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illegal-spiegel · 3 years

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Voice Sweet as Caramel

Pairing: deaf!Katsuki Bakugo x gn!reader Genre: fluff, slight angst? Warnings: none Summary: You meet Dynamight and don’t know that he’s deaf. Luckily for him though, when you find out, your quirk comes in handy Word Count: 5.1k words A/N: I did a lot of research to make Bakugo’s experience seem as real as possible. If there is smth that I did wrong, worded incorrectly, etc., please don’t hesitate to inform me. Thank you and enjoy!

It didn’t really bother him at first. Being deaf, I mean. He didn’t have to listen to a bunch of nonsense all the time, he could sleep in peace, villains trying to goad him on and agitate him didn’t work anymore, and so on.

It didn’t take him long to realize just how many downfalls there are with that though. He started to fall behind in class because he could no longer hear his teachers. He wasn’t able to hear plans of attack or hear an enemy sneak up on him.

He can’t hear your voice.

He became deaf in the middle of his third year. It happened in the middle of a fight with the league of villains and he didn’t really have time to panic about it at the time. When school let out and he became one of the top heroes, he tried not to be bothered by it and for the most part, it worked. His other senses heightened as time went on but that doesn’t mean it made the reality that he’s deaf any easier. There were still the setbacks that will always hold him back from reaching top potential. Because of this, he’s the number three hero, right behind Deku and Todoroki.

That’s what really crushed him.

He never shows anyone, heroes, friends, and villains alike, that being deaf is a struggle for him, even when he gets used to it. He wants to hear the villains he defeats beg for mercy. He wants to hear his friends laugh when someone does something stupid. He wants to hear the praise of civilians when he saves them.

He wants to hear your voice but he’d, obviously, never tell a soul that.

He didn’t meet you until a year after he graduated.

You showed up when he was fighting some villains, and he’ll never admit that he was struggling a little bit. Somehow though, villain after villain suddenly couldn’t see him and they panicked. They’d run into buildings and each other before Bakugo beat them all to a pulp.

Seeing as how you’re the only one else there with a hero costume on, he assumes you had something to do with it. As he hands the villains over to the police, you come over with a warm smile aimed directly at him. He stares at your lips as you speak, his ears ringing with the silence that he’s grown used to.

He doesn’t really understand why you’re trying to talk to him, seeing as how everyone knows that the great hero Dynamight is unable to hear. So, why are you wasting your time trying to talk to him? Maybe you think he can read your lips. That is, after all, a common misconception about deaf people.

Without a word on his part, he turns and walks away from you. He doesn’t hear you stop in the middle of congratulating him. He doesn’t hear how you scoff a bit. He doesn’t see you frown at how rude he is.

You walk into the building with a bright smile already on your face, excited for something you literally do every day of your life. It doesn’t matter how many times you do it though. This will always make you happy. Plus, you just came to Japan from America a couple of weeks ago. You haven’t been here in years. You are excited to use your improved quirk to help others.

You greet the lady at the front desk as you grab your sticker name tag that the staff makes for you every day. You then go to your first stop, gently knocking on the door and coming in once you get the go-ahead.

“(Y/n)! You’re back!” the little girl squeals, a large smile coming to her face. Your smile stretches out further as you walk over to her.

“Hi, Keiko! How have you been?” you say as you move your hands slowly for her to read. She watches them attentively before perking up, her mother beside her smiling softly at the interaction.

“I’ve been really good! I’m glad you're back!” she says happily, her ‘accent’ coming through more now that she’s calmed down and isn’t shouting.

“I’m happy to be back too,” you agree, your hands moving with your words.

“(Y/n),” the mother says, grabbing your attention, “Thank you for coming back. You have no idea what this means to me. To us. After the villain attack...” Her eyes are watery as she speaks, her hand coming up to pet her daughter’s head.

You smile softly at her, coming over to sit in the empty chair by her bed. “Don’t even mention it, Mrs. Suzuki. It’s an honor to be of use to you and your daughter,” you reassure. You then look to Keiko, seeing her body impatiently wiggling around as she waits for you to work your magic.

You chuckle as you raise your hands, her eyes widening, despite knowing what you were doing. She turns to look at her mom as she shouts, “Mommy! I can hear again!” You read her lips and smile as she wraps her arms tightly around her mother. You watch with a soft look in your eyes, trying to ignore your oncoming sadness that will come when her hearing comes to an end again.

“Keiko, I noticed that you are getting better at JSL. You must be studying so hard!” you praise, watching her chest puff out at the praise.

“You bet I am! It’s so easy and my tutor says I’m really good at it!” she brags while using her hands for you to read, a chuckle escaping you at how proud she is. She has every right to be though.

“That’s so cool! Can you show me what else you’ve learned?”

You stay with the girl and her mother for their hour before slowly taking away her hearing again. She doesn’t seem to mind though. Even at her young age, she’s grateful for the opportunity that others don’t get to have and she knows that you can’t let her have her hearing back forever.

You walk down the hall and walk into the next room after knocking. “Daiki? It’s (Y/n),” you greet softly, not wanting to spook the teen. He perks up at the sound of your voice, a smile coming to his face as he turns to face you.

That has to be the best part of your quirk. You bring all of these smiles to these unfortunate people whose lives were changed at the hands of villains.

“(Y/n)! I’m surprised to have you come back so soon!” he greets, holding his arms open for a hug. You happily accept it, returning his sight as you pull away. He brightens up more as the life returns in his eyes, your eyes catching the sight of his gums showing from how big he’s smiling before your own vision goes dark.

“I’ll never get tired of seeing your pretty face,” he playfully flirts, making you chuckle as you take a seat by his bed.

“You’re such a flatterer.” When visiting Daiki, he prefers to use his time wisely. He likes to memorize the faces of loved ones, read, watch tv, and other things that he can’t do.

When his time comes to an end, he sighs as he closes his book he was reading, a sad smile on his face. “You really are my hero, (Y/n),” Daiki says softly, his eyes roaming your face to now memorize it without your knowledge.

“I’m just doing what anyone else would do with my quirk,” you reassure, giving him a sad smile as you slowly take his sight away again. He sighs and picks up the same book from before but with braille instead of typed words.

“Still. See you next week?”

“You betcha,” you say softly before kissing his cheek and leaving.

Your quirk allows you to eliminate or heighten the five senses. You can only do one sense at a time though. You can do it in increments too, meaning you can completely eradicate or heighten a sense, or you can do it partially. For example, you can increase someone’s smelling to 100% and they can suddenly smell ten times better than a bloodhound. Another example, if someone is getting a headache by a smell, you can remove someone’s smell by 50% and leave them able to smell but not as strongly as they normally would be able to. Also, when you use your quirk, that sense is completely removed from you but only while you’re using it on someone. You also can’t use your quirk on yourself.

It’s when you’re leaving the RCV, the Recovery Center from Villains, you notice the fight between a hero and multiple villains. You raise your hand to one of the villains, removing his, and your, sight. When you hear a loud explosion and a cry of pain, you turn off your quirk to find the villain you used your quirk on laying on the ground. You repeat this process with the other villains until there was none left standing.

When the hero hands them over to the police, you run over with a grin. “Hi, I just wanted to say that you were incredible! I know you probably didn’t need my help but I just wanted to-”

You cut yourself off with a scoff when the blond suddenly walks away from you, a frown coming to your face as you watch him go. Well, that was rude. Especially after you just helped him take down four villains!

“Excuse me. Were you the one to help Dynamight?” an officer asks. You give her a kind smile as you nod your head, turning to face her now.

“Yes, ma’am. I have a senses quirk, so I eliminated their sight so, uh, Dynamite could get the upper hand,” you explain. She smiles at this, becoming more fascinated by the second as you explain what happened. You answer any questions she has, noticing the sun is starting to go down.

“Well, it’s getting dark. I’ll let you go! Have a great day—oh! What’s your hero name?”

“It’s Esthesia,” you say before saluting and walking away.

On your walk home, a guy gives you an unseemly smile as his eyes flicker up and down your body. “Hey, baby. Where you going?” You give him a bored look as you raise your hand, taking his, and your, sight away as you continue to walk straight. He begins to panic, your ears listening as he runs around frantically before crashing into a brick wall. When his body hits the ground, you return both of your vision with a smirk.

“Have a nice night!” you sarcastically call to his groaning figure.

The second time you meet Dynamight—you learned from the news how it’s actually spelled—it was under pretty much the same circumstances. You stay by the sidelines, appearing as a civilian to everyone which is exactly what you wanted.

You raise your hand and remove the villain’s sight, listening for signs that the villain is defeated. When you return your vision though, you find a villain coming from above to attack Dynamight.

“Dynamight!” you shout in warning, pointing up for him to see what your warning is for. He never looks at you though, allowing the villain to attack him from above. You quickly remove that villain’s sight, hoping that you weren’t too late. Why did he just ignore you like that? Is he that stubborn?

When your vision comes back, you find that he has taken out all of the villains again. You charge towards him once you see this, coming up behind him. “Why did you ignore me? You could’ve been killed!” you shout, afraid for the hero’s life. He keeps his back to you though, his eyes moving from villain to villain to make sure that they will stay down. “Hey!” you shout as you lightly shove him to gain his attention.

“Hey!” he copies as he catches his balance and spins around, his eyes alight with an inferno that’s normally directed at villains. When he sees it’s you though, that inferno shrinks to a flame. “What is your problem?” he screams.

You scoff as you cross your arms over your chest, a glare of your own staring right back at him. “My problem? My problem is that you keep ignoring me! I was trying to help you back there and you didn’t even turn to acknowledge me! You could’ve avoided that attack altogether!” you shout right back, your eyes moving to the wound on his shoulder that he received from that villain. Your eyes return to his face when he huffs and looks away from you.

And just like before, he walks away from you, causing your jaw to drop open. “Hey! You don’t get to do this to me again!” you shout, running to stand in front of him. You notice that the police have arrived to take the bad guys away, which Bakugo also notices.

“Get out of my way,” he snaps, moving to go around you until you just block his way again.

“No! This is the second time I’ve helped you! You can at least thank me!” He doesn’t react to your words. He doesn’t even have an expression on his face anymore. He, again, just moves around you and walks away. This time though, you let him go.

“Fine! That’s the last time I help you then!” you declare.

It’s not.

He just seems to have an invisible sign that you can’t see that says, “Come attack me! I’m alone! Please beat me up!” You don’t understand why he never has backup. Well, besides you, that is.

After helping out several times though, you finally come across him in battle with another hero. About time. Where was he the last six times you’ve helped him?

You watch from afar, only helping if one of them seems to be struggling a bit. You notice that the other hero acts differently around Bakugo. Their body language is different and he never calls out to him. Does he not like him? Cause you sure don’t.

After the fight is over and the police have escorted the villains away, the heroes leave after interacting with the civilians for a bit. You notice that no one talks to Dynamight though. How is he the number three hero but isn’t popular amongst the civilians? That makes his situation even odder to you.

When they finally leave, you quickly catch up to them. “Hey! Hi, sorry! I just wanted to say that you guys did a great job!” you congratulate with a grin, not even looking in Dynamight’s way.

The guy with flaming red hair, named Red Riot you believe, gives you a toothy grin. “Oh, thanks! You’re Esthesia, right? I’ve seen you on the news with Bakubro a couple of times.” You raise your brow at the nickname but realize he’s talking about Dynamight.

“Oh, yes! It’s nice to meet you! You’re Red Riot, right?” At this, his smile gets even brighter, if possible.

“Sure is! You can call me Kirishima though! This is Bakugo,” he introduces. It takes everything in you not to scoff.

“Yeah. I’ve saved his ass a time or two before,” you say as calmly as possible. Kirishima looks to Bakugo and finds that he’s not even looking at you.

“Sorry about him. He can be so moody.” You raise your brow when Bakugo doesn’t come to his own defense, seeming to just take the playful blow.

“That’s one word to describe him. Anyway, I don’t want to keep you guys up. I just wanted to congratulate you,” you explain with a warm smile.

“Oh, it’s no problem at all! It was nice to finally meet the hero who has saved Bakugo’s ass so many times! Say, how about we meet up sometime? It’d be great for you to meet some of the other heroes. Your quirk is really useful!” You blush at this but nod nonetheless.

“Oh, that would be great! I love helping where I can!” You pull out your phone for Kirishima to put his number into your phone, this finally grabbing Bakugo’s attention, but he remains quiet.

“Super! I’ll text you when some of the others are free. We can all get drinks or something,” he says as he hands your phone back to you.

“Can’t wait! It was nice meeting you!” you say cheerfully before you leave the duo to go to the RCV, which is where you were heading before you stopped to help.

About a week later, you get a text from Kirishima asking if you’d be free Sunday night. You agreed to meet him at a restaurant and you couldn’t help but grow excited at the chance to finally meet other heroes in the area.

Sunday night came in a blink of an eye it seemed, your heart beating faster with each mile you get closer to the meeting place. You park your car and double-check that your outfit is in order before heading inside. You look around for spiky, red hair, and it only takes you a second to find him.

“Kirishima!” you call as you near the table. Everyone but a certain blond turns at the sound of your voice. His eyes look at his friends before finally looking at you. You make eye contact with him for a moment before looking at Kirishima.

“Hey, (Y/n)! You look great!” he greets, standing up and pulling out the only empty chair.

“Thank you,” you say with a blush, slowly taking the seat, to which he pushes the chair in for you once you’ve sat down.

“Everyone, this is (Y/n). (Y/n), this is everyone,” he introduces playfully as he takes his own seat. Once he’s settled, he properly introduces you to everyone, to which you happily greeted them all.

“And finally, Mr. Grumpy-Mc-Grumpy-Pants over there is Bakugo, which you already know,” he says as he taps Bakugo’s arm. Bakugo turns to look at Kirishima before following his finger to you.

“It’s nice to officially meet you,” you greet with much sarcasm. He, like always, remains silent and looks back down to his menu. You huff and decide to open up your own menu, trying not to be bothered by being shot down by the handsome male.

For the rest of the evening, weird things occurred. Kirishima always taps him when someone says his name, Bakugo’s eyes roaming the table until he focuses on the person speaking. Kirishima taps him again when it’s his turn to order. You’ve seen people talk with their hands, both literally and figuratively, but these people really seem to get into it, making wide and crazy gestures.

It wasn’t until your waiter came to your table with your food that you finally realized what was going on.

“So, (Y/n), tell us about your quirk. Bakugo hasn’t shined any sort of light on what your quirk is and Kirishima seems a little lost at what your quirk actually is,” Mina says with a smile.

Before you can reply though, your waiter and another worker bring your food to the table. “Who got the kung pao chicken?” the other worker asks, looking around the table. Kirishima was checking his phone when the question was asked, Bakugo not letting the waiter know that it’s what he ordered.

This is when it hits you.

The tapping. The blank, bored look. The quiet replies. The crazy gestures.

He’s deaf.

God, you’re such an idiot! You work with deaf people all of the time! How did you not realize until now?

“He got it,” you inform with widened eyes, your eyes staring at the blond. His eyes squint at you for pointing at him before realizing that you were just showing the waiter where his food goes. Once everyone has their food, you clear your throat.

“So, um, Bakugo is deaf?” you shyly ask. This causes everyone to pause and stare at you for a moment.

“Uh, yeah,” Kirishima answers, “Sorry, I assumed you knew…” he apologizes.

You shake your head, turning your gaze to Bakugo as you continue. “But why does he act like that?” you ask.

“Like what?” Kaminari asks with a furrow to his brows.

“I work with deaf people all of the time. A lot of them are decent at reading lips to some extent and most know, or are learning, JSL. Bakugo seems...like he doesn’t care or that it doesn’t bother him? Does he know JSL?” you explain quietly despite the fact that the man you’re talking about can’t hear you.

Kirishima sighs as he sets down his chopsticks. “Bakugo has been deaf for about a year and a half now. He knows JSL and uses it when necessary, but for the most part, he doesn’t like using it or when others use it to talk to him. It makes him feel....belittled, if you will. Like he has to have special treatment or something. I do my best to help him but I’m not perfect,” he explains, the last part being directed at what just happened.

You slowly nod your head as you take this all in, a small frown coming to your face. “So, you guys don’t know what my quirk really is, right?” you ask softly, a smile starting to come to your face. They all look confused in your change of subject but nod along anyway.

“Yeah, I was asking you about it before our food came. Kirishima says you can make people blind, or something?” Mina pipes up. You confuse them more when you begin to grin, all of them sharing a look amongst themselves.

“Do you want to see something amazing?” you ask, your eyes flickering over to Bakugo.

“Please don’t make me blind,” Denki begs, starting to ramble about needing to be able to see pretty girls. Jiro shushes him and then focuses back on you again.

You raise your hand to Bakugo, taking a deep breath before slowly giving him the ability to hear. Everyone looks to him when he drops his chopsticks, his hands shaking as he stares wide-eyed at his plate. His chopsticks landing onto the table is the last thing you hear before your own hearing is gone.

“I’m confused. What happened?” you read from Sero’s lips. You remain quiet and just keep smiling, your eyes focused on Bakugo. Bakugo’s eyes snap to Sero when he speaks, something seeming to lodge in his throat.

Before he can stop it, he’s tearing up.

“Bakubro! What’s going on?” Kirishima worriedly shouts, looking between you and him. “(Y/n)! What did you do to him?” Kirishima asks worriedly. At the mention of your name, Bakugo finally looks at you.

“I can hear,” he mutters, his voice barely being heard from how thick his throat feels. When everyone starts to say that they didn’t hear him and to repeat himself, he rubs furiously at his eyes and takes a deep breath. “God, I forgot just how annoying your voices are,” he complains, trying hard not to smile.

Everyone freezes at this.

“What?”

“You can hear?”

“What’s going on?”

“My voice is just fine, thank you!”

Everyone starts talking at once, bombarding him with their voices. A small smile comes to his face despite his best effort, looking at all of them fondly. He looks to you again, eyeing you up as the others continue to chatter on.

“Well, you being able to do this would’ve been nice to know a long time ago,” he grumbles. You stare at his lips, doing your best to read them. The average deaf person can only understand about 30% of what someone is saying based on just their lips though.

“Sorry, can you use JSL?” you ask politely before picking up your chopsticks to begin eating.

