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prose-for-hire · 3 years

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Kiss me quick

Pairing: Spike x Summers!reader

Request: Hi! Can I request a Spike x Summers!reader, where the reader is trying to keep their relationship on the downlow since none of the Scoobies really approve, but after a big win the reader finally kisses him in front of everyone, proving that they do care deeply for one another and everyone just has to accept it.

Requested by: Anon

Warning: Reader gets injured but nothing serious. sex references/implication of sex.

You looked out into dimly lit street, the dark had surrounded you now but ever since you had been meeting this way you couldn’t help but smile whenever the sun began to descend from the sky. You were stood, under a streetlamp, three streets away from your house. Just far enough where nobody from your household would catch you meeting him this way. You had been meeting like this for a while now.

He got a kick out of coming up behind you and immediately pressing you against the nearest wall and crashing his lips to yours. His favourite greeting entailed leaving you breathless and ready to pull him closer no matter what your surroundings were. He often mumbled his hellos through stolen kisses. His passion never died, he was all in. Completely yours.

You couldn’t shake this feeling. That you were completely in love. You had silently tried to fight it to begin with, knowing that those around you wouldn’t approve. That Spike himself may not even reciprocate your feelings. But soon it became clear that there was no hiding these feelings that always bubbled to the surface whenever he was near.

You had started fooling around to begin with, before it all changed. For the better, both of you agreed. Your feelings had taken hold of you both, fuelled by the touch of skin. The depth of mind. Unspoken emotions kept the two of you in a chokehold before you finally spilled your feelings for the other.

Ever since you quit college, you had spent all of your free time sneaking around with Spike. It was, honestly, as thrilling as it was annoying. As much as you wished you could just tell everyone how much you loved Spike - how amazing he was with you, you couldn’t. You had to hide it, the implications of your friends and sisters finding out would be a fate worse than death. In fact, for spike it may mean actual death this time.

Unfortunately, you were the middle child. You were a year younger than Buffy and she never let you forget about it. Meaning, Buffy thought she was the boss of you. Not to mention Dawn basically clung onto your leg to stop you from leaving the house (and thus, preventing you leaving her behind where she couldn’t follow you around). This meant that, often, you didn’t get much spare time for sneaking around with Spike. But, God, did you make it your biggest priority. After… saving the world… obviously.

When you did manage to share these intimate moments, it was everything. It felt as if you were the only people in the world. The only people that had ever felt anything close to this. Nobody had loved this deep. Cared this much. You were both so sure. These feelings, they were eternal. He vowed it to you, one early morning you had spent with your naked bodies pressed together, baring your souls well into the night.

Any emotional scars you harboured seemed to heal just by speaking to him. By having that soothing voice share his own darkest moments with you in return. How that voice, those eyes could have seen and done so much and still make you feel undeniably safe you weren’t sure. But, you trusted him. Even if danger appeared to surround him at every turn. You wouldn’t change him for anything. You loved the good, the bad and the oh-so-attractive parts of him.

Vulnerabilities turned to strengths when you were together. Rough edges appeared smoother. Promises held meaning. You adored him and he confessed to you that he had never been so comfortable in a relationship. He could be himself, could express his feelings without being concerned you would turn away from him.

The first night you invited him into your home made him elated. You had to make him swear not to tell Buffy because you knew she wouldn’t take it well. Like, at all. As much as he would have loved to rub it in the slayer’s face that he had been given access to her house – he loved you too much to even think to upset you in this way. So, you carried on this way, unable to keep your hands and lips from each other for more than an evening at a time. This meant mostly, he stayed at the Summer’s residence or you left to the crypt. Sometimes, you even went for real dates – so long as you were sure that everyone else you knew would be busy elsewhere.

Tonight, you were going to the Bronze together. It was a little more of a risk than usual, but he had insisted on taking you somewhere he knew you would enjoy. Muttered something about not keeping you in the shadows before taking your hand and leading the way. The truth was, Spike was in fact just very smitten with you. And he pretty much wanted everyone to see that you were with him. This was ‘everyone’ except the scoobies and any family members you happened to have crawling out of the woodwork. It was safe though, everyone else was going to some college party and Buffy had told you that it was uncool to have her younger sibling come along.

Buffy was the only one that viewed you as the ‘younger sibling’ the others were friends with you because they were fond of you. Because, well, sometimes you appeared more mature than Buffy did – not that they would ever say that to her face. Although there was always that slight worry that if they hadn’t been friends with Buffy they wouldn’t have been as close with you. You were barely a year younger than Buffy but she was still incredibly protective of you as she was the oldest.

What you hadn’t banked on, whilst you rubbed Spike’s thigh under the table, was that Xander hadn’t been invited to the party. He saw you immediately and made his way over to you with Anya close behind. You almost choked on your drink as you saw them come up behind Spike. You snapped your hand away in shock much to Spike’s displeasure.

“Hey, Y/n-” he started and then stopped when he saw Spike’s presence, “He bothering you?”

“No, he’s just-”

“Warming you up, right pet?” His eyes glistened as he spoke, an eyebrow raising which made Xander scowl. You tried your best to hide the smile at your boyfriend’s words as Xander looked between you both. Xander liked to think of himself as your older brother and had decided you needed defending. You opened your mouth to say otherwise but ended up being cut off by a very urgent ex-vengeance demon.

“It doesn’t matter that they’re dating right now, we are all going to get ripped into pieces if the demon finds us!” Anya shouted. You hadn’t been as secretive as you thought then.

“An!” Xander hissed, sharing a look. At the exact same time you and Spike shared a look too. You wondered who else had seen straight through your sneaking around and longing glances you shared through scooby meetings.

You were sharing looks for different reasons though. They had obviously discussed what not to say beforehand and Anya had characteristically ignored his warning. There was some kind of demon threatening the town. Again.

“What’s going on, Xander? Anya?” you tried for your ex-vengeance demon friend when Xander didn’t speak. There was definitely something odd going on. At her name being called, despite Xander’s warning, she launched into an explanation.

“Xander got annoyed at our sex-spell and ripped a page out of my very rare copy of ‘magic, sex and me’ which ruined our entire evening!” She scowled and crossed her arms before continuing, “Now we have to kill it instead of having our sexy time” she pouted.

“We’ll pretend we didn’t hear about a sex spell-”

“Well, I want to hear about it. Can’t get it up, mate?” Spike taunted which only made Xander redden further after Anya’s admittance. Xander stepped as if to hit your vampire but you stepped in the way and wheeled Xander away, changing the subject.

You asked instead about what this demon was like. Anya explained that it was a Scorn-demon. Ridiculously hard to kill and bound to the pages of a book as no mortal prison can hold it. It looked as if you were in for a long night. Which is exactly what you and Spike had planned although for a very different reason.

“If all of us are looking, we’ll find it quicker” You offered, Xander had been embarrassed to explain because of the reason they were doing a spell. But now Anya had told anyone anyway, he was grateful of the help. You got to your feet, ready to follow them out as Spike got up beside you.

“Looks like no bugger’s getting any tonight” Spike muttered, rolling his eyes as you apparently volunteered you both to assist your friend.

“Just working ourselves up… right?” You offered which made him smirk. God, he had been rubbing off on you. You almost felt yourself mirroring his smirk at your words. He wanted to pull you in and kiss you until you admitted just his presence could get you worked up enough alone, but he knew the importance of hiding this from your friends. Which, really was the only reason he didn’t take you right there in the middle of the Bronze.

Instead, you just trailed behind Xander and Anya’s bickering and tried to locate this demon. You called Buffy’s cell and left a message. You knew this was probably going to end with a battle you were unequipped for. You just hoped that you ran into your sister before you ran into the demon. By all accounts he sounded nasty.

As you walked, you and Spike kept sneaking glances at the other when you hoped the others weren’t looking. It was hard, having to maintain this distance when all you wanted to do was reach for him. Show him your affection freely. When you caught the other’s eye, you couldn’t help but smile. You felt so lucky, to have someone that cared so deeply. Someone who wasn’t afraid to share their love so freely.

You wanted to slide your hand in his, tell him just how lucky you felt. Just how much you felt for him, although you were sure he must be sick of how often you told him you loved him. He never was, of course. It was the sweetest music hearing that phrase from your lips. He kissed them a thousand times just to catch the remaining sweetness from your tongue. With those words, nothing should be wasted. He wanted to savour every syllable of your love.

You kept walking until you had to come to an abrupt halt. Dawn turned a corner and crashed straight into you. Turns out, your hopes came true: you did come across your sister first. It just happened to not be the one you expected.

“Oh, I didn’t know you guys were ready for, like, double dating yet” Dawn teased. She, too, had decided that you and Spike had to be dating. She often brought it up to annoy you but she believed it all the same. Spike never corrected her and you had stopped bothering too. You would only come off as defensive and she would tease you for that. You honestly couldn’t win living under the same roof as Dawn, she could be relentless.

Spike leaned in to whisper something in your ear, his lips so close to your ear you could imagine the way they would feel if he leaned in further and pressed against your skin. You smiled at his comment, he always made you laugh. He liked to hear your laugh and it passed the time while he waited for the fight that was coming.

When you looked back up, Willow and Tara had caught up with your group. They gave you a knowing look at how close you were stood to Spike. You wanted to lean on him, inhale deeply and press kisses against the curve of his neck. You loved the way he gripped you closer when you did that. But you had to snap yourself out of this thought at the arrival of your sister. Buffy immediately started giving orders, not before she gave you a warning look for letting Dawn come with you after she scowled at Spike for his mere presence.

“I brought the research – I think there’s a spell, but we’ll have to weaken him first” Willow muttered, frowning at Anya and blaming her for this spell and putting her best friend in danger.

“The spell needs lovers to complete it. Do you think you could help us Anya? Xander?” Tara asked softly, “But I’m not sure if that’s enough to hold him”

Because the demon was attracted to love and sex, couples were needed to cut off his power at the source. It fed from lovers and by concentrating that power it could reverse and thus weaken the demon within a certain spot.

“Well, if we need couples we have at least three pairs here. Maybe that would be enough?” Willow asked. Making everyone look around to count the pairs. Everyone’s eyes then landed on you and Spike. The last to look was Buffy who raised an eyebrow between you both.

“Does everyone know we’re dating?!”

“Pretty much, sweetie” tara nodded.

“We just didn’t wanna embarrass you. It’s… Spike” Buffy cringed at even the thought of it, “I, uh, thought you would have kinda got it out of your system by now though” Buffy hitched her nose up at the idea of the two of you, but shrugged. She saw it as a meaningless relationship. The kind she had with Parker in her first year of college but more often.

From what you gathered as they didn’t correct her, nobody really thought Spike capable of any kind of meaningful relationship. And with him not being able to actively harm you, they just decided to avoid the topic entirely until one or both of you got bored of the sex. The only one that hadn’t thought anything of your sudden proximity with Spike every time he turned around, was Xander. He really would have said something if he had known. But he still wasn’t convinced now – no matter how often Anya insisted.

You slid your hand into his, now that everybody appeared to know that you were together at least. He smiled at this, looking down at your hands back to your face. This smile, it was softer than he would usually show in front of the Scoobies, it was one only for you. Where he felt such genuine happiness. Such adoration.

As usual, nobody really wanted to discuss your love life (rather just ignore and hope it went away) and so began to look away from you and discuss the demon again. You began following the trail of destruction. He wasn’t so hard to locate really and Buffy immediately attacked him as Willow and Anya set up in a large triangle around the fight. Each couple was at each point of the triangle as the recital occurred. A flash of light surrounded the demon and Buffy before it faded, showing the demon now fighting sluggishly.

You tried to protect Dawn the best you could while Spike and Buffy took it in turns to throw punches at the now marginally weakened demon. You and the others helped when you could but he was so strong even now the spell had worked, that humans barely affected him.

Somehow the demon broke from Spike’s hold and started for Dawn - who he had sensed as the weaker member of your group. You charged in front of your younger sister to try and distract him. This lead to him twisting you and throwing you into the air and crashing into a nearby storefront. You were flung straight against the wall and hit your head quite badly. He watched you falling like a ragdoll, appearing limp due to the blow.

His gut dropped. He left Buffy to the fight. All that mattered now was that you were okay. He had never been so scared. Spike rushed over to you, dropping to the floor so that he could cradle your head in his lap. There were a few seconds where he didn’t know what to do.

But then just as he thought he may have lost you, hope was restored again. You open your eyes, your smile a little dazed as you looked at him from your position in his lap. He looked up to the sky in relief, as if silently thanking the powers. His eyes danced with emotion as he looked back into yours. He wouldn’t know what he would do without you. Couldn’t even imagine it less his heart would begin to ache with phantom loss.

He was so overcome by the thought of losing you that he immediately caught your lips with his. Pouring every single feeling he had ever experienced for you into that one kiss. His hand cupping your cheek, the other on the small of your back – pressing you closer to him. As if this kiss may well be your very last. You reciprocated without hesitation, your lips felt as if they had been moulded just for this very moment. This kiss, it said everything. Promised everything and you smiled into it. Your lips moving against his urgently, insisting he feel your love for him. Even in your weakened state, all of your energy went into kissing him.

In the same moment, Buffy managed to finally slay the beast and Tara and Willow muttered some words that sent him into the book he would now again call home. Buffy whipped around to catch you both kissing so desperately. The rest of the group stopped still and staring too. Every mouth agape in shock. At just how much you appear to feel for the other. This wasn’t just a quick shag when the feeling struck. One wasn’t taking advantage of the other. This was love. The truest kind. And nobody could deny it now, not even Xander.

After you parted, reluctantly on both parts, he took on your weight as you all walked back, everyone except him in silence. He doted on you, pressing a kiss against your temple every few paces – just because he could now in this company. He wanted to offer you all of the comfort he could. He was whispering to you trying to make sure you didn’t fall asleep. He was sure you had a concussion (I mean, you kissed him that way in front of all of your friends without any worries after all).

Buffy didn’t even object when it appeared that Spike was walking their way home. She didn’t know what to think anymore. Everyone could see just how deeply you cared for each other. It was undeniable, even to your older sister.

Spike was just pleased you would make it and be okay. And… he began to get smug that he was finally able to show the slayer that he could access her house this entire time.

#spike btvs #spike x reader #spike imagine #spike x you #btvs #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagines #btvs x you #btvs x reader #btvs imagine #spike fic #gn #gender neutral reader #gender neutral #spike

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jaykayblr · 3 years

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And it went like ; Doyoung | One-shot

Pairing : Doyoung × Reader

Genre : fluff, strangers to friends to lovers au, college/university au, mutual pining, café is kinda main here.

Warnings : slapping, crying, teeny bit of angst, kissing. Don't worry it isn't anything extreme.

Summary : it all started with two cups of iced americano.

Word count : 2.7k

Taglist : @starrdustville @thechoppersan @cupidluvstarrz @ncvltrtchnlgy @jenoleemonade @bluejaem

Author's note : ahh, this is my first One-shot. Based loosely on request that @starrdustville sent in my previous blog. Leave a comment to let me know what you feel about this one. I have worked for this one for a week and I am kinda proud of my improvement but I feel I could have done better now that I have read it almost ten times, but lemme know what you all think!. I hope you all like it! If there are any mistakes, please let me know.

You glance up from the screen of the mobile to greet the orbs of the male who had entered the class. The brown eyes roamed through your face and then looked away, choosing a place in the class’s backward.

Mysterious brown eyes were the first thing you noticed about the new transfer student. He was aloof, remaining silent throughout the class. You could never find him chatting with anybody. He consistently preferred taking the last seat in the class. He was suave, with soft boyish qualities. You had been looking at him at whatever chance you received for the recent few days. It was challenging to not acknowledge him; the dude had silky soft hair through which he would run his hand occasionally throughout the class. The transfer student wore dark colors, which made him appear even more alluring than the rest of your class boys. He was lean and was taller than you.

Straightening yourself when the professor started the class, you forced your mobile away.

Focused, the educator went on about defining the antique architecture of Rome. It was an interesting subject - but you found yourself gawking at the new student. It looked as if he acknowledged your stare, because there was a slight smirk stretching on his cheeks when you continued gawking at him for two solid minutes. You glanced forward and tried paying regard to your lecturer.

Same routine, but different.

You are carrying two drinks of iced Americano in your hands. The route you picked was busy with the science graduates bustling out of their classes. You should’ve kept your eyes up to prevent what was about to happen. You soon knocked into a hard chest with your Americano staining the said man’s hoodie. Before you could lose your balance, a pair of sturdy hands holding your arms held you. You couldn’t speak. As you realized the situation, you backed away to bow towards the guy - to sputter an apology, until you hear that man’s voice.

“Calm down, woman,”

You couldn’t convey anything. You were so enthralled by the individual’s voice that you forgot your locations. His voice was deep and silvery. The phrase sounded unfamiliar to you, coming from him. His accent was mind-numbingly hot - even if you had heard only two words coming out of his mouth. You view up to examine the new guy from your class. His eyes have a playful glint at them, as he grins at your obvious staring. You quickly move backward and apologize to him.

“I am sorry. I am so sorry, oh god I am so sorry” you bow to him multiple times. You gain the attention of the surrounding science graduates who chuckle to themselves but keep moving. He catches you by your arms again and interrupts you from bowing to him again and again and instinctively makes your heart thump a thousand times faster than ever.

“It’s fine, I will clean it and it will be fine”

“At Least let me help you clean it, please?” you asked, and he nodded.

That was a year ago.

Currently, it’s the fourth year of your college and you and doyoung are two best buddies. In this one year, you both have turned into devoted friends who can’t live without each other. Sounds cheesy, yes, but that is exactly how it is.

[From doyoung; ]

WhErE ArE YoU?!

You chuckle seeing your mobile screen flash with his messages. Sitting in your economics lecture right now, learning something about marketing. You look around to see if anyone is looking at you. The half the students paying attention to the professor and the other half are sleeping or doing their own thing. You glance at your professor who was extremely focused on teaching the first benchers. You quickly type a reply.

[To doyoung; ]

In class! What do you want?

You hear the buzzing on your phone after a few minutes.

“Your boyfriend is texting you” your seatmate mutters beside you and you just chuckle - not at her but at the constant buzzing of your phone showing that your best friend is turning impatient.

[From doyoung; ]

Which one?

When will it end?

Ah, respond!

[To doyoung; ]

God! Doyoung!

Economics and in 15 minutes.

It wasn’t late until you heard three more buzzes from your phone. Your seatmate - somi wriggles her eyebrows at you.

[From doyoung; ]

So there is this new cafe near our college.

I want to go!

Please come with me?

[To doyoung; ]

Ok, fine.

Pick me up from the football court.

[From doyoung; ]

Yes, madam!

“You both are one weird pair” you flinch when you see somi snooping at your phone over your shoulders.

“Then stay away from us,” you say and put your phone inside your pocket.

“Just confess to him. His female admirers are increasing day by day. Only yesterday I saw Jasmine confessing to him.”

“Wait what?!” you almost shout, gaining the attention of the professor and a few students. The professor glares at you and goes back to teaching.

“Yes, and don’t worry, he rejected her” she rolls her eyes as you sigh in relief.

“But it will not always happen. Listen, if you don’t confess to him, he will eventually start dating someone else,” she says with a stern look, as if she is scolding you.

“I know, but can you please not scare me? I am just nervous! We have been friends for so-” somi cuts you off.

“You all have been friends for a year and you don’t Wanna ruin it and end this friendship by confessing, right?” she says and you nod while looking down. “Baby, if you don’t let him know your feelings, he will always think of you as a friend. Is that ok? He will eventually start dating some other girl. Is that ok with you? Are you ok with seeing him with another girl?”

You shake your head. She was right; has always been. Somi always told you to confess to doyoung, but you really didn’t want to ruin the relationship you had with doyoung. He was the most precious person in your life. And it has been like that for a year now.

Doyoung had shown no interest in any other girls - including you. So you never really thought about the possibility of him dating. But now as somi stated this possibility - it made your heartache. It made you experience a weird heaviness in your chest that you couldn’t exactly pinpoint.

Were you really ok with that? Are you ok with seeing him in the arms of another girl? Were you ok not taking up the chance to date him? Were you ok giving him up? Would he reject you? Or would he reciprocate your feelings? Are you really ok with taking up the risk?

These thoughts swirl your mind as the class gets dismissed.

You and somi get up and walk towards the exit when somi stops in front of you and looks you in the eye.

“Do it before it’s too late. Time doesn’t wait for anyone” and she leaves like that - provoking something in you.

Maybe it’s about time you do something about it.

Standing near the football court, you watch some guys from the foreign communications playing football. Their loud cheers surround the campus. You sit near the benchers thinking deeply about the risk of confessing to doyoung.

Somi’s words ring in your head. You feel a pang of jealousy in your chest when you imagine doyoung with another girl.

"Ha!" you flinch and look behind to see doyoung laughing like he won a trophy for scaring you.

"Ahh, you scared me!" he internally coos at the little pout you made without realising it.

"Lets go?"

The fragrance of vanilla hits your nostrils the moment you step inside the cafeteria. The little bell rang, alerting the barista of your arrival. A grey-haired barista looked towards both of you and grinned. You glanced around; the cafe was bustling with people. The chattering of young couples, friends, and teenagers filled in the shop.

Intertwining his hand with yours, Doyoung pulled you towards a corner seat. As you both settled, the same barista walked up towards you two.

“what can I serve this fascinating couple today?” she chirped in a very calm voice.

You were going to deny her assumption but doyoung cut you.

“so what are you having?” he inquired, propping himself on his forearms.

“um, I guess, caffe latte?”

“ah-ha! I was considering the same!” he looked towards the barista “two caffe latte please?”

“sure, anything else?” she asked, her eyes creasing at the sides as she beamed at you two. Returning the smile you looked towards Doyoung with a raised eyebrow as if asking him ‘do you need something more?’. he glanced at the menu card in front of him. “hmm, croissants?”

"coming up," she exclaims and goes back to her work.

"and oh, this time I’m offering to pay!" as soon as you announce that, doyoung’s expression changes to a frown, demonstrating his displeasure. Before he can say anything, you resonate "whenever we go out, you never let me pay! This time I’m paying and I don’t wish to hear any disagreements!"

"Y/nnnn" he whines and you shake your head at him.

Falling in comfortable silence, you both listen to the soft jazz playing on the radio of the cafeteria. After a few minutes, doyoung glances at you, hesitance apparent on his face.

“what happened?” you urge him. He just shakes his head and busies himself by looking at his nails. You want to question him further, but you see the same barista walking up to you with your orders.

Placing it on the table, she leaves while smiling at you both.

"I assume she likes us," doyoung whispers while slurping his latte.

"don’t change the topic, doyoung. what happened?" you urge him, with your voice stern.

“have you ever thought about dating y/n?” you freeze when he asks that. Luckily, he is looking downwards, so he can’t read your expressions cause he is good at that.

“mm, why?” you start feeling anxious when he doesn’t speak.

He sighs and shakes his head, mumbling a ‘nothing’. you grow more frustrated at that.

As you swirl your fingers around the brim of your cup. Your thoughts going insane, ‘does he love someone?’ ‘is he thinking of dating?’ ‘am I too late to confess?’ you feel your eyes brimming with nervous tears. You face away from him when he looks at you.

“Y/n, I wanted to ask you something?” you look at him in the eye, and wish that he won’t notice your wet eyes. He slowly takes your hands in his, his thumb gently brushing over your fingers. He looks down and takes a breath.

“I want you to keep quiet and let me finish, ok?” you nod at him, not speaking anything cause you know he will pick up your emotions from the tone of your voice. He sighs and moves closer to you.

“y/n, I have- I have, um, I realize we have only known each other for a year, but this one year has been the best year of my existence. I have never laughed so frequently in my life. I’m grateful for everything you have done for me and- and just- I am just grateful for this friendship. Listen, I hope this doesn’t sound too sudden. And I hope nothing changes in our relationship after this. But- I-” he halts and takes a deep breath. You instinctively hold his hand tight as you predict his next sentence. Your tears threaten to pour as you shut your eyes in order to hold them back. Your heart thuds in your ribcage and you pant. You glance at the ground to avoid breaking down in front of him as he tells you about his girlfriend. You hear him let out an unsteady sigh and-

“y/n I Love You!”

