and deeper into the dark he wandered, the two of them consumed in a world he knew she couldn’t survive on her own. Without him, she’d be a sightless, bloodied lamb, wobbling around and bleating in her lost, innocent ignorance until a starving wolf came along to do away with her life so as to stain the blades of grass beneath their feet with red. In that scenario, what did that make him? He could’ve very well been the wolf, and he very well still could be, technically, but he knew better than anyone that would never happen. So, what is he? What role is he supposed to take in this story?

He shook his head, deciding that the answer didn’t matter.

Thankfully, his hastened, quick footsteps made it so he didn’t have to wonder about it for much longer, either.

Before long, he had found the path of forest floor bordered by two twisting rows of thick, ancient cedars. The massive, impressive trees stood side-by-side, on guard, their canopies outstretched to keep all light at bay along the trek to the door of the old cabin at the end of the trail – the abandoned cabin he often called home when he needed sanctuary from the brilliantly scorching sun; something the humans looked at as a symbol of hope and happiness, and likewise, something demons like him looked at as a symbol of a cruel, painful death.

What did it feel like? He wondered absently. The warmth of the sun on my skin without the feeling of it blistering me like a burnt piece of meat…Did I like the sun when I was human too?

The questions made him frown again though he felt more at ease at the sight of the cabin’s inviting wooden structure. The feeling of walking below the cedars’ shadows had always covered him with a sense of safety and refuge; a place he knew he could rest in without worry of the sun’s burning rays hitting his sleeping body. Regardless of what he must have thought about it in his prior lifetime, the sun was now an enemy he would have to battle against for the rest of his eternal, immortal days. As long as she was in the cabin with him, she would be safe from the others on the outside even during the day.

Sliding the cabin door open with his right foot, he stepped into his home, greeted by a calming dark within. The dim light casting hazily from the open door allowed him to see the little furniture he had in the small room was right where he had left it last.

The cabin itself didn’t have a lot to look at on the inside. The structure was relatively small, primarily consisting of one main room and a small closet towards the back. There used to be two windows on opposing walls, but he had boarded them up when he first found the place to ensure it would be shrouded in complete darkness whenever the sun rose. Within the main room there was a simple one-person futon, tucked towards the center of the room away from said windows just as a precaution. Its comforter was thick, the edges bordered in white with an intricate pattern of waves displayed on the middle fabric. It wasn’t exactly his taste, but he wasn’t picky, either. He had stolen that from the nearby village, actually, not so long ago.

Beside the futon, there was a lantern with a recently replenished tall, white candle confined within the detailed metalwork. Naturally, it wasn’t lit. A few feet away from the futon was an irori pit with a cooking pot setup above it and two beige zabuton cushions on either side. In the irori pit itself, there were a couple of cedar logs haphazardly beaten down to size, edges jagged and misshapen. He wasn’t in the habit of cooking at home often, but considering his specific dietary lifestyle, he would sometimes simply hunt animals in the forest and cook the meat he harvested from them in his cabin. Of course, he didn’t have to do this, but he wasn’t really the type to go out of his way to kill off just any human for a meal, either. Consequently, the fact that the cabin had its own irori pit was actually a bit of a plus for him. Eating cooked animal meat whenever it was convenient to fill him was just…well, convenient. When he wasn’t cooking anything, however, he would light the irori anyway to better illuminate the entire cabin.

The walls themselves were barren, the natural grooves and rings of the wooden planks the only decoration offered in the room. Against the wall to his left, there was a basic wooden cabinet with a single door hiding what was stored within. Beside the cabinet, there was also a basic wooden dresser with two sets of three drawers. All in all, it wasn’t a whole lot that he had there, but it was enough for a being like him who never stayed in one place for too long.

The floorboards beneath his bare feet hushed out quiet creaks in greeting as he approached his futon. Kneeling down before the mattress, he carefully lowered the woman in his arms down onto it, one of his hands sliding to the back of her head to guide it tenderly to his pillow while the other straightened and adjusted her legs. Once she was settled in and his hands were free at last, he looked towards the Nichrin sword sheathed by the woman’s hip. He didn’t expect her to use it on him, and even if she did, he knew he could handle it, but he still figured it would be for the best for him to remove it from her person so she didn’t hurt herself if she started tossing around in her sleep. Taking care not to jostle her body too much, he detached her sword from her belt – sheath and all – and placed it on the ground beside him for the time being. After that was taken care of, he turned back to her and moved the comforter gently out from underneath her legs and hips to pull the warm blanket atop of her weakened frame. He took a moment to tuck her in loosely, making sure she was warm and well-covered by the comforter.

Only when she was completely settled is when he got back up on his feet and went to close the cabin door, the dark within the room completely consuming the two of them for a moment’s breath. Still, even in the pitch black of these four walls, he knew exactly where he was going and where he shouldn’t step. Instinctively, he walked towards the dresser against the left wall and pulled open one of the top drawers. He rummaged inside for a few moments, his tainted fingers feeling around various miscellaneous objects he had stored away until he eventually came across one of his matchboxes. He fumbled with the box, his thumbs pushing the lid open so he could pluck a single match out of the bunch. Closing the box and holding it firmly in his hand, he swiped the match

once,

twice,

three times

until fire sparked on its head.

He hummed, pleased, and tossed the matchbox back into the drawer before pushing it closed. He then returned to the woman on his futon and knelt down beside her to face the lantern at her side. He opened up the small cage’s door, a squeak of rusted metal groaning with the motion as it revealed the candle hidden within its framework. Pinching the match between his thumb and forefinger, he lit the candle, its graceful flame dancing to life bathing the cabin in a warm, orange glow. Once it was lit, he blew the fire out on his match and tossed it carelessly into the irori’s sands to swallow up the faded giver of light.

For a moment, he considered lighting the irori, his eyes lingering on the pit and the cedar logs he had yet to use within it, but he shut the lantern’s door closed and decided against it for the time being. Instead, he took the woman’s Nichirin sword and went to rest it against the wall by the closet door before returning to kneel by her bedside once more. Bathed in the lantern’s glow, as he gazed upon her sleeping figure, he began to drink in her details in a different light almost without even noticing. He didn’t really know where to look at first, so many details long since forgotten suddenly pushed onto his lap out of the blue tonight having made everything somewhat confusing to the demon, but in time, his gaze began to focus on the small details again just as he had done out in the woods.

He took in the sight of her chest rising and falling consistently with her breathing first, the subtle motion causing for the comforter atop of her to ruffle quietly along with her shallow breaths. It was lulling to watch, a constant rhythm which made him feel somewhat…peaceful. Strange that he got a feeling like that just by watching over her like this. His eyes then traveled back up to her face, taking in the sight of her feminine softness bathed in orange light and brushed crimson where his hands had touched her earlier. Despite the macabre undertone, she actually looked quite beautiful with her thick locks of hair splayed out across the pillow around her. Womanly and graceful even in the state she was in.

He hummed at the thought as he took in, once again, the troubled and pained expression the woman harbored on her delicate features he caught himself admiring. Her frantic crying and pleas to be killed set aside, there had been something else going on with her that caused that look on her face to surface. She had been limping when she approached him, having practically dragged herself all the way to him from wherever she had come from. He wouldn’t be surprised if her body was littered with all kinds of injuries beneath that uniform of hers, considering her line of work and the humanity she couldn’t help.