This causes everyone to freeze once more.

“Huh?”

“But why?”

Seeing their confused faces, you realize that you never explained your quirk. You give them the rundown before finishing with, “When I use my quirk on someone else, I lose the sense that I’m taking away or giving. So, in this case, I gave Bakugo hearing so now I can’t hear. This is all temporary, of course.”

The table vibrates with Bakugo’s hit, making your eyes widen as you look at him. “Take my hearing back away,” he demands, not using JSL despite your wishes. Your brows furrow at this, luckily understanding what he said anyway.

“What? Why? You were so happy just a minute ago,” you reply confusedly.

“No, I wasn’t! I’m perfectly fine being deaf! I don’t want your pity!” he shouts, grabbing the attention of nearby customers. With him talking so fast, you weren’t able to catch what he said. This is when an idea comes to mind.

You simply look away from him and down at your plate, starting to eat without another word. “Hey! I’m talking to you!” Bakugo shouts, realizing too late that, duh, you can’t hear him. “Don’t ignore me!”

Ah, the irony.

The others eventually get him to calm down, bright and warm smiles on their faces at seeing him act like his old self. Don’t get them wrong, he still acts like this all the time but there’s this...new fire to him that hasn’t been there in a while.

When he finally lets it go, you all start eating. The others use JSL to talk to you, seeing as how they all learned it for Bakugo, despite the fact that he didn’t want them to use it. It was a nice dinner, really.

When the night comes to an end, you all stand up and walk out of the restaurant together. “So, when will Bakugo lose his hearing again?” Kirishima asks curiously, signing out the words for you.

“Well, I can only use my quirk for so long before it starts to become dangerous, just like when you guys use your quirk for an extended amount of time. Because I use my quirk so much though every day all day, he could stay like this all night. I’m assuming we are all going our separate ways though…”

“Oh, okay. Well, we all really appreciate what you’re doing for him,” Kirishima signs with a kind smile. You smile back at him, not seeing Bakugo say ‘I don’t.’

“It’s no problem at all, really. I just wish I knew about it earlier, so I could help him sooner,” you apologize, turning to look at Bakugo now. By the look on his face and the way his mouth moves, you’re assuming he scoffed.

“Do you think we could hang out again soon? I think it would be good for Bakugo to-”

“What’s with that crazy idea? I’m going home,” Bakugo snaps before turning to leave. Seeing him leave, you slowly raise your hand and switch both of your hearing back. You bite your lip when he stops, the sounds of cars going past on the road and the chatter of people nearby suddenly going silent for him once more.

He almost feels like he’s going to be sick.

He turns back around, wondering how he can get you to give his hearing back without actually saying he wants it back. His eyes widen in surprise when all of the sounds come back, a small smile coming to your face.

“Not everyone has the opportunity to get their hearing back, even for just a little while. So, be grateful.”

It took a while for Bakugo to finally warm up to you but after a month or so, he finally accepted your presence. It took him three to actually refer to you as a friend. It took half a year for Bakugo to admit to himself that you’re his best friend; he’d never tell you or Kirishima that though. It’s been a year and he still can’t admit to himself that he likes you more than as a friend.

Bakugo takes a bite of the food you made, his face scrunching up in mock disgust. “What did you put in this? Rat poison?” he jokes. It honestly didn’t taste half bad but he wasn’t about to admit that out loud to you.

He watches you dance to the music that he can’t hear, your lips moving as you sing. He wishes he could hear it. He watches you stop and turn to look at him at his insult, your mouth showing your scoff.

“Do you want to die?” you ask as you swipe your thumb across your neck. He smirks at you as he makes a show of taking another bite. He doesn’t hear you hum but he watches as you sign, “Yeah, that’s what I thought, chump.” He’s the one to scoff now, his eyes rolling with his annoyance.

He’s told you time and time again not to use JSL but you never listen. He secretly appreciates it because he doesn’t have to piece things together when you use it. He still acts peeved when you do it though.

“I’m not a chump. You’re the chump,” he snaps. You set your food down before walking over to the big speaker on your kitchen counter that is currently playing one of your favorite songs. You stand in front of it and place your hands against it before raising your other hand over to Bakugo.

His ears are suddenly greeted with the sound of the music, a frown coming to his face as he looks at you. While he appreciates being able to have his hearing back, he hates that you lose yours in the process. He’s pulled out of his train of thought when you start singing, his eyes becoming wide. You use the vibrations emitting from the radio to keep tempo, singing in sync with the artist.

Talking without hearing was easy for you but you’ve never tried singing without your ability to hear before. This shows as you softly sing, your voice shaky and out of tune at some points.

It’s the most beautiful thing that Bakugo had ever heard.

Your voice is as sweet as caramel. He watches you with a soft smile on his face, not even realizing that it’s there. When the song comes to an end, you bring your food over to the speaker and eat while your free hand remains pressed against the speaker to ‘hear’ the music.

To his surprise, one of his favorite songs comes on after a couple of minutes and you grew so excited when you realized this. You belt each word with immense confidence, not a sign of hesitation or worry in your voice.

This is when he realizes that he’s in love with you.

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MASTERLIST

More with Katsuki Bakugo

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dreamingofaizawa · 3 years

Text

Powerful Ch. 1

Yakuza! Shouta Aizawa x Fem! Reader

*Mafia AU* Quirkless as well

Warnings: Arranged (sort of) marriage, brief mention of champagne, mentions of violence (nothing too specific). In later chapters: Probably smut

Word Count: 3.4 k

Author’s Note: ALRIGHTY here we go. I just had a fixation on Mafia AUs and, of course, it’s Shouta. What else did you expect? I’m a sucker for arranged relationships. Also he’s a little ooc in here, more confident, more ‘I want it I got it’. Hey, he’s the most powerful man in Japan, might as well have him act like it right? Anywho, I have no clue how many chapters this’ll end up being. Let’s just say this is ongoing for now.

Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4

Enjoy~

25 years old and you haven’t been married off yet. This was strategic on your father’s part. As a rather low-ranking clan he’d purposely saved you, his eldest daughter, for marrying into a higher ranked clan. You’d bring immense honor to the family name. If only you’d known what you were getting into, maybe you could have been better prepared for your world to flip on its head.

The black velvet gown you wear is tailored perfectly to your form, accentuating every curve and dip on your body. The skirt fanned out around you gracefully and a short train trailed behind you as you stepped through the grand doors of the massive mansion. Tonight is the annual celebratory ball, held to celebrate successful unions and achievements. This one was particularly special, you just didn’t quite know it yet.

Since the event wasn’t mandatory, you were told to go in alone as a representative of your clan, while Mother and Father attended to more important matters. Before you even stepped in you fixed your posture and schooled your expression, keeping your form humbled. Heavens know what could happen should you irk the wrong clan.

Inside you were met with an onslaught of mixed everything, mixed drinks and colors and styles. Some wore traditional Japanese kimono, others more modern versions of the garment and others, like you, wearing more extravagant european or western style clothing. Though a rather interesting mix, nothing quite clashed which you were slightly grateful for, since there was no possible way you could make it through the night without a headache if there was an unpleasant mix of visuals.

You strode through and instantly met several lower clan heads that you respectfully bowed to and engaged in pleasant small talk with, moving from person to person, couple to couple and paying respects to all of them. You kept a small smile, a pleasant facade as you waltzed over the hardwood flooring. It took almost two hours of endless conversation before you managed to catch a break in the madness, snatching a small flute of champagne from a waiter and leaning up against a wall for a breath.

You still hadn’t noticed the pair of dark eyes that studied you from the moment you arrived.

____

You struck him as intriguing at first. From the moment you walked over the threshold his eyes drank you in, studying you, observing and judging just as he had with many other women before you. No one here knows it, but the man is looking for a bride. Someone who could stand by his side,improve and uphold his image, help him wield the power that is the Yakuza. Yes, rank is important, but Shouta is too picky to care about rank. He is looking for a specific type of woman, one that can hold untold depths of power without crumbling under the pressure or getting swept up in the rush of it all.

A woman, he decides, like you.

You held yourself with grace, pride and humility. You seemed to understand your position, your probable low rank, while also not undermining your importance nor worth. A woman like you is hard to come by in this world, most just as power hungry and ruthless and greedy as their husbands, all while putting up a cotton candy sweet mask and using it to disguise their conniving ways.

But in truth, that’s what it took to live this kind of life, isn’t it?

It was clear you knew that, while still managing to feel genuine in everything you did, even with an action as simple as sipping champagne. At the same time he can’t deny you are quite beautiful, soft lips and softer eyes, fingers gently grasping your glass with unmatched elegance and an unwavering strength in your posture. You’d bowed before many this evening, and yet you stood taller than even the highest ranking clan heads without challenging a single one of them. Bamboo in this forest of tall, unyielding trees. Capable of wielding so much power.

For a split second his mind wandered to other things, filthy moments shared in the privacy of his chambers, shared breaths and shimmering sweaty skin. He wondered what you would be like underneath him, if you would be a brat or willingly submit yourself to him. He hopes it to be the latter, but wouldn’t completely deny the chance to tame someone difficult. How would you look pinned under his weight, completely helpless to his hands that have killed and tortured? Would you claw at his shoulders or grip the sheets instead? What would you sound like? Your image plagued his mind even if only for a moment.

He’d studied many women over the few hours since the event started, none of them giving him a good enough first impression for him to continue watching further than a minute. There was no question in his mind now. You’d be returning home with him tonight.

____

You had just finished your drink and set the empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray when suddenly the ballroom fell extremely silent. All heads turned, eyes focused on the man that began his descent from the balcony overlooking the floor. He’s gorgeous, long black hair pulled into a low bun and exposing the light scruff on his chin and impossibly sharp jaw, a deep scar curved under his right eye. The full black satin suit is fitted to his form, strong shoulders and rolling muscle evident even under the thick materials. Ink peeked over the collar, a hint at what was definitely intricate sleeves and detailed artwork. His steps were measured, calculated and purposeful as he made his way down and across the floor, the entire room bowing down at his presence.

You know who he is, as does every person here. Top rung of the ladder, Oyabun of the most powerful clan in Japan, his name widely known through the entire organization and yet almost never spoken. Shouta Aizawa, a name both respected and feared, holding unknown power and strength. His reputation is enough to make anyone feel small in his presence, known for his cold demeanor and the violence he’d committed, many losing their fingers, loved ones, and their own lives for misdeeds against him. He’d done most of that himself, marking him as a very dangerous man to be involved with, and an ally everyone wanted backing them.

You bowed down respectfully just as everyone else did, waiting patiently for a release, whether it was from the man himself or a collective understanding that it was alright to rise once again. The former was the first to come to fruition, though you didn’t expect him to be so close to you as he said it. Your eyes met with sharp onyx as you fixed yourself upright. It made you freeze in place, not quite tense, not quite relaxed, your expression hopefully not showing the utter shock you were feeling.

“What is your name?” You blinked only once before your mind caught up, and you willed your voice steady as you responded. What had you done to piss him off? What punishment awaited you for what you didn’t know you’d done? Despite fearing what may come, you don’t dare speak out of turn, even to beg for your life. His next words were addressed to the entire ballroom, you included, his smooth, deep voice booming out and yet somehow not loud at all.

“Any transgression against this woman is a transgression against me. As my future wife she is untouchable, and will remain that way until I explicitly state otherwise.” A collective hushed gasp sounded through the massive hall, your own eyes growing wide and your heart damn near stopping as your brain dissected the information. He just made you his fiance, with no warning, no hesitation, and full confidence. You are now engaged to the most powerful man in Japan, and you have exactly zero say in the matter. Really though, you never expected to be able to voice any opinions considering the patriarchy of the organization, so that bit of shock was quickly overlooked.

“It’s time to retire, little one.” His hand was held out to you, waiting for your own. You blinked, deciding it was best that you saved your shock for later you focused on the here and now and what to do in this moment. Taking a breath, you schooled your face into a pleasant smile and placed your hand in his waiting palm, allowing him to tuck you into his side as you both walked out the front doors and climbed into a black limouzine.

You didn’t allow yourself to relax, sitting silently next to the man as trees and telephone poles whizzed by the vehicle. It was tense, to say the least, his hand possessively sat on your knee as his eyes remained fixed in front of him and yours did the same. Neither of you talked, you slightly out of fear, of respect, and slightly out of sheer shock, your mind just barely able to keep itself together. He remained silent for a purpose. He would talk when you were alone, or when he felt like talking. Which isn’t right now.

You let your mind whirl a bit, worrying about what this meant for you. Worrying about how this powerful man would treat you, how he acted behind closed doors and if he even cared about you or what you might have to say. It’s nerve-wracking, suddenly bound to a power such as him, not knowing what could happen next, not knowing what to do next. There was nothing that could have prepared you for this.

The car slowed as it pulled up to the gate of the enormous estate, shaking you out of your thoughts, and once it opened the drive to the main house took nearly five minutes on its own. It’s a modern home, several stories tall with the top clearly penthouse-style with a full glass wall that overlooks the landscape, the rest of the huge inner home hidden behind crisp walls.

At a full stop, a man opens the door for you, the Oyabun having already exited and held a hand out for you to grab once again, strong muscles pulling you up with ease and leading you through the building and into an elevator. The silence is stifling as you wait for the machine to come to a stop, the soft chime indicating you’ve landed.

Now you’re completely alone with him.

He leads you in and stops in the center of the large main room, stepping away and turning his scrutinizing gaze onto you. You do your best not to tense in front of him, not to show fear, partially for his comfort though you’re sure he’s used to it. His shoes clack softly, rhythmically on the polished wood floor as he begins to circle you, like a predator eyeing its prey, eyes burning paths up and down your form. You barely keep from squirming under his intense gaze, managing to keep still from sheer willpower. He stops suddenly behind you and you feel his warmth as he leans in close before a hand presses into your mid back and another gently grasps your shoulder, gently making you straighten even more, stand even taller.

Once he’s satisfied with your posture he rounds you and tilts your chin just a tad higher with a hooked finger. He’s silent as he shapes you, adjusting your body to his liking. You let him tenderly push and tug, grab and knead and trail those deadly fingers over you until he stops before you, studying you once again.

“You’re my fiance now. You will hold yourself as such, radiate power as I do and command the attention of a room with only a glance.” The reminder of just what was happening made your breath stutter a little, and his hand came up to grasp your chin, making you look up into his dark eyes.

“You will learn, little one, to be the powerful woman I see.” He was so close, the heat from his body rolling over your skin and his breaths fanning over your face. Then he was walking away, motioning for you to follow as he led you to his chambers and bathroom to get cleaned up. You’d be sleeping with him from now on, he said, handing you a robe to change into after you’ve bathed and guiding you into the bathroom before closing the door and leaving you alone with your thoughts as you set to cleaning yourself.

Given you don’t screw things up, you are going to be the most powerful woman in Japan, solely because of a sudden arranged marriage dropped seemingly from out of nowhere. But the longer you think about it, it isn’t really out of nowhere is it? The Oyabun is 30 now, and until tonight hadn’t named a wife, nor any love interests, and therefore no possible heirs. If the man were to die for any reason, those chances only increasing the older he gets, the power vacuum his absence would create would be absolute madness. You’re part of a strategy, just as before. Just as always.

Yet there was no denying he’d struck something inside you. Of all the women in that hall he approached you, a woman he didn’t know from a low ranked clan, for reasons you could only barely begin to guess. He’d called you powerful earlier, the sincerity in his voice making your mind spin. Did he really see you as powerful? And the name he’d used for you felt far too tender on the tongue of such a dangerous man, though you understood the nod toward your previous rank.

Father and Mother must be either confused, shocked, or overflowing with joy right about now. Confused as to why you haven’t returned, shocked, happy, or both at the news had they learned it. With your mind processing everything, your body finally begins to feel fatigued.

You shut off the water before drying yourself, patting your hair in the towel before pulling on the fluffy robe. It was clearly meant for him, the fuzzy black garment large around the shoulders and sleeves engulfing your hands, the garment nearly touching the floor where it’s meant to hang several inches from it on his frame. Despite swimming in the robe, you couldn’t help but feel a bit vulnerable. You’re bare beneath it, not having planned to not return home. Still, it’s late, and the Oyabun needs to shower as well. With a steadying breath, you step out into the room.

He’s standing near the bed, the top half of his clothing discarded and bare skin exposed, along with the heavy tattooing and scars along his body. Dragon scales decorated his skin, along with delicate swirls heavily resembling smoke and clouds that followed the curves of his corded muscles. He is undoubtedly a beautiful man. You don’t realize you’re staring until a miniscule smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“Enjoying the view, little one?” You blink away your daze and shift your eyes to the side, feeling the slight burn in your face at being caught. Instead of answering the cheeky question you choose to change the subject.

“I’m finished with my shower, Oyabun.” He hums, a low sound you can feel in your chest.

“I can see that, little one. And you call me Shouta.” You take a quiet, sharp inhale and nod.

“Yes, of course...Shouta.” His name feels heavy on your tongue, a name that people didn’t normally dare speak. He’s silent as he gathers his things and moves toward the bathroom, stopping momentarily by your side. You’re confused a moment before his calloused fingers gently grip your jaw and turn your head, his lips pressing softly against your temple for a split second before he’s disappearing into the bathroom.

You stand in shock, the tender touch unexpected. Shaking your head, you decide it’s best to lay down. Hopefully you’d fall asleep by the time he finishes bathing, but you doubted it. You’re proven right when, in the midst of mulling over your own thoughts, he emerges in nothing but sweatpants, dark hair still damp as it fell around his shoulders. You managed to avert your eyes before he could catch you staring for a second time tonight, and it wasn’t long before he slipped under the blankets next to you.

There wasn’t a single word shared between you as he flicked off the lights with a remote and settled into the plush mattress. There was no movement from the man as you lay with your back to him. You aren’t entirely sure if the lack of movement unsettles you more than if he were to be shuffling around. It felt like hours had passed in the darkness, your eyes had adjusted and you couldn’t sleep despite how exhausted you felt.