You couldn’t stop the tears that gushed out from your eyes. You sink back on the backrest and cover your face with your hands and cry your heart out. Your cries fill the cafe as everyone becomes silent and looks at you. You cry louder as you realize he likes you back, your best friend likes you back, doyoung loves you.

On the other hand, Doyoung panics when you cry, he loses his calm when you cry louder. His eyes swell with tears as he thinks that he fucked up royally to make you cry like this. He knew it was a terrible decision. He knew you didn’t like him back, but he still took the risk and ended up making you cry. You got emotional easily but never had you cried so loudly as you did now. He avoids the pointed stares of the people who scowl at him for making a girl cry like that and goes down on his knees towards your chair. He tries to hold your hand but you just tighten them on your face. His tears fall as he holds the armrest of your seat and turns you towards him. Gently but firmly he removes your hand from your face and his heart shatters when he looks at your tear filled face. He feels a pang of guilt in his heart. What was he expecting? you evidently didn’t love him back? He holds your hands and starts crying with you. The people around both of you watch this scene unfold, some looking annoyed and some watching with pity.

“I’m very sorry y/n,” he sniffs “I didn’t mean to make you cry,” his voice is heavy as he swallows hard. “I don’t know what I was thinking when I said that” he gulps again, “you clearly don’t love me-“ you cut him off as you slap him. His left cheek stings as his face falls. The people in the cafe gasp. doyoung looks down as the realization dawns over him. ‘he screwed up, he ruined everything’.

“stand up” your voice is small but commanding and he obeys. He looks down as he gets up.

“look at me” and he obeys but gasps when you kiss him hard on his lips. You are holding the collars of his black shirt with which you pull him closer towards you. A loud cheer fills the cafe and the people shout and scream while watching this dramatic scene unfold in front of their eyes. He comes back into reality and pulls you closer and kisses you back passionately, erupting an even louder cheer from the audience. You wrap your arms around his neck and his arms take their place on your waist. You both kiss as if you were waiting for this - which was also true.

You both pull away and break into laughter. The surrounding people are smiling, some are even taking videos. The couples peck each other, the old barista smiles widely and her eyes shine in adoration.

“so does this mean…”

“yes” you respond with a wide smile adorning your face. doyoung brings his hand to cup your cheek.

“from how long?”

“a year,” you say, making him smile. “what about you?”

“one year too”

“so I guess we both are idiots?” you ask, chuckling.

“hmm”

“you are late. But I will forgive you for that if you agree to be my boyfriend.” he chuckles at that.

“deal” he asks and pulls you closer.

You bring your palm to cup his left cheek. “does it hurt?” you ask, and he nods whispering ‘badly’ near your cheek. “I’m sorry,” you say and pull away to look in his eyes to show your honesty.

“It’s fine. You can make it up to me,” he says, pulling you closer again.

“how?” you ask.

“kiss me,” he says and you don’t waste a single second more to kiss him feverishly.

the cheers roar loudly, again.

love...

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tokoyamisstuff · 3 years

Text

Tender Ch. 4 - Loki x Mute! Reader

Summary: Loki’s uncertainty about your relationship is eating him alive.

Warnings: Slight Angst. The Avenger’s bullying Loki.

Words: 3299

“I don't know what happened on Earth to make you so soft. Don't tell me it was that woman?! Oh -- it was!” - Loki (Thor 2011)

[Story Masterlist] [All of my Works]

Taglist: @austynparksandpizza @queenariesofnarnia @commonintrest @buckylokisimp @just-someone-who-likes-to-write @lxdyred @frostay @nina1800

“Good morning, Y/N. If I may notice: You look as stunning as ever.”

You tried to raise an unbelieving eyebrow at him, but were only able to squint before frantically rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. Falling onto your back again, Loki would catch you in his arms, wrapping an arm and a leg around you to trap you in his affectionate hold.

This was just another one of countless nights you had spent together, yet even though you cherished every second of it, the situation reminded you of an old song stuck in your head forever now:

“A thousand time we’ve touched, and a thousand times nothing happened.”

Actually, you adored that about Loki - the gentle, respectful way he tried to take things on slow. And seeing just how openly he was searching for your affection was already more progress than you needed to be content.

It was already late noon when you awoke, unaware that Loki didn’t move an inch to not disturb your peaceful rest.

Occasionally, he would find his hand on your cheek or softly caressing the skin on your shoulder, ghostly running along your side before he retracted it again.

A smitten smile was playing on his lips as he observe you stirring and humming in your sleep, always shuffling closer to him whenever he tried to give you some space.

“I fear my appointment is soon due” he whispered, nudging his nose to your cheek.

You sulked, thinking about his weekly visits at SHIELD’s headquarters, where they would do a ‘psychological evaluation’. Many of them you were able to read in secret - with a little bit of Tony’s help, no files were sealed after all.

Words like ‘delusonate maniac’, ‘god complex’ or ‘pathological narcisst’ were some of the more harmless ones chosen by some of the many psychologists, all taking turn to make sense of the Asgardian prince.

How wrong they are!

But on the other hand, Loki was talented at putting up a play, probably fooling them without making an effort. And you highly doubted he ever let anyone nearly as close as you, kinda making your chest swell in pride.

However, lately the reports had changed drastically:

“Subject is politely greeting all those present. Body language open and accessible. Tends to talk about minor topics, expression rather satisfied. States he still wouldn’t trust this agency but is willing to cooperate in any way. Apparently much more emotionally balanced and at peace with himself. Reason unknown. (High probability of deceit.)”

“Uh -- Y/N?” Loki was waving a hand in front of your face, already sitting on the edge of the bed and getting dressed, much to your displeasure. “What are you brooding about?”

“Take care.” Trying to avoid the topic, you began signing - just for Loki to take your hands and kiss every single of your knuckles. “I’ll await your return!”

“I will be back as soon as possible. Until then: Take care and enjoy your day, my sweetling.”

___________

“Nat, I think you’re overreacting here, honestly.”

Even though Loki did not want to interfere with the other Avengers more than absolutely necessary, he couldn’t help but being intrigued by something that sounded so...scandalous.

Hiding his presence from those dull creatures was no problem for the God of Mischief - yet as soon as he realized who that debate was about, he wished to rather not have eavesdropped.

“You don’t understand!” The Black Widow seemed furious, slamming a fist on the table where everyone except for her was seated. She ran around restless, trying to express her worry. “Yesterday, I came to wake her up because she was late for our training...and he was lying in her bed, f*cking naked goddamnit!”

“Sick” Clint scoffed, face twisting in disgust.

Tony seemed to be one of the few with a little common sense, surprisingly. “But they are both adults and their private life seems like none of our business.”

“Can’t you guys see that he is using her?!” the usual quiet Banner joined the opposion as well. “Y/N is a traumatized victim, and Loki is a psychopath! There’s no scientifical way that this kind of relationship isn’t toxic!”

Bucky - who could very well understand how a former murderer and criminal who seemed unworthy of redemption would feel - had always kind of a soft spot for the god - for he saw much of himself, or rather the ‘Winter Soldier’ in him. “I don’t know if you’re making this too easy for you to judge” he contibuted almost ashamed, “As far as he told us, Loki had been tortured and controlled by Thanos as well. So isn’t he a victim, too?”

“Do you really believe that kind of bullshit?!” Well, Clint was still desperately trying to get Loki’s mind control out of his head - and telling him that there was no one guilty nearby he could let off some steam on was making him beyond reasoning. “I tell you that guy would say anything to save his own skin and find a reason to glorify himself! He’s manipulating her, shutting her off from the rest of us and making her overly dependent so he can use her as some kind of toy...or worse.”

“Now hold on for a second...” Thor was almost growling, crossing his arms in a defensive manner. “My brother may be many things, I admit without question. But violating a fair maiden is something that goes beyond even his boundaries!”

“Your brother has boundaries?” Tony joked, and immediately his hammer was pointed at him.

“Enough of your accusations!” The God of Thunder claimed, voice a deep rumble as lightning was sparkling in his eyes. “Speak another word, and you’ll face the consequences!”

“No need for violence, brother.”

Just as usual, Loki would steal the show as he undid his concealment, trying to mimick a grand pose.

“My deepest thanks for defending me” he spoke calm, with Thor nodding understandingly and taking his seat again. “It is an honor I don’t deserve.”

“No” the God of Thunder retorted seriously, still staring the others down. “It is only natural, brother. You have yet to prove that you have no ill intentions anymore, yet there is no reason for making up such issues out of thin air.”

Every time Loki Laufeyson found himself at loss for words, it would never cease to amaze everyone witnessing it.

“We don’t want to hear any of your cheap excuses coming out of that filthy mouth anyway” Nat shot a threatening glare at him, which the god reacted through facing the floor. “Someone like you, who only ever brings chaos and destruction should never be near Y/N. You don’t even deserve looking at her direction!”

“But she could have a positive influence on him!” Thor intervened, yet to no avail. “Can’t you see that his demeanour has changed ever since she joined the team?”

“And how many chances have you given your brother, exactly?” Clint and Banner almost simultaneously shoutet, followed by a “He’s up to something, as always...” by Nat.

Still, the accused remained silent.

“At least have some dignity and stay away from her” was Natasha’s last attempt to awoke a conscience she wouldn’t believe him to have. “Or else you’ll break her.”

Loki, who had been holding his breath for as long as they were arguing, now let out a deep, aggravated sigh - however, that was all that would escape the god’s mouth.

Staying away from you? The thought alone shot a thousand daggers through his heart.

“I can’t...” he whimpered in between choked sobs, unwilling to show those people who despised him how their words had almost defeated his will.

There was no use in trying to convince those people - they were blinded by betrayal and fury, something he knew just too well himself.

His energy was better put elsewhere - with you, the light of his life.

_______

“Good morning, Loki.”

As always, he wouldn’t dare to step into the kitchen unless he was invited - and of course it was you, amazing him that his presence could make someone’s face light up just like that.

The god smiled jolly at the way you were signing his name - a unique, personal sign instead of fully spelling it.

He had heared that it was common in the ASL community to name people according to what makes them special, and you had several ‘nicknames’ for him - just as ‘horns’, ‘green’ or his favourite: ‘Sunshine’.

As he reluctantly entered the wide kitchen, he spotted the other Avengers already having started their meal, not bothering to look up and greet him.

Their behavior towards Loki had at least shifted from passive aggressive towards polite ignoring, but you believed that given time, everyone would get along well with each other, unaware of their aversion for the bond the two of you shared.

At least the God of Mischief was on his best behavior ever since you had joined this ‘ridiculous’ team.

“Why aren’t you eating?” he asked a little concerned as he stepped closer to the kitchen counter, where you were sipping on a glass of water.

"I was waiting for you” was your firm response, invitingly batting your eyelashes. “No way I’m going to eat without my favourite person!”

“Y/N...” Loki breathed in sharply as he felt your palm on the back of his hand, rubbing it ever so slightly. “I don’t deserve your kindness.”

You wanted to protest, but Tony cut you off. “They are doing the mind-thing again!”

A while ago, Loki had teached you in the ways of telepathy. Most of the time you would stick to ASL, but it was a great way to communicate with persons too far away to sign for.

And anyway: To you, this was like your own little secret language, words meant for just Loki and Loki alone.

It was a beautiful form of connection between two beings, you thought. Rather than hearing a voice in your mind, one would send their emotions and intentions for you to decipher.

This was probably the most honest conversations you could ever have with another.

“Come sit with us” you cheered in his mind, taking his hand as you led him to the table, making him unable to protest. “I made your favourite!”

Natasha couldn’t help but scoff a little when Loki finally dared to get out of his hiding behind the kitchen counter. You practically needed to drag him there as everyone was eyeing him warily, until he sat down and pushed his chair as close as possible to you.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” Clint dared to ask now, and you understood his resentment. Some emotional wounds take even more time to heal than physical ones, so both you and Loki accepted that it would be a long way until they’d forgive him. “I mean, he’s following you everywhere like a damn stray dog.”

If your voice would allow you to, you’d chuckle at this comparison. More than once you looked up to these sad, lost eyes and thought they had something from a lost puppy in a shelter.

Just how could a several century old, norse god be so damn cute?

You shook your head vigorously before trying to concentrate on the meal and ignore their mocking. Sadly, Loki wouldn’t touch his plate, instead sulking with his head bown low.

Feeling his uneasiness, you put one hand on his back, rubbing small circles on it to help him keep his calm. You then proceeded to lay your hand on his knee, where he quickly found it and intertwined his fingers with yours.

“Everything alright?” Loki was clenching his teeth, not replying to your question and instead jumping up from his chair.

“Thanks for the meal, I got some important matters to attend to.”

Like that, he was gone.

Not even the sassy comments of Nat or Tony about him ‘plotting something’ could reach his ear, the blood boiling in his system drowning every other sound.

You would let him be for now. In times like these, he’d need some space. Loki was more of a cat than a dog, you concluded in the end: If he wants attention, he’ll come and get some.

The god slammed the door to his chambers, his balled fists immediately swinging towards the wall, making his knuckles bleed.

“Pathetic...” The word stuck in his head, as if to mock himself.

When had he become like this?

Before, he was a proud prince, a rebel and a libertator - and now he was quite literally the lapdog of shield, obeying their every command. Without resisting, Loki would swallow his pride over and over again, ignore all the unfair hate and spite directed against him. Never leaving the compound, not even struggling to be free again.

At first he felt like a wild beast which others desperately tried to tame - but now he had lost himself in this stupid little infatuation of you.

Whenever you were in range, the prince would find himself tongue-tied, and after you made your leave, he’d feel more empty and lonely than ever before.

Soon he would have to admit that you had become his greatest weakness - and couldn’t decide how to deal with that fact.

He would try to downplay the other Avenger’s accusations of him using you, even though the thought of his cursed existence possibly staining your innocent soul was making him feel sick.

Yes -- he’d only be using you as a ‘pastime’, right? Until he’d finally be able to gain their trust and proceed chasing his ‘Glorious Purpose’...

Bollocks!

Lately, it had become unnaturally hard to coat himself in comfortable lies. Not even the God of Lies himself could ignore the grand importance you had for him.

No matter what, he couldn’t afford to lose you.

“Come to my room. Now.” It was already past midnight when Loki’s thoughts entered your mind once again. “It’s urgent.”

Thinking he would have a panic attack as so many nights before, you wanted to be at his side as quick as humanly possible. So you at least tried to change your comfy ‘homeless-look’, like Tony was calling it, and make yourself look acceptable before searching him out.

The knock on his door was so ridiculously quiet, it could only be you. He had told you a thousand times that you could just enter whenever you wanted, but it seemed you were just too polite.

“The door is open” Loki spoke, trying to hide how his voice was laced with irritation. “Suit yourself.”

You sheepishly let yourself in, even in that strained atmosphere not able to help but feeling a smile tug on the edge of your lips as you saw Loki resting on his favourite armchair.

“Come here, little petal” he spoke softly to not startle you, opening his arms and gesturing towards himself. Out of a whim, you accepted the offer and happily tiptoed to sit on his lap, his chin resting atop of your head.

Loki took some deep breaths, inhaling your scent before placing some wet kisses into your hair. You buried your face in his neck, making him snicker at your warm breath on his chilly skin.

He looked formidable even in sweatpants on and his hair in a bun, you told yourself and he smirked cheekily, almost as if he could actually read your thoughts.

Whenever you were close like that, Loki realized that this was all he ever wished for: He craved to be touched, acknowledged, cared for. To feel that he’s not alone, and loved for what he was - or rather despise of.

“Say, Y/N...” The serious tone of his voice made your heart sink to your stomach, but he was quick to assess your emotional state. Immediately, his hand found your cheek, absentmindedly gracing it with his thumb. “Am I being too clingy?”

As soon as those words left his lips, you violently shook your head, eyes snapped wide open. How could he ever think that?

“Umm...” he had a hard time explaining himself - opening up to others wasn’t exactly his speciality, as you already knew.

But when it came to you, Loki could exceed his limits in many ways. “I happened to overhear a conversation between the other Avengers, and ever since I fear I might act a little too possessive.”

“No!” Your voice was clear as daylight in his mind, almost as if you were yelling at his conscience to stop doubting everything good ever happening to him. “Never!”

Now having climbed to straddle his lap, you effectively achieved the most possible proximity.

And your hug at that moment was so tight, Loki thought it would press all broken parts of himself back together.

Such a fragile, mortal being ended up being the only thing helping him gain ground under his feet again, after decades of falling.

“My dear Y/N...” Still lying in each other’s embrace, you could clearly feel him tremble uncontrollably. “I-I-I...until now, I’ve brought death and suffering wherever I went. And. maybe- I mean...what if you are only attached to me because I saved you back then?”

“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.” Your werds were firm and content with the meaning of it, yet Loki was shocked at your determination. “My life belongs to you ever since you saved me, Loki.”

“That’s not true! You don’t owe me your life, Y/N, don’t ever think that!”

Your hands cupped his cheeks, softly forcing him to look at your stern eyes. “You’re scared.”

“Yes. Of hurting you. Y/N, you are a divine creature. You deserve anything, the best even, but I-”

“Loki...” He was captivated by your lips, mutely forming his name. You put your index finger in front of his mouth, signalizing him to fall silent. “Please. No more. It hurts to hear you talking down on yourself.”

The God of Mischief cocked his head back, almost getting lost in your stunning beauty again. “But I-”

“I love you.”

Loki gasped at your confession, and before he could respond, the telepathic connection between you two would make him feel your exact emotions at that moment:

Never in all those millenia he had felt something so pure and intense as this sentiment. It warmed his heart, coated him with affection his life had failed to gift him - until now.

You really loved him, for whatever miracle he had to thank for this - and it was too much for him to bear.

The dam broke and tears he had successfully surpressed until now broke free, as he found himself unable to bring out anything than loud, relieved sobs.

One of your hands wandered to his chest, gently laying on his sternum to calm his breathing, smiling with all of your might.

“I love you, Loki Laufeyson.” you repeated, “More than you can imagine.”

"And I love you too!” he exclaimed before he closed the gasp between your lips, his hands needily searched every inch of your body.

You were receptive to his touch, humming in pleasure and relief, both no intention to let go of each other ever again.

As Loki’s passion had literally kicked the air out of your lungs, you gasped when your lips finally parted, only for him to place some more gentle ones on the corner of your lips.

“I love you, Y/N Y/L/N” the god whispered as if it was his mantra, and every time he would dare to voice those feelings again, he felt how his heart got lighter and lighter. “So, so much...”

On that day, Loki was able to banish the darkness from his soul - for he had realized that you needed him just as much as he needs you.

#Loki #Loki x Reader #Loki x You #Loki x Y/N #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Odinson #God of Mischief #Loki / Reader #Loki / You #Writing #Fanfiction #Self Insert #Marvel #Disney

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chocolate-parfait · 3 years

Note

Yay, askbox is open! I hope that means requests too, if not please ignore this and sorry. But could I request another angst? Could I please ask for headcannons for Dazai (and the others could be either Theo, Vincent, Leo, Comte, Will or Arthot, you can choose two, 'cause I can't XD) who find their S/Os suicide note? You can take it wherever you want from there. Thank you so much, love your works <3 Have a grwat day!

Hi @robin-the-enby !! I'm happy to see you in my inbox again, and although this took me embarrassingly long (my procrastination tendencies and school got the better of me :,)), I'm more than happy to provide something that will help with your coping! Despite it all, I hope that you'll get better soon and hang on a while longer. I'm sure this prolonged pandemic has had negative effects on most people's mental health, but remember that we'll get through this in one way or the other! Stay strong and keep fighting, if it gets too much don't hesitate to take a break and go easy on yourself❤

Halfway through I realized I was writing scenarios instead of simple headcanons ,, I was too engrossed in writing to realize it oops 🧍‍♀️ 🧍‍♀️ 🧍‍♀️

Finding MC'S suicide note - Ikevamp headcanons (Dazai, Arthur & Leonardo)

(TW; suicide / mentions of self-harm / major character death / blood)

(CW; slight and inaccurate spoilers for Dazai's past)

For those who'd like to avoid specific contents, this is what I wrote for each suitor:

Dazai - MC is unconscious and bleeding, I didn't specify whether they survive or not

Arthur - MC is stopped before they can do anything, survives

Leonardo - MC isn't stopped in time, dies

Dazai

It was as if history was repeating itself. The message, the bloodied sheets and the unconscious body. The only different thing was perhaps.... him. It was a him that had experienced true happiness, a him that had learned forgiveness, a him that knew better than retort to suicide as a way of repentance. And yet... was it not enough? Dazai's mind swirled with the pungent thoughts of his own fate as he ran with your body in his arms. He ran, and ran, and ran, passing by a seemingly endless succession of hallways and wooden doors.

Never before did he wish your room was closer to Arthur's, as he felt your body grow colder and his clothes dampen with blood with each step forward. And yet the stars that were now adorning the night sky's black cape, seemed to be offering their compassion to him, for when Dazai burst into the writer's room he saw him sitting at his desk, completely sober and still functioning in the middle of the night.

Arthur slightly turned in his chair, and as he was about to comment with displeasure how rude it was of the man to come into his room completely unannounced, his mouth was left agape and eyes wide open, wordlessly staring at your limp and seemingly unmoving body as the smell of blood hit his nostrils in mere seconds.

"What in the Heavens happened-?!" Arthur abruptly stood up, leaving his half-finished manuscript forgotten on the table, rushing closer to check your pulse. The two novelists had never liked each other, a difference in life choices maybe, but it surely was not a hate that could surpass even the most perilous of situations, particularly because you were an outsider to their rivalry. As such, Arthur did not hesitate to put to good use all his medical knowledge, carefully rushing through every step to avoid the worst.

Seconds slowly transformed into hours, although Dazai was convinced time had stopped ever since the moment he had found you on your bed, utterly frozen in a state of unconsciousness with a crumpled letter of apologies laying on the bloodied sheets. The only thing that perhaps gave him the slightest hint to time’s passing was the way he could feel the blood on his chest and hands grow drier as the night morphed into the day.

As the first rays of light poked from behind the thick curtain of the doctor’s room, Dazai sat by his bed, right next to you, silent and outwardly calm, although dazed in the raging storm inside his heart.

Perhaps this was what Destiny itself had decided for him. Perhaps it was wrong of him to blame casualty instead of himself. His old, stupid self, who hadn’t learnt a single thing from past mistakes. But as his fellow vampire’s warm hand came to rest on his shoulder, Dazai decided to delay all judgment about his negligence until the Gods determined your fate.

Arthur

Staring at the familiar handwriting, Arthur felt his whole body grow numb, as if someone had thrown him in the darkest depths of the ocean, leaving him to suffocate under the overwhelming weight of the waters above.

He had noticed the worsening of your symptoms, but he had never imagined you'd go to these lengths. He had gravely underestimated your condition, and he could already hear the old ghosts of his past laughing at him, pointing their fingers while mocking him. But now, he had no time to worry about his own lack of foresight; his priority was getting to you in time, so that all could be fixed, hopefully.

Scanning the writing on your tear-stained note, his brain started listing all the possible places where you could've gone with a speed that would leave speechless even Sherlock Holmes himself. The writing was hurried and scrambled, meaning that it was a sudden decision. The city was too far away and bustling with people that could interfere, so it was an unlikely location. As he was running around the mansion in search of you, he passed in front of the terrace on the last floor; there, he saw your clothes swirling in the wind, and your figure standing on the stone railing.

He almost crashed against the glass door as he launched himself forward with extreme speed. You were there, looking down and slightly trembling. You were scared, as it was normal, but if death frightened you so, then what pain would be so strong to push you in its embrace? To drive you away from his warm arms and into the eternal darkness? Was such a painful experience worth the possible relief?

"MC!!!" Arthur shouted out of instinct with his whole lungs, like a volcano erupting in all its fury. A few steps later and you were falling backwards, your back colliding with his chest as he harshly pulled you to him. It all happened so fast that you didn't even have the time to turn your head and look at him. Now that you were on the ground, safely locked in his embrace, everything slowly sank in.