“If you were a demon, that wouldn’t matter. You would have gotten over it by the time you blinked twice.” He commented lowly, hushed under his breath, an innate response which rolled off of his tongue instinctively. “…But you’re not. You’re human…You’re weak.” He remarked, gently reaching down to comb his fingers through a few locks of her hair. “You’re fragile…You can’t take care of yourself on your own like that, can you…?” He repeated the motion a few times, starting near her head without actually touching her and combing his fingers leisurely along until they carefully pulled themselves out of her luscious waves by the tips. He watched curiously as the strands gracefully fell from his fingers onto the futon and pillow, unused to the silky sensation and the odd sense of peace these simple, insignificant actions continued to bring him.

On the sixth time his fingers found themselves swimming in her (hair color) waves, his hand had paused midway. He stalled there to allow his thumb to rub those silky strands between the pads of his fingers, the smooth, honeyed sensation of it abruptly causing the inkling of a memory to shyly lift its head within his mind. He blinked a few times, his fingers stopping and his brow furrowing, the shy memory he didn’t know he had becoming bolder and extroverted, suddenly hitting him with a quick flash of images and words that forced him to stir from where he sat with a start. He straightened up, his brow creasing further, taken aback but actively motivated to move with the sudden information he had at his fingertips. Finally allowing her hair to fall from his fingers one last time, he stood to his feet and got ahead of himself, already rushing towards the door, but he stopped himself halfway with an annoyed click of his tongue.

“Water.”

He turned back around and moved towards the closet, sliding the door open to reveal a pail set on the floor below the shelves he used to bring water to cook with and to refill the small outhouse outside. He grabbed its handle with his bloodstained fingers, and the sight of their bloodied state casually reminded him he needed to wash himself up after his encounter with the lesser demon. After he made a mental note of that, he closed the closet door and rushed out of the cabin, making sure he had slid the front door closed behind him.

He was sure she’d be fine on her own for a little while. After what happened earlier, he doubted any of the others would really dare themselves to come near her now that he’s taken her in, even when he wasn’t around – at least not tonight.

I’ll remind them why it’s an awful idea to try if they forget quicker than they should. At the very least, it would make for an entertaining couple of minutes.

~¤ ¤ ¤~

The evening air was warm, the cool breeze carrying the sounds of people conversing and traveling, caught up in their own bubbles and lives. The lights above were warm and golden, easy on the eyes, but bright enough to make the scenery come to life for those who walked along the station platform. Up ahead, the train tracks were empty, a wide and vast forest left in full display on the other side during its temporary vacancy.

_______ felt disoriented by the familiar sights and sounds of the Mugen Train Station, aware that she had visited a few times in the past, but she couldn’t remember visiting it recently, let alone coming tonight to sit on that metal bench she was on right now. She looked around her, eyes squinted, lips parted slightly as confused, labored puffs of air left her. The sight of the crowds of bustling people and the bright ticket counters illuminating the dark of night came off blurry to her, so she lifted her hands to rub her eyes in an attempt to bring the world back to clarity. She tried to orientate herself, remind herself on where she was and what she was doing, but her mind kept drawing a blank no matter how clear her vision became nor how focused she tried to make herself be. The only thing she was able to really acknowledge was that this was, in fact, the Mugen Train Station. She didn’t need to read the signs to know that. Still, that didn’t tell her anything about why she was there and how she got there to begin with.

“You’re awake, young _______!”

That voice…

That voice.

It shook her to her very core to hear it ring so vividly in her ear. It sucker-punched her in the gut to hear it clear, bright and warm like the comforting lights above her. It forced the air out of her lungs to hear the laugh which followed soon afterwards, full of vigor and life. Slowly, she turned in her seat, coming to face the side of the station she had neglected since her eyes opened in the midst of the hustle and bustle of common life. Upwards her gaze rose until it landed on those lively, unique golden hues and that brilliant, heartwarming smile she had burned in her memory to the very last detail. Right down to the dimpled creases and the fiery rings of color within his irises.

“R…R-Rengoku…? Is that…? B-but…but how can…?”

He simply widened his smile, chuckling further as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Don’t trouble yourself too much with how right now! We have other things to discuss, don’t we, young _______? More important things.”

_______ shook her head, her hands trembling on her lap before they grabbed tightly at the hem of her skirt. Her nails tugged roughly at the fabric, so strong she swore it would tear, but that didn’t matter.

All that mattered was that Rengoku was there.

He was alive.

“Tell me, why are you here?”

Still completely floored by the Hashira’s appearance, _______ slowly shook her head in response. There was so much she wanted to say, so many things she wished she had said, but none of it came to her tongue now that he was sitting in front of her like she thought he never would be again. Everything jumbled up in her mind in a large, convoluted knot, forcing her to hyper-focus on his presence as a whole instead.

“I…don’t know why I’m here…I don’t even know how I got here…”

“Yes, you do know why you’re here. I’m sure you do. Dig in a little deeper, _______, I know you can do it!”

Her lower lip began to quiver at his familiar encouragement, her eyes beginning to mist up.

“But I r-really don’t, Rengoku, I-I don’t know why I’m here…I can’t give you the answer you want…”

“Yes, you can! Search within yourself and you’ll find the answer you need!”

She shook her head again as it lowered, pulling her gaze away from his brilliant expression completely to instead stare at his flame emblazoned haori draped beneath him on the bench.

“You always had so much faith in me,” She whispered meekly. “Why…wh-why did you ever have that much faith in someone like me?”

Though she no longer looked at him, his smile softened and his head tilted gently to the side.

“I had many reasons to have faith in you, but there’s more to this.” He remarked softly. Vaguely. “Dig a little deeper.”

She shook her head one more time, tears now beginning to roll down her cheeks, clinging to the edges of her jaw before falling in fat droplets onto the fabric of her skirt and the metal of the bench.

“B-but, Rengoku, I don’t care why or how I got here, I-I’m just…I-I’m so happy you’re here…I d-don’t even know what to do with myself, my head feels so empty but so loud at the same time…There’s so much I want to s-say to you, but I’m…” She couldn’t completely end her sentence, a heartbreaking sob wrenching itself free from her gut forcing her to cut herself off. She bent forward, ducking her head down lower into her chest as she brought her pained, heavily squinted gaze down to her laps where it heavily blurred with her tears. All the while, the bustling, busy crowds around them continued on their ways, carrying on their own lives and business, completely ignoring the two of them in their shared bubble.

Roughly, she bit into her lower lip, surprised she didn’t taste blood from how brutely she had dug her teeth into the tender flesh, but she didn’t question it.

She just needed to try to compose herself.

She felt like it was crucial.

She had no idea how much time she had.

“Why are you here, _______?” Rengoku asked again, the feeling of his large, gentle hand reaching down to press and rub against her back forcing another devastating sob to rip through her throat no matter how hard she tried to swallow it down.

“Y-your hand,” She sobbed. “My God, Rengoku, your hand i-is so warm…Without saying anything o-or…or d-doing anything in particular, you’ve always made me believe l-like things will be okay at the end of the day…J-just like that…J-just because you’re so reliable a-and dependable…S-so strong…”

“_______...”

“W-why would you ever waste s-something so compassionate and k-kind on someone like me…? W-why, out of e-everyone you could sit with, did you come to m-me? I don’t deserve this – I-I don’t deserve you…!”

“Why are you here?”

“I DON’T KNOW!” She suddenly cried out loud, as loud as her lungs allowed her to proclaim. Her back straightened, bringing her to sit up and face the Hashira with an expression completely crumpled in heartache and every single sense the sentiment held.