Your mind raced with questions. What happens now? What happens with your clan and parents? Would you have clothes soon? How would he treat you? How were you supposed to act around him? When is the wedding? Is the engagement already official? What if you disappoint him and fuck everything over? The entire situation makes you anxious, for more than something as trivial as your own safety. You shift onto your back and listen to Shouta’s soft snores, signaling his sleep. As silently and gently as you can, you slip out of bed.

You have no clue what you were going to do or where you were going to do it, but you had to get away from him if only for a moment, to let yourself breathe and think. Almost mindlessly, you find yourself staring out of the glass wall and out into the night. This far out, you can see the stars in the night sky clear and bright, and it was a sight you missed having lived in the city most of your life. Right here you have room to think, space to spread your thoughts and calm your mind to keep from jumbling everything in your brain and stressing over it more.

From what you can tell there is a very small chance Shouta would treat you maliciously, so for now you don’t have to worry about that. Considering his power and status, you won’t be without clothing for long. The thought was silly in the first place, but stress tended to make you question even the most ridiculous. As for how you’re meant to act, well that would have to be tested. He’d already told you how to appear to the public, so that shouldn’t be too hard, but being alone with the man was driving you insane.

Soft footsteps broke you from your thoughts. You spin around, suddenly very much on guard, before Shouta’s voice broke through the darkness, his figure slowly approaching.

“What are you doing up, little one?” You bite your lip and turn to gaze outside again, hugging your arms tight.

“Just thinking. I apologize for waking you, Oya-… Shouta.” His warmth hit you before his skin did, chest pressed into your back and large rough hands gripping your shoulders firm but gentle. His breath is hot on your ear and neck, sending a shiver down your spine. Such an intimate action from him only hours after he’d made you his fiance was quite the shock in and of itself, only enhanced by the fact that this man is known for his cold nature.

“Thinking about what?” His hands smoothed down your arms, following them around your waist and encompassing your hands in his, tugging you into him further. Unnatural as it may seem, it feels good, his warmth. In the arms of such a dangerous and powerful man you should feel small and scared, but you don’t. You aren’t entirely sure what it is you feel. Truthfully, you don’t have the energy to answer his question properly.

“About a lot of things. Too many things.” Right now, the only thing you want to do is melt into the man’s arms. His presence is suddenly comforting, instead of worrying, and you feel safe in his embrace. You sigh and lean into him, fatigue finally beginning to tug at your body and mind. Strong arms scoop you up like nothing, and suddenly you’re being placed down on the bed before he climbs in and pulls you onto him. An arm circles your waist while the other cradles your head, a tender kiss placed at your hairline.

“Sleep, little one.” His fingers thread through your hair, massaging your scalp lightly. It’s a soothing action, especially after nearly giving yourself a headache from stress. It isn’t long before you’re nodding off, relaxing into his body and letting his steady heartbeat lull you to sleep.

#shouta aizawa #shouta aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa bnha #shouta aizawa mha #aizawa shouta #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shouta bnha #aizawa shouta mha #aizawa fanfiction #aizawa #mafia au bnha #mafia au mha #shouta aizawa x fem reader #aizawa shouta x fem reader

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cupidsintern · 3 years

Text

shot thru the heart, pt 2

pt 1 here!

Steve shoves Billy's perfect handwriting homework in his binder with his own shitty notes and thinks immediately that it doesn't belong there. Too good. Too Perfect. Too pretty. Like the tails on Billy’s lowercase Gs and Ys- pretty. He thinks of that the whole time he’s copying free responses and trying to change the wording just enough so it sounds different- he just dumbs it down, has to guess at what a couple words mean, Billy writes all intellectual-

But actually Steve sort of feels like he learns something. Sort of feels like he gets it a little better in just the way Billy describes it back to himself. And Billy only did this to be helpful- the extended “I’m really actually sorry” of making sure someone passes at least one of their fucking classes. Steve wonders briefly if Billy would ever like, tutor him or something. Then he shoves that thought right the fuck back where it came from because the pit of what he’s sure is jealousy in his stomach fucking writhes or some shit when he thinks about being around Billy that much. Even just looking at his handwriting…

Steve takes an extra long, extra think-y shower after he finishes his homework.

Steve hands Billy’s work back in the hallway just outside their shared second period. He even waits by the door, a solid two minutes before the bell, leaning against a row of lockers trying not to look at the stupid depression-inducing decor. He’s not-thinking about it so hard that he doesn't notice Billy until he’s right there, close-

“Aw, you waited for me?” Billy says, mock-sweet, taking his work back out of Steve's hands.

Steve recovers from his surprise faster. “You wish.”

“Don’t I ever.” Billy’s already walking into class, sorta mumbles that last part. Steve follows him in.

And they don’t talk for the rest of class- there’s no homework. But Steve can feel like he can sense Billy's presence more again, now. Like before, but somehow worse...

Jealousy is a bitch.

Steve does get the last last homework he turned in back, though. This one also copied from Billy, and-

B-. improving! Is written at the top of the page. Great, Steve’s improving. Just in time for fucking spring semester of his senior year. And the improvement isn't even his it’s-

The bell rings. Billy’s up and out of his desk so fast his backpack clips the edge of the adjacent desk as he slings it ever so casually over his left shoulder. Everytime, he's so fast. Like he can’t be in any one place too long- like a shark.

That's a thing right? Steve thinks. Sharks. They have to keep swimming or they like, die or something.

Steve realizes he’s just been staring at the door Billy walked out of several moments ago and he blinks. Shakes his head a little, he’s spacing out too much.

Then he looks down.

A sheet of note paper lays face up on the floor next to him. W Hargrove in its top right corner- more notes.

Steve grabs the sheet of paper off the floor and shoves it into his backpack, before he even really has time to think about what he’s doing, why he’s doing it- burning hot something in the deepest pit of his stomach it’s jealousy it has to be- before getting up and walking out of class.

So why did Steve take Billy’s notes? Why, to give them back of course.

Billy probably needs it back, this half finished sheet of chemistry bullshit from- jesus from October?

Okay, well if Billy doesn't need it back, maybe Steve can just. Keep it. Keep it and stare at it and hate every single one of those perfectly lined up conversion equations that he remembers not understanding at all. Billy must be in honors classes, too, because some of it Steve doesn't remember. He spends way too much time looking at it when he gets home, sits down at his desk, ignores every fucking thing else in his backpack and pulls just the sheet out.

W Hargrove

10/20/84

The W is so even. It makes Steve’s blood boil. And all the slashes are perfectly parallel- Steve traces his finger under the numbers. He sets his hand on the paper, as if he were holding a phantom pencil, thinks how a past version of Billy traced his hand over this paper just the same way when he took these notes. Steve wasn't sure if he could remember Billy being a lefty or a righty, but he was so smart…

Steve took his hand off the paper suddenly, like it had burned him. Something… didn't sit right.

He folded the paper in half once and slid it back into his binder- more carefully than before- and switching to attempting to finish his homework.

Billy was a lefty. But technically he was a. Am. Ambiv- nope. The thing! Where you can switch hands. It’s- Ambidextrous? Yes. That.

Steve congratulated himself a little for remembering the word, then went back to completely spacing out thinking he could hear the sound of Billy's pencil scratching across his notebook behind Steve in class.

He did not pay attention at all, the whole day, the warm red feeling making his skin tingle and his feet itch like he had to walk somewhere. He got up to use the bathroom twice in the same class period, which the teacher wasn't too happy about, but whatever. Fuck her. She didn't have to sit in front of Billy and look at his perfect notes every time he found himself looking over his shoulder to check the time.

“What’s got you tweaking?” Billy’s voice snaps Steve out of his trance.

“What?” Steve looks over his shoulder again, this time directly at Billy, who's looking directly back at him, which makes him feel like his brain got left out in the sun.

“Tah-week-ing.” Billy says again, slower like he’s letting Steve catch up, stupid Californian drawl.

“Oh just. Uh. Just nervous.”

“Test isn’t for another two weeks, pretty boy.”

The warm feeling is back in full force, Steve thinks it must be because of how calm and collected Billy sounds, like he couldn't care less about the test. “Not all of us can be geniuses, okay?”

Billy laughs a little- it’s pretty, softer. Steve hates it. “Bold words from someone copying my homework.”

Steve frowns a little, he can’t help it, makes to turn back around but Billy catches his shoulder-

“Hey,” Billy starts, hesitates like he’s thinking about something

Warm turns to hot, Steve’s sweating and he’s only in a windbreaker.

“If you need like. Serious help with classwork, you could always borrow my notes.”

Steve blinks. It’s a lot nicer of an offer than just letting someone copy off you. A lot nicer than Billy usually is to him. Less of an apology, more of, like, an invitation.

Is Billy trying to be his friend?

“I,” Steve starts “Might take you up on that-”

The teacher shushes both of them. Steve turns back to sitting, facing the front.

God, is he jealous of Billy being able to be nice?

-> pt 3

#billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove #harringrove fic #harringrove fanfic #steve x billy #billy x steve #my fic

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linkspooky · 3 years

Text

Wild Tiger - Gojo and Yuji

If Megumi and Geto together represesent the black yin, then their respective counterparts Yuji and Gojo both embody the white yang. Thus, Yuji and Gojo as mentor and student are two characters who are very similiar in nature. Rather than passive, feminine, yin standing in the shadows they both are active, masculine yang standing in the light. More on the foiling between Yuji and Gojo underneath the cut.

1. The Strongest

There are a lot of similarities between both Yuji and Gojo you can point out right away. They are both light haired. They are both the more lighthearted person in the duo, the cheerful, silly ones in comparison to their dark haired more self serious counterparts. Yuji and Gojo both tend to come off as normal teenagers, they drop pop culture references, flirt with girls, read manga. If Geto and Megumi tend to be the more brooding ones, removed from the world around them and stuck inside their own heads it’s Gojo and Megumi who are actively taking part in the world as much as they can.

Basically, in any situation they’ll be the ones less inclined to take that situation seriously, whereas Geto and Megumi are prone to be the ones to take the situation too seriously. Despite the fact that Yuji and Gojo are the more childish of the duo and act like teenagers (Gojo acts like a teenager even as an adult, isn’t he impressive) and more prone to being emotional rather than overthinking there’s also a serious level of distance between themselves and their feelings.

Gojo notices this about Yuji right away, despite the fact that curses are by some definition “alive”, Yuji doesn’t show any hesitation at all in fighting against them and killing them. It’s odd for what was a normal teenager before this point to act this way, to not even be a little scared by curses. Gojo marks Yuji out as one of the “crazy ones” like him right away because they both suffer from this disconnect between their head and their heart.

Yuji and Gojo are parallel. Yuji’s craziness is Gojo’s craziness. They even go on similiar journeys before becoming the strongest. In the beginning of Yuji’s character development, and the flashback chapter for Gojo they both experience the same thing. First, a near death happens at the hands of an enemy. Until this point Yuji and Gojo have always been the strongest. Yuji has always been like olympic levels of athletic (for some reason), both Yuji and Gojo were always good at whatever they tried when they were younger and never tasted a serious defeat.

That is until they experience their near-death and taste weakness for the first time.

After this point they both flip. Rather than being humbled by their near defeat they become arrogant. Yuji’s flip is more literal, he flips from the dominant personality Yuji, to the other personality within him the curse Sukuna. Gojo, after unlocking the secrets of reverse jutsushiki and perfecting the unlimited becomes more arrogant. These moments are meant to be paralleled to each other, we’re supposed to see Sukuna’s arrogance in Gojo’s apparent flip after becoming the strongest because they both quote the same text “ Tenjou tenge yuiga dokuson. It means “Above heaven, under heaven, I am alone worthy of honor”.

These scenes are further paralleled, because they also fail to save someone. Gojo fails to save Riko, because he let Toji through when he promised Geto that he would cover his back as the strongest.

Yuji similiarly fails to save Junpei, after offering him a chance to come back to Jujutsu High with him and fight together. They also both fail to save the person they wanted to save for the same reason, because they failed to take the situation seriously enough and got sloppy. Yuji forgot Nanami’s warning to him to watch out for the patchwork faced spirit, and Gojo got so arrogant he dropped his guard around Toji.

After these failures however, Yuji and Gojo’s solutions is always to become prouder rather than to humble themselves. They always end up seeking out more and more strength. When Yuji loses Junpei, his response is to flip to being angry and killing Mahito. When Gojo loses Riko, his response is to go on a power trip. They always both double back on strength. This is a parallel to this.

Which is why Gojo and Yuji click and get along so well, they think the exact same way, they both are convinced the solution to every problem is to just try to be the strongest so you will never lose. Yuji and Gojo have this weird understanding of each other, Yuji thinks Gojo is an admirable person and is always listening to him just because he’s the strongest, Gojo thinks Megumi should learn to swing for the fences more like Yuji.

2. I Alone Am the Honored One

Yuji and Gojo’s strongest character trait is both their pride, the pride they take in themselves, the pride they take in being the strongest. However, pride isn’t a sin. It is for the both of them a strength and a weakness. Yuji and Gojo are both people dedicated to improving themselves, to lifting themselves up to be the best individuals they can be. While they’re obsessed with becoming stronger, they also use their strength pretty unselfishly. Megumi and Geto are both people who choose who to save. Geto only cares about sorcerers, Megumi only cares about what he arbitrarily deems as good people.

Gojo is someone who is constantly working to save the masses, he does the most missions out of all the jujutsu sorcerers and is constantly busy exorcising curses for the sake of everyone to the point where his job is his whole life. He also, doesn’t just force everyone to submit to his strength by killing all the higher ups until he’s left. He’s not a tyrant. He works within the system to help people because he’s always choosing his actions along the lines of what will help the most people possible.

Gojo and Yuji are both self centered people who use their strength in an unselfish manner, though for different reasons. Yuji is emotionally moved to helping people, and Gojo is tied down by using his powers responsibly. However, despite using their strength for the sake of other people they are also both strongest when they are alone and this is a weakness for them.

They both make the same decision and the same mistake in the Shibuya arc, which is to run off ahead alone even when they have back up they could have waited for because they assume that everything will just be better if they handle it entirely by themselves.

Gojo goes all the way down to the subway alone and gets boxed. Every fight that Yuji faces alone in Shibuya arc (against a name character that matters) he loses. He loses to Choso, as a result of deciding to run ahead of Megumi instead of waiting for backup. He was completely losing to Mahito, and would have died had Todo not shown up to give him backup. Kamo Noritoshi Sr. even tells this to Yuji directly to his face, you alone are not enough.

Yuji fails to get Gojo’s box back by himself, and once again has to be saved by people working together as a team, the Kyoto students led by Utahime (somebody Gojo dubbed as weak) showing up to interrupt the fight. Yuji and Gojo are both the most active characters always running off to save people, however strength isn’t enough to save people, especially when they’re acting alone. This leaves both of them feeling insecure, because they try alone, and fail alone, they believe that they themselves are not enough.

These scenes once again are parallels. They try to save people, and then when they fail hold themselves entirely responsible. Their habit of acting alone also comes from this distance between themselves and their emotions which I described earlier. Yuji and Gojo only see themselves in their utility to the other people around them. Yuji has to be doing something in order to help others.

Both Yuji and Gojo are consumed by what I am going to dub the “chosen one complex” where they have to believe there’s a reason that they’re given such tremendous strength. They have to use their strength in order to help others. Otherwise, why do they exist? Neither of them allow themselves to exist unless it’s in service of others. Yuji can’t live on unless he’s helping people like his grandfather told him. Gojo HAS to hold the whole Jujutsu World on his shoulders.

In other words they see themselves and their relationships with others in this way. People can’t simply like Yuji and Gojo, they need to need them. Yuji is surrounded by allies because he is useful to them, because he’s strong enough to be around them. They see everything even themselves through the lens of strength. Nobody would want to be with them if they were weak. Geto didn’t like Gojo, they were only together because they were the strongest together.

If you’re not strong people will leave you behind. That is the only way Yuji and Gojo can comprehend their tangible connection to other people. That’s also why we see a similar emotional denseness for both Gojo and Yuji. It’s not that Gojo is uncaring, he does actually take notice of people’s feelings and tries to be considerate in his own way.

They both notice small little details about people while missing huge ones. Gojo noticed something was off about Geto because he was interested in him and observing him that close, but he took him at his words that he was fine when he was in the middle of his mental breakdown and was caught completely offguard by it. There’s an entire chapter about the small little details that Yuji notices about people.

However, Yuji and Megumi fail at basic communication and are constantly hiding secrets from each other, the same way that Geto and Gojo once did.

They are at the same time extremely observant, and emotionally dense, and this is entirely about how they see themselves. Yuji and Gojo can only exist in service to others. They’re only going to be surrounded by people if they are strong enough. Which is why they also wish for what is exactly the same thing. Yuji wants to die surrounded by people, and Gojo wants allies that are just as strong as he is. However, they both go about it in the entirely wrong way. What Gojo wants is people who are as strong as him to be equal with him. However what Gojo needs is to emotionally open up to people and allow other people to be equals with him on an emotional level because they don’t need to pass some physical test of strength.

Gojo and Yuji are both characters who want to be surrounded by people, and yet they’re always running off ahead of everyone else to die alone. That’s the contradiction about themselves they need to fix, in order to keep living as more well balanced people. That’s why they both need Geto and Megumi as the other halves of the equation, because they can’t solve it on their own.

#itadori yuji #yuji itadori #gojou satoru #satoru gojou #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen meta #jjk meta #jujutsu kaisen theory #jjk theory #megumi fushigoro #suguru getou

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empressapprentice · 3 years

Text

Arcana Headcanons: Infidelity + M6

I’m back with more headcanons, and will be sharing even more soon as I have more free time! My last batch was super sweet and fluffy, these are decidedly not. I’m doing these headcanons as character study exercises, and since the LIs are so devoted to you in-game, I wanted to think about what could possibly motivate them to cheat. Not all of these involve sex because I thought that certain characters would consider emotional interactions cheating on their partner. But warning for non-explicit sexual content for several of the M6--I’d say this is PG-13. These are kind of long, but I felt I needed some good exposition to set things up. I hate how much I enjoy angst :( Feedback and requests are always welcomed: if you hate it or love it, let me know why so I can improve! Plus, check out my Ao3 here, where I’ll be posting these as well.

Asra

Asra will never, ever regret giving up half his heart for you. But one night, he can’t sleep, feeling regret for the friendships and relationships he missed out on because it’s so difficult to form connections with others. He wishes that while he waited for you to recover from the resurrection, he’d been able to let others into his life.