His voice came out choked and trembling. "W-what were you thinking-?!" He was trying so hard to hold everything back; the tears, the sobs, the anger in his voice. He was angry at himself, and you were not the target of his resentment, but he realized that it could be easily misunderstood by someone in your situation. Taking a deep breath and turning you around, he stared deeply into your pained eyes, softening his iron-like grip on your forearms.

His voice now steadier yet gentle with affection and worry added:"Love, I'm sorry for not noticing all of this sooner. I'm sorry for not helping you enough. Still, I want to be of some use to you, I want to be there for you.” A sharp breath interrupted his speech, maybe from him, you or perhaps both of you. “…So please, please rely on me; whenever you feel like you can't do it anymore, whenever you feel like you have enough of life, give me the chance to help you."

Seconds later, you burst into tears, sobbing confused "I'm sorry"s in the crook of his neck. Arthur slowly caressed your hair soothingly, as his heart continued to painfully hammer against his chest. He knew this was not going to be an easy nor a short journey; it was going to take time, and it would be hard, but he wouldn't give up on you no matter what. Through thick and thin, the way you did for him, he was going to support you the whole way.

"I love you more than anything in the world, MC." he added at last, hugging you tightly.

Leonardo

The deafening sound of crickets did not reach the man’s ears. He couldn’t hear anything but the fast pumping of his own blood in his veins. A heartbeat that had never and would never stop; stronger than anyone else’s, but also alone. The sound of his heart was utterly lonely, the only one under the white gazebo, now shrouded in the darkness of the night.

How much he would give not to hear it anymore, to put an end to it right then and there. But he couldn’t. And as Fate loved torturing him endlessly, he was now once more deprived of a person he loved. But this time was different than the countless others before. He thought he had gotten used to the company offered by Death herself, and it had been long ever since tears burned within his eyes, as if made of fire.

Between his arms laid a lifeless body, utterly still and deprived of any warmth. It seemed like mere moments had passed when Leonardo was contentedly caressing your hair as a tired yet relaxed sigh fell from a pair crimson lips, which whispered some loving words before blooming into a smile. Now, they were pale and slightly agape, a cold frown sculpted onto the body’s face. Perhaps he had gotten so used to the passage of time that he did not pay it more mind. Perhaps all his memories took place too long ago, and perhaps things had changed considerably from those happy moments you shared.

Leonardo’s expression subconsciously mimicked your own, one that would remain in his mind for who knows how long, and he did not dare to move away, sitting there with you for the very last moments of his eternally long life. He tried not to think about the way his heart lurched in his chest like a ship at sea during a storm when he found your note. Your handwriting, calm and precise as if it was a decision you had made long ago; where was his mind wandering off to while you were deciding to seal your own fate?

Silently strangling all those whirling thoughts in his head until they died down, leaving him in a deathly silence, he lovingly bid you farewell with a final kiss to your lips.

“Hopefully, we’ll meet in another life.”

“Next time, I won’t let this happen again”

Suffering was human, but he had learnt all too well how contagious pain could be. And yet, he now found himself isolated in his grievance, for you weren’t with him anymore.

#my writing #answered #ikemen vampire #ikevamp headcanons #ikevamp scenarios #ikevamp dazai #ikevamp leonardo #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp imagines #leonardo da vinci #arthur conan doyle #osamu dazai

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khaotic-kitsunes · 3 years

Text

Behind Closed Doors

Ooo, I like this idea! Originally I was gonna write headcanons for it but in the end, I guess I just ended up writing a scenario? Wild world right? Sometimes it happens, sometimes it doesn’t...but I really hope you enjoy it and please, feel free to let me know what you think!

Click Me

Cheeky Kitsune 🦊💋

It was impossible to tell how long ago it all started, all of the secrets, the sneaking around; the easily told lies. All to spend a few stolen moments with your prince and soon-to-be King; Katsuki.

You were nothing more than a maid, brought in a few years ago because no one else could deal with the crown-prince’s temper. The job paid too much to turn down, on the condition that you could tolerate Katsuki’s anger and get your work done without him throwing you out; to achieve that, you had been given two week’s trial.

Surprisingly enough, you had made it through the trial period with no trouble. A few arguments here and there, but nothing too terrible; apparently Katsuki’s mother had been impressed because you were given full time and extra money, weekends were your own to enjoy as a break from the short-tempered man and should you need anything, you were given permission to go straight to the currently ruling King and Queen.

It had all begun with a kiss, albeit, an angry kiss; one of frustration and annoyance. That one kiss had stolen both your breath and your heart.

~ ~ ~

“Oi, wench!”

You let out a quiet sigh, lifting your head to address Katsuki as he opened his bedroom door with a deafening slam, angry glare focused on you despite how you were simply folding his clothes so that you could put them away as you always did this time each week.

“Is there something I can help you with, my lord?” You asked the question even though you hoped the answer was no, gently setting down one of his now folded tops on top of the nearby table; stacked neatly on top of the others that you had already done throughout the morning.

“Is it true?!” You raised an eyebrow as you moved to pick up another article of clothing, beginning to fold it as he stormed up to you. It was strange to see him so outwardly angry towards you, but then again, his anger was well-known throughout the land; you just hadn’t seen it directed towards you before.

“Could you be a little more specific, my lord? Many things are true but unless you specify, I can’t help you” You kept your voice calm as you looked towards him, mindlessly folding his clothes. The task had become as easy as breathing air since you had first been employed, since you were Katsuki’s personal maid, the tasks you had were mostly repetitive and made easy to do without thinking too much about it.

“You were offered another job!” You nodded slowly at his clarification, confusion forming on your features when he became visibly angrier; practically seething when his question was confirmed. It was hard to understand, given that you had turned down many different offers of employment. The best thing you could come up with was that he was angry to hear that he was stuck with you; however, given that he hadn’t seemed to mind your presence before now, that was hard to believe.

“Is there a problem? I would assume that you would be happy to hear that I’ve got no intention of leaving” You could see the way his anger faltered at your words, a brief flicker of confusion darting through his gaze before he was standing in front of you; eyes narrowed in suspicion and disbelief.

“You’re staying…? Weren’t you offered more than what you earn here?” You nodded slowly at his question, reaching past him to place the folded clothing on top of the pile; deciding that it would be better for you to wait until you continued on with your task. The prince was agitated, which meant that you should probably give him all of your attention until his anger passed.

“If you were offered more, then why are you staying?” His question made you smile, having to bite down on your bottom lip to prevent the giggle that threatened to slip out; the last thing that you needed was to stir the already agitated prince. Otherwise, you might have to take up that offer of employment.

“I’m staying because I want to. I like it here; the work is good and I believe in loyalty to the people that have done right by me.” You murmured out your response softly, standing up so that you were chest to chest with the prince; a pleasant smile decorating your lips, not a whisper of a lie escaping you.

“I’ve turned down a lot of job offers since coming here, my lord…but may I ask why the sudden interest? How did you even hear about this to begin with?” You tilted your head in vague curiosity while he scoffed, turning his head to the side so that you couldn’t see his expression; agitation still made obvious by his body language.

“Your new employer sent a carriage for you. Mother asked me to fetch you.” Your eyes widened at his words, disbelief filling you until he decided to look back at you properly; his expression alerting you to the truth of his words. Though, you should have believed him to begin with; Katsuki Bakugou never did anything that he didn’t want to and that included lying.

He despised lies, that had been something that you had learnt early on during your two-week trial as his maid.

“My lord, please believe me. I have no idea why there’s a carriage here for me, I declined the offer immediately. I have no wish to leave my home.” He raised an eyebrow the moment you said the word ‘home’, giving a slight nod of his head before reaching out to cradle the back of your head with his hand; his lips crashing angrily down against your own in a breath-taking kiss.

“Continue your work. I want to speak with you once I clear up this bullshit.”

~ ~ ~

You moaned out softly, pressing your hands against Katsuki’s chest as he used his weight to pin you against the solid wooden door; his lips against your own and his hands gripping your thighs, lifting you against his hips.

“Keep your fucking voice down (Name)” His instruction came out as a low groan of frustration while his lips travelled down to your jaw, sending welcomed shivers along your spine at the affection he was showering you with; he had been gone on a peace-treaty with his mother for a week.

Clearly that had been much too long for the two of you to be apart.

“You make it sound easier than it is”

He snorted at your cheeky remark, nipping at your neck while his hands roamed your body, undressing you with silent skill as he went; leaving you as confused as ever. You never could understand how he had gotten so good at undressing you in such situations.

“Yeah, well you know what happens if we’re caught. So, shut up already” He grumbled out the order, clearly dissatisfied with having to tell you to be quiet; unfortunately, it was a necessary part of your stolen moments together. If you were too loud and got caught, there would be consequences that the two of you couldn’t bear to risk.

You moaned out quietly, biting down on your bottom lip as Katsuki buried himself inside of you, large hands going back to your thighs to keep proper hold of you while you squirmed in place; it wasn’t the first, nor would it be the last time he had you against the door to his bedroom, but that didn’t make it any less enjoyable.

“You know, you always get so rough when you’re jealous” You whispered out the teasing words with a quiet giggle, gasping as Katsuki bit your boob firmly, his hips moving at a harsh pace that came hand in hand with Neito Monoma asking you to become his personal maid. Katsuki was a jealous man and that was made obvious whenever you happened to chat to someone that he deemed a threat.

“You’re really bringing this up now?” Katsuki growled out the question, trailing nips and bites over your chest while you moved your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you with a stifled moan; your back arching from the pleasure that he sent racing through your body.

“You’re the one that kicked Monoma out and dragged me away” Katsuki scoffed at your remark, keeping his head low as he thrust his hips, likely so that you couldn’t see the guilty expression on his features; it was obvious to the both of you that you were right, but having Katsuki admit it was a completely different matter.

You whimpered out Katsuki’s name quietly when he brushed up against your sweet spot, the sound tipping him off and causing him to change the way he moved his hips; now hitting your spot with each hard thrust, your noises of pleasure beginning to grow louder as a result.

“Better keep your voice down (Name)” You scowled at Katsuki’s taunting remark, moving a hand to tug at his hair roughly in displeasure before biting down on your bottom lip to stifle the cry of pleasure that had nearly spilled free. It was payback for mentioning Monoma, you knew that, but at the same time; it was impossible to resist teasing him.

It was something only you could do without having him explode at you.

“You look so good like this…and all mine…”

Katsuki mumbled words made you smile as you rocked your hips down to meet his thrusts, a quiet moan managing to slip past your lips while he continued to fuck you against the door; not making nearly as much noise as you had expected it to make.

“God…would you shut up?” You whispered out the request under your breath, trying your best not to cry out his name when he slapped his hand against your thigh, accompanying the action with a firm bite to the bruise that was already beginning to form from one of his earlier bites; more pleasure than pain.

A quiet whimper escaped you as a familiar heat began to build up in the pit of your stomach, making it nearly impossible to focus on your goal of keeping quiet; as it always seemed to.

“Oi, bite me if you have to…might not get as lucky as last time” Katsuki groaned low as he uttered the instruction to you, cursing out when you moved your head to bite down on his shoulder firmly; drowning the loud moan in his muscled body. Refusing to allow anyone but him to hear your noises of pleasure as your orgasm rocked through you.

“Fuck…alright then” He growled out the remark under his breath, rolling his shoulder when you released your hold on him; instead riding out your orgasm with his thrusts, managing the bear with the pleasure-filled jolts that raced through your system while Katsuki worked towards his own release.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to wait too long. Katsuki’s hips were already beginning to move at a rapid pace, his movement sloppy as his orgasm neared; burying himself inside of you as deep as he could moments later. His hot seed filling you.

“…I think we did pretty good this time.”

#dynamight #katsuki bakugou #dynamight x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #reader x dynamight #reader x katsuki #reader x bakugou #royal au #prince!katsuki #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #smut #requests #cheeky kitsune #scenario

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dercolaris · 3 years

Text

Unexpected Happiness

Fandom: Resident Evil Village

Characters: Donna Beneviento, Salvatore Moerau, Angie

Relationship: Donna Beneviento & Salvatore Moreau (Friendship)

Genre: Hurt and Comfort, Friendship

Word length: 2084

Warnings: No warnings

Status: Complete

Short summary: All she wants is a friend by her side. It seems that she is not alone with this wish.//Donna Beneviento & Salvatore Moreau, Friendship

Have fun :)

Salvatore scratched his deformed nose lightly, obviously trying to alleviate the recurring itching on his body a little bit. This whole mutation was slowly driving him insane. His new appearance regularly made him sick whenever he dared to take a glimpse in a mirror. He'd probably never been the prettiest boy in the village, but at least the people back then didn't panic at the sight of him or tried to kill him. The doctor looked down at the snow-covered path, a little depressed with his heavy thoughts. Fortunately, Mother Miranda was more than friendly towards him and had welcomed him into her family with open arms – much to the displeasure of Alcina Dimitrescu and Karl Heisenberg. The black-haired man rolled his eyes in annoyance. Apparently the two brawlers agreed on at least one point. A miracle. Salvatore pushed that thought aside and lifted his right hand a little, turning it palm up. The snow fell like soft feathers on his greyish shimmering skin. His eyes watched, fascinated, as the icy flakes slowly melted in the warmth and finally flowed down his fingers. The Lord smiled sadly at the sight. Probably nobody in the village really appreciated the wonders of nature. The doctor wiped his hand dry on his coat and strolled on through the deep snow. Today's family reunion had completely escalated again. Salvatore sighed calmly. That was actually nothing unusual any more, but the intensity of today's dispute set new standards for the future. Terrifying standards. It ended with Alcina completely smashing two wooden beams of the church with her claws, inflicting a severe wound on Karls back and a total of eight Lycans losing their heads.

Mother Miranda was having a hard time getting her spoiled children back to their senses. At that moment, the black-haired man reproached himself for his cowardly behaviour. He would have wanted to intervene earlier, but with his low self-confidence he could not express his thoughts good enough. Alcina and Karl wouldn't listen to him anyway. Salvatore felt a small tear collect in the corner of his eye. He felt so weak and useless compared to them. In addition, they did not suffer from such a drastic physical mutation. Alcina and Karl looked human, but now they lacked any sort of humanity. Their hearts were frozen to death from the greedy parasite in their blood. The black-haired man shook the snow from his coat and wandered on through the far too quiet village. His grey eyes stared up the white path as he could see the outline of a person in the distance. The man wiped his runny nose. A fearless villager? Salvatore shrugged and walked on, panting heavily. After a while he could hear faint sobs. Strange. The doctor got closer and closer to the source of the noise. Without any warning, a doll suddenly stood in his way, the little wooden arms whirling around wildly in the air. The black-haired man frowned in confusion and looked again at the figure, which was now only a few meters away from him on a wooden bench. Donna Beneviento. The black mourning robe left no doubt. What had made the poor woman cry so bitterly? The man took his eyes off the Countess and spoke carefully to the doll at his feet: "Why is your Maker crying like that, Angie? What is wrong?" The wooden figure rattled its mouth for a moment, then replied sadly: “Alcina and Karl were way too loud at the meeting today. Donna was terribly frightened and panicked.” The Lord grimaced angrily. The doll maker was probably the most fragile soul among them and needed special protection from Mother Miranda when the other children argued among themselves again. However, the closer they got to the ceremony, the less the priestess cared about her mentally ill daughter. It almost seemed like she was going to lose interest in Donna.

Salvatore slowly shook his head. Mother Miranda would never abandon any of them. He had to have faith in the priestess. His grey eyes wandered back to the crying woman. How could a ghastly figure like him adequately help a fragile, pure soul like Donna? A slight tug on his leg made him look down again. Even Angie looked kind of sad today. The doll muttered tearfully: “Can you make us laugh again, Moreau? Usually we have so much fun together and now we are sad. We don't like that.” The man nodded hesitantly. He knew a few jokes, but they weren't particularly good or suitable for the doll maker. Salvatore held out his hand to the wooden figure. Angie looked a little sceptically at the bulging fingers and finally cautiously cupped them. Together they walked through the snow. The Countess had taken off her face veil and was crying bitterly into her hands. The doctor hesitated for a moment, but then sat down next to the woman on the cold wood. The material groaned under his weight, but withstood the strain. Angie made herself comfortable between them. The doll continued to hold his hand and made no move to let go of it for the next few minutes. Salvatore wanted to start to speak, but closed his mouth again. He had never had to comfort anyone. Meanwhile, the salty tears were dripping from the woman's narrow chin onto her black dress. The Lord sighed and spoke softly: "Ms. Beneviento, I am terribly sorry for what you had to go through in Church today. These two idiots cannot always curb their temperament and mother Miranda is too overwhelmed with them. Alcina and Karl still don't deserve your tears.” The addressed only sniffed louder at his reply. The man slumped a little.

Could he possibly have said something wrong? Angie's childish voice answered the unsolicited question: "We understand your kind words, Moreau, but we can't just stop crying." The black-haired man put his free hand on his chin and tapped his lower lip. What a difficult task. After a while, he continued slowly: “It's okay to cry and to give space to the overwhelming fear in your heart. Tears cleanse our souls after all.” The doll now also lowered her head a little. More snowflakes fell from the dark sky, wrapping those present in a white, icy robe. The white smoke puffed out of his nose as he exhaled, making it very clear how cold it actually had to be. Salvatore rubbed the hypothermic skin on his cheek and started speaking again: "Have you ever looked into the sky when the snow is pirouetting in the wind and dancing to the rhythm of nature?" The Countess suddenly froze, the sobs died away this moment. Angie's head turned slowly towards the man next to her. There was a gentle smile on his lips. He reached out his left hand and started counting the snowflakes that touched his skin. The doll watched him carefully, then turned to her creator. As always, the dialogue between them was silent. The doctor waited patiently. Suddenly Donna also raised her hand and turned it upwards. The first snowflakes fell on the pale skin. A small, barely audible giggle escaped the doll maker's throat. She, too, began to count with the Lord in a whisper. Salvatore felt an inner relief. At least for that moment the tears stopped. He tipped his head back as best he could and replied calmly: “I love the gentle touch of the cold. It feels incredibly nice on my face. Especially when the snow starts to melt and then runs down my skin.” The woman was still watching her hand, silently counting the flakes. A pleasant calmness fell over them, enveloping this small part of the village in an almost harmonious atmosphere.

The doctor moved his head back to its original position and smiled at the silent doll maker. She closed her hand very slowly, squeezing a little water out of her fist. Angie shifted slightly on the bench, finally asked a little more calmly than before: “Why did the two of them fight again today? They don't want to be friends, yes?” Salvatore frowned in surprise. Only now did he notice how petrified the Countess's features were. His fingers tightened around the doll's dead hands as he replied uncertainly: “This is very difficult to explain, Angie. I think Alcina and Karl just have different views and get angry when someone contradicts them. I don't know if such a friendship can be made.” The woman did not respond to his explanation. She seemed to withdraw into herself again. Her almost palpable conflict had an incredible effect on the doctor and now prevents him from leaving her alone on the bench. Angie spoke in a whisper: “We had hoped that they would get along and that we could finally be a real family or at least friends. We are sometimes very lonely.” These words hit the man harder than he thought. Presumably everyone present felt how the loneliness ate them up from the inside and would eventually drive them crazy. So he was not alone in suffering from this self-imposed isolation. The black-haired man didn't know what to answer for a second. Salvatore shook some snow off his body and replied cautiously: "I don't know if we will all be one family, but Mother Miranda has deliberately chosen us as her children. I guess there is a chance." The doctor felt that this sentence was a very big lie. A lie he couldn't deny.

Yes, they were all chosen because they were able to integrate the parasite better than the other test objects into their organism. This realization was harsh, but not to be dismissed out of hand. Salvatore could only hope that Donna, out of her childish naivete, did not concern herself with it any further and questioned her position as a daughter. The doll moved its legs slightly, which dangled helplessly from the bench. There was silence between them for a good minute, until Angie asked softly: "So will we be alone forever, Moreau?" The person addressed felt the air in his lungs compress. He shook his head vehemently and said eagerly: “No, no, of course not! You two are such good souls, there is really not a single reason to not like you. You two deserve wonderful friends.” Donna winced slightly, then turned her head to one side. The greyish eyes fixed the disfigured face of the Lord. He was getting nervous at this haunted gaze. As if out of nowhere, the doll maker suddenly spoke in a whisper: “Friends? I deserve friends? Take a good look at my forehead. Who would want me as a friend with this tumour? ”Salvatore stared at her with wide eyes. The parasite felt the woman's forehead with its long antennae and overgrown the wound. The man blinked a few times and tried to not look at the organism. That would be extremely rude to the woman. After a while he replied calmly: “Well, if you want to, Ms. Beneviento, we could actually be friends.” The doll-maker tilted her head slightly, looking for a lie in the Lords eyes.

Angie had jumped up and climbed onto the man's lap. There she squealed excitedly: "Can we be friends too, Moreau? Please, please, please!" "Of course," the doctor laughed in relief and added, "Anyone who wants to be my friend is welcome." The doll immediately began to giggle. She held her wooden hand to her creator and motioned for her to slide closer. Angie said happily: “How long do you want to sit there, Donna? We now have a real nice friend and he will not hurt us! He doesn't bite or do you bite Moreau? Don't lie!” The black-haired man shook his head with a big smile. The Countess hesitated a little longer before carefully sliding further towards the man. When her doll's hand came within reach, she gently cupped her little fingers. Only now did the Lord notice how much Donna was actually shivering from the cold. She whispered softly with chattering teeth: “So we are really friends, Salvatore? Your word of honour?” The childlike naivete surprised the doctor again. Without further ado, he took off his heavy coat and put it warmly around the doll maker's shoulders. She didn't respond to this gesture, just patiently waited for the man to answer. "Yes, word of honour," confirmed the Lord with a smile and lovingly cupped Angie's other hand again. Donna's mouth corners pulled up slowly when she replied softly: "Friends."

#Resident Evil Village #Resident Evil 8 #Donna Beneviento #Salvatore Moreau #Angie #Doll Maker #Doll #Parasite #Friendship #Hurt and Comfort

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straightlikewetspaghetti · 3 years

Text

Demons of the Past

Pairings: Poppy x MC (Bea Hughes)

Warnings: Mature language

Word count: 3074

Ch.1 Stranger Danger

Poppy Min Sinclair had to arch her slender neck to see her reflection from over the shoulder of Chloe, who had been testing her new artistic vision on her for a good few minutes. For some time now, Poppy had become a canvas for Chloe's magical hands as she tried her luck at running a beauty salon, along with Veronica, who was doing her best advertising.

"What do you think V?"

Veronica tore her gaze away from her phone and looked towards Poppy wrinkling her nose slightly. She usually did that when she was seriously considering something. "As far as I'm concerned she could use some plastic surgery."

"Asshole," Poppy laughed hurling a pillow at her friend, which missed and knocked over a decorative vase standing nearby. Three girls looked in that direction and soon the three of them burst out laughing loudly, curling up on the floor.

"Enough, enough!", Chloe began to shout when she noticed that Poppy wanted to wipe her eyes from crying, and she caught her hands, looking at her with a chastising gaze. She wouldn't let her hard work be destroyed so easily. Poppy rolled her eyes, but the smile on her face remained constant as she silently teased the shorter girl along with Veronica. "Why am I hanging out with you guys..."

"You love us," whined Veronica hugging a reddened Chloe with one arm, who lowered her gaze quickly to her hands nervously playing with the hem of her skirt.

Poppy made the sound of displeasure she made whenever the two girls started acting too cute. She was glad for their happiness, but deep down she felt an incredible jealousy, because she herself would like to share her life with someone too.

The couple sort of understood the blonde, pulled away from each other and looked at her docilely.

"Don't worry Poppy, I'm sure you'll meet someone at the party tonight. From what I heard Zoey invited some cutie from the old days...", Chloe smiled as she tried to convey positive energy with her words. "Besides, you're wearing my makeup, no one will be able to resist you!"

"Cutie you say..."