“I don’t kn-know why I’m here, R-Rengoku…! I never did!”

Rengoku’s expression softened further, warm and full of compassion and care, not at all shaken nor deterred by her outburst.

“You wandered into that forest on your own,” He remarked. “You went in when you were most vulnerable. You dragged your feet across roughened soil and through shadows in the dead of night knowing fully well what you were getting into – but why? Why did you do that, young _______?”

She couldn’t answer him. Her trembling lips quivered heavily and broken, painful whimpers erupted pathetically from her throat as the tears distorted her vision of Rengoku further, but she couldn’t bring herself to answer that question.

Not to him.

She would sooner confess it to the entire world before she would ever confess it to him.

“I know it hurts,” He hushed softly when she didn’t reply, the hand he had rubbed her back with coming to slide upon her cheek where he brushed her tears away. His touch was gentle and thoughtful, the warmth of his skin reminding her again of the life beating in his heart in this moment in time. When he wiped all of her tears away, he brought his hand up to pet the top of her head in comforting strokes. “I know it’s hard to move on, but you can do it, ________. I’ve always known you could. I never had a doubt.”

Still, she could say nothing. All she could do was continue to fall apart right there in front of him, new tears taking the place of the ones he so tenderly wiped away for her as she reveled in the feel of his petting – something she almost forgot the feeling of. The way his large hand would lay flat against her head and gently stroke backwards towards the back of her head before lifting to the top to start over again. The way his fingers would sometimes get caught in her locks and the memory of how they would laugh when he pulled some of her hair out of place when he was done. It all only served to break the small pieces of her heart which remained into smaller, miniscule, jagged shards, devastated that she had really forgotten how this used to feel.

In the midst of his petting and encouraging words, she could hear the distant sound of a train’s whistle blowing. The sound caused for her heart to leap to her throat, the widening of her eyes clearly showing the panic she felt bubbling because of what it meant – because of the fate she knew it carried within its carts.

“Whenever you need me, I’ll be here,” Rengoku promised her, his eyes closing into gentle crescents as his smile splayed softly across his lips from ear-to-ear in his own unique display. “When you figure out why, I’ll be here too. I know it’s hard right now and the answers aren’t as clear as you’d like them to be, but you’ll get to them in time. Be patient not just with this, but with yourself. Be patient and be kind.” Giving her one last stroke of the head, he allowed his hand to slide to her cheek where it lingered for a few seconds before he stood to his feet as the Mugen Train came to rest at its station.

Instantly, _______ began to shake her head vigorously, her body moving on its own to stand her up along with him.

“R-Rengoku, please, don’t go! D-don’t get on the train!” She gripped at his arm desperately, trying to pull him back to her, trying to pull him away from the open maw of the Mugen Train and the destination she knew it would lead him to. “Stay! S-stay with me! J-just…j-just a little bit longer! You don’t h-have to go! We can think of something else! W-we can get backup from the Corps and m-make a proper plan! PLEASE, just stay with me…! Don’t get on that train!”

He let out a soft sigh lightly laced with a somber nostalgia, his eyes shifting to look at the Mugen Train with the smile still on his face before turning to look back at _______ once more.

“You and I both know I can’t do that,” He commented softly. “But that’s okay. I’ll be okay, and more importantly, you’ll be okay too.”

With that, he gently removed her hands from his arm, squeezing them strongly and reassuringly in his own for a few seconds longer. When he released them, he turned towards the Mugen Train and boarded it with the other passengers, flashing her one last smile before he disappeared in his cart. Suddenly, the entire train station was empty of the crowds and the atmosphere was silenced from the chitter chatter of the pedestrians. All the doors of the train closed and locked, the beast of iron and coal roaring to life once more with a loud blow of its whistle and a shrill screech of its wheels beginning to turn on its rustic tracks.

_______ shook her head desperately once more, watching as the train began to leave the station at a slow, leisure pace which gradually picked up speed the more its wheels turned.

“N-no, no, no, no, no…! Rengoku! RENGOKU!”

Despite the futility of the situation, she raced after the Mugen Train, trying with all her might to run alongside the cart he had boarded. She could see the top of his fierce mane of blonde locks with their bright red tips from one of the windows, the small sight of him beckoning her to kick her feet as fast and as hard as she was able against the platform floor – but there was only so much platform she was able to run on and only so much time she had before the train was traveling at a pace she could never dream to compete with.

Skidding to a clumsy stop at the very edge of the station platform, _______ watched the Mugen Train rush down its tracks, carrying Rengoku away with it to a fate she knew she couldn’t change no matter how strongly she wished she could.

From there, all _______ could do was watch from the lonely, empty platform as the train quickly grew smaller and smaller in the distance until it was completely out of sight. By then, she was sobbing openly into the blowing wind, orchestrating her deep, wrenching anguish to the vast woods – the only audience she had left.

~¤ ¤ ¤~

Orange.

Flickering, swaying orange delicately tinged with a golden inner glow casting shadows while performing on what seemed like a wooden stage.

That was what the world around her was gradually coming to be as her eyes slowly fluttered open. Her eyelids felt heavy, almost too heavy to lift, the weak effort she put into opening them causing for her lashes to tickle the skin of her cheeks. The world still didn’t make much sense to her in those senseless moments of groggy forgetfulness. She couldn’t tell where she was, couldn’t remember what had happened last in that very moment, but she did acknowledge the colors soothingly dancing on the foreign ceiling above her.

The colors were vibrant and strong, lighting up the space of the room she was in perfectly in its comforting glow though she made no move quite yet to look around. She could just tell and feel that it did from the intensity of the colors acting out their play on the ceiling. She felt safe watching them, wondering how it was they got there but having no real determination nor interest in finding out.

She didn’t want to question it.

She knew what happened was just a dream, but she wanted to pretend for a while longer.

She wanted to feel safe and comforted in a way she had long since forgotten for just a little bit longer.

It was a feeling the colors on the ceiling tried to mimic with their performance, and they did quite well, if she were to critique. The play they put on for her made the feeling linger for a while, though it was naturally diluted and nothing like the real thing. It was as though she were coming down from a numbing high, plummeted back into a reality she didn’t want to accept, but allowed a few more minutes in blissful ignorance and disassociation of the truth she hated to accept.

Her vision slowly began to mist and cloud as she watched the colors dance and flicker in the sporadic climax of their stories, but her expression remained the same. She didn’t grimace nor crumple nor pucker. The tears simply came to be in her eyes and slowly began to slide down the sides of her temples, because that’s what they were supposed to do. They were supposed to be there, welling and building up in her sore, tired eyes and marking her skin with their paths repeatedly until she was covered in well-worn tracks. For this instant in time, she was too exhausted to react, too battered to care and too far deep to struggle.

Thus, she simply allowed it to be.

Yet, despite all of that, something beyond the colors was beginning to seep into her current reality. She was gradually becoming aware of the sound of what she believed was bubbling water, consistent and lively somewhere to her left. Along with the bubbling was the occasional clang, pank, clang, pank of metal lightly bumping into metal. Lost in her vague awareness, she shifted her focus from the dancing colors on the ceiling to the shadows which surrounded them. Most of the shadows bore no defined shapes, constantly changing and altering with the movement of the bright glow. She assumed those shadows were stationary objects in the space she was laying in, though she still showed no interest in moving to see what they were.