He’s slept with people other than you (Julian, for one), but not since you woke up after the ritual. He realizes that he can’t remember any of his previous encounters. He completely forgot what anyone other than you feels like to hold and to touch.

The next day, he tells you that he wants to take a quick overnight trip to Nopal. With such late notice, you can’t tag along. He just wants to spend some time alone and actually get to know the villagers for once, intending to practice his social skills and break the cycle of isolation he unintentionally maintained with the people there.

When he sits around the fire, eating and sharing stories with the villagers, a handsome young man approaches him. He says that he’s always had a crush on the mysterious magician, but could tell that Asra was never open to getting to know anyone. Asra, remembering that he doesn’t know what it’s like to be close to someone else, starts flirting back. Before he knows it, his lips are brushing against the stranger’s.

The moment their lips meet, Asra pulls back sharply, overcome with guilt for betraying your trust. He shakily apologizes to the young man, saying he didn’t know what came over him. He runs back to his hut, gets on the Beast and travels back to Vesuvia as fast as possible. Faust comforts him as he sobs silently, thinking about never wanting to leave your arms again.

Nadia

Nadia is visiting a neighboring territory and sitting through a very, very boring dinner with dignitaries. She’s been away from Vesuvia for a week and anticipates having to stay for at least one more as negotiations drag on. She’s loath to admit it, but she’s lonely. The letters you’ve exchanged via Chandra only make the separation more painful.

So when a diplomat approaches her with questions about Vesuvia, she’s happy to have some company. She clearly admires Nadia quite a bit and compliments the work she’s done to turn Vesuvia around.

While basking in her companion’s kind words, she unconsciously moves closer to the other woman. It doesn’t take long for the conversation to become personal, moving away from professional networking. And even more quickly, the conversation becomes flirty. When Nadia moves her hand to touch the other woman, her intentions are clear. The diplomat is flattered, but hesitant, asking, “Aren’t you married?”

Nadia is momentarily stunned by the question, but refuses to lose her composure. The lie comes easily, from years of schmoozing fellow politicians. She replies that her marriage is open. The diplomat smiles, unaware of the shame pooling in Nadia’s core. She sheepishly invites the Countess back to her room.

Though the dinner is long over and the party moved into the sitting room for a digestif, many having already left, Nadia finds herself worried how it would look for the two of them to leave together. She hates herself for worrying more about appearances than you, but she’s been particularly hungry for the feel of a body next to her in bed and she’s frustrated at not being able to get what she wants for once. So, she agrees.

She excuses herself, saying that she must retire for the night, and waits a few moments for the diplomat to leave as well.

Nadia excuses herself after the shameful act, saying she must be in her own bed when servants come to wake her in the morning. She spends the rest of the night staring at her ceiling, vowing to never tell you about her indiscretion. You find out, of course, knowing your wife too well for her to hide that something’s wrong.

Julian

One night, he goes to the Rowdy Raven and is mid-tankard of Salty Bitters while animatedly telling the story of how he helped defeat the Devil. When he finishes weaving the tale, he heads back to the bar to another drink. Before he can get his coin purse to pay, an extremely attractive stranger tells Barth to put it on their tab--payment for the entertaining story.

Julian gratefully accepts, sliding into a seat to chat with the stranger. Whether consciously or unconsciously, Julian turns his charm up even more, wanting to make sure he keeps them entertained. They swap introductions, Julian’s natural tendency to call people affectionate names and his rakish attitude being interpreted as flirtation.

As the stranger returns the affection, Julian realizes what’s happening but doesn’t want to stop it. He’s practically glowing from the kind words flowing from the mouth of his new friend and is addicted to the feeling. A nagging voice tells him he should get back home to you, but it is quieted when the stranger moves closer to him, running a finger over his chest.

The stranger downs their drink and gets up abruptly. They tell Julian to finish his drink and meet them in the alley outside, with a cheeky comment about seeing what else his mouth could do thrown over their shoulder as they walk out the back of the tavern.

Julian’s breath catches at the thought of a clandestine alleyway quickie, and he can’t deny how appealing the idea seems to him. He stares at the drink remaining in his glass, fighting a mental war over whether to finish it quickly and run to the alley.

Barth approaches Julian, noticing he was about to finish his latest drink and anticipating a request for a refill. While waiting for Julian to finish, he makes light conversation with him. When he asks how you are doing, Julian bolts upright. His face reddens at the mention of your name, knowing he made a grave mistake even considering the stranger’s offer.

Julian leaves the rest of his drink untouched. He awkwardly gets up, says goodnight to Barth and hopes that he won’t run into the stranger when he exits the Raven out the front door. Mercifully, he doesn’t, but he might not have even noticed, he was so focused on getting back to you.

When he reaches the front door of the place you share, he’s sobbing. Even though it’s late, you are waiting up for him, knowing that he often needs you to offer him water and get him to eat some food after a night out. He falls on his knees before you, utterly broken by the kindness of you waiting to take care of him, and begs you to listen to him one last time. He tells you, again, that he is no good for you and it is inevitable he will break your heart. He confesses everything that happened at the bar, his voice breaking when he says how close he was to cheating on you. He admits in a small voice that he will never be worthy of you--despite all he’s changed, he’s always one step away from hurting you.

Lucio

Lucio is dressed in a new outfit, finely made and very flattering. He is about to attend a party at his estate in honor of the summer solstice. The last step in his pre-party ritual before joining you and making a grand entrance fashionably late is to admire himself in the mirror. He poses and struts in front of it, hyping himself up for the night, but stopping short as he notices a grey hair in his meticulously coiffed style.

Moving closer to the mirror, he is horrified that several other grey hairs have popped out since the last time he dyed his hair, not long ago. Stepping back, he frantically tries to change the style to hide them, shrieking as he realizes the wrinkles on his forehead are deeper than he remembers. The time-honored ritual, which has never failed to put him in the right mindset for a night of socialization, has only made him more self-conscious about his age than ever.

He starts pacing around his room, heels clicking and mind racing. He feels a strange sense of longing for his old life, when he had no responsibilities and never worried about the consequences of his actions. He’s old now, and he wishes for the freedom and stupidity of youth.

When he makes the grand entrance with you at the party, his heart isn’t really in it. He immediately heads for a servant, demanding a glass of hard liquor instead of his usual sparkling wine. One glass turns into several, and it’s not long before he’s very intoxicated. You see Lucio drinking more than usual, but you keep getting distracted by guests and can’t figure out what’s going on with him.

Once he’s drunk enough to not care about anything--just as he intended--he makes eye contact with an attractive woman in a slinky gown and winks. His rough flirting works, as the woman comes up to him. He feels a mixture of pride and shame that he’s still attractive and powerful enough to draw someone in with nothing more than a wink.

They chat briefly, but they both know Lucio desires more than conversation and the guest is more than willing to oblige. He takes the woman’s hand, leading her to an alcove far away from the party and they begin to make out. Soon his pants are at his ankles and they’re doing far more than kissing. It’s rough, messy and fast, exactly the thing he would have done in his life before he got the plague and before you.

The woman leaves him panting when they’ve both finished. His stomach drops as he realizes that this cheap attempt at feeling young again only made him feel worse. He realizes with a start that he jeopardized the thing that actually fulfills him and makes him truly happy.

Muriel

Muriel dislikes social interactions with pretty much everyone, especially strangers. How could he possibly cheat on you when he can hardly stand to spend time around his friends?

But as he becomes more comfortable with being around people, he starts spending time around the Palace. Usually, he’s waiting for you to finish your duties with Nadia so he can walk you home or go back to the shop for dinner, but sometimes he comes early so he can spend a quiet moment in the gardens.

The more time he spends at the Palace, befriending some of Lucio’s poorly-behaved albino animals and trying to train them, the more time he spends with a certain servant determined to befriend him.

At first, they don’t even catch his attention, he’s so used to tuning other people out. But this servant notices his gentle nature and sometimes brings him some water or tea and a pastry while he’s sitting by the fountain. They claim that they’ve been trained to always serve the needs of their guests, but they’re mostly interested in getting Muriel to open up.

After several weeks of Muriel becoming used to the servant and accepting that they can be trusted, he begins exchanging a few words with them beyond a grunted thanks for the refreshments. The way the servant approaches him reminds him of you and he finds he doesn’t mind light conversation to entertain him and distract him from Lucio’s pets.

One day, he realizes with a start that he not only trusts the servant and enjoys their company, but that he finds them attractive. He panics, not knowing how to tell you. He feels so ashamed of himself for letting someone new in and he’s never felt attracted to someone like this before, other than with you. He’s confused on how to handle his feelings and how he should tell you, if at all.

He confesses the situation to Asra before going to you. Asra is very kind and supportive, saying that it is natural to find other people attractive and that it’s a good sign that he is willing to let a stranger befriend him. But Muriel can’t shake the idea that he’s done wrong by you and refuses to come back to the gardens.

Portia

Given how much Portia likes secrets and romance stories, I think a part of her would love the idea of a sneaky romance. Portia is a deeply practical person, but there are times where she can get carried away with romanticism. The thrill of getting away with it and using her knowledge of the secret passages in the Palace, etc. to hide a tryst holds some appeal to her, but she’d feel ashamed of even fantasizing about it.

She has to work on the first night of the Masquerade after the events of the game due to her new responsibilities at the Palace. Out of solidarity, you work too, creating real-time magical spectacles to surprise guests. To keep up the aesthetic, you’re both still wearing costumes and masks.

While Portia is in the ballroom, she’s fretting over the floral displays and a heavily intoxicated person knocks into her, sending the vase flying. Before Portia can even react, she falls into strong arms, rescuing her from the splashing water and strewn flowers. She turns to thank the stranger, and they say she can express her gratitude by granting them a dance. In the spirit of the Masquerade, she accepts.

She and the stranger twirl around the dance floor to a fast-paced song. The stranger is a fantastic dancer and leads Portia through the steps flawlessly. They end the song by dipping her low. The music switches to a slow ballad while the lights dim. Still breathless, the stranger pulls Portia close, and she loses herself in the moment. The ambiance is incredible, and kissing a gorgeous masked stranger at a ball could not be more storybook-perfect. Their lips touch, until a swirl of magical energy brushes her and she remembers you. She steps back from the stranger and runs off, forgetting about her duties, the flowers on the ground and the rest of the Masquerade. She feels horrible about kissing someone other than you but can’t shake the smug pleasure deep inside her that loves her fairytale romance coming to life.

#the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana main 6 #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #lucio morgasson #portia devorak #muriel of the kokhuri #pain and angst #nic arcana headcanons

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qqueenofhades · 3 years

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... Remember the Russian Revolution au? Which ended with Fedyor's sister very sick and Fedyor searching for Ivan in hopes of getting help for her from him? Fedyor finding Ivan and offering to do "anything" in exchange for his sister's medical treatment? Ivan secretly wanting Fedyor, but refusing to take what he wants like that? Soooo... I would also like the big the big 3 of your coming projects to happen, but... y'know... just.... wanted to bring this au up again... ;)

Behold, the oft-requested follow-up to the first two Russian Revolution au ficlets. Ahem.

Fedyor does not sleep that night. He does not even think about sleeping. He only leaves the army headquarters long enough to think hard about what he is proposing to do, wonder if it is worth it, and decide that it is. Katya needs the medicine, he has no other recourse, and he is categorically unwilling to return home to his family as a failure, when they have placed all their trust and hope in him. Ivan has hinted that he might be able to obtain it, and so that, no matter what it takes, is what Fedyor will have to get him to do. And for that…

He knows that he is not unattractive. He has dark eyes, dark hair, a dimpled smile, a personable and friendly manner that, in happier times, attracted the attention of many an eligible young lady who wished to ice skate or promenade around the park or take a carriage ride, as courting Russian couples are wont to do. However, while Fedyor was perfectly happy to chat with ladies, or escort them to a ball, or fulfill his essential chivalric duty, he was not otherwise interested in wooing them. It was partly for that reason that he signed up to the military, where an enterprising young man can have other opportunities in the darkness of the barracks. So long as his family was kept conveniently unaware.

For all that the Bolsheviks have overthrown the government without a clear plan as to what to do next, and accordingly plunged them all into this miserable civil war, Fedyor does secretly sympathize with certain of their beliefs on the remaking of family life. They say that marriage is outdated and bourgeoisie, that monogamy is unnatural, that women should not be subject to patriarchal systems, and that homosexuality is an equally valid state of nature. Such a possibility of sexual classification and divergence is much discussed in Europe these days, and there is even a small but growing scholarly literature, written by eminent scientists. Sexual Inversion by Havelock Ellis, published in 1896, argues that the man-loving man is indeed even a possibly improved form of human, associated with superior intellectual and artistic achievement, and that nothing about his attachment is wrong or abnormal. Two years before that, Edward Carpenter wrote Homogenic Love, and in 1900, the German Elisar von Kupffer published an anthology of homosexual poetry, Lieblingminne und Freundesliebe in der Weltliteratur. Such texts are relatively easy for an educated, French- and English- speaking young Russian intellectual, such as Fedyor Mikhailovich Kaminsky, to lay his hands on. He is not sure what can come of it, but at least he knows that he is not alone.

The question remains as to Ivan Ivanovich Sakharov’s proclivities. Unless Fedyor is very much mistaken, Ivan was at least considering the possibility of accepting his offer, and turned it down for honorable, moral reasons, feeling it unjust to sexually extort a young gentleman in exchange for his sister’s care, rather than physical horror at the idea of such a coupling. If he’s a Bolshevik, he’s probably acceptably tolerant of their philosophy on an abstract level, but it’s less clear as to whether that extends to its personal practice. If Fedyor turns up in his bunkhouse – which, come to think of it, is probably shared, curse these Bolsheviks and their dratted communality, highly inconvenient for a midnight seduction attempt – scantily clad and willing, will Ivan’s objections hold out then? Or… or what?

Fedyor doesn’t know, but the uncertainty adds to the frisson of shameful excitement, rather than detracting from it. He searches through the streets of Chelyabinsk for some bread (it does not seem in much greater supply than in Nizhny Novgorod) and waits for the sun to go down. In March, the days, though getting steadily longer, are still short and chilly, and it’s bitingly cold when it gets dark. Then he pulls up his muffler, tells himself not to be unduly precious about it, and heads for the makeshift army quarters on Kirovka Street.

The buildings in downtown are beautiful, built in the Russian Revival style of neo-Byzantinian splendor, though the onion-domed Orthodox churches have all been converted into stables and armories, and anything that whiffs of an ideology contrary to the Red one has been economically discarded. Fedyor reaches the door, knocks, and when a disgruntled sergeant comes to answer it, expecting him to be a soldier out too late and in line for a ticking-off, Fedyor raises his hands apologetically. “I’ve come to join up,” he says. “The great socialist cause of the world’s workers is the only true one for a patriotic Russian man, and I vow it my full allegiance, if you will have me. I was speaking to my friend earlier, Ivan Ivanovich, and he suggested it. Is he still here?”

The sergeant eyes him squiggle-eyed, but they cannot afford to look gift horses too closely in the mouth, or turn aside willing recruits. It takes a while, but he shouts for someone who shouts for someone else, and this finally produces the startled personage of Ivan Sakharov, who clearly thought it was for the last time when they parted several hours ago. Upon sight of Fedyor, he stops short, looking alarmed, angry, and wary all at once. “What are you – ?”

“Can we talk?” Fedyor is resolved to do this, he truly is, but he feels it best to get it over with before that wavers in any degree. Whether he wants it too little does not seem like the problem; on the contrary, he fears that he wants it too much, and if he stops to reflect on it or delude himself with any nonsensical notions of it being more than once, that can only hurt the cause. “Somewhere… private?”

Ivan hesitates, as if asking to commune out of sight of the others is tantamount to heresy (though it’s not as if these damn hypocrites didn’t plot in secret, away from their own countrymen, for months and months, Fedyor thinks angrily). Then he jerks his head. “Fine. Five minutes. This way.”

He leads Fedyor up a few narrow, creaking staircases, past closed doors that echo with snorting and snoring and coughing, the cacophony of his comrades, none of whom seem to be enjoying their glorious victory quite as much as they thought. Ivan, however, appears to be sufficiently high-ranking in the Red Guards that the room they finally arrive at, though not much larger than a closet, is at least private. It reminds Fedyor forcibly of Ivan’s room back in St. Petersburg, the one they slept in together, that first night after the Winter Palace. It sounds more intimate in his recollections than it actually was. Nothing happened, of course. But Ivan was kind to offer it, kind when he did not need to be, when a young tsarist soldier alone in the ferment of riot and revolution, such as Fedyor was, would not be likely to see the new red dawn. It is that which Fedyor keeps in mind as he shuts the door with assumed casualness, then turns around, meets Ivan’s eye in a significant fashion, and shrugs off his coat, cap, and muffler. Then, unmistakably, starts to unbutton his shirt.

He has almost gotten to the bottom by the time Ivan, who is staring at him as if he’s lost his marbles (it is unclear if this is an encouraging fashion or not) finally recovers his sense. He strides forward and covers Fedyor’s hands with his own large, callused rifleman’s fingers, sending a shock of attraction burning through Fedyor from head to toe, along with the death of any more illusion that he could continue to be casual about this. “What are you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Fedyor’s throat is as dry as a bone, but he forces himself to speak. “I said that I would do anything for my sister’s care, if you would help.”

He lingers suggestively on the word anything, just as he did before, in case there was any doubt (as if the undressing wasn’t enough) what he means here. Ivan looks like a cornered bear, but as his eyes catch Fedyor’s and flick across the lean, muscled torso thus revealed beneath the shirt, he swallows hard and has to glance away. The attraction trembles silently in the air between them, tense as a piano string, tuned to snapping. In the old days, that is, when people played pianos, and did not burn them for firewood, as Fedyor’s parents were preparing to do with theirs when he left home. It chokes raw and painful in his throat. He is attracted to Ivan – desperately attracted, in fact – and yet he still hates what the Bolsheviks have done, even if the Romanovs and the Provisional Government were no better. The deposed Tsar Nicholas II is under house arrest with his wife and five children, the four tsarevnas and the tsarevich, in Yekaterinburg. Little sick Alexei Romanov, whose hemophilia opened the door for Grigori Rasputin to control the queen, the royal household, the government of Russia, and so bring about the end of their house. He was like something from a fairytale monster, that Grisha. The rumors of his death, not quite two years ago in December 1916, is that it almost did not happen, he was so hard to kill. A demon. A beast.