Ch.2 Party Fever

She was the most beautiful girl in the whole room.

No.

She was the most beautiful girl in the entire world.

Bea watched from a dark corner of the room as Poppy twirled effortlessly to the beat of the music, attracting the stares of drooling people with her movements. Her tiny skirt didn't leave much to the imagination either, but that was Poppy Min Sinclair's style; if she wasn't the main attraction, what was the point of her presence?

"You're acting like a creep," she was snapped out of her observation by Zoey who magically appeared next to her, making her almost gasp.

"You should have some kind of bell around your neck, Wade," Bea rolled her eyes at her friend's laughter.

"Wow, she has nice ass... Ets, yeah, nice assets," Zoey smiled innocently seeing her friend's murderous gaze. "You'd better come over to her eventually,"

Her gaze went back to the dancing blonde. "It's been five years, what should I say to her?"

"Maybe something like; Heya Pops I already have money, maybe you want to come with me for a little Macarena?", the black-haired squirmed as Bea's fist landed right in her stomach, almost knocking the air out of her lungs. The slight pain she felt didn't stop her from laughing at the tomato-like look that appeared on her friend's face. "Come on babe, she's at the bar now, this is your opportunity."

Bea nodded and straightened up, ready to attack. "You finally said something with sense."

Ch.3 Deja-vu

"One Old Fashioned and Sex On The Beach."

Poppy turned behind her with a ready biting remark, but her voice froze in her throat when she saw the person standing behind her. And it was none other than Bea Hughes herself, her first drink, crush, kiss, sex, love, but also her first heartbreak. She stood before her as casually as if those five years of separation between them had never existed. Her short brown hair, now shoulder-length, was whiter than snow itself. Her childlike facial features had sharpened and she could see tiny wrinkles appearing from the overworked late nights. Her style had also changed, from boyishly sporty and bad girl to formal and important. She looked like a millionaire ripped straight from the cover of Forbes. She no longer resembled the person she once was.

"You remembered what I drink," the blonde choked out as the first wave of shock left her and the lump in her throat loosened. Talking to her seemed so unreal that she felt like she had lost consciousness and was now dreaming.

Bea smiled in response, though it was more of a tired smile than the beaming howl with which she had greeted Poppy daily in their school years. "There are some things that are hard to forget Pops," the white-haired girl shrugged her shoulders sheepishly as she slid the hundred across the counter towards the bartender, who with renewed vigor reached over and ran to prepare the drinks, nearly tipping over his own feet.

"Feeling generous tonight?", Poppy chuckled as she watched Bea tuck a rather thick bundle of bills into her pocket. In their teenage years, the white-haired girl had barely been able to make ends meet, but Poppy had always admired her ability to live from day to day and enjoy herself, even when an eviction order from her home hung over her head.

Bea laughed a throaty laugh that sounded almost like a cough. She nodded and tilted her head to one side, the way she did every time she got into a thoughtful mood. "There's nothing wrong with supporting the littles." Poppy's insides tightened to ask where she'd gotten all that money, but by some miracle her strong will managed to curb the urge and nip it in the bud. That would be tactless, and lack of tact is a trait that should not be associated with Min Sinclair.

"You can ask me anything you want," Bea looked her straight in the eye, making Poppy stop seeing anyone else but her. It was as if she had cast a spell on her and moved them far away, enclosing them in a safe bubble illusion. Even the music became just a distant rumble as the white-haired woman looked at her that way. The same way she had looked at her five years ago.

"I don't understand," the blonde cursed herself when she heard her own words, which sounded more idiotic than some of Chloe's wisdom. Bea seemed unmoved, by her clumsy attempt at pretending, in fact, a cocky grin appeared on her lips that she, oh so much, felt like tearing off now.

" Don't play games Poppy, we're not kids anymore," Bea reached for the drinks that had finally been brought in and handed one to Poppy, completely casually, fingertips brushing against the skin of her palm. "Drink up, it'll help you relax, and I know you have a lot of questions."

The blonde lowered her gaze to the drink and took a moment to look at the colors that danced on the surface of her liquor. How was Bea able to read her like an open book after all these years. Everyone said she had changed, but could it be that the change wasn't so great after all? And why was she always questioning herself in her company?

She was pulled out of her reverie by Bea, who unnoticeably slipped her finger under her chin and lifted her face so that they were looking at each other again. This time, however, she was closer, much, much closer. Poppy could without much difficulty smell the expensive perfume that didn't match the Bea of her memories, but did match the woman who sat before her. Just as in years past, Bea's thumb involuntarily stroked her cheek.

For a brief moment, the blonde let her selfish thoughts consume her and savor the touch, but it didn't last as long as she wanted it to. "N-no," she whispered and using all of her strong willpower she moved a safe distance away from the white-haired woman, who didn't object to her reaction. "I can't do it like this," she said as she walked away, escaping as quickly as possible from this cursed place, from this cursed past.

Ch.4 When It Rains, It Pours

When she left the building, it was already dark and chilly outside, and a light rain was drizzling from the heavy clouds hanging in the sky. At this point, however, she didn't care about ruining her expensive and designer clothes and makeup that Chloe had sat on for dozens of minutes. She needed to get some fresh air, cool down, and let her thoughts flow.

Why had she come back just now? Now that Poppy had put her life back together, without her and without thoughts of her.

"Sinclair!"

"You've got to be kidding me," she snorted under her breath hearing Bea's loud voice behind her, who as usual wasn't giving up. At least that hadn't changed. "What do you want Farmsville?"

Bea squirmed at that old nickname, but quickly imposed a stoic expression on her face and shoved her hands into her pockets. Even in this gentle rain and illuminated only by the slightly penetrating moonlight, she continued to look like a goddess, which annoyed Poppy immensely.

"You ran out so suddenly, I thought something happened and I thought..."

"Oooh now you thought?" snapped the blonde, who nervously shifted from foot to foot, almost ready to throw herself at the white-haired woman's throat. Years of pent up rage bubbled through her veins, making her skin almost burn with living fire. "Forgive my surprise, but I would never judge Bea Hughes for her ability to think!"

The white-haired woman watched her in silent contemplation, answering nothing. Her silence irritated the blonde a hundred times more than anything she could say. The atmosphere between them was becoming strained to the limit and all it took was one wrong move, one misspoken word, and the catastrophe was certain. The rain intensifying around them wasn't helping either.

"I don't understand what happened. We were talking calmly like we used to, and suddenly you run out and do one of your tantrums..."

"Ha! Like we used to...," she interrupted her again in mid-sentence, mimicking her and almost bursting into maniacal laughter, but her mood had nothing to do with amusement. "I guess you've already forgotten that you left me for five whole years and now you're back and you expect us to talk like old friends?", her voice wavered between anger and tears. "Someone paid you to come back here? That's where you got the money from, right? You were hired to get revenge on me..."

"What," the astonishment in Bea's voice was almost palpable as she stared at the blonde shaking with anger with her eyes wide open. It was Poppy's nature to explode and make arguments for any reason, but what she was saying now sounded irrational, even for her. "I'm the CEO of my uncle's company, that's where I get my money from," she corrected.

"What," this time it was Poppy's turn to be surprised and her face even softened. "What do you mean, what about your dreams of becoming a music star?"

Bea scratched the back of her neck nervously and lifted her face up, letting the raindrops wash her face of any negativity that had accumulated. When she felt ready enough not to explode, she looked back at the blonde and sighed, her face looking more tired than before. "Those were childhood daydreams. A music career would never make me the kind of money an accounting firm would."

"Childish daydreams? You spent your first earned money on a guitar and an amplifier, how can you call that childish daydreams...", the concern in Poppy's voice was sincere, probably one of the more sincere feelings she had felt in recent times.

"I needed real options and real money," Bea replied dryly, ignoring any emotion from the blonde, who was looking at her with a worried expression on her face.

"What for? Why did you need the money?" she asked, not yet knowing that she would light the fuse from the bomb with that question.

"What for? Is that really what you're asking?", Bea's so far calm expression bent into unnatural anger, her eyes misting over from the emotions gripping her. "And isn't that what you wanted? A girl who can fulfill your every whim, with a stable life, a job and a mountain of money?", a realization and simultaneous remorse appeared on Poppy's face, but it did not satisfy Bea. "Yes Poppy, I heard your conversation with Veronica the other night when you thought I was sleeping."

Poppy blinked several times, unable to formulate a response. She replayed that conversation in her mind, all the words she'd said then that she hadn't really meant, but under the onslaught of people around her, her perception was distorted. "It's not like that..."

Bea raised a hand to silence any explanation from the blonde. She didn't want to hear it. "No Pops" she shook her head, her hair wet from the downpour sticking to her face, masking any tears falling. "It at least gave me the motivation to change my life, for that I will be grateful."

Ch.5 Irreplaceable

"You understand that she still had the nerve to be mad at me? Like it's my fault for changing for her," Bea had been lamenting to Zoey for about an hour, who, like any patient friend, silently let her rant.

"And she's telling me that she changed for me... After all, I didn't ask her to!", Poppy nervously walked around the living room almost already trampling a path in the tiles. A worried Veronica and Chloe watched her in silence, letting her get all the negative emotions out.

"I know she didn't ask me to do this, but I wanted to finally be worthy of her, you know? I wanted to give her the future she deserved, and she wouldn't have it with me if I continued to follow my dreams," the white-haired girl slumped helplessly on the couch next to her friend, dipping her face into her hands. "After all, to a gorgeous girl like Poppy, it wouldn't be enough that I...”

"After all, she knew full well that she suited me the way she was, why did she take away the one person I..."

"Love."

"I wish I could be mad at her...", Bea muttered lifting her face and looking straight at Zoey who seemed to be in deep thought.

"But I can't," groaned Poppy leaning against Veronica's shoulder, who reflexively began to stroke the blonde's back, which slowly began to twitch from her silent crying. Chloe moved to the other side and snuggled into Poppy to give her her full support, knowing that no words could heal these wounds.

Zoey nodded and patted the white-haired girl's shoulder giving her silent support. Bea relaxed from her friend's touch. "Haven't you thought maybe it's about time..."

"To move on and find someone new? It's been five years," Veronica felt Poppy's whole body tense up and prepared for a burst of anger, from the blonde, but the blonde only raised her head and furrowed her eyebrows."

"No. She's irreplaceable."

Ch.6 Where Something Ends, Something Begins

It had been a week since the memorable meeting.

Since then, Poppy hadn't seen or heard from Bea who had sunk like a stone into water. Such disappearing without a word wasn't her style, but the blonde wasn't sure what her style was anymore. The days she lived as she always did, and the nights she sat curled up on the couch with a glass of wine and reminisced about old times while talking to herself.

"Thank you for coming Poppy."

Poppy slipped her sunglasses off her nose and looked over at Zoey who was warming her hands with a mug of hot coffee. "Believe it, I was surprised myself that I agreed," she lied. She agreed without hesitation because she knew it was about Bea, and inside she was dying to know what was happening to her.

Zoey giggled at the blonde's nudge and shook her head. Although her words were biting, there wasn't an ounce of incivility in them. Such a habit between them. "You can probably guess why I met with you."

"Is it about Bea?", Poppy tried to sound as formal as possible and not show that she was thinking about it day in and day out, almost unable to focus on anything else. How pathetic it would be if someone found out she couldn't control her feelings.

The black-haired woman sighed grimly and nodded her head. For a moment she began to search through her backpack and pulled out a strange little bundle. Poppy tilted her head and looked at the colorful paper that only her Bea could choose. She smiled at the surge of positive memories.

"The day she left, she told me to give this to her. I honestly thought about it for a long time, against all odds I wouldn't want you to suffer any more than you already have," Zoey's gaze drifted somewhere behind Poppy's back as she couldn't stand the pain in the blonde's eyes that grew with every word she said. "But I think this will help both you and her close a chapter in your life" Zoey pulled money out of her pocket and placed it next to the empty cup. Without a word, she placed a hand on the blonde's shoulder, who stared at the package as if mesmerized. She squeezed it tightly and walked away, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

With trembling hands, she reached for the bundle and prepared to open it. Somewhere deep inside she knew exactly what she would find, but she hoped that it was only an illusion and that it would not really contain what she had in mind. Unfortunately, hope is the mother of fools and when she opened the package, a velvet box appeared before her eyes.

She opened it with tears in her eyes.

"Maybe in another life and another time we would have had a chance, but I will love you always."

#my mood is weird #poppy min sinclair #poppy x mc #veronica x chloe #queen b #choices #playchoices #choicesfic

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adarlingwrites · 3 years

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Taste

Summary: The blue bard is sickeningly sweet for Astarion's preferences, but he'll never forget her taste.

Author’s Notes: Taste is a collection of retellings of Astarion's scenes with the player character from the Baldur's Gate 3 early access, but with a little more embellishments. Plus, it has glimpses of my tiefling's backstory.

I had horrible, horrible artist's and writer's block and I needed to get this out of my system to get the creative juices flowing again. Please excuse any typos or lack of quality.

Larian give us the bard class pls I am begging of you

I - Blueberry Wine

The time for rest has come.

Bedrolls are strewn on the campgrounds, and most of its inhabitants are already asleep. Nothing can be heard save for the crackle of fire, the chirp of birds in the woods, and soft snoring.

If it wasn’t for their common goal of removing those damned illithid tadpoles from their heads before they undergo ceremorphosis, the members of this party wouldn’t even spend five minutes within each others’ presence. Now, they’re sleeping in one place. It takes some measure of trust for that.

The dreams of the tiefling in their ragtag group aren’t sweet tonight, to say the least.

Brows furrowed as another nightmare wormed into her psyche, the tiefling tosses and turns in her bedroll, a thin film of sweat giving her forehead a slight sheen in the firelight. Eyes shooting open, she choked back a gasp, lest she wake up her companions in the camp. The crackle of the campfire and the smell of burning wood gave her some semblance of comfort, at least, reminding her of distant memories.

A warm hearth, a kind face, the smell of freshly baked blueberry pie; simple comforts from her youth that she missed terribly.

The comfort that accompanied the nostalgia was enough to make her drift back to sleep. Woefully, it didn’t stop the nightmares from coming back, now centered around the tiefling’s early years.

Small, bare feet pitter-pattered on the wet pavement, frantic gasps escaped her dry mouth. Choking back a sob, more people went after her, shouting, hurling words that scraped her heart.

“Stop! Thief!”

“Devil!”

“Slay the demon!”

Lungs burning from exertion, the little tiefling whelp coughs, rasps for air, and slides under a cart. In the dark, she can see a narrow alleyway, which she scurries into. The men run past her hiding spot, cursing and muttering amongst themselves. Relief floods through her as their torchlights grew dim.

Safe, at last.

Her trembling arms had been holding on to precious cargo; a stale loaf of bread, wrapped in linen. It’s not a delectable morsel of steak, or rich bone marrow, but it’s better than the rocks she grinded with her sharp teeth for breakfast.

As she takes it out of the cloth, a stone drops in her stomach and horror twists on her young face. The tiefling isn’t holding a loaf of bread, but a severed head of a drow. A scream threatened to escape her throat and pierce the night air, but the tiefling maiden could only gasp as she felt a presence behind her.

Wine red eyes still heavy with sleep met with alert, ruby ones. She isn’t dreaming any longer.

In the dim firelight, she sees him. Astarion.

Truth be told, she doesn’t quite know what to feel about the posh elf. Astarion’s handsome face and fair curls are easy on the eyes, but it only reminded her of how hellish she looks in comparison due to her infernal ancestry. His sharp, calculating eyes puts her at unease, even when his gaze isn’t directed towards her. He has a way of making people feel beneath him, like vulnerable prey. Serenity is not exempt from that, despite her efforts to be pleasant to him. Not to mention, Astarion’s attitude and mannerisms reminded her of the uppity nobles she had the displeasure of encountering in her colorful past.

In short, he’s a handsome fellow with a revolting attitude, at least to Serenity’s standards. Lust and indignation battles with each other in the tiefling’s psyche.

It doesn’t help at all that the elf is fond of calling her pet names, such as “sweetheart” or “dear”. No one calls her such sweet things with genuine intent, not after she saw the drow’s head on a pike, and to hear them from his condescending mouth stirs something dark in her heart.

It especially inflames her whenever he calls her “darling”.

She wanted to pounce on him. However, she wasn’t sure what she wanted after that.

Tear his pretty face asunder with her nails and watch his handsome features contort in agony, perhaps? Or watch him writhe underneath her in a more… carnal manner as she takes out all of her frustration by mashing her ravenous mouth against his lovely lips?

Maybe both?

“Oh, Serenity. You have no need for that sort of�� decadence,” she thinks to herself.

Alas, her body says otherwise.

“Shit,” he says upon meeting eyes with her, distracting the tiefling from her thoughts. Serenity didn’t expect such a vulgar word to come out of his pretty mouth, and she didn’t expect the gleaming fangs inside of it either.

How could she not see it the first few times?

The dead boar they found on the road, the fact that she had never seen him consume any food, and the wolfish way he eyes her neck when he thought she wasn’t looking should’ve given it away.

Astarion is a vampire. Worse, he's a vampire who’s intending to sink his teeth in Serenity’s neck.

Whatever terrible things she secretly wanted to do to him, she had no chance of enacting them in this situation. Hells, if anything, Astarion is the one with the capacity to do terrible things to her. The tiefling will be at his mercy, if she doesn’t act fast. So, why isn’t her body doing anything to move?

Heart racing, she needed to say something, at least.

“Stop,” Serenity warns him, voice low, baring her own sharp teeth. The tiefling had considered smashing her precious lute over his head as a last resort. Before the bard can lash out, he pulls back, alarmed.

“No no, it’s not what it looks like, I swear!” Astarion hastily blurts, panic evident in his voice. “ I wasn’t going to hurt you! I just needed- well, blood.”

The elf’s admission confirms it; Astarion is a vampire, a creature enslaved to sanguine hunger.

At that moment, an expression that Serenity hasn’t seen on the elf before twists his features: guilt. The vampire knew he’s betraying her trust, and it shows.

“How long since you killed someone? Days? Hours?” Serenity asks, on guard now, but still sitting on her bedroll.

Eyes widening, Astarion’s tone becomes defensive. “I’ve never killed anyone!” he exclaims. Then, his expression turns grim. “Well, not for food. I feed on animals. Boars, deer, kobolds! Whatever I can get.”

The lass feels slightly reassured that she’s not dealing with a blood-sucking serial killer, but the possibility of him lying puts her on edge again.

“But it’s not enough,” the pale elf speaks again. Serenity half expected him to say this, he did try to bite her after all. “Not if I have to fight. I feel so… weak.”

And there it was, the last thing she expected from him: vulnerability. His reluctance to show weakness was written all over his face. Perhaps it wounds his pride? Regardless of the doubt she has for him, it changed Serenity’s perception of the vampire ever so slightly.

“If I just had a bit of blood, I could think clearer. Fight better. Please.”

Now this is a pleasant surprise. Astarion saying please? Is this a dream?

Still, the tiefling wanted to dig deeper at the truth. Brows knitting together in concentration, she knew better than to use the tadpole, but the damn thing established a psionic link with other infected individuals.

Serenity pushes into the vampire’s mind to search for the truth.

“I- what’s this? What’s happening?” Astarion blurts, experiencing slight discomfort from the intrusion.

Pushing deep into the elf’s cracked and quivering memories, Serenity strains as she sifts through centuries worth of them, until she has reached its heart. There, she found herself in Astarion’s shoes; quite literally. She sees dark eyes that commanded her to feed, and instinctively, her body follows suit. Serenity, experiencing this through Astarion’s memory, opens her mouth, biting down, but not into a tender, pulsing neck. Though she wanted to recoil in disgust, there was no other choice; she couldn’t physically resist. The choice had been made for her- no, made for Astarion.

Astarion’s fangs pierce the twisting body of a rat - the only thing his master allows him to eat.

In return, Serenity’s own memories leak through the cracks of her psyche, and Astarion finds himself in the body of a wee girl with horns too big for her head. Ravenously, he inhales the sweet, buttery aroma of a freshly-baked pie resting on a windowsill. Astarion’s hands, now small and of bluish color, reach for the baked good with caution. A warm, ash-colored hand presses on his shoulder, and he sees the smiling face of a tall, drow man. Instead of hurting him for attempting to steal, the dark elf ushers him to a table, and offers him a slice with a compassionate smile. Serenity will never forget her first taste of the buttery pie crust, the sweet blueberries, and a hint of lemon and salt.

Now, Astarion will never forget that taste, either.

The connection between them severed, Serenity takes a moment to collect herself.

“You ate animals because you were forced to. Not because you wanted to,” she mumbles, eyebrows knitted together. Is it sympathy? Or perhaps his experiences reminded her of her own relationship with food?

Whatever it was, the tiefling’s perception of Astarion drastically shifted. On the surface, Astarion is a noble who turns up his nose at folks like her, but in truth, he suffered under the hands of a cruel master.

Being a pompous ass is a defense mechanism for him.

“I- yes,” Astarion says with resignation. “Yes, I ate whatever disgusting vermin my master picked. So, you can see why I’m slow to trust you,” he continues, and Serenity swore the expression he wore on his face tugged a few strings in her heart.

“But I do trust you, and you can trust me,” Astarion tells her.

Serenity thinks it might not be fair for her not to. How can she say that she can’t, after she saw his past for herself, and he didn’t show any hostility towards her for intruding upon his darkest, most haunting memories?

“I do. I believe you,” the bard responds, and she can hear his relief when he mutters “Thank you.”

Perhaps Serenity had judged him too harshly in the past. The drow who took her in cultivated compassion in her heart, and it’s beckoning to her.

“Do you need blood?” Serenity asks him, and there is genuine surprise on his face.

“I was about to ask,” he tells her, expression shifting into something more pleasant. “I only need a taste, I swear.”

“As long as you don’t take a drop more than you need,” Serenity replies, loosening her clothing slightly, her smallclothes peeking through.

“Really?” he asks, and he sounds almost eager.

“I- of course. Not one drop more.”

That damn vampire flashes her a smile that sends lightning rippling through her veins.

Astarion’s yearning eyes flicked to her exposed flesh, barely making out the purple tinge on her bluish skin as blood rushed from her chest to her face. Seeing where his eyes are roaming, Serenity feels her heart racing faster, and she swiftly lies down, back turned away from him. The tiefling bard is not about to let her companion see her flustered state.

Face inches away from her head, Astarion catches a whiff of the tiefling’s scent. He quietly thanked the gods that she didn’t smell of sulfur or rotting meat; instead, the bard smells of ash from freshly burned incense, laced with a warm, spiced scent.

The vampire holds her gently, delicately, until he strikes.

Astarion sinks deep, fangs like shards of ice piercing her neck. Serenity lets out a gasp, and her face contorts into an expression of pain and discomfort. Thankfully, the pain is quick and sharp, and as the vampire continues to feed, it fades gently into throbbing numbness. The bard feels her blood coursing through her body, into Astarion’s mouth, who sucked and slurped it hungrily.

He leans forward, one arm almost draping over the bard’s torso to support his weight, while the other still holds her head. Palm running through her short obsidian hair, he stops as they touch one of her horns, hand enclosing into a fist around it. Gently tugging, the elf tilts her head for better access.

Astarion’s lips are wet from his meal’s blood and sweat, and his own saliva. They glided on the sensitive skin ever so slightly as he pursed them and sucked harder. Serenity found her breath catching in her throat from his actions, pulse quickening as her hand flew to grasp Astarion’s arm, filed fingernails turning white at the end.

In a figurative and literal sense, she’s holding on to dear life.

“Ah, Astarion, that’s enough,” she mewls, hand moving to grasp his hair, fingernails running through his scalp. Not enough to hurt, but enough for the vampire to snap out of it due to the sensation it produced.

The vampire moans, almost carnally, then it is followed by a surprised, questioning grunt. Serenity’s pleas, and the scrape of her fingernails took him from his trance-like state. Immediately, he removes himself from her neck, swallowing thickly.

“Oh. Of course.”