Amongst the majority, however, was a more persistent shape. Naturally, it would distort and bounce gracefully on the wooden ceiling at the dancing glow’s demand, but through it all, the shadow itself owned its own fluidity. She could make out what appeared to be an arm steadily turning over and over in circles. There was something held in its hand, though she couldn’t make out exactly what it was. Occasionally, the arm would stop its rotating motions to pull on whatever it held – or was it lifting it? Yes, it was lifting it. A ladle of some sort. Shortly after she labeled the mystery object, a larger shadow came into view; a head and upper body bending forward seemingly peering into the ladle. The person who inspected whatever was on the ladle didn’t stay in view for long, already dipping the ladle back into what must be a pot of some sort to continue their stirring. It was then that she picked up on an earthy aroma warmly enveloping the air, reminding her of flourishing fields and endless plains of grass sprouting from earth recently bathed in cooling rainwater.

Where exactly was she supposed to be? The last place she remembered being in was the cedar woods. She had been close to death then, but had she actually died? Was that what the vision of Rengoku related to? Was that why she was in the Mugen Train Station with him?

No, that didn’t make sense. If the afterlife was really cruel enough to torture her with those kinds of visions, then it would be the same kind of hell she lived in day-to-day. Besides, even if that was the afterlife, why wasn’t she at the station now? This wooden ceiling didn’t belong to the modernized train station, that much she was aware of. It was much too rustic for a bustling, up-and-coming city like the one that station resided in.

That begs the question: if she hadn’t died and she wasn’t laying in the space between life and death, then where exactly was she?

She knew she should turn her head. She kept asking and wondering where she was while watching the shadows and lights on the ceiling, but she was fully aware she could begin to gather an answer if she simply looked around.

Pull her gaze away from the ceiling.

Lead her eyes astray from the calming, warm glow.

It’s such a simple action. If she just turned her head even the slightest bit, she would already have more detail and information to work with to piece together what had happened to her, but that one simple, minuet action felt harder for her to accomplish than the training she endured to become a Demon Slayer and every mission she ventured on up to this day. Turning her head away meant turning away from the warmth of the orange and bright golden glow which kept her company during their comforting play. Pulling her gaze away from the lights and shadows on the ceiling meant turning away from so much more than just absent, blissful ignorance.

It meant turning away from the vision.

It meant turning away from the comforting, temporary fake feeling of okay.

It meant turning away and simply allowing the door to close and lock again.

‘You’ll be okay.’

She grimaced lightly as his voice echoed in her mind. She could practically hear him laughing, could practically see him smiling down at her with reassurance from within the glow. He said that with so much confidence and faith in his voice for her, but how could he be so sure? How could he believe in her that much when she held no faith in her own self? Though he had been certain of what he said, she was convinced she would never truly be okay again, so she wanted to keep pretending. She wanted to keep existing in the pathetic copycat of the safety and encouragement he made her feel when he was still there. When he spoke to her. When he expressed so much belief in her when it was difficult to see an ounce of worth on her own.

When he was still alive.

She lingered a few moments longer, envisioning his smile and repeating everything he told her in the station, the clang, pank, clang, pank of the shadows having long since turned to soothing background noise. If it had been up to her, she wouldn’t move ever again, but deep down, she knew she had to – even if it was only to live up to Rengoku’s beliefs in her.

Though it was difficult, though it shattered her heart to watch his image dissipate and fade amongst the dancing lights, _______ began to turn her head in defiance against everything in her that told her to sit there and rot. Slowly, stiffly, she turned to the left, taking in the mostly barren sight of the room she was laying in. In the process of it is when she realized she was tucked into a futon, its thick comforter hugging her close to the thin mattress beneath her. Not only that, but her Nichirin sword had been taken away from her, although it was still close by, leaning against the wooden wall facing her. Being disarmed didn’t unnerve her. It simply was.

Beside the futon itself was a lantern, its metal frame housing a burning candle. For a few seconds, her gaze lingered on the intricate cage of the lantern, taking in its crisscross detail highlighted by the flame burning within. When she caught herself becoming too comfortable with the soothing glow once again, she forced herself to shift her gaze beyond the lantern.

Close by, there was an irori lit, the planks of wood in the pit of sand roaring with brilliant, lively flames which licked at the underbelly of a dark pot strung above them. The most jarring part of the scene, however, was the person who had been casting the shadows on the ceiling she was watching mere moments ago.

Of all things she expected to see, Akaza tending to something in an irori’s pot while she laid in a futon a few feet away from him was not one of them. He was stirring something he had cooking over the open flames, his dual-colored eyes focused on the broth. The glow of the flames danced and reflected off of his skin much as they had done on the ceiling, highlighting his features to her from the angle she observed him in.

He has long eyelashes…

It was an odd thought, but it was one of the first things she noticed, the very first being how much his eyes stood out even in the dimness of the room they were in and the fierce glow of the irori’s fire. The blue of his sclera was shattered with dark veins, the brilliant color reminding her of a cloudless, sunny day, his striking golden irises taking the role of the sun for themselves.

What does that make his eyelashes then? Pink and full…Maybe an oncoming sunset?

Again, a strange thing to think about. She was just soothingly fascinated by his natural colors and how much they actually stood out. His nature as a demon and the terrible things he had done set aside, Akaza was quite beautiful in his own regard, but maybe that was her artistic side talking. She used to be the type who appreciated that sort of thing, but every now and again, that side of her personality peeked up from the murky depths they now hid beneath to help her cope with the world around her.

He was, after all, the reason why Rengoku was gone.

“You’re awake.”

The comment startled her some, causing her to shift slightly on the futon as she turned her focus to the demon as a whole. Had he maybe heard her head moving? Or maybe he saw her eyes open from the corner of his? Who knows? He seemed the observant type, something that was taken to an extraordinary level when paired with a demon of his caliber.

“Good to see. I was starting to wonder whether you’d be out cold ‘til morning.”

He didn’t look at her as he spoke. His eyes remained on the pot and what he was stirring, his free hand resting in a fist upon his lap. The expression on his face was one of neutral concentration, not aggressive nor particularly friendly. He just…was. Paying attention not to burn whatever it was he was brewing.

“Wh…Where…” She began to speak, her throat feeling raw, her voice sounding not like her own to her. She frowned in distaste, weakly clearing her throat and swallowing the dry lump before continuing. “Where am I…?” Her voice came out in a murmured whisper, almost lost to the crackling of the lively flames of the irori, but not to Akaza.

“In an old cabin, I guess is the best way to describe the place.” He hummed thoughtfully, his expression softening with a light purse of his lips as he pondered his choice of words. “I found it a long time ago. Abandoned. So, it’s my cabin now.” He corrected himself, nodding his head, satisfied with the clarification.

“Your cabin…” She echoed, her eyes wandering away from him to take a better look at the cabin. There didn’t seem to be any signs of struggle anywhere she looked. No claw marks on the walls, no broken bits of furniture scattered on the ground, no old bloodstains forever soaked up by the wooden floor. The only thing that was slightly out of place was the fact that the windows were boarded shut, but seeing as he had come to claim the place as his own, it made sense that they would be that way. “Why did you bring me here…?”