“You cannot do this,” Ivan says, his voice too rough, his eyes still struggling to remain decorously averted. “It is not – it is not right.”

“Not right?” Fedyor flares. “So a little spot of armed treason and overthrowing the man who, however deficient he might be, was the heir of one of the oldest and greatest empires in the world? That part was entirely aboveboard, but this, when you want this – don’t lie to me, I’m well aware you do – to help my sister? That would be a sin?!”

Ivan backs up a step, glancing around shiftily. These walls are thin, and he clearly does not want his beloved brothers-in-arms to hear this. “Fedyor Mikhailovich – ”

“Have me.” Fedyor is done playing games. “I’m here, I’m yours for the taking. You can do whatever you want to me, as long as you give me the medicine at the end.”

For a long, spellbound moment, he thinks Ivan is on the brink of agreeing. Then once again, he shakes his head. “No,” he says. “I could not in good conscience consent to this. But I will fetch you the medicine. You do not have to give me anything in return.”

Fedyor gawks at him, shocked – and, it must be confessed, more than a little disappointed. “I thought it was fair trade,” he says. “Tit for tat.”

“It is…” Ivan shakes his head, eyes once more straying to Fedyor’s bare chest. “Button your shirt up,” he says, half-laughing, not angry, breathless and soft. “It is very distracting.”

“Good.” Fedyor takes another step. “I think you deserve it, you obnoxious bastard.”

“Be that as it may.” At least Ivan has the good sense not to dispute it. “I cannot do this,” he repeats, more gently. “You are a fine young man, Fedyor Mikhailovich. Perhaps in another life… but it would not be honorable to trade your virtue for this.”

“My virtue?” Fedyor has to laugh. “What makes you think I have that?”

Once again, Ivan wavers. But to give him (loathing) credit, he will not be swayed. “Button it,” he repeats. “I will arrange to have the money and medicine sent by your lodging by tomorrow, if you give me an address in the city.”

“I don’t have one.” Fedyor folds his arms. “Only here.”

Ivan looks even more startled. His lips part, he takes a step forward, and for a brief, wild, exquisite yearning of an instant, Fedyor thinks he is actually going to kiss him. They’re almost close enough – not quite, but almost – for it to happen. Then Ivan says, “Your family must be very proud of you.”

“I…” It catches in his throat. “I don’t know. I hope.”

“I would,” Ivan says. “I would be.”

And that, somehow, is all that seems to matter. Even as Fedyor spends a night in Ivan’s narrow camp cot of a bed, Ivan insisting on taking the hard floor out of an excess of gallantry, an echo of their first night in St. Petersburg. Ivan does as ordered, gives Fedyor some rubles and some medicine and a train ticket back home to Nizhny Novgorod. He personally escorts Fedyor to the train station to make sure he does not come to grief, then stands on the platform, staring after him like Vronsky watching Anna leave one more time. The train begins to huff and puff, spitting soot and embers, and Fedyor keeps his nose pressed to the glass, leaving a smudge, until long after, as it seems he is never destined to do anything but, Ivan Ivanovich Sakharov has vanished into the mist.

#heartrender husbands #fivan #fivan ff #ivan x fedyor #russian revolution au

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yanderecrazysie · 3 years

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Hello, I just binge read everything on your blog. I’m so excited for that Scp thing! If you don’t mind could I please request the yandere alphabet with nishinoya? Thanks anyway!

Thank you so much, I'm so honored!!! And of course you can request that!

I hope you enjoy this! :D

Nishinoya Yū (Haikyuu) -The Yandere Alphabet

🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣

Warnings: yandere themes, kidnapping, violence, implied murder, mentions of suicide.

A is for Affection: How do they show their affection for their darling? How often do they show it?

💖 Nishinoya is EXTREMELY affectionate. Like, this boy would be hugging on you at all times if he could. He's kinda clingy.

💖 He just wants to be able to touch you. I think he'd prefer his arms around you with him cuddling his face into your hair, but as long as he's touching you in SOME way he's happy.

💖 When is he NOT affectionate? That's the real question. If he's not touching you, it's not by his choice and he's not happy about it.

B is for Blood: How messy are they willing to get for their darling? Why?

🔪 Nishnoya is loyal af. Like, if you're bullied or hit on, he's having none of that. Those bullies/flirts are in for a bad time.

🔪 Would he kill? I don't THINK so. Unless, of course, he HAS to. Or he goes overboard when beating someone who had the AUDACITY to grope you into a bloody pulp.

C is for Care or Cruelty: How would they treat their darling when they kidnap them? Would they mock them?

💔 Nishinoya is not going to mock you at all and he's not going to be cruel. He's a worshipper (have you SEEN him with Kiyoko?) and you'd be treated like a goddess.

💔 You'd be taken care of better than you've ever been. Everything you could ever want will be in your hand before you can ask for it. He knows you so well, after all!

D is for Delusion: How delusional are they when it comes to their darling? Do they believe their darling loves them?

💭 How delusional? Yes. Just yes. Nishinoya is one of the most delusional yanderes out there.

💭 He doesn't EXACTLY believe that you're in love with him, but he knows you will be soon. As long as he treats you right, and he sure as heck is, you'll see just how much you two are meant for each other.

💭 Nishinoya knows that you're happy with him! Your tears and begging to go home is just you being a little confused. It just means he has to try harder!

E is for Expose: How much of their heart do they bear to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling? How much time will it take to trust them?

💧 You can know anything you want to if you just ask him! Even if you don't ask, he'll at least rant and rave about how amazing you are and every minuscule reason you're absolutely perfect.

💧 Nishinoya doesn't even need a second thought, a single hesitation. He'll tell you anything, anything!

F is for Fight: How would they react if their darling fought back?

👊 Nishinoya would be HEARTBROKEN. But... you're just confused, right? You're... You're just confused, yeah! This is new for you! He'll do better, he swears!

👊 He'll sit back and let you tire yourself out, just dodging you or closing you away in your room until you calm down. He'd never raise a hand against you, even if you punch him to death.

G is for Guilt: What would it take for them to feel guilty about their actions? Or do they feel guilty from the start?

😔 Nishinoya probably will never feel guilt. He's extremely delusional, like I said. He honestly believes he's improving your life by removing you from society.

😔 The only time I can imagine Nishinoya feeling guilty is if you got hurt somehow. He's supposed to be improving your life, and now you're hurt? He screwed up-

H is for Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

🔥 To be honest, it'd be hard to have a bad day with Nishinoya. He worships the ground you walk on, why would he make you miserable?

🔥 I guess resistance is futile though. You don't want to cuddle today? Well, he'll just squeeze tighter until you realize you do! You want to go home? This is your new home, silly!

I is for Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

👩‍❤️‍👨 Nishinoya really believes in a forever with you. When you both die, you'll go to heaven together. But before then: you'll grow old together.

👩‍❤️‍👨 He really cares about what you want. If you don't want kids, he won't force them on you. If you want as many kids as possible, he's your man! And he'll be the best father in the entire world!

J is for Jealousy: How easily do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

💢 It doesn't take much to get Nishinoya jealous. He's the one that loves you, adores you, and worships you. No one else treats you as well as he does, so they don't deserve to be in your vicinity, look at you, even breathe the same air as you!

💢 Did... did you just smile and laugh at his joke? Nononono- Nishinoya can be funny! And... and how DARE that guy tell you a joke? It better not have been a dirty joke either-

K is for Kidnap: How would they go about kidnapping their darling? How much do they plan it out?

🔒 Nishinoya wanted to kidnap you the moment he fell in love with you. That's probably not healthy (definitely not healthy) but he knew this twisted world could never take care of a goddess like you.

🔒 I think Nishinoya wouldn't be able to plan too far ahead. He's not exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer. All it takes is one good opportunity and you're suddenly finding yourself in a cozy bedroom decorated in your favorite color and filled with your favorite things.

L is for Love Letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

💌 One day you're living your normal life and the next day you've got a small guy with black hair (except that little blonde streak) trailing after you like a lovesick puppy.

💌 Can you really complain when he's giving you cute little plushies of your favorite animals, your favorite treats, lots of chocolate, and literally everything you like. Wait... how does he know what you like?

M is for Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they acted before?

🎭 Uhhh kinda sorta? I mean, his friends wouldn't expect him to kidnap you BUT it just seems to them like Nishinoya moved on to the next Kiyoko. And, considering how he treated her, it's not all that surprising to see him acting obsessive towards you.

🎭 Honestly, I don't think anyone would notice the difference in obsessions. Tanaka would think it's totally normal and be super glad he no longer shows interest in Kiyoko or his older sister. Asahi might notice that Nishinoya's love for you is way beyond even his previous love for Kiyoko but I don't think it'd concern him too much.

N is for Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

🚓 He wouldn't. You're perfect in his eyes. The most I can see him doing is giving you some "alone time" in your room, but that's honestly just to calm you down if you're freaking out. You get a break and he can't access you. So it's more of a blessing for you and torture for him anyways.

O is for Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling? What rights can be earned with time and trust?

📜 You'd have free run of the house, mostly, but you aren't leaving. You're not safe out in the evil world out there, so please don't go near that locked door, okay?

P is for Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

🕊️ Nishinoya doesn't really know the meaning of patience but he'll do his best to give you the time you need. He genuinely doesn't understand why you're resisting his love so much and he keeps trying to speed up the process.

Q is for Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

🏃‍♀️ If you die, so does he. He can't live without you, so he'll follow you into the afterlife.

🏃‍♀️ To be fair, you probably can take advantage of his delusional mind and unwavering trust to escape. But that wouldn't be the end, unfortunately. Nishinoya would literally search the ends of the earth for you until he finds you.

R is for Rage: How do they act when angry? How do they calm down?

👿 Picture a toddler throwing a fit because he didn't get the toy he wanted. That's Nishinoya.

👿 You aren't getting hurt or anything, don't worry about that. You do, however, have to deal with him wrapping his arms around your legs and sobbing into them.

👿 He'll calm down when he's got his arms around you, his face buried in your hair, and you finally going limp in his hold.

S is for Soulmate: What made them fall in love with their darling? How did they first meet? When did they realize they loved their darling?

💍 You're so beautiful in your own unique way, and Nishinoya can't get enough of you. His biggest wish, the moment he met you, was to stroke your hair and soft skin.

💍 If you're a smarty pants, you were tutoring him. He specifically asked for a girl tutor. If you're not a smarty pants, he met you in class or you were both getting tutored in some sort of study group. It'd probably have to do with tutoring, okay?

💍 It was love at first sight. And if you called him senpai you sealed your own fate, okay? That's on you.

T is for Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

😭 You absolutely shatter Nishinoya's heart when you cry. He wants you happy! Seeing you sad means he's failing. He wants to try harder but you keep saying nonsense about how you "want to go home" or that you "miss your family". Why isn't he enough? He thought he was doing so well!

😭 Isolating yourself is the biggest punishment for Nishinoya. Being unable to touch you is enough torture, being unable to see or hear you? God, are you TRYING to kill him? He can't take this- please come out- PLEASE- He just needs to know you're okay! He loves you so, so much!

U is for Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

👌 Nishinoya is a worshipper x100. You could screw up as much as you want and he'll still think you're 100% perfect. You don't have to worry about him hurting or punishing you too harshly. Honestly, you're relatively safe with him.

👌 You actually have a good chance of escaping. He'll likely pick a house far away from society though and he DEFINITELY won't give up just because you got away. You better have a good plan because you really don't want him upping the security "until you get used to your new home a little more".

V is for Visit: Would they allow anyone else to visit their darling? Do they trust their darling to talk to their loved ones (in person, on the phone, etc.) or not at all?

🧳 Simple answer is no. You only need him. He's the only one worthy to be in your presence.

W is for Weakness: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

❌ You're literally the embodiment of his weakness. He's weak for you. Fake a pout or smile and he's wrapped around your finger in an instant.

❌ Although you can't negotiate your release or the ability to contact/visit the outside world, you CAN get practically anything you want. Which means you can use things he gives you to escape. Or you can just enjoy your life of being worshipped and spoiled.

X is for Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

🛐 Nishinoya would do ANYTHING for you. He would literally drop to his knees and kiss your feet- and he probably will. He may not be able to let you leave him or return to society, but he'll make up for it in every way possible.

Y is for Yearning: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

😍 Nishinoya wouldn't last long without you. He loves you so, so much and just wants you in his arms. The more you hang around others and the longer you go about your normal life, the more stressed you make him. He needs to rescue you from this awful world...

Z is for Zero Tolerance: What is the thing that always makes them snap? What things will they not allow their darling to do under any circumstances?

0️⃣ The thing that Nishinoya can't stand is you trying to escape, but he doesn't exactly "snap". It's more like a panic attack and tantrum as he drags you back into the house, begging you to explain what he can do better and what he did wrong.

🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣

I hope I did okay! I think it was shorter than Akaashi's, but Noya's a simpler creature!

Thank you for the request, my lovely Anon!

#yandere #yandere haikyuu #yandere nishinoya #yandere alphabet #haikyuu!!#nishinoya yu

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hela-avenger · 4 years

Text

To the Stars Who Listen- Part 9b

Author: hela-avenger

Word Count: 1618

Summary: When Loki desires to never fall in love, he casts a spell to prevent such a thing from happening. Except, well, in the matters of love and magic, you never know the result it may have in the end. Loki x Reader

A/N: I have been waiting so long for this part. Things will no longer be the same after this night. Thanks for the love everyone! (Also, if you’re able to, pls go vote today!)

Tags are open! (Send me an ask/message/response.)

TTSWL Masterlist

You’re relieved to find the halls towards the lab empty. Natasha had forced you into your costume before even considering letting you leave her room. You didn’t have the energy to argue with her and let her slip the dress on. You still had no idea what you were supposed to be and Natasha still refused to tell you.

In the end, it doesn’t matter.

It was Halloween and you had a mask to blend in with the other costumes that would surely be roaming around the party.

“Tony, I hope you’re done,” you call out as you enter the lab. “I’ve given you more than 20 minutes…”

You trail off as you notice the display that lays front in center. You tentatively make your way towards it and are in awe at the glimmer of the gold chains that would wrap around your fingers and wrist.

“Beautiful, right?” Tony asks as he finally appears. He’s already dressed. No costume as always as he wore his usual tux. “Might be my best work.”

“You definitely have a Midas touch,” you praise him. “Could definitely create another billionaire franchise if you make a couple more of these.”

“Not going to happen but it’s nice to know that I have a fall back,” Tony grins as he picks up the modified gauntlets and turns them around for you to see. “Now this is my favorite part.”

The stones that the gauntlet stored are now placed in a unique set of molds.

“The sun and the moon.”

Tony’s smile grows.

“Three things cannot be hidden,” he states as he pulls the ring-bracelet out to place it on you. “The sun, the moon, and the truth.”

They mold perfectly into your hands allowing the stones to settle in the center of your palms.

“Thought it would be fitting for you,” Tony adds. “Especially since you’re playing Lady Justice for the night.”

You look down at the white and grey gown that resembles the graceful flow of Grecian togas.

“Is that who I am? Seriously?” you groan. “I thought I was some Game of Thrones character or something.”

“Nope, you’re Lady Justice. Nat thought it would be funny with the whole truth telling thing you’ve got going,” Tony shrugs with a chuckle. “The silver mask is meant to emphasize the whole ‘justice is blind’ thing.”

You let out another groan.

“I never had the urge to strangle someone so much.”

Tony continues to laugh as you set the mask aside. He uses this lull in the conversation to place the other modified gauntlet on your hand.

“Refrain from turning my party into a bloodbath,” Tony responds. “Just try your new and improved gadgets and let's call it a day.”

You heed his advice and turn away from him. With ease, you shoot two straight beams of energy into the wall scorching it once more.

“That’s great,” Tony mutters at the holes that decorated his wall. “Let’s just add more repairs I’ll have to do.”

Loki had to give it to his brother. He did indeed have a brain and he knew how to use it seeing as Thor was ready with a casket of Asgardian mead for both of them to enjoy at the party. Loki more than gladly accepted the offered glass and did not hesitate to drink it all down in one swallow before asking for a refill.

“Brother, I’m glad you got into the holiday mood and dressed up,” Thor states as he slapped Loki on the back.

Thor took in Loki’s appearance and smiled at the all black suit he was wearing.

“What on earth are you talking about?” Loki scowls.

“You’re dressed in a costume!”

“Costume? I’m not-” Loki’s scowl deepens. “I’m not in costume, you idiot.”

“Oh, really?” Thor asks, confused. “Then why are you dressed like a witch?”

Loki refrains from responding as he inhales his second glass of mead. If he were to survive the rest of the night, Loki would need a couple of more drinks in him.

“Isn’t this great?” Thor exclaims as he motions towards the party that was at full swing. “Almost rivals our own parties, doesn’t it?”

Loki rolls his eyes and continues to drink.

“There’s Wanda and Vision dressed as a… well, I don’t know, but they look quite nice! And there’s Steve too! I don’t understand his attire either. Oh and will you look at that…”

Loki turns towards the direction that Thor is pointing to and everything seems to stop.

You’re walking down the staircase adorned in a gown that closely resembled the ones found in Asgard. Your hair was in an intricate braid decorated with jeweled pins that caught the light making it seem as you were crowned with the night sky.

He’s not the only entranced by your presence. Loki can easily see the amount of attention you’re receiving at the simple moment. You don’t pay it any mind seeing as your focus remained on him.

You smile.

It catches Loki off guard even more so as you ignore some of your new admirers in preference of his company.

It skips his mind that he was avoiding you for a reason and when he realizes it, he’s too late. You have already made your way towards him.

“Thor, Loki,” you greet with a nod before turning to him. “You both came and you dressed up...”

“I’m a prince and Loki’s a witch!” Thor gleefully provides.

“I’m not a witch,” Loki snaps.

“Then what are you?” you ask him.

“I’m dressed as a Midgardian,” Loki answers curtly.