Serenity sits up as he pulls back, light-headed from the blood loss. She turns to the pale elf, her breathing ragged as her fingers gingerly pressed on her bite wound. The tiefling felt a blush creep on her face, neck, and pointy ears as she gazes upon Astarion’s face. In the firelight, she can see that his pupils are blown out in ecstasy, and blood is trickling from the corner of his mouth.

“That- that was amazing,” Astarion purrs, wiping off her blood and bringing his fingers to his mouth, savoring it to the last drop. “My mind is finally clear. I feel strong. I feel…”

He pauses, and Serenity stopped breathing for a moment.

“Happy,” he continued, sighing in contentment as he gave her a gentle, genuine smile.

Serenity had to blink a few times to confirm that she wasn’t seeing things.

She clears her throat, hoping to dissipate the delicious tension between them. “I look forward to seeing you fight,” the bard says to him, drawing her knees to her chest.

“Shouldn’t take long. So many people need killing,” Astarion responds, bowing ever so slightly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, you’re invigorating, but I need something more… filling.”

The pale elf turns around and just like that, he is back to normal, snobbish self.

Serenity slumps back on her bedroll, exhaling slowly as her heart finally slows down. Her body crashes from the surge of adrenaline and the blood loss. Turning her head, she watches as the elf stalks towards the forest; stronger, more confident, and ready to hunt.

“This is a gift, you know,” Astarion tells her, back still turned from her, looking over his shoulder.

“I won’t forget it.”

Serenity won’t forget it either.

It didn’t take long before Astarion found a deer in the forest. As he drank the beast’s blood, he couldn’t help but compare the taste to Serenity’s blood. The animal is more filling indeed, but now? Nothing compares to the taste of the tiefling’s delicious blood.

She is the first humanoid he ever tasted, after all.

And how will he describe her taste?

The darling tiefling is bubbly, gentle, and sweet, much like her demeanor; almost sickeningly so, for his standards. It’s comparable to the Monastery of the Yellow Rose’s blueberry wine: a fragrant dessert wine he had the pleasure of consuming with delicate cheeses and light cakes back when he didn’t have any fangs.

Or perhaps he had associated her with the fruit due to her memories mingling with his.

Either way, when he said that he won’t forget it, he wasn’t just referring to the favor she did for him. Astarion was referring to Serenity’s taste as well.

Meanwhile, in the camp, Serenity draws her lute to her chest, plucking the strings softly in an attempt to lull herself to sleep. It doesn’t ease her into slumber like it usually does. Sighing, she squeezes her thighs together, heat pooling between them as she recalled the vampire’s lips on her pulsing neck. Perhaps it’s not the lute that she should be plucking at.

Reaching into the waistband of her trousers, the bard gives in to her secret desires.

At least there weren’t any more nightmares for the night.

#baldur's gate #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion x mc #oc: serenity | zalia #tiefling #tiefling character #tiefling bard #cw: blood

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yuusa · 3 years

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𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐨𝐝 𝟏𝟑

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟔𝟐𝟒𝟒

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞

𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝟏𝟑:

You pressed your lips together, staring at the board with a look of boredom and displeasure. There was an itchy feeling in your chest, it made you feel deeply uncomfortable. It’s almost as if today was going to be one of misery, you couldn’t tell if it’s just some sort of psychic reading or it’s because you have a test soon, it may even be both. You sighed and resisted the urge to lean your chair back to stretch, but the teacher was going over something important about the test.

You turned to the side, seeing Tohru fidget with one of her pencils to calm herself about the upcoming tests. She was wearing a new ribbon today. It was a soft shade of blue that had bits of lace on its edges, did she recently buy that? You wondered if she would get tutored by Yuki like he said they do, the upcoming test would be for math. It must be nice to have someone constantly tutor you and helping, but you quickly tried to dismiss this idea as a selfish need. Yuki was kind enough to help you with math the other day and you didn’t want to take advantage of his skills or generosity.

You didn’t need anyone or anything in this life if it meant making others happy.

You were better off alone and that is the truth, you thought. If you were God’s Messenger, perhaps your first message should be to announce the disbandment of the Zodiacs, maybe that would give equal freedom to everyone but yourself. You didn’t know exactly what the Zodiacs were going to do when they were free, but they could live their lives as regular animals with a stronger sense of friendship. You really didn’t know exactly what would happen, but it was simply a thought.

You yawned into your hand, feeling small droplets of tears forming at the corner of your eyes. You eyed Yuki silently, noticing the way he continued to tap the tip of his pencil against his paper as he rested his chin on the palm of his hand. He was extremely hardworking despite not wanting to clean his room. He is really cool, you thought. He smiles so often to the other girls in the class and can interact with them at a certain distance, whenever he was in a good mood he would shine even brighter than he already is, it was almost blinding, to say the least.

His eyes were a nice shade of grayish blue as well. They rarely ever looked strange underneath the light and they expressed so much of himself that you felt a bit envious. You nibbled on the bottom of your lip, you were starting to feel bad about yourself in class just because your eyes weren’t as good or pretty like Yuki’s.

You sighed and tried to write in your journal to keep your mind away from it. You noticed the small crease in one of the older pages, knowing that you rarely ever fold the paper or damage it, it was slightly suspicious. It seemed to be on the page when you came over to the Sohma household, did someone go through your journal? If so, when did this happen? Before you could explore this thought the sound of the bell rang echoed in the room, dismissing all of the students at once.

You almost forgot that you had to do your rounds today around the school for the committee, luckily you went through your previous pages to see that you had written yourself a reminder. As you were packing up your belongings, Yuki came to your side, already finished with his own things. You suppose that he wanted to do the rounds around the school with you this time instead of usually splitting up.

“You look better today, (L/n)-san, just a bit tired though.” He commented, your face turning away from him as you quickly packed your things into your bag.

“I suppose so. Where would you like to go first?” You asked, already knowing that the two of you needed to make your rounds at school.

“We could try the first couple of floors together and make our way up.” He responded, giving you a smile with his familiar grey eyes shining underneath the classroom lights.

You pressed your lips together in slight jealousy but nodded, “sure. We can go now.”

Yuki noticed the small pout on your lips during class but decided not to comment on it, finding the situation strange to explain if he were to talk about it. You were looking much calmer on the outside today, but he thought that you might have a whirlwind of thoughts by the way you continuously wrote in your journal. He wondered if what he said yesterday was affecting your mood.

“(L/n)-san, something is still bothering you despite our conversation yesterday.” He commented, “do you. . . Feel like I’m not really your friend?”

You halted your steps, the two of you standing in the hallway only a few steps away from the classroom you exited. You didn’t know exactly how to respond to his comment, there was not much to say and you didn’t want to bother him with something dull like your problems.

“It’s not that. . . I don’t want to raise concerns, I’m fine.” Before you could continue walking he tugged on your wrist, keeping you there.

Before he could say another word, you silently ‘booped’ his nose with your index finger. His cheeks turned a bright shade of red as you turned away from him.

“Relax Sohma-san. I’m fine.” You gave him a teasing smile before continuing to walk down the hallway.

Yuki sighed in response as he held his hand up towards his face, the unexpected gesture from you being unfamiliar as his cheeks slowly calmed down. He quickly walked to catch up to you, choosing to trust in your word that everything was alright.

While you still felt the ominous telling of the future, you thought to be on edge. You hoped that Yuki hadn’t noticed it but it seems as if he really wanted to be your actual friend. You tightened your grip around your journal as you both walked around the school in relative silence.

You didn’t know exactly why being real friends mattered to him, he could easily make other friends that were much better than you, much easier to manage and easier to talk to. You dolefully stared at each of the classrooms and halls, doing your duty while minding your own thoughts.

You were so gloomy.

You frowned in response to your own comments before turning to look at Yuki. His beautiful eyes and soft hair, those fluttering long eyelashes, it was hard to deny that you were envious to the bone. You constantly compared yourself to him, the thought making you feel worse by the second. You grit your teeth, the action going unnoticed by Yuki as you both walked up the flight of stairs.

Was it truly worth worrying about something you couldn’t change?

You spent so much time worrying about yourself instead of actually wanting to protect others. . . You were. . . Too selfish. No matter how beautiful the outside of Yuki’s eyes were, there was always this hint of sorrow hidden beneath the color. You connected with him in a way, a subtle feeling but it still existed like a small string looped around your fingers.

Perhaps he could be the Rat to the Eagle’s destiny.

Maybe he already is.

You should try to open up to him, you thought. Instead of constantly worrying and thinking about the problems you may never fix or find resolve in, you could help someone else and see them smile as brightly as you wanted to shine. To erase the sadness that burdens the rat. . . That’s the job of God’s Messenger.

There was this feeling of hope blooming within your chest.

You are the Eagle in the story.

The two of you finally approached the other floor, noticing Tohru being surrounded by a familiar group of boys from the Sohma family. While Kyo stood by her side while scolding at Momiji for his poor taste in clothing, Haru was standing there casually, his choice of wardrobe being nearly as bad as Momiji’s. You wondered if it was an inherited trait in the Sohma family to have poor taste in clothing or they were rebellious children who wanted to wear their own clothing. Everyone other than Yuki had a strange sense of fashion, but it wasn’t far fetched to say his choices are not weird as well.

Haru quickly notices Yuki coming up the steps, ignoring your presence as he went up to grip at Yuki’s sides. You wondered why he and the rest of the family constantly ignore you but you chose to believe that it was because you were an outsider.

“Sheesh, I can’t believe you’re wearing that Momiji. Haru, you too.” Yuki said, the white-haired male staring at him, clearly tuning him out for a moment.

“Yuki-kun, (Y/n)-kun, are you both done with committee work?” You raised your eyebrow, noticing the sudden change in the way Tohru addressed Yuki. She was actually calling him bt his given name for once. Perhaps they really did get much closer in the past couple of days.

The tinge of sadness poked at your heart, but you couldn’t understand why.

“No, not yet. We were doing our rounds at school and just happened to come across the two of you.” He responded, referring to the two rule-breaking students that couldn’t follow the dress code properly.

“Hey, Tohru! Guess what? I got told not to run around or horseplay at school because I might crash into a girl! So while I’m at school, I’m gonna play it cool!" Momiji added, gathering the rest of the groups' attention onto you, the outsider who heard this suspicious line.

“Cool?! Is that outfit cool?!” Kyo shouted back.

You stood there blank, not really knowing what to say. It seems as if they weren’t allowed to physically hug any girls at school, which does correlate to Yuki’s strange habit of pushing other girls away.

Are the Sohma family. . . Allergic to girls?

You deadpanned.

“Your dubiousness is justified, Sohma Kyo of Class 2-D! Your orange hair bothers me, but a boy wearing a girl’s uniform is unprecedented! Brazen! Shameless!” The brown-haired upperclassman with his other council members stood beside him, all three of them wore classes, which you thought was an interesting thing to point out. “The teachers may allow it, but I will not! For I am student council president Takei Makoto!“

Crap. . . You thought, it’s Takei Makoto.

You and Yuki facepalmed, trying not to get involved in this strange situation you were both tangled up in. More specifically, Yuki, as this was his entire family being criticized underneath the student council president.

“Another idiot appears,” Haru comments.

Takei raised his voice, stepping just a few feet away from Haru’s face, “just what do you think you’re doing, Sohma Hatsuharu? Your hair is white! And you’re practically jangling with jewelry. The audacity!”

“President Takei, that’s his natural hair.” Yuki clarified, holding up his hand to create distance between him and his cousin.

“Oh, Yuki-kun! (L/n)-san! How nice to see you both! But more important, natural?! Part of it is black!” Takei’s eyes seemed to have grown into hearts as he looked at both of you, finally acknowledging your presence.

“Even so. . .” Yuki continued.

You almost forgot that this student council was also highly infatuated with Yuki, similar to the way everyone else is also into him. You wanted to massage your head as you felt a migraine growing at the sound of his loud voice.

“I don’t believe it! It goes against common sense!” He retorted, getting even closer to Haru’s face to examine his features. “Now what’s the meaning of your appearance? Is that your natural self, eh, Sohma Momiji?! Have you no male pride? If you’re like this at your age, your life is on the fast track to failure!”

“But. . . But this uniform looks better on me!” Momiji’s eyes began to tear up as you pressed your lips together into a frown.

You quickly stepped between both of them, stopping Tohru in her path and pushing Takei back a few centimeters from Momiji.

“That should be enough from you, President Takei.”

Momiji’s eyes widened, seeing your intimidating presence being officially recognized to the entire group, your cold, harsh glare staring straight into Takei’s lens covered eyes. Takei seemed flustered at the sudden intrusion but he quickly adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. Your eyes sharpened slightly as you focused your attention on the upperclassman in front of you, you certainly didn’t want to hear him degrade another student’s future.

He began to grit his teeth as he adjusted his glasses frames once more, trying too hard to look cool, “with all respect (L/n)-san, how could you stand by this rule-breaker?! Don’t you think he has no sense of pride?!”

“I don’t think it’s much of an issue. If he feels the most comfortable, then that is what matters,” You addressed, crossing your arms across your chest, “our job here at school is to make the students feel safe and welcome, I doubt giving them an earful would help them.”

“That is true! But we have specific rules that we all need to follow! I respect your opinion here (L/n)-san, but-”

“Shut up. Quit playing king of the hill, you human trash.” Haru interrupted.

“Wh-wh-wh-what” Takei stuttered as Haru grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.

“Oi, Haru!” Kyo shouted, trying to pull him away from Takei.

“Fine, let me ask you: are guys wearing neckties never muggers? Are guys without piercings never bullies? Do guys with black hair never murder people?!” Haru violently shook the poor man around, his brain easily turning to mush as if it was being stirred around like a smoothie, “who do you think you are, eh? God? Well, ain’t that something! Give us a few words! God! Go on!”

You could see Takei’s soul slipping away from his body as Haru continued to shake him.

Kyo gripped onto Haru’s shoulder, stopping him from turning Takei into some sort of drink by the excessive amount of shaking, “oi, cut it out! He’s got no training!”

“Butt out you stupid cat!”

“Don’t call me stupid you damn brat!”

“Oh? Don’t act like you’re so great! You ran from our last fight with your tail between your legs!” The two of them crashed against each other, their forehead grinding against one another as they stared at each other with a heated gaze.

“You’re the one who called that fight off!”

“What are you on his side?! You think he’s right!?”

You clicked your tongue before shoving the two of them apart, “what are you two? Children? Knock it off.” You glared at them, causing both of them to cower down and turn their heads away from you, the argument settling down as quickly as it started.

It was odd to see Haru not comment against you, but it seemed like even your gaze affected him. He quickly made his way to the other council members who were trying to bring Takei back to life, his body dangling lifelessly in their arms.

“Hey, ladies,” Haru greeted.

“Don’t drag them into it. . .” Kyo said, his hand on his forehead as his brain started to ache at Haru’s nonsense.

“What do you think? Take Momiji there—don’t you think he’s fine in that uniform? He’ll grow eventually. What’s the harm in waiting to dress like a man until then? He’ll be a real looker, trust me.” The other girls turned their heads to see Momiji happily enjoying the candy lollipop he had in his hands.

They quickly imagined a much older boy, his curly blond hair, and eyes becoming more mature as he gave the girls an imaginary wink. “He’s fine.” The girls responded, holding out their hands to worship the shorter boy.

“Don’t let him brainwash you!” Takei quickly stood up, still trying to defend his own point of view against someone as stubborn as Haru. “Wh-Wh-What’s the matter with you?! This is unheard of!”

“It’s always best to wear what looks good on you, huh? It’s like (L/n)-san said, whatever makes you comfortable!” Haru patted the top of Momiji’s head, the smaller boy feeling content as he continued to suck on the lollipop that he pulled out from his pocket.

You raised your eyebrows once again, you didn’t quite understand Haru’s behavior. There were moments where he would become calmer and then go back to being heated the next second. You were more surprised to hear that he actually addressed you by name this time.

“Unacceptable! That’s pure selfishness, and unfair to the other students—“

“You just won’t quit. Okay, then, what if Yuki wore a girl’s uniform?” Haru suggested.

Takei went through a moment of shocking realization, his mind immediately picturing Yuki in the girl’s uniform, calling out his name in his girlish voice.

“It’s fine.” He responded, tears streaming down his eyes as he pictured such a glorious image.

You visibly cringed, “what? That’s disgusting.”

The rest of the group stared at you in shock, not knowing that you felt such strong revulsion against the idea of Yuki wearing feminine clothing. Yuki felt the most surprised, hearing you voice your own objection regarding his outer appearance.

Could you really blame yourself for disliking the idea of forcing Yuki into girly clothing? It looked greatly uncomfortable and it made you sick seeing him constantly put up with the school for his image.

“Wh-Wh-What?! (L/n)-san, are you saying that Yuki-kun would look disgusting?!” Takei shouted, holding up his hand in a tightened fist, trying to preserve the image of Yuki in a girls' uniform in his head.

“It’s gross. Could you stop making him uncomfortable by putting him in girl’s clothing?” You stared at him, disinterested in hearing the rest of his opinions, “don’t you ever think about what he has to say? Sorry President Takei, but it’s disgusting to even see.”

Yuki clutched onto the sleeve of his uniform, feeling a sense of warmth eluding in his body as he heard you continue to bicker with Takei about him in a girls' uniform. At first, he thought you had called him disgusting but it seems much clearer that you acknowledge Yuki’s discomfort in being misgendered. Despite your harsh tone, it sounds as if you genuinely cared about his wellbeing more than he actually knew. His cheeks felt slightly hot as he watched you continue to tell Takei to quit harassing the students.

He had his doubts earlier when the two of you were walking together around the school. He often wondered if he was the one being the horrible friend by constantly putting you off, or even hiding things that put pressure on your relationship.

You tilted your head over your shoulder, giving Yuki a look of understanding and a small, subtle smile. You watched as his cheeks heated up before you turned away.

You made him felt as if there was someone who understood him.

Your cheeks felt hot to the touch. You didn’t know the exact reason why you blurted out such things, but it felt. . . Relieving? It felt nice being able to express your true thoughts and finally relieving Yuki of his image of “princess”. While Takei and Haru argued about the decision of clothes, it made you wonder about the way Yuki felt being forced into girlish clothing. You had already known from the start, based on the doleful look in his eyes that he never enjoyed any part of the school festival when dressed as a girl.

You could understand that feeling. You didn’t like the idea of being forced into clothing that didn’t represent who you were. You felt much better voicing your objections. It’s a nice feeling, it was as if heavyweights were lifted off of you when you were finally able to say something for the sake of someone else.

Perhaps there is more to this than you realized.

“O-Oh, dear. I seem to have gotten carried away!” Takei turned around and adjusted his glasses with his finger.

“You’re a formidable opponent, Sohma Hatsuharu and (L/n) (Y/n),” You restrained a yawn as Takei spun around and pointed towards Haru, “can you prove that’s your natural color, then?!”

Haru held up his arms as he relaxed his head against them, his laid-back personality starting to frustrate Takei, “sure can.”

“Oho, you have proof? Hard evidence that—“ Before he could even continue his sentence, Takei was forcefully dragged into the nearest boy’s restroom, “um. . . excuse me. . .?” He stumbled on his feet, his sense of balance warped as Haru tugged on his clothing.

The two of them disappeared into the bathroom. There was a short period of silence before the echoed screams of Takei bounced off of the walls and into your ears. Tohru squeaked in surprise while everyone seemed unaffected by the turn of events. In a few minutes, Takei stepped out, taking off his glasses as his face was pale with shock.

“Incontrovertible proof. I see I still have much to learn about the world,” He commented.

Haru shortly followed after, his face showing a smug and cocky smile.

Did he show him? Kyo thought.

He showed him, Yuki responded, almost as if they both had telepathic minds to read each other’s thoughts.

Pervert. You stared at the two of them with a confused look.

“You win this time! But I’ll get you all next time!” The student council members quickly fled from the scene while Haru stayed smirking, the feeling of pride and victory flowing through his veins.

“Did you actually show yo—“ Kyo wrapped his hand around your mouth, quickly silencing you. Your voice became muffled underneath his hand.

“D-Don’t say it! Moron!” You resisted the urge to punch him but he removed his hand before you could even raise yours.

“Um. . . How did you prove that was your natural hair color?” Tohru asked, staring at Haru with a puzzled look in her eyes.

Yuki and Kyo went pale as Tohru asked such a strange question in her aloof personality. You wondered how dense Tohru was to not know how to prove one’s natural hair color, it was already suspicious enough considering that Haru dragged Takei into the bathroom.

“Wanna do it and find out? I’m in if you are.” Haru pulled Tohru close to him, his hand gently caressing her cheek, “it’s fine, we don’t have to be hugging each other to—“

Before he could even get another word into the explanation, Yuki and Kyo punched him to the ground, the two of them huffing either in anger or tiredness.

“Dark is the one guy I can’t handle. . .” Kyo scoffed.

“Never mind. Don’t worry about it, Honda-san.” Yuki responded.

You wondered why they referred to Haru as “dark”, maybe it was simply because of how easily his personality changed to someone casual to serious. He was quite odd, to say the least.

“I’m kinda tired now,” Haru responded, his hand gripping onto the sore spot of his head. He seemed to have calmed down and his voice sounded emotionless.

“Oh, yeah? You’re tired, huh?” Kyo groaned.

The sound of the school bell ringing caught all of your attention, you now realized that you and Yuki actually didn’t finish your rounds around the school as you spent most of your time here.

“Ah! That's the bell!” Momiji called out.

“Would you be willing to meet my friends before you go home today?” Tohru asked, wanting to invite Momiji and Haru into a game of badminton after school with Uotani and Hanajima.

“Your friends? Sure, of course!” He responded happily, lifting his arms as he expressed his joy in full. “That reminds me—Hey, Yuki, and Kyo!”

“Could you stay behind? I need to tell you something.” He added. The two boys turned their attention towards Momiji.

“Then, (Y/n)-kun and I will go on ahead then,” Tohru responded.

“Sorry, Tohru.” Momiji apologized, only to be met with her shaking her head as she told him that it would be fine.

You nodded before leaving with Tohru, the two of you silently walking down the stairs, leaving the Sohma family to deal with whatever conflict that may have arisen.

“Ah, sorry for disturbing your duties (Y/n)-kun!” Tohru apologized, bringing her hands to her chest as she clasped them.

You shook your head, “it’s okay. I could always do them later today.”

You both finally approached the bottom floor as you continued walking down the path to your classroom. You noticed that the cherry blossom trees were in full bloom today, you silently admired them while Tohru continued to think about the Sohma family.

“You both look like you’re having fun.” A familiar voice called out, you and Tohru slowly turned to face the unknown person.

His dark hair flowed with the wind, the cherry blossom tree’s petals falling from the sky like snow.

“A. . . Akito-san. . .?” You muttered, your eyes widening at the sight of him at the school, his wardrobe still as plain as you last saw him on Valentine's Day.

Tohru flinched at your reaction, unsure about what to say or feel.

“It’s nice to see you again, (L/n)-san. . .” Akito said, slowly approaching you and Tohru. “It feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

You’ve only seen him last time on Valentine's Day, which wasn’t even that long ago. Despite the dullness and emotionless look in his eyes, he stared down at Tohru with a focused gaze. The shorter girl panicked on the inside but tried to remain calm.

“Are you. . . Akito-san?” Tohru asked.

“That’s right. . . Honda Tohru.” He responded, his voice much dryer compared to when he was talking to you.

Tohru felt a jolt in her body as she quickly bowed down in front of him, “I’m very pleased to meet you!”

Tohru looked intimidated by him. Your eyes turned towards Akito who was still looming above her figure, watching and studying each of the muscles that she moved. You didn’t understand whether or not Tohru had connections with Akito, her reaction to him seems as if she knows something.

“Well, you strike me as feminine and gentle.” Akito commented, referring to Tohru, “thank goodness you seem to be a good person. And most importantly, you’re quite cute.” He smiled.

Tohru straightened her back, flailing her arms around in embarrassment, “what? Oh, no, you flatter—“

Akito laughed, the familiar tune of his voice giving you slight shivers down your spine, there was something unsettling about his tone towards Tohru, “don’t get flustered. You really are cute. Sorry, it took me so long to introduce myself. I’m just rather shy of strangers.”