“You weren’t making a whole lot of sense back in the woods, but if I had left you where you were in the state you were in, you’d be dead by now. I knew you’d be safe here until you woke up, so I just brought you with me.” He replied matter-of-factly as he pulled the ladle he was stirring with out of the pot to prop it on one of the handles. Turning to the other side of him, she watched him pick up a cup he had waiting on the floor before taking the ladle once again and dipping it into the pot. He poured a little over two ladles full of the broth he had cooking, steam wafting above the cup he handled with care. Once it was full, he propped the ladle back on the pot’s handle and stood to his feet. Her gaze followed him as he walked over to her, their eyes meeting while he closed the short distance between them until he was kneeling down by her bedside.

“Sit up.”

She knew what he said was more of an order than it was a request, but the way he said it and the gentle way he looked at her confused her by suggesting it came from a good place. It was bizarre, to say the least, the way this demon spoke to her with such…decency despite the unwavering firmness of his voice. Her brow furrowed slightly at the detail, her lips parting the slightest bit more so in bemusement than with intention of speaking.

“Ah,” He seemed to realize something when she didn’t react after a few seconds. “That’s right. Human. You’re human…” He muttered to himself, carefully setting the steaming cup on the floor beside him before turning back to her, his hands coming to rest on his laps again.

“Do you need help?”

Do I need help…?

What was going on? This is the demon that killed Rengoku? How? He was treating her with respect and even offering to help her sit up if she couldn’t do so herself. She had heard of the other demon on the Mugen Train, Enmu, who had lured people in with false kindness of sweet dreams before he plunged them into horrific nightmares, but Akaza didn’t have that kind of profile. From what she was told, he was an abrupt and upfront fighter; someone who didn’t beat around the bush and got straight to the point. He wasn’t a manipulative demon. He was a close-range demon who fought for the sport of it, starving for the thrill of a challenge like the one Rengoku had to offer that night.

This demon isn’t at all what she expected to be confronted by when she set out to the woods tonight.

Even in her baffled silence, he patiently waited for some kind of response from her, no annoyance or hasty agitation in the way he looked at her. His hands remained on his laps, not moving an inch to touch her, but his striking stare did remain on her face, studying her the same way she studied him. That is, until his gaze had shifted towards the cup at his side, his head nodding in its direction as well before he refocused on her.

“It’s an herbal tea. I went to fetch some water and to find the herbs and roots I needed to make it for you while you were asleep. You’re weakened from your work with the lessers. I noticed. This should help.” He informed her, offering a small smile to appear friendlier. He understood her apprehension. If their roles were switched, he’d be apprehensive too. From a human’s perspective, what was a demon supposed to be serving them from a pot of a boiling brew they couldn’t even see because of their incapacitated state? It really could be anything, so it’s not like he expected her to fully believe him the moment he brought it over and explained it to her.

Hell, even he couldn’t believe he had this herbal remedy stored away somewhere in his faintest memories.

He supposed it made some sense. He was human once, but that was centuries ago. Yet, he somehow remembered the recipe and what he had to look for as if he had made the tea every day since he was turned.

Something about her triggered the memory, that was all he was sure about.

“…How do I know you’re not lying…?”

He let out an amused breath, his head tilting again in his good humor.

“I guess you don’t. You just have to take my word for it.”

She shook her head the slightest bit at him, a distant look befalling her as her lips angled into an exhausted frown.

“Why didn’t you kill and eat me…?” She asked, the question leaving her so naturally, it unsettled her; unsettled her how much she wanted to know; unsettled her how much she had wished he had been what she had expected. Something in her told her he had ulterior motives. That he was keeping her alive to make the thrill of the kill more exciting in some way or another. Maybe he thought if he gave her the idea of being spared, she would take back her death wish and be eager to escape to the village. Then, he could enjoy the chase, too, before inevitably sinking his fanged maw into the tender flesh of her neck when he tackled her onto the ground.

Akaza, however, didn’t answer her question. He simply stared at her, the small smile he had given her straightening the slightest bit but retaining its foreign friendliness despite it. Genuine.

“Would you like me to help you sit up so you can drink your tea?” He repeated his question instead, making no move to place his hands on her if she didn’t answer him. She considered denying him, but she supposed she didn’t have much to lose either way she went about this. So, she finally gave him a small nod of her head.

“Please…”

His smile widened up a bit once more when she accepted his help, giving her a curt nod of his own in return. Reaching over, he folded the futon’s comforter halfway so the upper half was resting on her legs. Once he did, he turned to her as she began to prop herself up carefully on her elbows. She would wince with each move she made, he noticed. As gently as he could, he slid one of his hands down her back until he had it pressed against the middle of it, slowly pushing her upward while his other hand took a hold of hers to help give her more support.

His hand felt warm to her. Probably warmer than it should be, since he had been holding the steaming cup of tea. Looking upon his larger, masculine hand, taking in the feeling of his calloused palm wrapped around her own, she took notice that the blood from the other demon he fought earlier was gone from his skin. Her eyes traveled up his arm, across his chest and down his other arm. Nothing. The blood was gone, cleaned away probably while she was asleep. For a second, she wondered if the fight had actually happened, but the speckling of blood around what she could see of the ends of his white pants told her otherwise. Images came to mind of the short-lived confrontation he held with the lesser demon as she stared at the bloodstains on his clothing. It was a stark reminder of how powerful this man actually was.

“Why didn’t you kill me?” She repeated her question, her gaze slowly lifting to meet with his once more when he helped her sit up properly. “If you wanted to, you could have done away with me just as easily as you did that other demon…Why didn’t you…?”

His small smile had fallen entirely this time, morphed to a bemused look of his own.

“Why did you want me to kill you?”

The retort caught her off guard. She hadn’t been expecting any kind of questioning on his part of this. He’s a demon, after all. Demons kill and eat humans. That’s just what they do. That’s what they’ve always done. Why would he care for her reasoning? Why did he want to know? She didn’t know, but being put on the spot like that so curtly made her squirm in discomfort, her gaze dropping to her hand he still had gripped in his own.

She had spilled a lot of what she thought about her predicament when she approached him, she knew, but…telling him exactly why was something she didn’t want to do. She didn’t want to tell anyone why. Nobody knew. Nobody had the slightest idea that she had these thoughts running across her mind, and the one person who came closest to uncovering her inner turmoil was dead now. It was an accumulation of a lot of things which caused this spiral in her person, and the thought of saying all of those things aloud left her feeling unbearably shameful and vulnerable in a way she absolutely abhorred.

Akaza didn’t press. He simply pulled his hand away from her back and picked up the cup of herbal tea, bringing it down to their joined hands. There, he released hers and placed the cup in her grip, wrapping both of his hands around her own this time to make sure she held onto it properly. When she didn’t lift her head nor squeeze the cup on her own, he leaned down and peered up at her, offering a gentle, patient smile.

“You should drink it while it’s warm. It’ll be good for you.”

At first, as soon as his face came into her line of sight, she turned her eyes away from his, looking off to the wall on the right of them. When she felt him lightly squeeze her hand in both of his, however, she hesitantly looked back again. His eyes were softly narrowed, masking some of the kanji in both of his irises, and through them, he still gave off that friendly vibe he’s been carrying from the start.

His hands completely covered both of hers, enveloping them in a warmth she didn’t expect him to radiate. She had assumed it was from the cup of tea, but both of them felt the same way and it wasn’t changing after he put the cup down. She had always expected the touch of a demon to feel…cold. Chilling. Yet, his wasn’t. It was the kind of soft warmth you’d seek out during a cold winter’s day. The type of warmth you’d want wrapped around you when you feel scared and need comfort. The type of warmth you’d hide in during a stormy night to help lull you to sleep alongside the melodies of pattering rain. How could something so…wholesome radiate from someone like him? She didn’t know how she was supposed to take this nor how she was supposed to react. Should she really believe in that friendly gaze and patient smile? Should she buy into the kind act he was showing her?