“Right,” you whisper, noting his disinterest in the conversation. “Loki, can we…”

“And what are you dressed as for this occasion?” Thor asks, unknowingly interrupting you. “I could mistake you as a high lady of the Asgardian court. Don’t you agree, Loki?”

Loki chokes on his drink and desires so strongly that he had stabbed his brother like all of his instincts were telling him to. He didn’t wish to respond to his question knowing it would reveal too much of him.

“Yes, she does.”

Your eyes narrow at him.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m what?”

“You lied,” you repeat, stepping closer to him. “Why?”

Loki doesn’t know what drives him to respond or where the words even come from.

“I think you precede some high lady,” he states. “You are regaled like a queen tonight.”

“Oh.”

You look away from him then and try to fight off the smile on your lips.

“Well, this has been entertaining,” Thor chuckles before setting his glass aside. “My Lady, will you do me the honor of giving me your first dance?”

You look at Thor’s extended hand and smile.

“That’s really nice of you, Thor, but I can’t,” you answer as you turn to Loki. “I was hoping to give that spot up to your brother.”

Loki ignores the grin on Thor’s face as he looks at you. There is no malice or mischief at the request. You were genuinely asking him for the first dance.

“He accepts.”

Loki has no choice as Thor shoves him forward to you. You are quick to grab his hand then and pull him towards the dance floor. It is music that he is not accustomed to but you manage to lead him through it.

“I’m sorry to resort to low tactics to get you alone,” you tell him. “I just really need to talk to you.”

Loki attempts to pull away but your hold on him is surprisingly strong.

“I had no intention of making you feel uncomfortable,” you continue. “I’m sorry I crossed a line. You didn’t deserve it. No one does and yet I did it, but please know I did it unknowingly. I had no intention of digging up secrets you were not prepared in sharing. It won’t happen again.”

Loki detects no lies in your apology and yet he hesitates to trust you.

“What you saw…”

“I saw nothing,” you answer and though it is a lie, you hope he understands that your lips are sealed in the matter.

It seems the message was received as Loki nods in response.

“Very well,” he mutters.

It wasn’t the forgiveness you were hoping for but one you would accept anyway.

“Oh, and while I’m apologizing for my drastic actions,” you add with a smile. “I hope you don’t mind this one.”

You pull away from his hold to reveal your hands that are no longer sporting the gauntlets he had given you. Instead, gold chains wrapped around your fingers and wrist like an ornate bracelet. You slowly turn them over and Loki loses the little sanity he had for the night.

“Loki?”

He reels away from you unsure of how to make sense of what he’s seeing at the moment. Cradled on the palm of your hands rested sigils he never expected to see in his lifetime.

“You’re carrying the sun and the moon.”

“I guess... I am, yeah,” you laugh lightly as you look down at them. “They’re definitely an upgrade from the heavy gauntlets and they still work.”

Your words aren’t being registered at the moment as Loki attempts to make sense of the sudden shift that only he is aware of.

“I have to go,” he interrupts you.

“Wait, what?” you ask him. “But the party…”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers as he retreats.

A path opens for him easily at the dark look that encompasses his face. He didn’t get to enjoy the fear he inflicted on the general population like he usually does. Loki was just desperate to get out of there and by sheer luck, you don’t follow him.

In the end, Loki finds himself wishing that you had.

TTSWL Tag: @catsladen @is-it-madness @manyfandoms-marvel @mejusttryintogetby @illogicalfangirl @ariel-snow-tmnt @islinglivesinshire @musicconversedance @missmadwoman @smaranshakthi @adaydreamingdragon @poetic-fiasco @like-a-wildfire @jasminecalia @ha-tep @charbokbok @setsuna-meiou31 @ms-blvck @country-cowgirl-101 @bepo-is-sorry @hufflautia @waitforthehurricanrose @fictionalhoomanofnowhere @sanniegirl1214 @telenari @anonymouscastiel12 @ddaeing

Loki Tag: @unicorniorosacomefrutillas @thesilentbluesparrow @oddly-drawn-muse @josiehosiedaninja @hp-hogwartsexpress @sadwaywardkid @wolf-lover74 @sizzlingbarbarianglitter @sigyn-nightshade @aoirohi @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @just-a-donut-who-reads @day-dreaming-fox @heykathchuu

All Works Tag: @jmb959 @astudyoftimeywimeystuff @hellocookiecutter @steve-rogers-personal-hell @buckybarnesyard @not-zari-tak @strangersstranger @thefridgeismybestie @ariel-snow-tmnt @badhollandfluff @what-a-flammable-heart

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javajunkieao3 · 4 years

Text

Being Alive: Beth/Benny Fanfic

It’s six months after Russia and nearly that long since her last drink. All those months ago, sitting across Borgov with her face tilted up to the paneled ceiling, she learned that she didn't need alcohol to quiet her mind. The chess board still appeared, the pieces moving with a grace that Beth still hadn’t witnessed elsewhere. But, it didn't mean she didn’t want the drink, and Beth had bore witness to a casual alcoholic for enough years to understand that both the need and want weren’t pre-requisites to addiction. Because while she didn’t need a drink, she also knew that once she started she wouldn’t be able to stop.

She’s at the US Open Chess Championship in Chicago and she keeps walking past the bar, her pacing taking her steps closer to the wooden counter with each pass. It was all because of damn Gorsky. He was new. An up and comer out of Bloomington, Indiana and he almost beat her. She faced off against the giants in Russia, and yet somehow, this Midwest nobody threw her. Dimly, somewhere between her fourth and fifth pass in front of the bar, she reminds herself that she had once been that nobody, but she quickly dismisses the thought.

At her sixth pass, she almost gives in, her mouth already anticipating the heady combination of the gin and vermouth tempered by a refined pearl onion (Mrs. Wheatley had been right about that part), but then a young girl recognizes her and asks for her autograph. The girl holds out an old copy of Life magazine with Beth’s face on the cover. The magazine was about two years old, and Beth thinks about how this girl must have seen the Open was taking place in the city and made a special trip just for her to sign the magazine. Her face burns with shame as she recalls the one to three Gibsons she had been on her way to consume, and she makes a point to strike up a conversation with the young girl, trying to replace her guilt with a good deed.

When she's finished, she heads back up to her room, but she can already picture the room service menu and she can feel her finger moving the heavy dial of the rotary phone, and so she makes a detour, ending up at his room. She doesn't know if he’ll be there, but he answers after one knock. He’s shirtless, his striped pajama pants slung low on his hips, but it’s nothing she hasn't seen before.

“Hi Benny.”

“Beth Harmon, to what do I owe this honor?”

The tone of his voice reminds her of the distance between them. While he helped her in Russia, she was well aware there was still damage between them to be repaired, but all the calls she meant to make didn’t happen, and then her phone didn’t ring, either. She hasn’t seen him since before Russia.

“Can I come in?”

“If you’re here to take more of my money with speed chess, you’ll be disappointed.”

Attempting levity, she says, “Does that mean you got better, or we’re not playing?”

He smiles slightly and steps back to let her in. Behind her, he flips open a suitcase and she turns around just as he’s pulling a worn grey t-shirt over his head. “So, what are you doing here?”

She doesn’t answer, suddenly feeling foolish for going to him at all, and he says, “It’s Gorsky, isn’t it?”

“I still beat him,” she returns sharply.

“Yeah, well, you almost didn’t.”

She bites the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood and sits on the edge of the bed.

“Do you want something to drink?” Benny asks, and while she knows he doesn't mean alcohol, she says, “I want a Gibson. I might as well, right? You warned me that if I kept drinking like I was, I’d end up washed up by my twenties. But, it looks like that may be happening, anyway.”

“Beth, you’re not washed up.”

“I didn’t see the move, Benny.”

She had gone through various phases while analyzing the game previously. Anger. Blame. But now, she is just tired. She considers excusing herself to go back to her room, but if she were being honest with herself, she doesn’t trust herself alone.

“Sometimes you don’t, but then you’ll see it the next game. Just because you’re good doesn’t mean you’re infallible.”

"I shouldn’t be this thrown by it. I beat Luchenko, Borgov. I beat you.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” he returns drily.

She rubs at her eyes irritably and when she opens them again, he’s walked toward her and he sits on the bed next to her. There is still a sizable distance between them, but she takes comfort in the way the mattress dips. It makes her feel less alone.

“You are not washed up,” Benny says for the second time that night. “But, you’re going to have games you lose. It doesn’t make you any less of a player.” Beth scoffs at that and he continues with, “Did beating Borgov make you think any less of him?”

“No,” she admits. She looks over at him, “And it didn’t make me think any less of you. Although, you could improve your endgame.”

Benny smiles slightly. “I’m going to choose to ignore that last part.”

Beth looks down at her shoes. “I came here because I wanted a drink.”

Benny is quiet for a moment. “Do you still want one?”

“Yes,” she answers immediately. “But it’ll pass.” She looks over at him, her nerves pulled tight, and asks, “Can I-”

“Yes,” he says. “You can stay here. As long as you need.”

They order room service - burgers with extra pickles for him and cheese for her - and she tells him she’ll be going back to her room soon, but that doesn't happen. Instead, they play a few games of chess and then she stretches out on the bed, ignoring his offer for her to change into one of his oversized shirts to sleep in, and he settles in the bed next to her. He shuts off the light, and she turns onto her back. The darkness emboldens her to say what she had never been brave enough to tell him in the light.

“I didn't choose drinking over you.”

He doesn’t answer for a long moment, and when he does his voice is gravelly. “It sure seemed like you did.”

“I chose being numb.”

“Is that supposed to make it better?”

“No,” she says honestly. “But, it’s the truth.” Staring up at the blank ceiling she says, “When my mother killed herself, she told me to close my eyes. I think, in some way, I’ve been trying to do that ever since.”

She hears the rustle of his hair against the pillow as he turns his head to look at her. “Shit, Beth-”

“But, I don’t want to be numb anymore. I don’t want to close my eyes.” She turns her face toward him. In the pitch darkness of the room, she can just make out the outline of his face, but his eyes gleam bright.

“I’m sorry that I hurt you,” she says.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t go with you to Russia.”

“You were still there when I needed you,” Beth returns, recalling the immense sense of relief when she heard his voice on the phone.

“I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to beat the Russians.”

His voice is light and teasing, like it used to be, and she doesn’t know what to say next, but then he reaches forward and smooths her hair away from her face. Without hesitation, she reaches up and grabs his hand, keeping it pressed against her cheek. She doesn’t know if she leans in first, or him, but they meet in the middle, the kiss gentle and unhurried. Her body yearns for more, but then he pulls away, pressing a kiss on her forehead as he says, “We should get some sleep. We both have games at seven tomorrow.”

She knows that he’s right, because he’s an addiction in his own way, and if they started something she knew they would get little sleep. She turns on her side, her mind wonderfully blank as he blanketed her body with his. She falls asleep within minutes.

The next morning, the twins catch Beth leaving Benny’s room to change for the day, and one of them does a low whistle while Beth jauntily responds with her middle finger. She changes into one of her favorite dresses, a checkered number with a high neckline that dipped to a lower “v” in the back, and she proceeds to win all of her games, even achieving a new personal record for time. Benny does the same, and then it’s just the two of them, facing off at the top table. There’s a break before and he presses her against a wall in a back hallway, his mouth against hers.

“If you’re trying to distract me, it won’t work,” she says, fingers caught up in his hair.

“Don’t worry, I know better than that.”

Fifteen minutes later, they are seated opposite each other, attention finely tuned to the action on the board. Benny has improved since Beth last played him, but then again, so has she. Both of them nearly run out their clocks, but in the end, it is Benny who extends his hand across the board. She knows how much he hates to lose, but there is not a trace of ill will on his face when she shakes his hand. Instead, there is admiration, respect, and something else that she is hesitant to name.

Afterwards, they go directly to her room, and they don’t even make it to fully undressed before she takes him in, breathing a sigh of relief against his neck. When they are finished, his fingers languidly run along her side and he says, “You should come to New York.”

“I can’t,” she says, looking up at him. “I’m coaching at one of the high schools and they have a major tournament next week”

“Okay,” he says. “Then what if I come to Kentucky?”

While this isn’t exactly a surprise, it still thrills her to hear him say it. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“Okay,” she says, trying to keep an impending wide grin at bay. She runs her hand along his chest and Innocently says, “I think I have an air mattress in the closet.”

#the queen's gambit #fanfiction #Benny Watts #Beth Harmon #Beth Harmon x Benny Watts

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peaceoutofthepieces · 3 years

Text

Sink Or Swim

tag list: @cleocc @feeling-kinda-so-so @hopelessromanticvirgo @dreamy-slytherin @adora8 @lockerfivethreefive @painfully-oblivious @poeticinemaa @jjustonemorething @sassy-sara @wedarkacademia @coolguyssyndrome @hischbabe @suckerforsobbe @tayspots @starmansander @theah0lt @zoenneforever @invisibleme @chibibanane @odi-et-amo85 @watermelonlover-123 @xiaomailab

~^~

Saturday, 10:23

Songs: Joy Oladokun - Blink Twice; Kina - Get You The Moon

Lucas’s mother picks up the phone after just three rings.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Mama.”

“Oh, Luc.” Her tone brightens. “How are you, baby? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Uhm.” He taps his fingers on the wall next to him, glancing back down the hallway towards his room. “I just wanted to call to let you know that Jens is back home with me.”

There’s a brief pause, then a sigh of relief. “That’s amazing, darling. He’s with you now? Is he alright?”

“Yeah, he’s here. I found him last night. He wasn’t great. He’s been really quiet since I brought him home. He passed out early and he’s still sleeping.”

“And you’re taking care of him,” she says, softly, knowingly.

Lucas leans against the wall with a hand stuffed in the pocket of his sweatpants and hunches his shoulders to hide his blush, even though there’s no one around to see him. “I’m trying.”

“He’s lucky to have you.”

“I don’t know. I think he’d have a lot less trouble without me.”

“I disagree,” she argues quietly. “I’m sure he would, too.”

Lucas simply hums, tilting his head against the wall and looking down towards his room. He doesn’t know how lucky Jens is, but Lucas himself feels pretty honored. More than anything he’s relieved.

It had taken them a while, last night. He’d sat on the ground with Jens for longer than expected—long enough for Sander to get anxious and come inside to search for them. He’d disappeared again once he saw that they were safe, heading out to call Robbe and give them their space. Within a couple of minutes then Lucas had managed to coax Jens into the car, where they’d sat tucked together in the backseat with Sander occasionally shooting them glances in the mirror. He’d dropped them off at Lucas’s apartment and walked them right up to the door before pulling Jens into a tight hug.

Jens had sunk into it without giving any real reaction. Still, he’d seemed more settled as Lucas led him inside, after Sander had kissed Lucas on the head and left to stay at Robbe’s instead. Lucas had managed to coax Jens into eating something and drinking two glasses of water before taking the exhausted boy to bed and gathering him in a tight hold. Jens had started shivering before they’d even left the skatepark and only stopped after falling asleep with Lucas’s arms around him and the covers pulled up to his cheek. Lucas tried very hard not to think about Jens spending a full night and that entire day alone in the desolate building, cold and hungry and dehydrated. He tried not to think about Jens prioritising alcohol over any basic needs. It had been a relief that Jens had fallen asleep quickly, though Lucas had spent hours awake afterwards listening to his breath and convincing himself the boy was real.

“Lucas?” his mother questions.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m here.”

“That’s okay. Have you told your father?”

“I messaged him last night and I called him just now before you. He’s fine with it.” Lucas had known he would be, but it was still nice to hear the man confirm it, asking question after question about them both in concern before promising to help them work things out when he returns home tomorrow.

He can hear the smile in his mother’s voice. “I’m so glad to think things have improved between you two. He’s always adored you so much, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lucas smiles. “And when I was a kid I wanted to be exactly like him when I grew up. I know.” He has those vague memories, but it’s mostly what his mother has told him. He has no true recollection of feeling like that. It changed drastically, at least, after the man left. Lucas hadn’t wanted to be like him at all, then.

His opinion may be changing slightly.

“Okay, point taken,” his mother laughs. “I’ll let you get back to your boy.”

Lucas’s heart warms at the title, but he isn’t done quite yet. “How are you, though?”

“I’m good. I’ve been going out with friends a little more, and your aunt stays over a few nights a week. I’ve taken up Zumba.”

Lucas blinks. “Zumba?”

“Yes. The dance classes? Surely you’ve heard of them.”

“I’ve heard of them, yeah, but...why?”

“Well, it keeps me active, and one of the girls from work got me into it. We go together once a week.”

“Oh.” Lucas smiles. “Cool. I’m glad you’re doing okay.”

“I am, and better now. You know, I’m so proud of you, Luc.”

“Mama,” Lucas protests, his throat tightening.

She laughs again, softly. “Alright, alright. I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you, too. I’ll come see you again soon, okay?”

“I should hope so. I can’t wait to meet Jens.”

Lucas huffs, blushing slightly even as his smile widens. “I think you’ll like him.”

“I think so, too. I just hope he likes me.”

“He’ll love you,” Lucas promises. “I’ll talk to you again later, okay?”

“Of course. Bye, sweetheart.”

Lucas returns the sentiment and waits for her to hang up before heading back to his room.

He moves down the hallway quietly, slipping through the open door and pushing it slightly closed behind him, careful not to let it shut fully and wake the sleeping boy in his bed. Lucas takes a moment to gaze at him. He’s facing the doorway, on the nearest side of the bed, face slack with sleep and dark hair ruffled. He seems peaceful, like this, as if he doesn’t have a worry in the world. Lucas wants to freeze this exact moment and keep it forever. Where Jens is safe, and at peace, with the knowledge that he is loved.

Lucas rounds the bed and slips under the covers on his side, settling slowly so as not to jostle the mattress too much. Jens shifts just slightly, shoulders hunching, when the duvet is briefly pulled away from his neck. He settles once Lucas presses up against his back and lays an arm around him, carefully tucking them both back under the heat. Lucas presses his nose to Jens’s nape and closes his eyes and just breathes him in.