Thats odd. . . He was the one to talk to you first, even though you were a complete stranger to him. You pressed your lips into a thin line, was he lying?

“Akito-san. . . What are you doing here?” You asked, trying to piece together the situation in front of you. Akito looked back at you and smiled, reaching out to your cheek to stroke it slowly.

“I only wanted to see the two of you of course. I heard many great things about Honda-san.” Something about his tone didn’t seem right to you. It made you feel a bit strange on the inside. “I know I haven’t kept in touch with you in a while. . . I’ve been quite busy.”

Your eyes trembled underneath his gaze, the touch of his cold hand contrasting the warmth of your skin as you both stared at each other. You still didn’t understand why Akito would be here, none of what he is saying made any sense to you whatsoever.

Unbeknownst to the three of you, Yuki’s eyes widened at the sight of Akito holding onto you, his hand pressed against the window before he sprinted down the stairs.

“How are you doing (L/n)-san? We should communicate more often you know.” Akito asked.

“I’m. . . I’m doing fine.” You responded, pulling away from his grasps, “there isn’t much going on.”

Akito hummed in response, feeling unsatisfied by your words. He quickly stepped back a few feet, “well, let me formally introduce myself to both of you.”

“I’m Akito, the current Sohma family head. Pleased to meet you.” He introduced himself with a small bow.

Your heart dropped as you felt yourself almost losing your grip on your journal.

He‘s. . . Part of the Sohma family? Your blood felt as if it had been frozen over, the shock coursing through your veins as you looked at him in disbelief. He was related to Yuki all this time? When you first saw his appearance, it wasn’t just a coincidence then. . .

“I’d like for us to get along well. . . And please take care of Yuki and the others.” From the corner of Akito’s eyes, he could see the way you looked back at him in confusion, your brain trying to rack up any sort of information between your encounter to find a reasonable explanation for everything.

Such beautiful eyes. . . He thought, feeling the sense of joy and pleasure as he ravished the look in your eyes. There was something so satisfying seeing you make a similar face to Yuki, it might even be a better reaction than him.

“Akito!” The sound of Yuki’s voice interrupted the tense atmosphere.

“Ah, Yuki!” Akito called out, you spun around to see Yuki’s distraught expression, his eyes beginning to tremble at the sight of him. Akito opened his arms out, “I’ve missed you, Yuki! You know, it feels like it’s been forever since I last saw you. You’re looking grown-up and taller—“

“What did you do?” Yuki cut him off, “what did you say to them?!

“Nothing. I was just saying hello to an old friend and Tohru-san.” Akito turned around to face Tohru, “right, Tohru-san? Wasn’t I just saying hello?”

The tension in the air continued to grow as your nails dug into the material of the journal cover.

An old friend? Yuki thought, turning his attention onto your figure that Akito was associated with. When did the two of you meet. . . ?

“Um, yes!” Tohru responded, feeling unsure about what to say in the situation. She could feel the tension in the air, as Akito confronted Yuki while in your presence.

“More importantly, Yuki. . .” Akito went back to Yuki, stepping in front of him as Yuki tightened his fist, “. . . there’s something I really want to ask you.”

Akito reached out to caress his cheek, similar to the way he treated you as Yuki’s hair strands flowed over his knuckles like a stream of water. The look of fear and terror reflected in Yuki’s grayish orbs, the irises trembling as much as his body was.

“Why did you skip New Year’s? Why would you do that? And when I’ve become so generous lately, too. When you do things like that, it seriously hurts my feelings.” Akito stared at Yuki with a menacing glare.

New Year’s. . .? The time of the Zodiac banquet. . .? You didn’t understand why your brain made that connection, but there was something so frightening seeing Yuki stand there petrified.

You didn’t understand.

You clenched the area around your heart, the feeling becoming painful like thousands of spikes piercing through your organ.

“Do I have to reeducate you, I wonder?” The shine in Yuki’s eyes completely disappeared, leaving only a dark and dull look in them, “in your special room? Will I be forced to spend long days teaching you proper disposition again?”

Akito traced his finger against Yuki’s lips as Yuki tilted his eyes away from him, trying to avoid his deathly gaze. His body was violently trembling as Akito continued to press him further.

Special. . . Room?

“I hate you. . . I hate you!” She smacked you across the face before throwing the porcelain bowl against the floor, the material shattering in front of the altar of God. The bowl nearly missed your eyes, causing your mother to violently scream and tug at your hair.

“This is all your fault! I hope you rot in hell! Here, in this very room!” She pulled on your (h/c) strands with enough force to pull out the longer, looser strands. “You’ll disappear in this room! Just like God said you would!”

You tightened your fist and your body reacted unconsciously, ripping Akito’s hand away from Yuki as you stepped in between them. Your body snapped in reaction to the two words Akito mentioned. His eyes widened at your sudden objection, feeling betrayal and annoyance running through his body.

“That’s enough, Akito-san,” You grit your teeth, “stop it already.”

“Is something wrong (L/n)-san? I am merely talking to Yuki.” He asked, his smile still plastered on his face.

“He doesn’t want to talk right now, so. . . Drop it already.” Akito narrowed his eyes at you, this was not going as he expected, however, he was thoroughly enjoying the look in your eyes at this moment. The look of despair in your eyes giving him the same feeling of euphoria.

“Sorry, I’m going to take Sohma-san to the nurse. He said he was feeling sick earlier,” you lied before looking at Tohru, “go back to the classroom Tohru-kun.”

Your eyes were no longer the shade of (e/c) Tohru recognized. It was much colder, emotionless, and filled to the brim with hidden pain. They no longer held any semblance of humanity left in them, it was almost as dull as Yuki’s. She wondered how much suffering you endured to match the same intensity as Yuki.

You gave Akito one last glance before grabbing onto Yuki’s wrist and pulling him away from the scene.

“Yuki, I hope you have a fun school life here.” Akito called out, “it’d make me happy if you came to visit sometime soon.”

You only ignored his words and forcefully pull Yuki away. He let you freely drag his body towards the nearby secluded cherry blossom tree, his mind still not being able to rid itself of the painful memories that resurfaced as he remained unfocused of his surroundings. His eyes began to water as he tried to blink them away, trying desperately not to cry out in public. You gently pushed his body to lean against the tree, your form kneeling beside him as you slowly brushed back the strands of hair blocking his face.

You wondered what brought this feeling in your heart. There was something about the look in his eyes, your mind and heart screaming to reach out to him. They were pounding desperately against your door to rescue him from something you both wanted escape from. They wanted something you were destined to do.

Your hands were warm, Yuki thought. This was the first time you’ve shown an intimate gesture in front of him. Your body felt nicer against his skin than it was with Akito’s cold fingers, it was bringing him slowly back into reality as his eyes continued to fight against the growing tears. You were truly a warm person inside.

It was showing at this very moment almost as if the key had unlocked your doors.

You noticed the small droplets of tears on the corner of his eyes, his fists still tightly clenched together. He looked like a fragile animal, one which tugged at your own emotional strings. You reached out to wipe at them before standing up and pulling your sweater off of your body.

You placed the top of your sweater on his head, shielding him away from the rest of the world from his pitiful crying. You gripped the edge of your skirt, the fabric wrinkling underneath your fingers.

“I don’t know what your relationship is with them. . . I’m not the best at comforting other people either. . . But it’s okay,” You didn’t know if these were the right words to say, but you watched as he tightened his hold on your sweater, “It’ll be okay in the end.”

You gently patted the top of his head, the fabric of your sweater creating a barrier between your skin and the softness of his hair. He stayed silent, unresponsive to your words. Your heart yearned for freedom in the eyes of others.

“That room. . . You won’t go back there anymore.” You spoke gently, almost like a whisper, his body beginning to release the pent up tears that flowed down his cheek but were masked by your clothing. “I promise you that. . .”

“I won’t let you go back there anymore.”

Those were simple words that expressed the feeling in your heart.

You figured out what you wanted and needed to do in your life. It was to play the role of the Eagle you desperately wanted to be, one to fulfill and shoulder the burden of those you swore to protect, even if it meant promising your loyalty to God.

There was no more fretting about what you needed.

#fruits basket #fruits basket x reader #x reader #yuki sohma #yuki sohma x reader #yuki soma #yuki soma x reader

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write-it-good-imagines · 4 years

Text

Poison (M) - Park Jinyoung

So I did a little something...although you might say I am a coward for not finishing it it’s because I really am. Ugh. I just wanted to provide means of exploiting your own imagination. That cursed poison mcountdown stage ended me.

enjoy. I have nothing else to say

~2.7k words, very suggestive content

Parties organized by companies were all consisting of the same things, people traversing a mutual field from all sorts of backgrounds, looking for a stable partnership with a trusting team that was all aiming to the same goal. Drinks and sophisticated dishes were, partly, the main attraction of such events, along with the small chat one would make with the other, up to the point of discussing business.

The cosmopolitan lobby of the hotel your company chose for the aforementioned party was radiating an air of importance through the exquisite paintings hanging on the walls, and the imposing candelabra emanating a refined light. It was a crucial gathering for your company that wanted to consolidate one of their biggest projects up to date and it was compulsory for those who helped shape it to participate at that night’s party.

It was undoubtedly difficult to maintain a stoic, yet amiable face throughout the night, delivering the same polished speech to everyone who came looking for it. You indulged yourself with a martini and accompanied one of your colleagues at first, easing each other’s silent suffering. No matter how often you’d check the time on the glowing screen of your phone, your plus one simply refused to appear.

The captivating jazz tunes graced your ears with melodies, some of which you knew all too well, and you almost lost trace of the words spoken to you.

“It is, indeed, impressive that someone as young as yourself participated in such a grand project,” the older official complimented you, his wife following his example, “The business world requires fresh talents, miss. We were more than glad to accept the offer after listening to your speech during the meeting!”

You offered a polite smile, dipping your head in a bow. “I am grateful for your kind words. My seniors helped me throughout the process. I couldn’t have done it alone.”

A series of low gasps could be heard in the humming of the background and you examined the older woman’s pleased expression as she nudged her husband. “Oh dear, he is a handsome man, but I don’t think I recognize him.” She turned to you. “Do you, miss?”

You had to turn your body towards the point of concern, given that your back was turned to him, and you had to take a moment to take a breath yourself. Despite being completely familiar with the person, his perfect appearance took you by surprise.

Park Jinyoung, your faithful plus one, was boldly dashing.

Of course, his handsome genes were flagrantly undeniable, something that you had witnessed in either plain daylight, or other suggestive environments. Even so, the black tuxedo embracing his toned body, the burning red handkerchief adorning the chest pocket, and the equally matching tie made it seem like something entirely unfamiliar to you. But exceptionally endearing.

Endearing enough that it instantly poisoned you with unspeakable thoughts.

You took a sip from your martini as you watched his agonizing slow steps through the admiring crowd. He made it look like the world suddenly gravitated around him. As dignified as you hoped you’d remain, it was impossible not to imagine how filthy Jinyoung could make you with as much as a snap of his fingers. Especially in that ethereal fitting.

When he finally reached you and your companions, he rested his hand on the small of your bare back and dipped his head to the older couple.

“My apologies, might I have interrupted something of great importance?”

Jinyoung’s polished words had a positive impact on your company’s partners, the woman instantly captured by his charms. You ran a hand through your sleek hair, styled in a poised wet look, and it tickled the bare skin of your back. The white backless dress you chose was only sustained on your body by a ribbon tied loosely around your neck that fell gracefully on either side of your spine.

No one noticed that, yet Jinyoung did not bother to hide his desirous look from you, albeit a tad irritated. You had a vague idea of why.

“Ah, we were just discussing how fortunate we are to work with miss L/n! But we were also intrigued by your charming presence, mister…?”

“Park Jinyoung, Mrs. I have heard quite a lot of good things about Y/n’s partners. She always mentions how she is the lucky one.”

The delighted smiles on their faces secured the ideal first impression anyone could make. You were impressed with his smooth words and the major positive impact they had on your relationship with the business partners. As soon as they left, you couldn’t contain a fascinated smile.

“Smooth talker Park Jinyoung at my service, huh?”

Jinyoung tilted his head to look at you, his height matching yours evenly thanks to the gladiator sandals you wore. “I had to make a good entrance.”

He captured your eyes with his and you were surprised to find the previous glint nestling in his orbs. No, he wanted to make sure you saw it and remembered it well. Jinyoung mildly brought you closer to him, his fingertips leaving blistering sensations into your skin.

“But however much I love that my girlfriend is a walking goddess, you are practically naked.”

The origin of Jinyoung’s irritation was the one you suspected. The fact that he pointed it out so blatantly left a smirk curling on your lips. You knew that if he saw you like that, you would walk straight into his stare and it was, after all, a mission you set for yourself. The two of you met after some time apart and you wanted to wear your best clothes for the occasion. Or, according to Jinyoung, wear almost none at all.

“Exaggeration,” you breathed and lifted your eyes, testing the waters. Acting professional was a protocol you were determined to follow throughout the night; that did not mean you were not as skilled as your boyfriend was with his words, “I think it is appropriate attire for the occasion. A woman has to shine whenever given the opportunity.”

Jinyoung chuckled and his gaze lingered on you for a brief moment. “You are blinding, Y/n. That does not mean I am happy with it.”

“I appreciate it, Mr. Park. Likewise, you look dashing, but may I ask why my looks bring you so much distress?”

Jinyoung leaned over, his lips whispering a subtle warning into your ear. “I don’t like it when these men are so shamelessly staring at my woman.”

He pulled back to look at you with a sheepish expression imprinted on his face and a slight shrug of his shoulders, but the effect he desired was already done. The smug look he wore after indicated the fact that he knew he succeeded. If he told you his fingers felt the shiver traversing your spine, you might have believed him. You clicked your tongue and took a sip from your cocktail.

Jinyoung teased and took the glass in his hand, unconsciously admiring the lipstick stain on the rim. “You look a little pale, Miss Y/n. Are you okay?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Mister Park.” You saw the director of your company coming in your direction and decided to play your card, even if it meant playing with fire. “I wonder if you’re all talk. Someone who claims something like that takes responsibility.”

Jinyoung did not have time to react verbally to your offensive statement. He successfully masked the displeasure and greeted the director with an imposing stance, shaking his hand firmly. One would easily say Jinyoung was fully immersed in the formal chat carried between the three of you; however, you challenged him to assume responsibility. And he was a very competitive individual.

You felt his hand shifting slightly from your lower back, ascending to a small, sensitive spot that had you shuddering instantly. His fingers traced a dangerous trail in your skin that made it increasingly harder for you to concentrate on the discussion and divert your attention to restraining your reactions instead. It was incredible how unbothered he looked by your faithful response to his actions, and yet kept on asserting his dominance on your entire being.

“I can see how much of a support you are for her, Jinyoung,” your director said happily, clueless to the battle you were carrying within. “You two are a good match.”

You opened your mouth to reply but soon had to bite into the plush of your inner cheek to suppress an indecent sound as Jinyoung’s butterfly touch made the blood whirl in your veins and your lower abdomen bathe in a burning sensation. He caught your silent struggle with the corner of his eye and responded, offensively calm.

“Thank you, sir. She is a handful sometimes but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The director laughed heartily and extended his hand to pat Jinyoung’s shoulder. You almost burst out in sheer joy when he left and turned abruptly to Jinyoung. You found the same agonizing, innocent look on his face, but you knew better.

“Is there anything you’d like to say?”

You scoffed at his question. It took a lot of audacity to act so faultlessly.

“Oh, I do have some things to say.”

“Why won’t you let me say something first?”

Jinyoung undressed of the jacket and threw it over your shoulders. On the one hand, the public perceived his actions as a simple display of gentlemanly affection. On the other hand, his aphrodisiac eyes, the tacit greed of his gaze, and the way his hands grabbed at the collar of his jacket to imperceptibly pull you closer, those were all meant torture you.

It was inevitable you’d eventually break. Underestimating Park Jinyoung was a sin you loved committing.

“It’s such a pity you’re wearing red lipstick tonight.”

You did not mind giving in, you never did when it came to him. Jinyoung learned all there was to know about you by heart, so much that he was able to incite every desire you nurtured with his words alone. He took great pride in the capacity to understand and satisfy you. There was no one else who could ignite your skin without actively doing so. There was no one else who could brutally thrash your insides and rearrange them so they would fit their own puzzle.

All without any single touch to your skin.

Your hand grabbed his tie, your eyes glowing a wicked appetite for him. You missed him, and hearing his tantalizing words only emphasized the desperate urgency to have him. “I need you.”

Hurried moments later, you were caged between the elevator wall and Jinyoung’s robust body, one of his hands gripping underneath your thigh, the other pressed into your lower back. The immoral intensity of his eyes stripped you naked with a gaze that betrayed that delicious imagination of his going astray. Jinyoung was inhumanely close that you did not know whose air you were breathing.

Jinyoung’s coarse voice was pure music to your ears. “I have been thinking about you a lot lately.”

“Did you miss me?” you sighed and his hand guided your leg around his waist as he inched closer.

“Let me show you how much.”

His lips sealed against yours in an erotic kiss that pulsed into your stomach. You threw your arms around his neck, pressing your lower body into his pelvis. Fingertips were etching small circles into your back, reviving the sensation you previously tried to repress, now forcing a gasp to come out from your throat.

Jinyoung did not allow you to breathe, for he slid his profane tongue in your mouth to engage yours mercilessly in a filthy dance. You were kissing him so desperately that your whole body was curved into his. Jinyoung sucked every last molecule of air out of your system through his kiss, thus leaving you helpless and weak. He only detached himself from you when he felt the fingers tangled in his locks weakening their grip.

You drew a breath in sharply, feeling lightheaded and much paler underneath the make-up. Jinyoung pressed his forehead to yours apologetically. “How much time do we have before they need you back in the lobby?”

“I…I think probably half an hour… forty minutes.” You murmured among the heavy gasps in the failed attempt to even the rhythm of your breathing. Jinyoung’s aura was getting poisonous, leaving no possible window for escape. Your mission was to get drunk on it.

“Then that’s more than enough time.”

The elevator signaled the arrival at the highest floor of the hotel and Jinyoung took your hand in his to drag you out, laughing mischievously under his breath. You followed his adamant steps to the empty terrace spreading into the vast night, in the shelter of the stars. His jacket fell helplessly somewhere on the concrete after having fulfilled its role to shield you from the savage stares of other men.

“What are you laughing at?” you questioned as Jinyoung turned his body, a couple of steps apart from you.

“Your lipstick is smeared all over your face!”

You could not find it in you to tell him that his own lips were colored with the same shade of red, ruined by the eager assault launched on you. He probably knew that anyway and found a sadistic pleasure in pointing out he would ruin you indisputably.

“Whose fault do you think that is?”

Your steps carried you to the high railing where Jinyoung was patiently waiting for you. He admired the sloppy work of art that you were, the smirk imprinted on his visage awoke a carnal appetite in your ribcage. You were anxious to experience the unholy plans he had for you.

He cupped your face with both hands and crashed his lips against yours once again, guiding your body against the cold metal in a swift motion. The sudden icy contact extracted a loud moan from your lungs and Jinyoung momentarily pulled away to marvel at the divine creature in front of him.

“Let’s make sure we remember whose fault it is.”

The split second he paused to look at you also offered you precious insights into his blazing emotions. It gave you all the assurance you needed and more. You bit your lip at his words, a familiar tingle throbbing in your core. He got you burning with anticipation.

Jinyoung loosened his tie before launching himself into your neck. His tongue traced a stubborn vein piercing your skin and encircled a sensitive spot under your ear lobe. Your hand flew instantly to his hair and your head thrashed back, accompanied by a strong moan slashing through the air. You felt Jinyoung smirk against sensitive skin, hot breath electrifying your senses.

“I wonder if I can make you moan so loud all the others down there would hear you.”

Jinyoung untangled your hand from his hair and pulled them together behind your back to obstruct any further motion you might want to pursue. His teeth grazed your ear, chewing on the softness of the lobe. He let out a carnal whisper in your ear, warning you that he would have his way regardless of your preferences. “Should I?”

He guided your chin down with his free hand, the index tracing your jaw at a delayed pace. There was no use denying him anymore; he knew he was in complete control and he knew how hungry you were for his touch. You had a love-hate relationship with that side of Jinyoung’s because he never did anything on his own volition.

No matter how much he desired you, beating around the bush was something he did not like.

“Fucking devour me, Park Jinyoung.” You let out a sultry moan, instructing him on everything he needed to hear.

Jinyoung bit his lower lip, maintain eye contact with you as he lowered his body. “Watch me, princess.”

He tossed the unnecessary material of your dress to the side and ran a hand down your thigh to guide your leg over his shoulder. His eyes followed you closely as he pressed an airy kiss to your clothed womanhood. The last thing you could see was his starved expression; the moment his tongue invaded your privacy, all hopes of staying sane vanished in the passionate night.

#got7 #got7 imagines #got7 scenarios #got7 jinyoung #got7 park jinyoung #jinyoung x read #fucking park jinyoung tho #jinyoung smut #more like admin being a freaking coward #might add the rest later #now i need to breathe #park jinyoung #jinyoung scenarios #got7 fanfic #kpop aesthetic

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poeticandors · 4 years

Text

Come What May Part 3

Poe Dameron x F!Reader (Moulin Rouge!AU)

Summary: You and Poe are sent undercover in order to gain information about the First Order and hope to recruit. But what begins to bloom as you and Poe continue to work closer throughout this mission? And, what happens when you happen to catch the eye of one of the most dangerous men?

Warnings: none in this chapter

A/N: Wooo finally got this chapter out! Hopefully you guys enjoy it!

Part 1 Part 2

After a week or so, everything seemed to slowly work into place. No one bothered you after that day anymore, but constant bawdy gazes were still thrown your way. Sometimes it was hard, but you learned just to ignore it. Everyone who went to the Crimson Club knew not to touch you in that way now— they realized they still had the other girls, unfortunately, and they didn’t want to mess with you or the bouncers after how roughed up that guy got.

He hasn’t even come back since.

A knock is heard at your door, and after checking your appearance, you move to press the button to allow access. Standing there was Poe, his hair slicked back and a navy blue suit— a new look compared to his black suits he had been wearing. Looking down at your dress, you realized you matched unintentionally with him.

The last few days had been… more work based between you and Poe. He would still do his job— stand in the back of the main room and linger around while you talked to anyone who had information. But after that night, he’d seemed to become more protective of you, but the conversations between you both had been short.

You wondered if it was because you asked him to undo your dress for you? It couldn’t have been that because he had offered to help you plenty of times and still did. Was it because he realized he called you sweetheart? Not that you minded, but you wondered why he suddenly called you that not once, but twice. Whatever it was, you wished things would go back to normal— or as normal as it could get in this situation.

Deciding not to bring it up, you give him a small smile.

“Hey, how are you?”

“I’m fine,” Poe nods, although you notice that it’s more stiff along with his posture and then you realize…

This was Tel talking.

He steps to the side, and there you see two other girls who worked mainly as dancers giving you friendly waves and smiles.

“Oh! Hi, Zoras. Hi, Tin.”

“Hi, Kyla,” Zoras said. You noticed right when you first met her the slight lilt in her voice— almost innocent. Had you met her randomly on the street, you wouldn’t have known she worked in a place such as the Crimson Club.

“We just wanted to see how you were doing?” Tin smiles.

Looking upon them, you would have been a fool not to notice how gorgeous they both were. The light blue dress of Zoras popped against the deep copper of her skin, and her dark curls bounced with every shake of her head. Tin’s red hair cascades over her fawn, freckled shoulders, to the middle of the waist of her black dress. No one was able to resist the urge to watch them as they danced upon the stage each night.

Both girls had been the first to check on you as well as welcome you here after that night. They were both very sweet— they at least took the time to try and get to know you while others simply turned their noses up at you. Rix was another one who was friendly, at least you were thankful to have a few other people to talk with. You mentioned recruiting them to Poe, who agreed that they could be more trusted over others here at the club and he would send their information to the Resistance to get more in depth information.