Without a doubt, she would be a fool if she did.

She gave him a small nod of her head and squeezed the ceramic cup in her hand. He pulled his hands away from her own when she did, bringing them back down to his laps as he straightened up his posture again. She followed his lead and straightened up a bit as well, her gaze dropping again to peer into the cup she brought close to her chest in both of her hands. There were herbs floating in the amber-tinted brew, partly living up to the demon’s explanation. Bringing it closer to her face, she took a curious whiff of the drink, noting that the earthy aroma she picked up on earlier had come from the tea. Letting out a shaky breath, she dropped her shoulders and caved, finally deciding to bring the edge of the cup to her lips to take a gulp of the warm brew.

After the first two gulps, she pulled the cup away from her and grimaced heavily, making a face of clear distaste. It certainly tasted like a medicinal tea, that’s for sure. Actually, it tasted almost identical to the remedies the medics at the Butterfly Estate often had her take whenever she was brought in with injuries. Granted, she may be wrong about that. All those herbal remedies tasted the same to her: like dirt. She never liked drinking them, and this tea Akaza had given her tasted just like the others. She didn’t want to take another sip, but when she peeked over in his direction, he was staring at her pointedly, lifting an eyebrow at her in question. She didn’t need to be told what that look meant. The medics gave her similar looks whenever she reacted this way…It was just jarring to receive that look from a demon of the twelve Kizuki.

Deciding not to try her luck as she often did with the Butterfly medics, she tentatively brought the cup back to herself, stalling in awkward pauses until she eventually pressed it to her lips once again. She wanted to get it over with as soon as possible, so she just went for it. She shut her eyes tight and drank the warm tea in large gulps, slightly tilting her head back to take in all the liquid while doing her best to avoid the leaves in her way. When there was barely anything left, she pulled the cup away from herself again and dry-heaved to the right, a short series of coughs following soon afterwards.

Akaza chuckled a bit at that, taking the cup away from her and setting it to the side once more before leaning over to pat at her back with minimal strength in the gesture. Only just enough to help her get over her coughing fit.

“I take it you’re not a tea type?” He questioned, smirking lightly in amusement.

“Medicinal tea tastes like mud…If that is what that was…”

She replied without missing a beat this time once she had calmed down, shakily bringing her hands up to wipe at her eyes and face. When she pulled them away, she looked at her palms and narrowed her eyes in confusion for a moment. There were…red streaks covered all over them. When she realized it was blood – dried blood she must have dabbed onto her hands when she wiped the tears off of her skin – her hands began to tremble before balling up into tight fists and quickly falling to her sides out of her sight. All of a sudden, she became all too aware of the scent of blood on her person – the demon’s blood Akaza had wiped on her back in the forest before everything went dark.

“Oh, that’s right,” He commented, beginning to stand to his feet with her cup in his hand. “You probably want to wash off after what happened earlier, right? Let’s go do that now.” She looked up at him when he said that, watching his back as he walked to the other side of the cabin to place the cup on the dresser before he opened up one of the top drawers. He pulled out an old towel from within, gray in color. Then, he wandered over to the closet and pulled out a small wooden washing basin which he tucked the towel into.

When he heard no kind of reaction or response from her, he turned around and lightly waved the basin in her direction.

“You do want to wash away the blood, don’t you?”

Again, he was being so polite and considerate. It threw her off, and perhaps in the right state of mind, she would’ve rejected his kindness and labeled it a manipulative fraud. Right now, however, she simply saw it as an odd direction life was taking her in, completely skewed from the one she had chosen to walk upon earlier this evening. Maybe it was also because she was desperate to get rid of the scent of blood on her. Normally, she was completely accustomed to it, but having it on her person like this, mixed with her tears, with what she had dreamed of still in her head? It was suffocating.

“…Yes, please…”

“So polite~” He mused lightheartedly, walking over to her bedside once more, but this time, he simply bent down by the knees, his legs spread on either side of him with ease, his free hand resting upon his left thigh. Offering her a more playful grin this time, he handed her the basin with the towel, and once she accepted them, he propped both of his hands on his knees as he looked her in the eyes once again. “Right, then. I figure you can’t walk much right now, can ya? ‘Course not. You’re pretty beat up. So, do you want me to help again?”

“I…I-I suppose I need your help, yes…” She really couldn’t deny it. She had been a wreck when she wandered into these woods, and right now? There was no way she could do much of anything without it hurting her like hell. Acting like she could walk without support through the woods on her own again would be a pathetically obvious display.

“Right. Okay, hold tight.” When she had been expecting him to help her to her feet so she could walk with her arm over his shoulders, he had surprised her by instead pushing the comforters of the futon completely off of her before scooping her up in his arms, one hooked beneath her knees and the other coming to wrap around the back of her waist. Easily, he propped her body up against his chest, secure in his grip. Tight and cozy.

_______, in response, stiffened up something fierce, ignoring the ache it forced to spread throughout her body. Her arms hugged the basin he had given her tightly against her chest, her nails digging into the wood while she stared up at him wide eyed.

“Comfortable enough? Is it okay for my hands to be where they are?”

His…hands?

What kind of a question was that? He cared about something like that?

“I-I…Y-yes, this is fine…”

“Okay, good. Tell me if that changes on the way.”

She really couldn’t believe what she was hearing. This man – this demon – had gone from crushing and dismembering one of his own kind brutally without an ounce of remorse, to making her medicinal tea and caring about the way he touched or held her. It totally, completely contradicted everything she thought she knew and left her floating in a strange feeling of vacillation and gray areas.

This wasn’t how the night was supposed to play out.

Yet, there she was, being carried out of this demon’s cabin, snug in his arms.

On the way out into the cedar woods, she even became acutely aware of his large hand pressed firmly against her waist, propping her up against his chest. She could feel each individual inked digit of his digging securely into her waist to keep her close to his person and safe from falling. She could feel his palm splayed on her side, radiating with that surprising warmth of his even through her uniform. Come to think of it, pressed up against his bare chest like this, she could feel his body radiated that same warmth as well.

She could have told him to move his hand if she wanted to, but decided against it.

The warmth felt soothing.

Familiar.

Instead, she allowed her head to lull against his bicep and for her eyes to slowly close as she watched him walk them away from the cabin, the light of the flames within still somewhat visible through the sliding doors.

Instead, she decided to keep pretending.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you so much for making it this far and supporting me and my work! I hope you've been enjoying the story up to now and that it's been meeting expectations! <3 Your support encourages me to continue with this series, so thank you from the bottom of my heart for caring and interacting with it! <3 God bless you all and til next time! <3

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lotrefcp · 10 months

Text

Hidden Away - Chapter 10

pairing/AU: Javier Peña x female!reader

summary: When the DEU fails to catch Escobar you are sent to Bogotá to help the team.

warnings: I don't understand this so just gonna say mature content, 18+

word count: 3300+

Chapter 10

Messina's secretary got up and went to your desks first thing in the morning, passing by you and leaning on the table next to Peña, letting her cleavage become visible to his gaze, smiling seductively to draw his attention, but he barely glanced at her.