He doesn’t sleep. He is already surprised he managed as many hours as he has, without tossing and turning anywhere in the middle, Jens’s weight and warmth enough to keep him centered. Lucas could stay in this position forever, wrapped around Jens, swallowed up in his aura and his scent and his affection, how he presses back against Lucas without hesitation and manages to find a grip on his hand even in sleep.

He isn’t sure how long they lie there, huddled close, separate to the rest of the world even as it brightens into late-morning light outside the window, quickly gaining on noon. Lucas just stays close and holds on and deadens himself to it, focusing solely on the boy in his arms, occasionally nuzzling his skin or pressing featherlight kisses to his nape.

It’s one of these that eventually makes Jens stir. He shifts under Lucas’s arm, letting out a sleepy, disgruntled hum into his pillow. It’s the difference in his breathing that makes Lucas sure he has woken, and then his slow movements follow. Instead of turning around to face him, Jens presses back against Lucas and covers the hand on his stomach with his own, slowly threading their fingers together.

Lucas stays still for a moment, giving him time. He squeezes Jens’s hand and presses a kiss to the nape of his neck, and Jens hugs Lucas’s arm closer around himself. He draws their hands to his mouth and brushes his lips over Lucas’s knuckles.

“Morning,” Lucas murmurs.

Jens’s grip tightens on his hand, and he lets out a slow breath. “Morning.”

Lucas leans over to press a kiss to the corner of his jaw, then his cheek, sliding his free arm under Jens’s neck in an attempt to get closer. Jens doesn’t turn towards him, yet, but he sinks back against him, so Lucas tucks his chin over the boy’s shoulder and traces circles on the back of his hand and waits.

“What time is it?” Jens asks, a while later.

Lucas shrugs. “A little after eleven, I think.”

Jens sniffs quietly, nodding, snuggling further into his pillow. Lucas keeps holding him for a few silent moments, and then Jens shifts. He lets go of Lucas’s hand. He rolls onto his back first and stares up at the ceiling.

Lucas tucks his hands under his pillow to avoid reaching out, in case the touch is unwanted.

“How do you feel? I mean, do you feel sick or anything?” Lucas questions.

Jens shakes his head, then plucks at the t-shirt he’s wearing, a soft gray one of Lucas’s that fits him just a little too loosely where it clings slightly to Jens. “I feel like I need a shower.”

“Okay,” Lucas says easily.

“I’m already intruding.”

Lucas abandons his plan and reaches out, sliding his hand over the boy’s chest. “You’re not, idiot. Have you ever worried about that when you stayed over before?”

Jens looks over at him, still picking at the fabric over his chest. His eyes are sad. “It wasn’t like this, then. I was here because you wanted me to be, and because I wanted to be.”

It’s something Lucas hasn’t thought of, but now the idea takes root and steals all his oxygen. “Do you not want to be here now?”

“It’s the only place I’ve wanted to be all week,” Jens admits, lips twitching as he looks at Lucas.

Lucas breathes a sigh of relief. “Okay. So what’s different then? You want to be here and I want you to be here. Nothing has changed.”

Jens rolls onto his side, tucking one arm underneath him and using the other to breach the gap, reaching out and threading his fingers with Lucas’s under the covers. Lucas feels the cool metal of his ring brush against his skin, reminding him that Jens still wears it. Lucas squeezes his hand and lets himself relax. His eyes skim away from Jens’s and down across his nose, over his cracked lips, the pillow creases in his cheek, the workings of his throat. Jens is here with him, tangible, entirely real and unbelievable at once. Lucas is constantly holding himself back from smothering him in affection. The few inches of space between them feels too big, even with Jens’s hand in his.

Lucas shifts just a tiny bit closer as Jens clears his throat before speaking up again.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I never meant for that to happen. Obviously. But I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”

Lucas shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have left you. I promised myself after…” he trails off, the words getting clogged in his throat.

Jens squeezes his hand tightly, an understanding twist to his lips, even though he doesn’t know. There are still things he has no idea of. That Lucas hasn’t been able to tell him.

He supposes there’s no time like the present.

“I know that you probably don’t feel like talking,” Lucas says. “Not right now.”

Jens drops his gaze and bites his lip, shaking his head. Lucas slips his other hand out from under his pillow to cup Jens’s cheek, stroking over the bone, urging Jens to look at him again. “I just...I don’t actually know how I’m feeling.”

Lucas nods. “Okay. I’m going to try to be honest with you. In an attempt to make it easier, I guess.” When Jens stiffens, he quickly backtracks. “It’s not about you. It’s just about me. I think that maybe...maybe knowing can do something to help you now? And if not, then at least you know me. Really.”

It makes Jens’s brow furrow, but he leans a little closer as he nods, runs his thumb over the back of Lucas’s hand, and Lucas reminds himself that he loves him. That they love each other.

“Remember what I told you last week about my mom?” Another nod. “Uh, yeah. So there’s more I didn’t tell you, that came after. I mentioned that my dad came back, but that wasn’t really when he came back. That was just because he got the call from the hospital. He stayed for a while until she got home, kind of in and out, just so no one could say I was there alone.” Lucas swallows. “So I had a lot of freedom, I guess. And I was feeling shitty, just all the time. I didn’t even know if my mom was going to be okay and I knew even then she would never truly be okay. They couldn’t just cure her and make her my mom again.”

They are memories, and feelings, that Lucas has had boxed up in a far, dark corner of his mind for a long time. He would like to say he hasn’t thought about them, but the time has always plagued him, always threatened to pull him back under. He just hasn’t spoken any of these thoughts aloud to anyone in well over a year.

It’s surprisingly easy, to divulge these secrets to Jens, to place the darker parts of himself under the light for his judgement.

“I felt guilty, and I still do,” he says quietly. “But instead of that making me want to stick around and help, it made me run further away. I think it was the waiting—the fact that there actually wasn’t anything I could do, that I’d never really be able to help. Not even because I didn’t know how but because nothing helps. But I thought that there were things that could help me. I couldn’t sleep anymore. I started to have panic attacks. Everything was too much, everywhere. I thought if I smoked more, and drank more, and did anything I could to just make my brain stop or slow down or feel lighter for a few minutes...I thought that would help.”

“Luc,” Jens interrupts softly, but Lucas shakes his head. He’s rambling, he knows. It’s a lot to put on Jens at once. He knows. But he’s worried if he stops he’ll lose steam and abandon his task entirely. He needs Jens to understand.

“I was going out on my own, without Kes or Jayden or anyone, not even telling them I was going. I even tried a few gay bars,” Lucas huffs. “Then one night I barely got home and blacked out in the hallway. It was my aunt that found me when she came to check on Mom.”

“Jesus,” Jens mumbles, eyes sadder now than before.

Lucas shakes his head before any real worry can set in. “It wasn’t a big deal. I didn’t need to go to the hospital, or anything, and it wasn’t like I was addicted. It was just finally the thing that freaked Dad out. He couldn’t blame Mom, because he’d already blamed me for not taking care of her, so he finally took on some of the responsibility. He moved back to take care of me. And he made me go to therapy.”

This seems to be the biggest surprise. There is no huge outward reaction other than silence, which is loud enough to speak for itself. Jens looks at him with the same furrowed brow and sad eyes and pinched lips, and Lucas smooths his thumb over all the creases and waits.

“And you actually went?” Jens asks eventually. Lucas nods. “For how long?”

“Months,” Lucas admits. “I wasn’t open to it, at first. The blacking out thing hadn’t scared me. It had just finally felt like an escape. So I think I really needed those sessions.”

He raises his brows, and Jens’s lips twitch, but he shakes his head. “And they helped, eventually?”

“Yeah.” Lucas nods, smiling gently as he rubs his thumb over the back of Jens’s hand. “Turns out it’s a lot, having an absent father and a bipolar mother and being deeply, deeply closeted at the same time. On top of all the usual teenage angst,” he jokes.

It earns him a smile. A small one, albeit, but it’s there. Jens licks his lips before asking, “How did you stop feeling like that? Like you need to just...turn off? Or escape?”

“I haven’t. I still have panic attacks, even. I think everyone has some of that need in them, anyway. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Everyone is messy, Jens. Everyone messes up and wants to run. I still feel like that sometimes, but now I just have ways of satisfying it. I have escapes.”

“Like what?” Jens questions, genuinely curious.

“There are a lot of things, actually. As stupid as it is, I got really into walking. Trying to find new places, photographing pretty things. Giving my thoughts space to breathe instead of trying to run from them. Music helps, a little. My friends, they started looking out for me more after they figured out the therapy, and being with them helps. Art is a big thing.” Lucas smiles. “You.”

Jens raises his brows. “Me?”

Lucas hums.

“Is that...healthy?”

Lucas huffs. “I don’t think it’s unhealthy. It just means, I don’t know. I feel quieter with you. Like everything’s not so loud and heavy and just, so much.”

He can almost see the lightbulb go off over Jens’s head. “I make you chill.”

“Yeah,” Lucas laughs quietly. “I guess you do.”

Jens swallows, then detangles his hand from Lucas’s to reach up and card it through his hair. “Thank you,” he murmurs. “For trusting me with all of this. It helps.”

Lucas leans into his touch and smirks without any real edge. “Realising that I’m still messier than you, you mean?”

Jens rolls his eyes, heaving a giant sigh. “Then you have to go and ruin it.”

Lucas snorts, and Jens is finally smiling. The air around them has lightened, the weight of lingering secrets lifted as a new passage of understanding opens between them.

There’s still an exhaustion ingrained in them both and an elephant in the room stealing the air. Jens’s unknowns are different, but still there. All of his demons have been forced into the light, but the awareness doesn’t help either boy know how to defeat them. Lucas doesn’t know what happened after he left. He doesn’t know what Jens has been struggling with this week, or what combination of fears are still plaguing his mind.

The only thing they’re aware of that they can control is that they are together. The events of a week ago have created fissures in them both, but nothing has broken them. If anything, Lucas is more sure now than ever.

It’s this heady sensation, this deep knowing, that finally has him leaning in and closing the gap. Jens’s lips are dry, even more so than usual, but they mold and shift with Lucas’s just the same. He’s able to share his breath, expend some of his love into Jens as he curls a hand in his raven locks. It’s unnatural, how much Lucas has missed him. It’s worth it, for the feeling of having him back.

Jens pulls away too soon with a small hum of protest. The remaining tiredness seems to have sunk in as he shifts back with his eyes still closed, pressing his cheek to his pillow. “I still have morning breath,” he mumbles.

Lucas scoffs and leans in to give him another peck, letting his hand slide from Jens’s hair to settle on his cheek. He brushes their noses together and watches the boy’s eyelashes flutter and finally manages a smile of his own. “I don’t care. I missed you.”

Jens smiles, but it’s tight. He opens his eyes slowly, then keeps them focused somewhere around Lucas’s chin. “What am I supposed to do, Luc?”

“What do you want?”

“I want to be able to go home. But I can’t. Even for my phone, my clothes...I can’t do it. I’d never be able to stay.”

Lucas exhales through his nose and draws Jens to his chest. Jens goes easily, tucking himself against Lucas, arms instantly winding around his waist. Lucas holds him and pets through his hair and thinks, but there doesn’t seem to be a viable solution.

“How did your mom react?” Lucas questions quietly. “Lotte said she was mad at your dad.”

Jens tilts his head back to look up at him with wide eyes. “How did you speak to Lotte?”

“We, uhm, went to your house. On Sunday. None of us had heard from you and we were all freaking out and so Moyo offered to go and say he’d planned to meet you. I don’t think your dad gave him a very polite greeting, though. He saw through him instantly.”

“But you weren’t there?” Jens presses.

Lucas shakes his head. “I waited down the street with Sander and Robbe. Lotte was out, I don’t know how or why, and she told us she thought you had gone to Lies. I just made sure she was alright and Robbe and I gave her our numbers.”

Jens leans back into him and presses a kiss to his chest. “Of course you did.”

“I always have to do something. It’s a problem of mine.”

Jens curls his arms tighter around Lucas and squeezes. “I don’t have a problem with it. Just because he…” Jens trails off, then starts again. “I don’t have a problem with you. With us.”

For a moment, Lucas simply lets the words settle. He closes his eyes and drops a kiss on Jens’s hair, holding onto him tightly, overwhelmed with love. “Good,” he murmurs. “It just sucks.”

Jens hums.

“You can stay here,” Lucas continues at the same level. “I was talking to Dad this morning and he agrees. For as long as you need.”

“But not forever.” Jens pulls away again, settling an inch away from Lucas on the pillows as he swallows. “This is nice, and I’m so grateful, Luc, but it isn’t a permanent solution.”

Lucas shrugs. “Life isn’t permanent.”

Jens doesn’t react to that, but scrubs his hand over his eyes and sighs heavily. The weight Lucas had let off almost seems to have settled on his shoulders, but Lucas knows it’s all Jens’s own. It doesn’t make it any easier for either of them to bear.

“Hey,” Lucas says softly, catching Jens’s hand again and drawing it down. “We’ll figure something out. You’re here and safe right now and that’s what matters. We just have to take things minute by minute.”

This causes a pause, and then another smile makes its way to the surface. “Did you hear that from Moyo or Robbe?”

Lucas smiles back, sliding an arm around his shoulders and tilting their heads together. “From Sander last night, actually. I think it’s pretty sound advice.”

“Don’t tell Moyo that, please,” Jens says, and Lucas laughs. “Maybe, though.”

Lucas’s smile widens, and he speaks his next words in a whisper. “So for example, in this minute. Instead of thinking about where you were or where you’re going to go, just be here. Somewhere you know you’re safe, with someone who loves you.”

It has the immediate effect of making Jens’s eyes glisten. Despite his earlier protests, he presses forward and grants Lucas another kiss. “I didn’t get to say it out loud before,” Jens breathes against his lips. “But I love you. I’m sure.”

Lucas kisses him again, a little harder. Surer. “I know. I hated thinking that you didn’t.”

He worries that Jens will mistake his phrasing, but he catches it easily. “I knew. It was hard to believe, maybe, but harder to deny. I’ve always been trying to look for it, I think, and you make it very easy to find.”

“Good,” Lucas huffs, smiling. “It’s all yours.”

Jens tucks his head down, taking his own smile away and pressing it to Lucas’s shoulder, kissing him over his shirt. Lucas wraps him up again, pressing a kiss to his temple. They breathe quietly together. It’s getting easier with each minute.

“Your dad won’t be back until tomorrow?” Jens questions, recollecting their brief conversation from the night before.

Lucas shakes his head. “Nope. So today, no stress. We could invite Robbe over, if you want.”

Jens considers it for a moment. “Maybe I’ll just call him, today. I kind of want to just be with you.”

It shouldn’t make Lucas quite as happy as it does, but he can’t say he minds the idea of having Jens to himself. He doesn’t want to let him out of his sight anytime soon, and he doesn’t want to share the time they’ve already missed out on. He’d be comfortable enough spending the day with Jens right here, but he thinks a little excitement is something they both need.

“You’ve got a deal, as long as you help me put up the Christmas tree.”

Jens leans back and blinks at him.

Lucas pulls his best pleading expression, wide-eyed and pouty-lipped, and Jens is rolling his eyes and kissing it away in seconds. “Not what I expected, but okay,” he agrees. “Shower first, though.” His voice lowers to ask, “Do you want to join me?”

Now it’s Lucas’s turn to blink at him.

“Not like that,” Jens says hastily. “I mean, not to do anything but just…just,” he shrugs. Then, “Only if you want to. I just kinda don’t wanna leave the bed otherwise.”

Lucas grins, understanding sinking in. He smushes Jens’s cheeks and kisses the puckered lips, murmuring an ‘I love you’ against them.

Jens brightens enough to return his smile, but instead of getting up, he returns to his position in Lucas’s arms, head tucked under his chin. “For a later minute, then.”

Lucas’s smile softens. “For another minute.”

#van der stoffels #vds #wtfock #skam nl #sink or swim #vds season fic #sos clip

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girlandthedarkness · 4 years

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the avatar I azula x reader part II

what if azula will have a crush on a girl that turns out to be the avatar, what would she do? part one

a/n: this is a second part, thank you for everything, warning a very ooc azula and an evil!zuko, so if you don't like stuff like this don't read it

She won. The reign of the Ozai is over. To give him credit it was a rough fight, but despite her young age, Y/n wasn't worse, striking him without a hesitation, deadly. Y/n moves fast, the war is over, but the fight is not finished yet, she could see some devoted soldier who still keep attacking, but that's in vain. The ones deep red sky is now smoky blue and with a move that Katara taught her she rises the ocean's water to put down the fire who still burn. Y/n let a heavy sigh, she wants to pass out right here, forget about the war and what will happen after this. The girl almost let her body fall down when she remembered: Azula. The last time she saw her she was ready to fight along with Katara against Zuko, taking the flying bison. Y/n close her eyes and make her body to move again, the memories of the goodbye at the bay and her long road to earth kingdom still fresh in Y/n's mind like an open wound.

“She's in one of the village of Kyoshi Island, Y/n thought it's a good idea to hide from the fire nation under the protection of the order that one of her past lives created. She stayed here and tried to learn anything that will improve her bending, studying one by one the many Kyoshi's diaries and thanks spirits, there's a lot of them. Kyoshi was a fascinating avatar, her era was one of the most peaceful, so there's a lot that Y/n can learn from her, also she needs to learn everything about peacemaking.

In one of the days, where she was studying another old scroll she was interrupted. "Avatar Y/n, there are some intruders that we found at the beach, one of them claim to be an airbender." No one except a few Kyoshi's warriors knew that she's the Avatar, one of them was Suki, who's voice was fast and breathless, probably from running to her. "Take me to them."

Turned out it was indeed an airbender and also two people from water tribe, the girl, Katara, was even an waterbender. "Why are you here hiding?" Katara sounds hurt and her teary eyes prove it. "It's not like I have other options; I can't even learn how to bend. The only thing I'm good at is firebending." Y/n came closer to Katara and looking at her she addressed everyone. "Look guys, a year ago I wasn't even a bender and know look at me an firenation avatar, in the times when your own nation wouldn't hesitate to hunt and kill you." It was quiet while everyone perceived the story. "I can teach you airbending" Aang's voice is cheerful and you smile involuntary at him. "And I can teach you everything about waterbender, I don't know much, since, you know..." Katara fall silent, struggling to find the right words. "Since what? I don't know? What happened?" Y/n is panicked, what happened to southern water tribe? "Since they took all waterbenders from us" Sokka finished for her and this time Y/n fall silent, how can she assert herself as a good avatar, when her own nation has brought so much damage and pain? Training and traveling, that's how they spend the following months, hiding from the firenation, who mistakenly thought Aang was the Avatar. But keeping it a secret that she's the avatar was like a rock on Y/n heart, that's why when she found out the prison for earthbenders she decides to reveal herself, saving together with her friends everyone. That's it, it was the first step to bring the peace into the world, Y/n thought. Later alongside the road Y/n meet Toph Beifong, who became her earthbender master.