“I’m fine, I was about to head down,” you smile, turning to Poe. “Tel was just getting ready to escort me to the club.”

The girls look at Poe, who gives them a slight nod. “That’s right. Whenever you’re ready, Kyla.”

“Is it alright if we join you down?” Zoras turns back to you.

“I don’t mind at all.”

“Perfect!” Zoras smiles and loops her arm through yours, while Tin does the same. You begin to walk ahead, while Poe trails behind you three at a safe, close distance.

“By the way,” Tin leans in close, whispering. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Do what?”

“Manage to hold yourself back from jumping in the sack with Tel. He’s so handsome. I would have done it long ago.”

The heat rises to your cheeks as you look away from Tin, “O-oh, well… I mean… his job—”

“Also allows him to have any of the services we all give out,” Zoras gives a cheeky grin, her dark curls bouncing as she tilts her head at you.

“Well, not all of us. Our Untouched One, on the other hand…”

“Unless Tel over there pays the requested amount of credits.”

“No offense, Kyla, but I would have just given him the full session— no credits charged,” Tin snickers, while Zoras smacks her arm.

As much as you try to force yourself not to, you turn back to see Poe still a few feet behind you. While you knew they were whispering, the hallway was empty— and you knew there was no way Poe didn’t hear what your friends were saying. His eyes connect with yours, and your suspicions are answered by the small smirk he flashes.

Cheeky bastard, you think, shaking your head as you head into the elevator.

You, Zoras, and Tin press up against the back of the elevator while Poe stands in front of you— his back facing you three. An awkward silence fills the elevator, so you distract yourself by staring at the floor only until you feel Tin nudge her elbow against your ribs. Looking up, you see how the corner of her mouth quirks up and she nods her head forward, wiggling her brows.

You follow her gaze, only to realize it was fixated on Poe’s… assets. Eyes widening, you quickly look away, hearing the faint giggle Tin was giving Zoras. Poe pretends not to hear, and quickly heads out of the elevator as soon as the doors open, looking both ways.

“Alright, ladies,” Poe turns towards you. “It’s safe.”

“Thank you, Tel,” Tin bats her lashes as she walks past him.

“Tin and I have to go get ready for the stage,” Zoras steps out of the elevator. “But we’ll see you later Kyla. Thank you for escorting us, Tel.”

Poe nods, giving a friendly smile to Zoras as she walks down the hallway. You knew they were just teasing you, of course you did. So why did you get this overwhelming urge to glare at your friends?

The stinging pain in both palms of your hands has you unclenching them— you didn’t even realize you were digging your nails into your palms in the first place.

“Kyla? Are you ready?”

Poe’s voice pulls you and you face him, your expression pinched as you nod. He furrows his brows, stopping you as you try to move past him. He gently grabs your arm, and all you can do is freeze at his touch. This time he says your name, not Kyla’s, in a mere whisper.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. Why would anything be wrong?”

Poe studies you, and you do well not to give in to the look in his eyes. You know he is searching for something— some kind of hint to let him know there is a problem. He raises his brow as the corner of his mouth lifts up and he releases you, stepping back while you fix the sleeve of your dress.

“Like I said, nothing—“

“What, did you get jealous because of what Tin was saying?”

He’s teasing. You know he is— the playful glint in his eye gives it away. It’s also the first sign of Poe that you’ve seen in the last few days.

“Jealous?” You scoff. “What— why would I get jealous?”

“You tell me,” Poe leans against the elevator doorway.

A tense silence stirs between you both and while you did enjoy that Poe was actually talking to you, and not your alias, all you can do is shake your head and look away.

“I have to go find Boz, he said he needed to talk to me.”

“Of course.”

You move to walk past him, and only freeze when you hear him say your name softly. Not turning your head, you stay staring ahead through the hallway. Even when he walks up behind you, you can’t bring yourself to look at him.

Because you didn’t want him to see just how much you love hearing him say your name.

He leans close, his breath fanning against your ear— a shiver crawling up your spine. “Be careful out there, apparently a larger group of First Order officers are supposed to be here tonight. I’ll be close by, don’t worry. Okay, sweetheart?”

You didn’t know what you were expecting him to say, but calling you sweetheart for a third time definitely wasn’t it. And you definitely didn’t expect him to stand so close to you— close enough that his chest was almost pressed up against your back. All you had to do was lean back a little more, to feel him completely pressed up against you.

Stop it, stop it, stop it!

“I know you will,” you quickly say. “You always are, I can count on that.”

You didn’t even wait for him to respond, because you were already making your way out of the elevator, down the hall to the club— the faint sound of the music growing louder the closer you got to the door. Poe quickly manages to catch up, opening the door for you, and you see the same sight as you would every other night here.

Making your way through the club, you push past the large groups until you spot Boz all the way at the bar. Poe moves close to you, shielding you from others as they all gawk at you. You always felt safe when Poe was near you, so you became more relaxed and paid no mind to the straying eyes.

As you approach the bar, Boz turns to you, his face filled with glee. “There you are my darling!”

He comes up, cupping your cheeks with his hands so lightly— like you were a delicate flower he didn’t want to bruise.

Boz was actually a sweet man, and he did seem to show favor to you more than the others, some of which showed their displeasure at that. He did seem as though he was a bit protective of you, but also you believed it was mainly because of the situation— he didn’t want anything to happen to you before the right man came along with the highest payment.

You smile as Boz lowers his hands, “You said you wanted to see me?”

“Yes!” He claps his hands. “We may have actually found someone who may be perfect.”

“Oh? What do you—“

“A gentleman has arrived,” he turns you to face the private booths. “See him there? The one in the black suit with the red handkerchief in his chest pocket.”

You follow Boz’s gaze, until your eyes settle on a man taking a sip of his drink. His clean cut, golden blonde hair is perfectly gelled back— if there was a sliver of grey in his hair, you couldn’t tell. A few women, your coworkers, try approaching him but he simply waves them off, not giving them a chance to speak. By his appearance, especially the lavish black suit he was wearing, you knew he had to be of high status.

“Who is—“

“Let’s go my darling,” Boz quickly pulls you away before Poe gets a chance to speak.

Giving Poe a solemn look, you turn to follow Boz as he leads you through the crowd. As you get closer, a strange familiarity washes over you. You swore you’ve seen this man before. Maybe you’ve seen him around the club before and just didn’t notice him right away?

“Boz, do you know who he is?”

“Tyris Pic, made out of credits, mind you,” he chuckles. “Now, why don’t you work your charms on him, dear.”

Your heartbeat quickens— you know what Boz wants you to do. Putting on your best smile and nodding, Boz grins before he walks up to Tyris while you stray behind him.

“Hello Mr. Pic, how have we been settling?”

“Fine, thank you,” he says, each sound articulated with his smooth accent. You believed he might have been from Chandrila.

You watch as he takes a drink, the liquid a bright blue like his eyes, which flicker over to you. He sets his glass down, leaning back into his seat.

“Might I ask who this beautiful creature here is?”

“Of course,” Boz simpers, stepping out of the way to reveal you. “May I introduce our Untouched One, our Sparkling Kyber… Kyla Tille. Kyla, my dear, this is—

“Tyris Pic,” the man says, straightening his suit as he stands up, holding his hand out. “Charmed.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Pic—“

“Please,” he gently takes your hand, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it. “Call me Tyris.”

You put on a gracious smile, pulling your hand back as Boz claps his hands.

“I’ll let you both get acquainted.”

As Boz walks off gleefully, Tyris motions towards the booth, waving down a server droid.

“May I interest you in buying a drink?”

“If you insist.”

++++++

Poe’s jaw tightens as he watches the blonde haired man wrap his arm just above your shoulders. He’d been watching you both for a while, since you walked away with Boz, and so far he doesn’t like what he’s seen.

He doesn’t like the way the man is touching you. He doesn’t like the way he leans close to whisper in your ear. And he especially doesn’t like the way you laugh at something he says.

Something about this guy— whether it was how he looked or just the smug grin he kept on his face— made Poe feel uneasy.

Just as Tin walks by, Poe manages to grab her arm and pull her to the side. Tin smirks, leaning against the wall.

“Well, I knew you would come to your senses—“

“Easy, Tin,” Poe releases her. “What do you know about that guy over there with Kyla?”

“What makes you think I know who he is?” She raises a brow, crossing her arms.

“You always walk up to the same men— you’re good with faces and names— mainly because you know which ones pay well and which ones won’t.”

She narrows her eyes, an amused look on her face. “Glad to hear you’ve been watching me.”

“Tin,” Poe’s voice becomes stern and she gently pats his chest.

“I’m teasing. But, I overheard Boz talking about some important guy coming in. His name is Tyris Pic.”

Poe repeats the name a few times, stepping back. “Thanks, Tin.”

“No problem, but you might want to ease up a bit.”

“Ease what up?”

“Don’t want anyone to see just how jealous Kyla’s bodyguard gets when she is with other men, right?”

Poe’s mouth opens and closes, struggling to come up with coherent sentences. Tin gives a teasing laugh, stepping away from him.

“Don't worry, your secret is safe with me,” she turns away, latching onto another man’s arm. “How are you today, handsome?”

Poe shakes his head, glancing over to the booth where you still sit with the man— Tyris. Now that Poe has a name, he needs to know exactly who he is.

Poe asks another escort to watch over you while he heads to the fresher, and quickly leaves the club. Stealing glances both ways, he heads into a utility closet, where he pulls out his comm device.

“Finn? Come in, Finn.”

It takes a moment, but Poe let’s out a breath of relief when he hears Finn’s voice on the other end.

“Poe? I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon. We got the information on the names you gave us: Rix, Zoras, and Tin? They—“

“We’ll get back to them, buddy. But I need your help, I got another name for you.”

“Alright, who are we checking on, now?”

“What do you know about a Tyris Pic?”

++++++

FIC TAGLIST: @tintinwrites @sheridans-dynamos @agoldpixie @shakespeareanwannabe @starkiller-queen @netflixandsnuggle @nowheredreamer @blackhawklove @jennibradley @rewritingstars @chewymoustachio @iamaunicorn4704 @spider-starry @roserrys

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #poe x reader #poe dameron fic #moulin rouge au

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cantquitu · 5 years

Text

SUBMISSION: "No actual fans are concerned" - I just wanted to say that I think fans can be concerned, confused or unhappy with decisions a star makes and I find that legit and normal. I don't think that you're only a "real fan" if you're always 100 % confident in and happy with your star.

However the problem with concern trolls is that they ruin the climate for everyone, because they just want to stir the pot and cause (understandably) adverse reactions and get made fun of. But this makes it seem like whenever someone voices a concern or doubt or any form of slight displeasure that there is this "you can't sit with us" mentality in the fandom.

Therefore the actual concerned or unhappy fans don't dare to talk to anyone about what is bugging them - even if it might be something harmless that could be resolved easily. They just stew alone with all their doubts and have nobody to turn to except toxic hate blogs. And we all know how that ends.

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

Nope, I get plenty of asks from people who want to figure out their confused or negative feelings in regards to things Harry has done or is doing, and how they personally respond to it. I answer them whenever I get them. Always have.

I know the difference between a concern troll and a questioning fan. I have no interest in wasting my time responding seriously to concern trolls.

I also have no interest in placating genuinely questioning fans when they sprinkle their asks with ill-disguised homophobia or misogyny, or add a dash of tinhat thinking from the hate blogs and conspiracy theory blogs they read because they want to be "analytical" and get a "wide view".

People who claim that it's impossible to voice "any form of slight displeasure" in the Harry fandom are so boring. It is not the responsibility of any individual to host anon negativity on their blog if they don't want to. They can put their Big Girl Pants on and "express their displeasure" on their own blogs instead of expecting other people to do their emotional labour for them. We're all individuals behind the blogs, y'know. And sometimes we're having a shitty day and want to enjoy our fandom without counselling others through their concerns.

#concern trolls #submission

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fic-for-fic-sake · 4 years

Text

The Journalist and the Winter Soldier

Description: You’re a journalist in New York City who is preparing to interview the infamous Winter Soldier, James Barnes. During your interview sessions you find that your relationship with him may go beyond that of journalist and interview subject. Can the two of you keep things platonic or will the lines become blurred along the way? Previous parts can be found here.

Chapter 4:

The next morning you took way too much time deciding on an outfit to wear to your follow up interview with Bucky. You couldn’t wear anything too formal, it’s not like your office was on Wall Street or anything, but something too casual could send the wrong message. You were going for a follow up interview after all.

Eventually you managed to decide on a black dress that came mid-thigh with white flowers on it. You smiled at yourself as you twirled in the mirror, sometimes wearing pants all the time bored you, so you were glad for the upturn in the weather. Just to be safe you threw on a white gray pleather jacket and topped the outfit off with black heeled booties. Perfect, this outfit said ‘I’m here for a follow up interview but also I’m cute if you wanted to notice’.

Making sure you had all your notes with you as well as a pen and a pad of paper, you got your keys and made your way back to the Avengers Compound upstate. You stopped at a Starbucks drive-thru for a quick coffee and then continued on your way. On your drive you couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. You wondered which version of James Barnes you would get today; the closed off, reserved, media conscious man, or flirty Bucky who made your heart beat just a little faster.

You showed your ID badge at the gate and as you pulled in you could see Bucky outside waiting for you. Shit. You weren’t prepared for this at all. You tossed back the rest of your coffee, not at all minding the mild scolding to your tongue and back of your throat, as you parked your car. You quickly pulled your purse, which contained all of your interview materials, from the passenger seat before you exited the car. You noticed Bucky approach you and you took the opportunity to quickly smooth down the skirt of your dress, making sure it was presentable after the long drive.

“Wow, if I knew you were gonna dress up, I woulda changed.” Bucky teased, giving your outfit a quick once over. His roaming eyes over your form made your throat go dry. You shifted nervously under his gaze, shuffling from foot to foot and making the gravel beneath you crunch in response.

“It’s nothing, just business attire. Besides, you’re not on camera today anyway so what you’re wearing is perfectly fine.” You commented, taking in his current attire. You guessed when he said ‘break in his schedule’ he really meant it. It looked like he had just come from the gym. A black tank top practically clung to his sweaty torso, revealing every place his muscles rose and fell. Black joggers hung loosely from his hips, giving you a small peak of his hip bones. His jet black hair was pulled into a messy bun with some forgotten strands clinging to his face, in short, he looked like an Adonis and you weren’t okay.

You noticed that when you mentioned there wouldn’t be a camera today he seemed to relax more, uncrossing his arms, one black and gold and the other flesh, from his chest.

“So, what are we talkin’ about today then?” He asked, leading you towards a clearing across from the parking lot.

“While my editor and I were going through the footage last night, I realized I didn’t have a sound bite of you talking about the differences in life in the 1940s vs. life now.” You explained, following him to a bench that sat under a blossoming willow tree. The scene made you feel nostalgic for home when you used to sit under a similar weeping willow and read books aloud to your stuffed animals. Your mom and always said you were born a performer, she wasn’t far off.

“What is it?” Bucky questioned, pulling you from your thoughts. “I lost you there for a minute.”

“Oh sorry, I had a willow tree just like this when I was a kid. Just made me remember and all.” You replied, sitting down opposite him on the dark wooden bench. You noticed there was a golden placard on the back of the chair ‘Howard Stark, good at inventing, okay at parenting’. It made you smile.

“I knew him you know.” Bucky commented, noticing where your eyes had landed on the bench.

“What was he like?” You asked, eyes blown wide in awe. Bucky chuckled lightly at your

reaction, you guessed he got that question a lot.

“A little of what you would expect, a lot of what you wouldn’t.” Bucky replied with a faraway look in his eyes. You sensed a story coming so you pulled out your phone and began to record, Bucky didn’t object. “He was arrogant, yes, a cad, even more so, but he was also kind of reserved.”

“How do you mean?”

“Whenever he was working he would sit in whatever space we provided him with for

hours. Sometimes he would forget to eat or even sleep. You could always tell when Stark had an idea in his head that he couldn’t shake, it was the only time he ever really shut up.” Bucky recalled with a wistful smile on his face.

“Sounds like you knew him well.” You remarked, jotting shorthand down in your notebook, blue ink scribbling across the white expanse of the page.

“Not as well as others, but that wasn’t really my area. I was more of the follow orders type, not really one to give them out.” He said with a shrug.

“Why not?”

“It never really made me comfortable. When I was growin’ up I had to look after a few people so it felt nice to not have to do that, even if for a little while.” He pondered.

“What?” You questioned, noticing how his gaze didn’t fall on anything specific, just kind of staring and thinking.

“I...uh, I’ve never really thought about that before actually.” He replied bashfully, bringing his right hand up to rub the back of his neck, a slight blush creeping on his cheeks. He was cute when he was flushed, you wondered if you could make it happen again. Damnit, focus, you’re here for the story not for the man. Even if said man was being incredibly charming without so much as lifting a finger.

You made a split second, maybe stupid decision. You unzipped your booties and brought both of your legs on the bench and sat criss crossed. You made a show of readjusting yourself making Bucky chuckle in bewilderment and then you placed your notebook back in your lap.

“What are you doing?” He questioned, looking at your new position and then to your booties laying haphazardly in the grass.

“I’m just getting more comfortable. Interesting story and all.” You answered simply, a slight smile playing at your lips. You looked down at your notebook and remembered your next point, “You said you had to look after a few people when you were growing up, who did you mean?”

“I was the oldest of four and my dad didn’t hang around much, so I kind of took up the responsibility of looking after my younger siblings.” Bucky started, “and then one day I met Steve, when some punks were trying to take his money. We were fast friends after that. But he was always getting into trouble which means I was always getting him out of trouble.”

“Captain America getting into trouble? What a scandal.” You gasped, putting your hand over your heart and feigning shock. Bucky laughed, a real, throw your head back need to catch a breath laugh. You held your breath. He looked beautiful when he laughed, like for the slightest of moments the weight of his past actions wasn’t sitting on his shoulders. Like all of the preconceived notions people had of him just faded away and he was free to just be himself. You guessed that was what he must’ve looked like all the time all those years ago. But just as soon as it appeared, it was gone again, much to your displeasure.

“Steve got into a lot more trouble than people think. He faked multiple enlistment forms for Christ’s sake. But he’s my best pal and I never once hesitated to help him out, super suit or not.” Bucky said, with more conviction behind his words than you think you had ever heard from anyone. “That’s one of the differences from the 40s to now, now Steve can kick enough ass on his own.”

“I’m sure he still appreciates your help though.” You replied before you had a chance to think about what you were saying.

“What makes you so sure?”

“It’s better to go through life with someone, if you can. Friendships, especially like the one you and Steve have, are a rare breed. If I had one like that I’m not sure anything could make me let it go.” You said earnestly, again forgetting yourself.

A silence followed as Bucky took in your response. He shifted so that he was facing you on the bench, he tucked one of his muscular legs under him and swung his metal arm around the back of the bench, resting it there. You felt his gaze burning into the side of your face so you decided to turn to face him as well, unprepared for how close the two of you were. Not close enough to be indecent but not faraway enough not to be either.

“Are you normally this open as a journalist?” He questioned, bringing his black and gold metal hand to rest under his chin.

“Are your normally this open to journalists?” You replied cautiously, but with a hint of teasing in your voice.

“Touche.”

You shook your head and rolled your eyes in response. Unsure if his response warranted any other kind of reply.

“That’s another thing that’s different.” He commented casually, pointing to your expression.

“What?”

“How people communicate. Back in the 40′s we were just more upfront about things. There wasn’t all this reading between the lines nonsense.”

“Well you also had polio.” You rebutted.

“Okay, point taken.” Bucky said, putting his hands up in mock defeat. After about fifteen more minutes you felt like you finally had enough material. Looking at the notebook in your lap, you gave your notes one more once over before you closed it again.

“Well, I think I finally have everything I need. Thanks for agreeing to meet me again Bucky.” You announced, placing your shoes back on your feet and standing up.

“I should be the one thanking you.” He said, as the two of you began the trek back to the parking lot. It was only a short distance which you found yourself suddenly disappointed in, you didn’t want this to end.

“What for?” You questioned, hiking your purse further on your shoulder.

“Besides Steve, I hadn’t been that open with anyone for a long while. You’re a real gem, you know that?”

You could feel a flush work its way across your own face now and you tried your best to hide it from Bucky but to no avail. You could see him grinning from the corner of your eyes.

“Well, this is me.” You said breathily as you unlocked your car and threw your purse into the passenger seat. Bucky walked with you over to the drivers side and opened the door for you. As you got in he leaned against the top of the door frame, looking down at you with a look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place. But you knew how it made you feel, you felt like hummingbirds were fluttering around in your chest cavity, begging to break free. You tried to catch your breath, hoping he wouldn’t hear your pulse quicken at his look.

“When can I expect to see this interview of mine? Sam keeps pestering me about it.” He joked, still looking at you with those piercing blue eyes. You imagined he was looking straight into your soul, into your very being. It was unnerving and comforting at the same time. Seriously, what was it about this man?

“It’ll be out in about two days but if you want I can send you it when we’re done editing, so probably sometime later today.” You guessed, doing anything to see him smile again. It was worrying the effect he had on you.

“I’d like that.” He said with his head cocked to the side in mock contemplation, some of his black locks falling into his eye as he did so, making him look more handsome than you thought was humanly possible. God you really needed to get out of here.

“Well, the sooner I leave the sooner you can see it. Bye Bucky, talk to you later.” You said, closing your door but leaving the window down in case he decided to grace your ears with another response.

“Bye doll, looking forward to it.” He answered cheekily. Bastard. You pulled out and the moment you got out of the gate blasted your music on high. Anything to overpower the sound of your heart thundering in your chest and the wayward thoughts in your head.

Taglist: @heatherhollowayst @perrythefrickinplatypus

#the journalist and the winter soldier #chapter four #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #mcu fanfic #marvel fanfic #reader insert

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calligraphist-artemisia · 4 years

Text

Harry Potter and the Best Summer (1 | Rescue)

Summary: AU - canon divergence. Harry had barely been back at the Dursley's for two weeks, when an unexpected visitor arrived at the door. He quickly finds himself spirited away back to the wizarding world and learns some secrets that have long been kept from him.

A sequel to Of Family and Unexpected Friendship. Also posted on AO3 under the username Kishirokitsune.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

1 | Rescue

If Harry Potter could have only one wish come true, it would be that he would never have to return to number four Privet Drive. His time at Hogwarts had only reinforced that wish and there was a certain knowledge lurking at the back of his mind that said if he really wanted to, he could leave and spend his summers lodging at the Leaky Cauldron. However, he was stopped by his promise to Headmaster Dumbledore.

Harry sighed as quietly as he could and gave a sideways glance to the cupboard under the stairs, where his relatives had immediately locked away his trunk when he arrived home.

He'd been just lucky enough to convince them to allow Hedwig to stay in his room, provided that he keep her quiet. It was working, but barely. After two weeks of being stuck in her cage, she was beginning to give him reproachful looks and quiet hoots of displeasure.

For his part, Harry kept his head down and did his chores as he was told. The less he could provoke his relatives, the better. They seemed perfectly happy to ignore him anyway, which was far better than any of the years before he learned he was a wizard, and the most interaction he got daily was from Aunt Petunia leaving a list for him on the counter.

Most days followed a routine; make breakfast, clean the kitchen, water and weed the garden, make lunch, leave the house whenever Dudley brought his friends over so he could avoid the inevitable bullying, and make dinner. Some days there was another chore added in, like vacuuming or dusting or cleaning the windows.

It wasn't bad, all things considering.

His chores kept Harry busy and in his free time he tried to review what he could remember from classes, so that once his friends did write him with days he could (hopefully) visit them, he would have a clearer idea of what to write for his summer essays. With all of his books locked away in his trunk, it would be the only chance he'd have to complete the work given to him.

Two weeks wasn't a long time. Not really. There was no reason for him to worry about not receiving a single letter, even though they'd all promised to do so.

Two weeks.