“Do you need anything?”, he asked without lifting his head from the papers he was filling out. She felt offended and straightened up, saying what had brought her there. “Messina wants to see the three of you. Now.” And she walked away, while closing one of the buttons in her blouse that was open just for him.

“I think you offended her.”, Steve told Javi.

“Whom?” he continued.

“Clara. The one you followed into the bathroom a while ago. The one who was here about to undress in front of you.”

"Seriously? I didn’t even notice.”

“Was she that bad last time?”

“She was what I needed her to be that day.”

“Wow.”, you said. "A real gentleman. At least you still remember her name. Just yesterday you said you didn't remember the names of the ones you fucked last week.”

“Shall we go?”, Peña asked so as not to have to continue with that conversation. “Messina doesn't like to wait. Especially for us.”, and got up towards her office taking you two behind him. He knocked at the door.

“Yes, you can come in.”, Messina replied. Next to her was Colonel Carrillo. “Sit down.” You sat next to Steve and Javi sat on the other side of the table across from you.

“Y/N, I'm glad to see you're okay now.”, Carrillo began by saying.

"Thank you very much. I'm ready for the next one.”, you replied with an appreciative smile on your face.

“That’s a good thing because the next one is happening the day after tomorrow, in two days.”

“Any new leads?” Steve asked.

“Colonel Carrillo and his men have been studying all the files they managed to recover on your last mission, in the house where Escobar was staying.”, Messina replied.

“Amidst everything we took back to the barracks were coded maps of all the locations in the commune where Escobar and his men pack the cocaine to ship out of the country. After some time we managed to decode that and we're going to raid all the locations simultaneously.”, Carrillo continued. “Peña, you will lead the group that goes to the north side of the commune.” Javi simply shook his head. “Steve, you and Y/N will do the same with the group going to the east area.”

“Sorry,” you interrupted. “Why can’t I go alone with a group?”

“I know you are more than competent to do so. I've seen it with my own eyes more than once. But be honest with me. Is your arm already at 100%?”

"It's not fully recovered but that's not a problem."

“I believe you think so, but I won't put anyone at risk, neither my men nor you. And don't worry, this won't be your last chance to lead a group alone. We will not stop until we catch Escobar.”

“Of course Colonel. I understand.”, you ended up answering with your eyes resting on the table in front of you.

“Get ready then and in two days I want you to be at the barracks first thing in the morning. You can leave.”, Messina said, ending the conversation.

“Thank you very much.”, the three of you said and left the office to return to your seats.

“And for the third time I'll have to go accompanied, as if I needed someone to take care of me.”, you said, dropping into your chair.

“Don't worry.”, Steve replied. “You will be with me. You know you will have more room for maneuver than if you went back to Carrillo.”

“What room for manoeuvre?” Peña asked. “Didn't you listen to the colonel? She goes with you because she is not in a position to do what she wants.”

“Yes, but we all know that even with a 90% arm she is more capable than most men in the Search Bloc.”

“And yet she was shot when her arm was perfectly capable.”

“And who are you to say what I can or cannot do?”, you ended up asking Peña.

“First of all, I've been here a lot longer than you and I know how these operations work. Second, you don't know these streets like we do. And third…”, Javi stopped before continuing.

“And third what?” you insisted.

“I don't want you to get hurt again. The last time was enough. I don't want to question whether you're alive again.”, and so he got up and left the building while putting a cigarette in his lips and lighting it.

“What the hell was that?”, you asked, amazed at the aggressiveness of his response.

“You really don't know?”, Steve replied.

“No, if anything happens to me, the two of you stay together again, just the two of you as you like so much.”

“Hey, you're already part of the team, there's no going back. And of course we care if something happens to you. We all care about each other.”

“Of course, but he's never been like that with you. Is it because I’m a woman? I thought I had already proved that I could get by on my own.”

“Of course you have.”

"And so?"

“You really don't know? It feels like I work with two teenagers.”

“What the hell do you mean by that?”

“Nothing, I'm not the one who has to say anything. When you become mature enough to speak to one another properly, you may understand each other. I won't get involved anymore." You stared at him but he went back to work without saying another word.

At lunchtime you and Steve went together to the cafeteria where you found Javi already sitting at one of the tables. You went to get your meals and sat down with him.

“So, are you calmer now?”, Steven asked.

“Perfectly calm.”, Javi replied.

“Then I can ask you something I’ve been wanting to the entire morning. Did your informant give you any information of interest yesterday?”

“For us or for him? We shouldn't be interested in what she gave him.”, you said laughing.

“Actually no. HE just wanted to see if he could get some money out of me for nothing. But I happened to make a new friend yesterday.”

"Do not say. Were you expecting me to be surprised?”, you asked.

"Sorry. I expressed myself in a bad way. I began to call an old friend of mine by another name.”

"Now I'm lost."

“Do you know that you were a real tease yesterday?”

"Me? Never.”, you replied trying to hide your smile.

“Well, you were. I thought of you coming to the sound of my moans all night long.”, he said making you choke on the water you were drinking.

"Seriously?", you continued while you tried to pull yourself together. “But I didn't hear your groans yesterday. Apparently thinking about me while I masturbate doesn't turn you on. Is it because I am not one of your whores?”

“No, I just didn't want to give you the pleasure of listening to me. But you know what?”

"What?"

“Last night I named the hand with which I jerk off. Now it's called Y/N."

"What?

“Now your name will be known by almost all the cunts in Medellin. You don't have to thank me.”

"Do you know something? My fingers also have names.”, you said while putting your hand in the air. “One is called 'fuck'”, you started to say while raising your index finger, “and the other is called 'you'.”, you ended up saying by lowering the first one and raising the middle one. "Fuck you."

"Seriously? Can't you just stop?”; Steve asked. "Let's try to at least eat in peace."

“Ah, speaking of eating.”, you continued. “I want to invite you and Connie to my house for dinner tonight. Now that the arm is fine I want to cook for you at my house to thank you.”

“Y/N, you know you don’t need to do any of that. It was a pleasure having you in our home all these nights. For Connie you could go there every day, she is always by herself.”

“From now on, just once a week like before. But you're not leaving me with this debt. I insist that you come.”

"OK thanks. We are going to your house tonight.”

“Thank you.”, you replied with a smile on your lips.

“And me, don't you invite me?”, Peña asked.

"Seriously? Don't you have anything else to do tonight? Don't you have any plans besides pissing me off?"

“Actually I don’t, but even if I had, I would cancel them. I cannot miss the chance to enter your apartment, to see what it’s like.”

“You know that our apartments are all the same, don't you?”, you asked in a tired voice.

"Seriously? I had never noticed.” And suddenly you had an idea.

“But you know what, you're invited too. I don't want you to go hungry. You'll love what these hands can do in the kitchen.”, you said winking at him. And all of a sudden he regreted the invitation.

After work you went home to prepare everything, not before stopping by the market and choosing the ingredients for that night's meal. You got home and quickly went to take a fresh shower. There was no way to get used to the humid temperature of Medellin and you were always sweaty, your clothes easily sticking to your body. You left the bathroom wrapped in a towel and went to open your bedroom window and the one in the living room to make the apartment a little cooler. You went back to your room and got dressed, this time in a light skirt down to your feet and a button-down blouse that fastened at the bottom with a knot. You had finally managed to spend a bit of time buying clothes more in line with the heat of that city. Once ready, you went to the kitchen and started preparing dinner, from starters to dessert. You were setting the table when you heard someone knocking on the door. They arrived just in time., you thought as you went to the entrance of your apartment to open it.