Harry quietly began preparing lunch according to Petunia's exact specifications. He knew if he did a single thing incorrectly, he would find his “privileges” more restricted than they already were.

He was partway through when something very odd happened.

The doorbell rang.

Most people would not find that odd, but most people were not the Dursley's, where an unexpected house-guest was a very odd thing indeed.

Petunia glared at him as she bustled by on her way to the door, a not-so-subtle reminder that he was to remain quiet and not draw attention to himself. She pasted on a smile for their guests and smoothed out the front of her neat blouse, and then opened the door.

Harry slowed his movements so he could listen in, thankful there was no one else around to watch him.

“Good afternoon, my name is Andromeda Tonks and this is my cousin, Leona Black.”

Harry's heart leaped in his chest.

Leona Black was a fellow Gryffindor at Hogwarts who he befriended over Christmas break. Their parents had been friends and year-mates when they attended school, and she offered him the chance to hear stories about them. On top of that, she spent the remainder of the school year tutoring him in wizarding culture and had promised to dive deeper into that over the summer, even if she had to do it through letter.

He skillfully set aside the spatula without making a sound and crept closer to the hall, hoping to get a look at what was happening.

Leona was there, looking far different than he remembered and it took Harry an embarrassingly long moment to realize why. It was more than just her light brown hair, curled more neatly than she bothered to while at school, it was also in the way she held herself, straight-backed and head lifted high. Her muggle clothing was crisp and neat in a way that way too perfect.

The woman with her was dressed in a similar manner, but carried herself with a grace and nobility that made Harry feel like a bum in comparison. Her hair was darker than Leona's and curled in a more natural manner. For a moment he thought she might be Leona's mother, before remembering that she introduced herself as Andromeda.

Or “Andy”, as Leona commonly called her.

“We are here to pick up Harry Potter.”

The next few minutes passed in a blur to Harry. Petunia denied that he was there, of course, but none of that stopped Leona or Andromeda from finding the truth, aided in part by Harry himself, who did not stay quietly hidden in the kitchen. He wasn't sure if she made a convincing argument, or merely decided Petunia wasn't someone worth arguing with, but before he knew it, Harry was being swept toward the door by Andromeda with a steady hand on his back.

“Leona, fetch Harry's things,” she instructed.

Leona nodded once and looked to Harry for guidance.

“Hedwig's in my room. Up the stairs, second door on the left. My trunk is, er...” Harry couldn't stop his glance to the cupboard under the stairs.

There was more than just his trunk in there. No one had ever bothered to fully clean it out when he was moved to the smallest bedroom. It had only been a year since then, but he couldn't remember if he left behind anything to show that he had once called the tiny space his room.

In one fluid motion, Andromeda withdrew her wand and flicked it toward the cupboard.

Petunia hissed angrily and pressed herself up against the wall, her eyes fixated on the slender piece of wood. She said nothing, but her glare promised retribution the next time Harry stepped foot into the house alone.

The cupboard door creaked open and Harry tried to move forward and get his trunk before much more of the room could be revealed, but the older witch summoned it towards them herself, bumping the door wide open in the process.

There, pinned to the wall on an old scrap of paper and written in crayon, were the words “Harry's Room”.

Andromeda narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips into a thin line. She continued to float the trunk a few inches from the ground, and in a very calm voice said: “Leona.”

“I'll get Hedwig,” she responded immediately, turning to the stairs and racing up them. She returned quickly, crooning to the snowy owl with promises of freedom. She didn't look at Petunia as she brushed past the woman.

Harry wasn't sure if he managed to say goodbye to his Aunt or not as he was hurried from the house, but he didn't glance back either. His trunk was still floating, though it was close enough that anyone not paying close attention would assume he was carrying it.

There was a shiny black car – obviously new and expensive – sitting at the end of the drive, and Harry eyed it curiously as they approached. He assumed they would keep going, but instead Andromeda led them right up to it. His trunk was soon loaded into the back and Hedwig released to stretch her wings, and then they were off, with Harry in the backseat along with Leona.

“I got worried when you didn't respond to any of my letters,” she explained. “When Fred and George said you hadn't written Ron either, I knew I had to do something, so I asked Andy for advice and she agreed to come with me.”

“You sent letters? I never got any,” Harry said.

Leona frowned. “I sent three of them, and I know Ron sent one, so that's at least four missing letters. According to him, Hermione has sent you one as well. So what happened to them? Any ideas, Andy?”

“It sounds as though someone has been tampering with Mr. Potter's mail,” Andromeda responded. She glanced at him using the rear-view mirror, her brown eyes scanning his slight form. “It will all be looked into.”

Harry got the feeling she meant more than just his mail. He looked to Leona instead, wondering which of his many questions he should ask first. (Should he ask them? Would she mind? Those musings Harry tried to brush away, though the sense of unease lingered. The Dursley's never liked questions.)

“I got a little worried when I didn't hear from you after the first one,” Leona said to one of his unasked questions. “You do have a knack for trouble, after all. Mum convinced me that you might be busy and that two days is hardly cause for alarm, but she did let me send a second letter. Once I didn't get a response to that one, I mentioned what was happening to Fred and George. Ron overheard and said you hadn't written him, but Hermione had and she was having similar trouble. I figured there must be something wrong, but it wasn't until the third one that mum and Andy were willing to believe me.”

“We always believed that you thought something was wrong, but there are better ways to handle problems than rushing headlong into a situation when you don't know all of the facts,” Andromeda said, in a tone that indicated she'd said that many times before.

Leona made a face.

“Extra lessons tomorrow morning. Early. Mr. Potter may join us.”

Leona sputtered, her expression one of distress. “But it's the start of vacation and we've only just gotten Harry away from those awful muggles!”

Andromeda's voice was firm and without amusement when she spoke again. “Then I should think that Mr. Potter would like the opportunity to immerse himself in wizarding culture and tradition. As it's clear from what little I've heard from you about the circumstances of his placement, there is a great deal he needs to learn, and very little time to teach him. There will be time for fun, but at the moment we have more pressing matters to attend to.”

Leona slumped back against her seat, which seemed to mark the end of their disagreement.

Harry soon found himself distracted with the view out the window, as the car they were in squeezed through impossibly small spaces. He thought at first that it was the other vehicles warping to let them pass through, but on closer inspection realized that they were the ones being pulled and squeezed as they moved easily through traffic.

They drove for another ten minutes before Andromeda made a turn off down a dead-end street, at the end of which was a tall brick wall – likely the back side of a shop. When they didn't slow down, Harry began to get nervous.

He closed his eyes, bracing himself for impact, but all that happened was the car bouncing slightly and then he could hear the crunch of gravel beneath the tires. Harry opened his eyes again to find that they were no longer in town.

When he twisted around to look behind him, there was only a gray brick fence and impressive iron-wrought gate barring the path to the main road.

“It's pretty cool, right?” Leona asked, noticing his look of awe. “There are specialized runes and charms on the car that let it pass through magical space. It was only invented in the past few years as a way to travel without causing motion sickness. Of course, not everyone has embraced it, since it relies on muggle engineering and it's slower than apparating or taking a portkey, but you don't have to down an anti-nausea potion each time you use it, so that benefit outweighs the extra time. And also, disappearing in front of muggles is generally considered breaking the Statute of Secrecy, but they won't pay any attention to a car.”

“It's brilliant,” Harry said, though he had no idea what apparation was. He resolved to ask Hermione about other forms of magical transport once he had the chance. She was bound to know, but on the off-chance that she didn't, it would give her something new and interesting to research.

Of course, he could also ask Leona or Andromeda, who were both right there with him and clearly happy to explain anything he was having trouble understanding. It was only out of habit that Hermione was the first one he thought of.

His attention was drawn elsewhere as he got his first look at where they were going. It was a truly magnificent Victorian manor with a octagonal tower positioned on the front right side of the building. It looked to be around two stories tall; three, counting the tower. The outside was done in dark stone and had wooden embellishments for added interest.

The landscaping around the manor was immaculate, but not in the too-perfect way of Privet Drive. There was no symmetry, for one, and it seemed like every plant had been chosen for a specific reason that went beyond uniformity. Aside from a few groupings, none of them appeared to be the same type of tree or bush, and the colors of the flowers ranged across the rainbow from red to blue. The fact that his Aunt and Uncle would hate it made Harry love it even more.

“Welcome to Oakstone Manor,” Leona said proudly.

Andromeda pulled the car into a stone carport next to the house and once they were parked, Leona led the way up to the front door.

“Remember our plans, Leona,” Andromeda said.

“Of course,” Leona responded with a short nod. She looked down at Harry, whose confusion was clear in his expression. “Andy set up an appointment at Gringotts for the reading of your parents will. She's been looking into a few things ever since I sent that letter to mum over Yule, but it's the most important one.”

“We will explain things once you are settled in, Mr. Potter,” Andromeda said kindly.

Harry felt a little too reminded of Professor McGonagall right before she was about to give a lecture every time Andromeda referred to him as Mr. Potter and quickly asked that she just call him Harry instead.

“Then you may call me Andy,” she said. “My child prefers to go by our surname, Tonks. You will likely meet them this evening once they return from Auror training.”

Andromeda walked ahead of them to open the door, giving Leona a split second to whisper a rather unusual word to Harry. He assumed Nymphadora was Andy's child and could almost understand why they wanted to change their name. (He didn't fully understand the use of “they”. Nymphadora sounded like a girls name, so shouldn't that be “she”?)

Harry had so many questions that he didn't know where to start, so he stayed quiet as he followed them inside, his eyes wide at the sight of the grand staircase leading up to the second floor. They bustled him along to the right, past a parlor room decorated in soft blues and grays, and then through a set of doors leading to the kitchen, where a tiny creature in dark gray was busy using magic to prepare a light lunch of sandwiches and fruit.

The creature strongly reminded Harry of a hairless cat, though it was bipedal and its ears were much larger.

He looked to Leona in silent questioning.

“Harry, this is Cici, one of the manor's house-elves,” Leona introduced. “Cici, come meet Harry! He'll be staying with us for the rest of summer.”

Cici turned with a delighted squeak, her eyes large and almost bulbous in shape. She dropped into a low bow. “Cici is being pleased to meet Harry!”

Once she was facing him, Harry could see the navy blue sash attached to the front of the house-elf's uniform, stretching from one shoulder down to the opposite hip. At the very top was a crest, which he supposed belonged to House Black.

“Nice to meet you,” Harry replied.

Cici beamed. “Cici has prepared lunch for everyone to enjoy! If Harry wants anything else to eat, just ask Cici!”

“I, um, I will. Thank you,” Harry said, fighting off his confusion at her enthusiasm. He cast a wide-eyed look at Leona, who wasn't at all phased by the house-elf. But then again, why would she be?

Cici snapped her fingers and the plates of food floated to the long table in the center of the room.

“Eat, Harry,” Andromeda suggested in a tone that left little room for disagreement. She smiled as Harry obediently sat down in the nearest chair and reached for a sandwich. “Cici, would you take Harry's things to his new room? I was thinking that the blue room on the east wing would be best for him.”

“Cici will be going right away, Miss Andy!”

Harry jumped as a loud pop! snapped through the air right as Cici vanished. “How did she do that?”

“Magic, of course.” Leona grinned at him as she sat down and selected a sandwich of her own, also adding several large strawberries to her plate. “Remember earlier when I was telling you about different forms of magical transport? That was apparation.”

“And... and you said Cici is a house-elf?”

Andromeda joined them at the table, but stayed silent as Leona explained.

“They're sort of like live-in servants. They bind themselves to the magic of a family or House and it makes their own magic even stronger. Of course, some people take advantage of that and use it as an excuse to be cruel to them – to command obedience even when it means hurting them. It's...” Leona paused to get her thoughts in order. “House Black used to be that way. After the war, when Andy took over as Regent for the House, she started to make changes and reformed House Black from the ground up.”

“It has been a long process and not nearly as simple as Leona makes it sound,” Andromeda said gently. “Family magics are delicate and often tightly woven. It has taken no small amount of power and patience to get as far as I have, but it has all been worth it to lay the foundation for Leona to build upon once she comes of age.”

“Anyway, our house-elves all have the option to accept payment and can use it for any extra things they like. We provide all of the housing, food, and medicine for them, as well as access to the family magics. And their clothing, of course. While working they wear the uniform of our House, but outside of that it's up to them.”

Leona spoke with such pride of the changes that had been made, but Harry couldn't help but feel like she was leaving so much out. If House Black had only recently begun to offer payment to their house-elves, then did that mean it wasn't something other Houses did? But then that would make house-elves...

“They're slaves?” he asked in a quiet voice.

Leona flinched.

“They have been treated as such for many generations,” Andromeda said in an even tone. “For long enough that house-elves themselves see it as the only way, though that in no way makes it right. We are trying to do better, Harry. In time, we hope to see others willingly follow until the day comes we can approve legislature that will prevent the mistreatment of house-elves.”

Andromeda filled her own plate with food. “Enough of this talk for now. There is much we need to get done and the day is already halfway through. Milla!”

Harry jumped as a new house-elf appeared, similar in appearance to the first but decidedly older. Like Cici, they wore all gray except for the navy blue sash from shoulder-to-hip.

“How may Milla be helping?” they asked.

“Could you let Remy and Aquarius know that we have returned and lunch has been prepared? I'm afraid I sent Cici off with new instructions before she could do so,” Andromeda said.

Milla quietly agreed and then popped away, leaving the three of them alone in the kitchen. They ate in silence for several minutes and then footsteps on the wooden floors sounded the arrival of someone else.

Or two someones, as it were.

A tiny girl with wild dark curls was the first to enter, giving little pause when she spotted Harry sitting at the table next to Leona. She smiled sweetly as she made her way over, her pale blue skirt swishing around her ankles, and then sat down directly across from Harry.

Behind her was an older woman whose hair was similar in color to Leona's – a light brown that has slight waves – though there was a visible streak of gray in the front. Something in her expression broke when she saw Harry and before he could wonder if there was something wrong, she opened her mouth to greet him.

“I haven't seen you since you were a baby, Harry. It's good to have you here,” she said.

She could only be Leona's mother – Remy Lupin-Black – who had been best friends with his parents while they were at Hogwarts. He'd been exchanging letters with her since Christmas, though his were mostly thanking her for the stories she told him about his parents and a little bit about his life at school. He should have recognized her from the photographs Leona showed him, but she had only been a teenager in those.

“It's nice to finally meet you – er, again,” Harry said, feeling awkward.

Remy took a seat across from Leona and next to Andromeda, her movements a little stiff. Maybe she was just as nervous to meet Harry? The thought seemed silly, but after all of her well-written letters maybe he wasn't off the mark.

“Leo says she's been teaching you about culture and stuff,” Aquarius spoke up, breaking the silence that had fallen over the room. “Did you really not know about it before Hogwarts?”

“Well, no. I grew up with muggles – my mum's sister,” Harry explained.

“Petunia?” Remy sounded alarmed, her amber eyes wide. “But he said – you were meant to be someplace safe and he put you with Petunia?”

“Remus,” Andromeda said sharply. She waited for the other woman to calm down before continuing with: “That is part of the reason why we will be going to Gringotts before anything else. Harry is overdue for his inheritance test and after that we should be able to request for the unsealing of the Potters' Will. We will get to the bottom of why you were sent to live with those horrible muggles instead of being placed with the magical guardian chosen by your parents.”

Harry wondered if speaking up in defense of his aunt and uncle would be the right thing to do, but decided he didn't care. They were horrible muggles.

“Lily wanted to do a few things the muggle way, so you should have gone to your godparents, but...” Remy trailed off, her voice full of pain. “Alice Longbottom was named your godmother. She and Lily were close after Hogwarts. James picked your godfather.”

“Sirius,” Harry said, remembering what Leona told him when they first met. “Wait, Longbottom? Like Neville Longbottom?” His head reeled at the thought of growing up with Neville as a brother. It would have been far better than Dudley, that was for sure. Or he could have even grown up with Leona and Aquarius as his sisters!

He should have grown up in the magical world, knowing about his parents and the world he would come to know and love. So who had placed him with the Dusleys? And why?

Harry doubted he would be able to eat much until he learned the truth.

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter au #original characters #exploring the Culture and Traditions of the Magical World #Harry has a more realistic curiosity about his family #HP and the Traditions of the Magical World

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one-piece-dumpster-fire · 5 years

Note

Hi I love your work and I also love reading about Katakuri so I wanted to ask if you could write a scenario about how he fell in love with a normal size pastry cook or maid and how he handled it

I went with a mix of both, hope that’sokay xD

Katakuri falling for a maid/chef scenario

Wherever he went, it was as if she wasalways there.

„Oh, my Lord, what a suprise! Are youhere to pick up your daily order of donuts?“

It was unnerving. Annoying.Distracting.

„I’m sorry, but I just cleaned thefloor. Do you think you could wait a few more minutes for it to drydown?“

(Y/N) only started to work for Big Moma few months ago, but it didn’t take long until she turned into avaluable staff member at the chateau. Because of her flexibility, shewould often take over the work of people who called in sick, whichwas one of the main reasons why she was always all over the place.Everytime Katakuri went to report to his mother, or accept a newmission, he would run into her. Of course he dismissed her merepresence at first, similiar to how he treated all the servants, but,much to his dismay, she kept on drawing his attention to herself.

„How lucky of me to run into youright now, Lord Katakuri! I can’t reach… the tea I wanted toprepare for your Merienda today. Could you, maybe, get it for me?“

Whatever she was playing at, he didn’tlike it. It made him feel…. uneasy- her constant smiling, her openkindness, the way she always looked up at him as if he was… ‘herfriend’- why didn’t this woman know her place as a servant? Who didshe think he was?

… And….more importantly- why didn’the stop her?

Katakuri never considered himself to bethe kind of man who would just suddenly start to care for someone whowas not a part of his family, let alone a woman who was supposed tobe replacable and unimportant to his duties. Yet something kept ondrawing him to her. Perhaps she never left his thoughts because noday would pass without their paths crossing? And, much to his dismay,today would soon prove to be no different.

„Oh, hello Lord Katakuri! I wasactually looking for you, there is something I need to discuss withyou about today’s Merienda.“

Upon hearing the small womans voice,the Commander looked down and immediately came face to face with herbig smile and friendly eyes. He was actually on his way to meet upwith his younger brothers to spend some time training, but now that(Y/N) was infront of him, those plans almost immediately vanishedfrom his train of thoughts.

„Mh? The Merienda? What about it,(Y/N)?“ he asked in his usual stern tone, but if one listensclosely, they would be able to detect a slightly more gentle tonehidden in his voice.

„Well, all the other chefs who weresupposed to accompany you today called in sick, and I know that as asimple chef and maid this isn’t really my line of work, but…“,she took a deep breath and looked the tall man directly in his eyes,with a determined expression on her face, „would it bother you if Iwere to accompany you instead?“

Katakuri furrowed his brows at hersuggestion, and for a second it seemed as if her request wasinfuriating him, but his glare softened a bit and he nodded insilence. Yes, it would indeed bother me, he wanted to reply, becausewhenever you are around I don’t feel like myself. But ultimately hedidn’t have much of a choice and he wouldn’t want to miss out on(Y/N)’s delicious baked goods either, so he accepted. „As you wish. Iwill await you in the garden ten minutes before the usual start of myMerienda.“ he replied in a nonchalantly tone, before turning aroundto leave. „Thank you, Lord Katakuri! I promise not to dissapoint!“the small woman shouted after him while he was walking back the wayhe came from, with unusual big steps. But upon entering his private chamber,he sighed in slight annoyance as he was able to feel two all toofamiliar presences behind him.

„Daifuku. Oven. Is there somethingyou want?“ he asked and turned around, only to come face to face withhis two younger triplet brothers. Both of them had their arms crossedinfront of their chests and a sly smirk was gracing their handsomefaces. „Well, we simply heard that a certain… someone… is goingto accompany your Merienda today,“ Daifuku grinned while Ovenchuckled, „the little maid, eh? Well it’s about time you asked herout.“ he added, which caused Katakuri to shot a nasty glare at hisyounger brothers.

„Are you two dense? I didn’t ask herout. The other chefs are sick, so she will supply me with treatsduring my Merienda, nothing more, nothing less.“ he groaned and satdown on his couch before looking to the side and silently hoping thathis brothers would give it a rest and leave him alone. That,unfortunately, was not the case though.

„She isn’t qualified enough to dosomething like that, and you know it too. C'mon, admit it Kata- youjust want her to be close to you!“ Oven said with his grin still intact,but all smugness had left his face and he instead looked at his olderbrother in a sympathetic way.

„Yeah, and just for the notice, we are notdense,“ Daifuku chirmed in and gave Katakuri an insulted glare, „wenoticed the way you’ve been staring at her lately. You might not evenbe aware of it yourself, but we are your brothers, so of course weknow what’s going on.“

Katakuri sighed while a red hueappeared on his cheeks. Was he really going to… talk about hisinfatuations with his younger brothers now? And at 48, on top of that?!

„You wouldn’t understand. I don’tneed feelings like this in my life, especially if they simply serveto weaken me. On top of that, if Mama ever found out she would getrid of (Y/N) in an instant.“ he confessed before looking up at theclock to see that the time for his Merienda was approaching fast.

„Yeah, we figured you’d say somethinglike that,“ Oven replied with a sigh, „but where is the harm intrying to pursue your feelings…just a little bit? No one is expectingyou to marry her, but if you like her and care about her fate, thenwhy shouldn’t you let her know? If you continue to keep theseemotions inside, it will just make you more miserable.“

Katakuri raised an eyebrow in supriseat his younger brother’s advice, but then again, Oven was always themore emotional one out of the trio. Still, pursuing his feelings areout of the question and there was no way that he would ever allowhimself to show his pinning affections for (Y/N).

„You two don’t get it. In myposition, I will never be free to feel this way for anyone, except mypossible bride one day.“ he replied and got up, signaling hisbrothers that the talk was over, before heading outside and into thegarden for his daily Merienda. Oven and Daifuku looked after theirbrother for a few seconds and sighed while turning around to leave aswell.

Much to Katakuri’s suprise, (Y/N) wasalready waiting for him outside with a gigantic basket full of donuts standingbehind her. She seemed to be checking on the food to make sure thatshe didn’t forget anything, so Katakuri decided to let his presencebe known and loudly cleared his throat.

„O-Oh, my lord! You are alreadyhere?“ (Y/N) replied and looked up at the tall man in front of her,„I just finished the preparations, I didn’t expect you to come overso soon…“ she admitted, which caused Katakuri to raise aneyebrow.

„And miss out on my Merienda? Thathas never happened before, and I surely won’t allow my schedule toget mixed up.“ (Y/N) took a step back in suprise at his suddenreply, and started to fumble around with the basket again. Since shehas never been there during one of his Meriendas, she didn’t knowwhat to do. But Katakuri quickly caught up on that and sighed, beforebuilding his Mochi shrine and signaling her to bring the basketinside.

Following behind the commander, (Y/N)entered the shrine in amazement and put it done in front of the tallman. „Your work here is now down, (Y/N). You may leave.“ He saidwhile having his back turned to her and waited for her to go outsideso he could gobble up the delicious food she had prepared for him,but, much to his displeasure, she stayed right where she was whilefumbling with her fingers.

„My Lord, I… I know this is out ofplace for me to ask, but… I’ve been wondering… why do you keep onhiding your mouth? Do you not like it when people see you eat?“ Herquestion hit him out of nowhere, which caused him to silently coughin suprise, and also made him wish that he had used his future visionto prepare himself for her sudden question. Normally, he would simplyglare at anyone who’d ask him something like this in order to silence them, but there was… such an innocent curiosity in her voice, and theway she spoke to him… almost as if she truly cared…

„That is something I will not explainto you,“ he said in a suprisingly warm voice, before waving withhis hand to signal her that she should go now. While she was on herway out, Katakuri couldn’t help but feel that oh so dreaded warmthrise in his chest again as he watched her leave with an unusuallykind glimmer in his eyes.

„…but one day, (Y/N), if fateallows it, I might show you.“

#one piece #Charlotte Katakuri #op scenario #one piece scenario

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