“Good night.”, Javier said.

"You?"

“Has my invitation been revoked?”

"No, of course not. Come in.”, and speaking you turned your back and left him behind to closse the door again.

“Well, you are great at receiving, really.”

You spun around on your heels and, with your most forced smile, began to speak.

“Welcome to my poor little house. Be my guest. Do you want anything?”

“Okay, I get it. But since you asked, what do you have to drink?”

“I have wine for dinner and water. But wait, I think I have a bottle of whiskey in one of the cupboards in the kitchen. I'll go check."

“Thank you very much.”, he said while noticing your exposed skin, between the knot of the shirt and the beginning of the skirt. He could see your waist and a bit of your navel, already with a few drops of sweat, no matter how hard you fought the heat.

“Here you go. It has two ice cubes. Is that okay?”

“Yes, it is. Thanks again." Glass in hand, he started looking around, trying to understand how you had decorated that space. Right at the entrance, a small table was surrounded by a television and a piece of furniture on which it was placed, leaning against the wall, and by a sofa on the other side. Next to the television cabinet was the door to the kitchen, which you had gone through again, and opposite to it the door to your bedroom. Next to that door, the wall was empty, with a tower of books placed on the floor, already making a corner with the other wall where the window was. In addition to your books, companions of sleepless nights, and things from work, the apartment was bare. He walked to the door of your room and was about to open it when the sound of someone knocking on the front door made him stop. You left the kitchen immediately and went to open it hoping to find Connie and Steve across the hall.

“Welcome.”, you said.

“Sorry we´re late but my wife here didn't know what to wear to come down the stairs.”

“It wasn't to come down the stairs. I was choosing clothes for a dinner party. But if you don't like what you see, you can stop looking.”

"Never.", Murphy said as he grabbed her by the waist and brought her close to him, giving her a kiss on the neck.

“But come in. Everything is ready.”

“And don't we have to wait for Javi?” Connie asked.

“Good night.”, he said from the back of the living room.

“You’re already here? It's always going to be weird to get somewhere after you.”, Steve continued.

“You know I live next door.”

“And does that mean anything? Your proximity to a place has never stopped you from being late.”

“Well, at least I already have a glass in my hand.”

“And it's better to get rid of it because everything is ready. Shall we go to the kitchen?”

“Sure.”, Connie replied. "I don't know what you did but it smells really good."

"Thank you very much. It's something simple but I love it. Chili con carne.”

“Really?”, Peña asked. “I was always eating chilli at my house. I thought I recognized the smell.”

“Well, in Florida we don’t eat much chilli so I'm looking forward to trying it.”

“But before that there are still some entries.” You went to the balcony to get two plates with small doses of cheese and other snacks and you put them on the table while the guests sat down. Steve and Connie sat on one side of the table and Javi sat on the other. Everyone thought you would sit at the end of the table but, to everyone's surprise, you sat next to Peña and, when you pulled your chair forward, you also pushed it further to the side to be closer to him, without anyone noticing.

They were all eating and talking when you suddenly put down your fork, took a sip of water, and moved your hand under the table. Peña couldn't believe what was happening. Your hand landed on his leg very lightly and you started to run your fingertips up and down the denim fabric of his jeans. He put down the cutlery he had on his hands and looked at you but you kept looking straight ahead, continuing the conversation with Connie. Suddenly you opened your hand and grabbed his leg, with your thumb on the outside and the other four fingers on the inside of his thigh. You quickly started to move your hand up and reached the inside of his legs, starting to massage his penis with the palm of your hand, surrounding his bulge with your fingers. He was already hard and you could already feel him throbbing in your hand. He still tried to pick up the glass to drink a bit of wine but failed and dropped it, spilling it on the table.

“What's going on?” Steve asked. "Are you okay?"

“Hmm, hmm.”, was the only thing he managed to answer.

“Don't tell me you don't like my food.”, you said finally looking at him, his eyes darkened with desire.

“No, the food is great.”, he said again with difficulty. "Everything is fine."

“Good.”, you replied. And putting your mouth close to his ear you continued. “So which one’s the best? The hand with my name or the original one?”, you asked while you stopped the movements and grabbed it with some force. “Now go to your apartment and see if your little hand satisfies you. And, if you want, shout out its name.”, you said and, tapping two times on his hard cock, you put your hand back on the table.

“I forgot something at home. I'm going to get it and I'll be right back”, Peña said , getting up from the table and walking away as quickly as he could.

“We are waiting for you to serve dessert. Don't be long.”, you said while he was already out the door. Some time later he returned to your apartment, opening the door without even knocking. He knew he hadn't locked it when he'd run out a few minutes ago.

“So, are you okay?”, Steve asked.

“Of course.”, Javi replied.

“So what did you forget that you had to run out to get?”, Connie continued while trying to see if he had anything with him.

"What did I forget? What are you talking about?”, Javi questioned without remembering the excuse he had given to get away from that situation.

“He had forgotten his ability to control himself, wasn’t it?”, you asked Peña turning your face towards him, a little behind you, still standing. Javi only responded with a grunt between his teeth as he dragged his chair farther to the side to create more space between the two of you and sat down. You started eating dessert and shortly afterwards you were all at the door saying goodbye to each other.

“Dinner was really good.”, Connie said. "Thank you very much. But I hope you know you didn't need to do all this. Everything we did was for the pleasure of helping you and for your company.”

“Yes, you had no obligation to do anything.”, Steve continued.

“I know and I really appreciate it but I wouldn't feel good with myself without at least trying to show my gratitude for everything you’ve done for me. It's not something I'm used to.”

“Well, you know you're always welcome, and don't forget the usual dinners.”, Steve said again.

"Of course not. See you tomorrow then. Go and enjoy the rest of your night.”

"Finally. It took Connie so long to get dressed, but now I'm going to undress her much more quickly.”

"Steve..." Connie was about to start complaining when Murphy picked her up and put her on his shoulder, giving her a smack on her ass.

"See you tomorrow." And he went upstairs laughing while Connie kept complaining.

Javi was still inside the apartament. You leaned against your door to give him room to get out but instead of him going towards the hallway he went towards you.

“You're risking it too much.”, he started to say putting his hands on the door and trapping you in his arms.

“Me? I only respond to your teasing. Do you think you can do and say to me anything you want?”

“Well, I think I'll start teasing you even more to see what your limit is. How far do I have to go to have you underneath me?”, he continued as he brought his face closer to yours. You could feel the hot air coming out of his mouth as he spoke, almost in a sigh, on your face, on your own lips.

“There is nothing you can do to make that happen.”

“Come on, don't tell me you didn't like feeling me hard in your hand. It's already the second time you've felt me throbbing between my legs because of you. Don't you like knowing that you provoke that reaction in me?”, he asked with his nose already touching yours, his hands leaving the door behind you and grabbing your arms. When you felt his sweaty hands on your skin, you woke up from the torpor you were in and pushed him away.

“Any woman provokes that reaction in you. So no, it doesn't make me feel any special.”, you ended up saying, indicating the way out of your house.

“You can say what you want, but you can’t fool me anymore.”

“And you do not know me at all. See you tomorrow. And take advantage of your hand, the only Y/N that still puts up with you.”, and you closed the door in his face once again.

Outside, you heard him laughing and felt the blood heat up in your veins with anger.

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