When Y/n and Azula finally meet, they were on different sides, Azula besides her brother, Zuko, and Y/n beside her friends. Y/n heart was beating so fast when she saw Azula, who changed so much during almost a year, but her hair was still proudly in a top knot and she's dressed in a perfect firenation clothes. Y/n couldn't help but smile, when she saw the face of the girl who hunts her both in nightmares and daydreams, but was only meet with a frown a stone cold face. Studying her, Y/n didn't notice when Zuko attacked her, fortunate she was saved by the earth that was bend as a shield by Toph. Y/n notice the quick mad glance that Azula throw at Zuko, until she attacked them as well, not actually making any harm, Y/n observe. 'Maybe she's not mad, she did say that she cares about you' Y/n though, dodging Azula's fire. It wasn't a long fight, two firebenders against three benders and the Avatar isn't the fairest battle, hopping quickly on Appa Y/n gaze one more time at the breathless Azula, engraving the princess image in her brain.

The next time they meet they were alone, standing on the same bay were almost year ago they split up, this time the weather is peaceful and sunny, with sea breeze. "How are you?" Azula's voice is calm as always, Y/n's voice on other hand is stuck in her throat and she can't speak anything. Azula takes this silent moment to look at the girl next to her, studying very careful every detail, feeling weak for the storm that is caused by Y/n in her heart. The last time they meet, Zuko was mad at her, claiming that she was too soft and that's the reason they lost. After that he didn't took her with him on hunting the Avatar anymore, finding thousands excuses, making Azula very mad. She knows Zuko do that deliberately to mess up her relationship with father, tending to win her and to became the father's favorite child. Azula don't care anymore, her father and family don't care about her, they never were, Azula's own mother hated her and father just use her. Her friends were the one who care about her, but after the story with Y/n being the Avatar she lost them as well. "Azula, I know you're loyal to your father, but he's evil, the firelord caused so much pain and destruction, but we can stop him, together. Please?" Y/n voice interrupts her endless thoughts again, like in old times. " I don't know if I can leave everything behind..." "No one here cares about you more than I do, join us, please." Azula will lie if she'll tell that she wasn't thought about leaving the firenation and join Y/n and her friend, but every time something was holding her back. But right now with the wind that cares softly her hair, she realizes, Azula don't have anything to lose anymore, everything she ever care about is gone and now she has a chance to return at least a piece of herself. "I'll join you Y/n, not avatar Y/n and not your friends, you."

That's how they found out the Ozai's plan about the Sozin Comet, that he wants to use it to destroy the Earth Kingdom. Together they come up with a plan how to defeat the firelord, training and strengthen themselves. Y/n knows that Katara and Azula have some disagreements, but she also knows that they best in their elements, that's why Y/n paired these two together. "Y/n, I don't want to fight alongside with some peasant, I’ll go with you." Y/n notice Katara's angry stare and how she's ready to reply something as well offensive. "You and Katara are the best fighters from our group, you'll go and fight with Zuko and his people and you'll take over the royal palace." Y/n quickly respond trying to avoid a quarrel before the battle. "And I'll became the firelord." Ends for her Azula.

Y/n found her with Katara near the palace stairs, while the waterbender was healing the unmoved body on the ground. That scares Y/n, until she notices Azula stating on other side, having a desperate stare and Y/n is sure, this sight will be tattooed in her brain forever. Y/n runs faster at the girls, fearing to be late, kneeling beside Katara, Y/n see Zuko, with a lighting mark on his chest, which rises slowly. "Is he alright?" Y/n knew that the siblings have a difficult relationship, but she just killed Azula's father, it was enough deaths for her to endure today. "He almost died, but I stabilized him, should be fine." Receiving the answer that she needed, Y/n hurried up to Azula, who sat silently on one of the stairs step. "Did you killed him?" Y/n don't need to ask who's him, she knows. "Yes" Azula slowly nods and stand up, giving Y/n the most bone crashing hugs that she ever received. This surprised Y/n, Azula was never for affection on public, choosing to keep everything private, she's still a princess.

The following weeks was the messed part of Y/n life. It's supposed to be a happy ending, Y/n overcome the firelord, won and end the one hundred war. But still so much destruction and pain that wouldn't heal over a small amount of time. Y/n is at her old house now, deciding to pick some honorable clothes that she left behind trying to save herself. Sitting here, in her old room it's weird now, Y/n grew up, but this walls still holds a part of her old, careless life, Y/n shakes her head as if to escape unpleasant thoughts. Soon enough Azula will be crowned as the new firelord, marking the new era for the firenation and she'll need to figure out a way to improve the world.

The coronation day is today and the spirits may be with them, because they blessed the day with a sunny and warm weather. Y/n takes a quick look at the large window, that revealed a big crowd, divided by clothes colors, she notices as well only one bright yellow spot, Aang, he's the only survivor of the air nomads. Y/n suddenly feels very selfish, she was worried about herself, that's why she decided to stay here, in palace, hiding in the dark halls. Not ones a thought about her friends flied through her mind. Also, Azula asked her to sit next to her, on the outside as the symbol that their nation started the path to the world healing, but Y/n was too afraid to meet the hope that people will put on her. She feels stupid now, she's the avatar and she needs to face the consequences, Y/n hurried herself to the hallway that leads outside, meeting here a certain nervous princess. "Did you changed your mind?" Azula asks with so much hope in her voice, that even if Y/n didn't change her mind prior, she would do it now. "Yes, I figured out that the world need their avatar and I'm willing to give them one." So together they start their walk to the crowd, ready to change the world side by side.

this is very god damn cheesy end, but i didn't wanted to do a sad ending, thank you for all supporting and kind words, I'm so excited to finally finish this, I work a few days, so I hope you enjoyed this!

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hawkbucks · 4 years

Note

is- is that royal aus post some ask prompt thing? bc if so I would just die for some of that muse playboy tony and instructor bucky au please say yes 🥺🥺🥺 also I love your aus so much!!!

It’s James’ job to notice the little things. Little openings, little hesitations, little mistakes, all those could mean the difference between carrying on in battle or being run through with a sword, and considering that his pupil is none other than Antonio Stark, heir to the Stark throne, Muse of the Valley, Ever-Ethereal, the Golden Heart, and 6 other superfluous, flowery titles, he would really rather like it if Antonio weren’t impaled on a blade should he have to partake in any conflict.

It’s James’ job to notice the little things. That’s why he can see the way Antonio oh-so-subtly sticks out his backside whenever he approaches. He can see the way Antonio looks up at him through his lashes, fluttering them coyly. He can see the way Antonio chews on his bottom lip, leaving it bright red and plump and shiny.

(Okay, those aren’t exactly little things--Antonio may as well be shouting his interest across the kingdom--but the point still stands that James notices them.)

James can see all of that. And he’s not interested.

(He may be a little interested. Antonio is a beautiful young man; there’s a reason he’s heard many men and many women lamenting the fleeting time they have spent with the young prince, but it would be a major breach of his ethics if he were to get involved with a student of his, no matter their beauty.)

“I do believe this is the fifth time I’ve had to correct your stance, Your Highness,” James says as he stands behind Antonio, ignoring the way the young Prince presses his back against his chest. “You’re holding your sword far too high.” With a gentle hand, he reaches over and grips Antonio’s forearm, lowering his arm. “Relax your grip. It’s too tight.”

“Many people have said they like my tight grip,” Antonio disclosed, tone on the lascivious side.

James scoffs. Heat rises up on his cheeks. He’s glad Antonio isn’t facing him. “I’m sure they have,” he responds, putting as much neutrality into his voice as possible. “Unfortunately for you, your sword doesn’t.” He looks down. “Spread your legs further apart.”

“How forward of you, Sir Barnes,” Antonio teases as he does so. “Not even an offer of dinner first?”

“Focus,” James grunts, the heat spreading to his ears. Lord, but he wishes that Antonio was more dutiful, more concerned with his training than unlacing James’ breeches. “I’ll be sparring with you personally today.”

He doesn’t need to see Antonio’s face to know that the man is smiling.

“Your shirt does not need to be unbuttoned,” James blusters.

Antonio winks at him, undoing the third button on his shirt. “It makes it easier for me to move, sir Barnes.” His hands fall to his sides, and James can see the way his chest is framed, tan skin a compliment to the madder-dyed fabric.

James’ throat clicks as he swallows. He bows his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Very well. If you feel like it would help.”

“It will.”

James unsheathes his own sword and tosses it into the air, catching it by the hilt. Cocky. “It won’t.”

Antonio ends up below him, splayed in the dirt, the tip of James’ sword settling underneath his chin. “Do you not pay attention to anything I teach you?” James asks, affronted and frustrated. “Every move I made could have been easily deflected. If you were more concentrated on your training and not on trying to b--”

James’ back hits the ground as his feet fly out from under him, eyes going wide.

Antonio crawls on top of him and straddles his stomach, the edge of his blade pressing against the skin of James’ throat. “Maybe if you were not running your mouth,” he countered before getting up and laughing. “You should see your face.”

James shakes his head to regain a modicum of composure. “That was a dirty move, Your Highness.”

“If you really want to see a dirty move, you should join me in my quarters tonight.”

James sighs heavily. He lets his head hit the dirt.

“What will it take for you to visit me at night? It is cold when I am by myself,” Antonio whines, draping himself over the back of James’ chair and resting his chin on James’ shoulder. “You are but three summers older.”

“I’m still your teacher,” James says, taking a bite of his apple. “Three summers or not, you’re still my student.”

“And if I were not your student?”

James pushes the side of Antonio’s face lightly. “I may consider it.”

Antonio giggles.

Oh, Lord.

James’ blissful sleep is so rudely interrupted by knocking at his chamber door. “Sir Barnes?” someone calls out from the other side. He recognizes the voice as belonging to Sir Rhodes, Head Imperial Knight, and one of Antonio’s oldest childhood friends. “His Highness Antonio Stark requests your presence at the training grounds.”

James scrubs the side of his face with a hand and groans quietly. He squints his eyes, realizing that sun is not even shining through his drapes just yet. “Is His Highness aware that not even the roosters are up?”

“He is aware. He is also very persistent.”

“I see,” James grumbles. He likes to think he knows Antonio quite well--besides the knowledge he’s gained from the various rumors swirling around the castle and the kingdom--and he just knows this has something to do with the conversation he and Antonio had a few days ago. “Tell him I’ll join him in a handful of minutes.”

“Very well, Sir Barnes.”

“James!” Antonio calls out, waving from his spot in the middle of a ring of lit candles. They barely provide any meaningful light, but they do well in helping James find out where Antonio is.

“Do you have any idea what time is it?” James asks in lieu of a greeting, mouth shaped into a frown.

Antonio leers at him. “Was I interrupting any dreams?”

“No.”

Antonio waves a dismissive hand, then cocks his hips. “Pity. As it stands, do you remember what you said to me? About how if I were not your student--”

“I’d consider courting you?” James finishes, raising an eyebrow.

Antonio nods enthusiastically. “Yes! I have chosen to take the route where I, the student, become the master, and therefore you wouldn’t have to be my tutor anymore. Then, we may--”

James holds up an index finger, silencing Antonio. “If you become the master. I’ll consider yourself no longer under my tutelage once you can make me hit the ground three times. None of those dirty moves from last time.”

“Continue to teach me, sir Barnes, and I will tell you when I feel I am ready to challenge you in an honorable duel.” Antonio actually bows, showing respect that James is honestly unaccustomed to seeing from him.

Antonio, surprisingly, hasn’t flirted with James even once throughout the past couple of weeks that he has decided to take his training seriously. Not once has he attempted to unbutton his shirt, and not once has he found any excuse to press himself against James.

He listens to everything James tells him with rapt attention, and the fluidity and grace with which he moves is inspiring. Antonio has always been called a genius, a prodigy, and James is now starting to understand why. Few can learn at a rate like he can; his mind absorbs information like a sponge.

Antonio manages to block a couple blows.

James smiles at him, and Antonio smiles back.

Antonio’s sword comes down against the strong of James’ sword, and, before James has any time to react, Antonio grabs James’ blade with one of his hands and shoves his sword up until both of their rain guards are meeting, wrenching downwards and ripping James’ sword away from his hands.

“You’re learning!” James exclaims.

Antonio drops both of their swords and runs in for an excited hug.

James gladly accepts it.

Antonio’s back hits the dirt for the nth time. “I was so close,” he groans, rolling around without care for his garments. “I keep getting close, but you always do something!”

James helps him up. “We’ll work on it.”

James’ back hits the dirt. “Wow,” he says. “You didn’t have to kick me or anything.”

Antonio snorts. “That was one time. I have to do this two more times, right?”

“In a row.”

Antonio crosses his arms.

Antonio continues to learn, continues to improve. He starts to anticipate what James’ moves are going to be before he even makes them.

James will admit that he’s been going easy on the lad, but now he thinks he can ramp it up a bit, make him sweat, make him work for it.

Antonio lands on his ass so many times that he calls for a break in the middle of the session, saying he needs to go sit on a cushion for a while.

James laughs heartily, then offers to grab Antonio a pillow, granted he doesn’t try to sit on it in the dirt.

“We’ll duel in a week!” Antonio promises as he runs into the castle to get himself firmly planted on that plush chaise lounge he has in his quarters.

James lands on his stomach, sword clattering a foot away.

“Two more times, right?” Antonio asks from above, sounding positively giddy. They’re both drenched in sweat, and Antonio has some dirt smeared on his cheekbone.

“Two more times,” James agrees, pushing himself back up.

This time, it’s James who lands on his ass. “Where did that come from?” He’s kind of in shock. The move that Antonio pulled off is sure as hell not one that he taught him.

“I can think on the fly,” Antonio says. “One more time?”

Lord, James thinks, Antonio might actually win this. Not that James would mind, honestly. These past few weeks have really... opened him up to the idea of possibly having Antonio as a lover, although he’s still hesitant to start anything while Antonio is under his tutelage. Again, ethics.

Time slows down to a crawl as James falls once again. He swears to the Lord that he can see his life flash before his eyes, the pollen carried by the wind.

“Oh,” he groans as his back, indeed, hits the ground.

Antonio straddles his stomach, much like he did the first time. “I am going to be honest,” he chuckles, “I also got some training from Sir Rhodes.”

“That’s cheating,” James mutters, looking up at Antonio.

“Maybe, but I think I have proven that I no longer need you to tutor me, correct? It does not matter where my knowledge comes from, as long as I am able to apply it.” Antonio places his hands on either sides of James’ head, back dipping. He lowers his head, bringing his mouth closer to James’ until their breaths are mingling, then--

He sits up. “I enjoy daffodils,” he says, “and my favorite dish is beef bourguignon. I believe that would be sufficient enough information for you to court me?”

“You are a wretched creature,” James breathes out, eyes hooded.

Antonio takes James’ hands and guides them to his hips. “I have the utmost faith in you, Sir Barnes. Perhaps you will have me courted by the end of this month.”

#Me: Wow I love the name Antonio for Tony sure wish that was canon (in more universes).#Me: Wait this is an AU.#Me: I MAKE THE CANON.#Tony has buttons on his shirt that's how you know he's royalty.#winteriron #filled #There be some harlots in his household.#ALSO THANK YOU FOR THE KIND WORDS!#I'M SO GLAD YOU LIKE MY AU'S KLASJLDS #anon

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sylvain-writes · 3 years

Text

Guarded Hearts and Safe Houses (Leonardo x Reader) Chapter 7/9

Rated: T

Gender Neutral Reader, canon typical violence/injury, light angst, strangers to lovers, supportive family.

for @melodiousmelodrama

The blood drains from your face. You feel light-headed and unsteady on your feet. “Are my… are my…”

Donnie’s eyes lock on yours. “Raph’s there with Mikey. Everyone’s OK,” he says, but it brings little relief. “Your parents were at a charity function for the hospital.”

“And Gram?” Your throat’s gone so dry, you can barely get the question out.

“At the neighbors’.”

A shaky breath passes through your lips as you wrap your arms around yourself.

Leo stalks the mat as he thinks aloud. “This was a targeted attack. Their numbers might not be what we projected. But they didn’t get what they came for - hostages or us. They’ll be back. We have to get the humans to a secure location.”

Your thoughts extend beyond the safety of your family. “You have to protect the apartment building.”

“Yes.” Leo gives a sharp nod. “We have to defend the city. They’ll strike the building again. We can set up a base of operations somewhere close. Keep a lookout.” He whips out his phone and calls his brothers. “Mikey, sweep the area for somewhere to set up a base. Prepare for another attack.”

Mikey’s voice carries over the speaker. “You got it, bro.”

“Donnie,” Leo commands, “get us ready to move out. Whatever we need. Devices to track their signature, that new bo you’ve been working on. Anything else you got that might help against these guys. We’ve never been up against something like this before. We’re gonna need every advantage we can get.”

“The new weapons? But I thought you said...” Donatello rises to his full height at his brother’s nod of approval. “Of course, Leo. It’d be my honor to supply the team with new hardware. To be used in tandem with our traditional weapons, of course.”

Leo urges him, “Go!” and Donnie heads out at a sprint.

When Leo turns to you, you’re having trouble catching your breath. Tears cloud your vision and the lump in your throat makes it hard to speak.

“This is my fault,” Leo says by way of apology. “I shouldn’t have let my feelings distract me. Your family should have never been in danger.”

You understand now. How being a distraction to him is dangerous. The world depends on him. Tending to you, indulging you, led to this.

You believed his fears and insecurity about being vulnerable, showing weakness, were baseless. But leaving the city open to attack, leaving your family at risk… it isn’t worth whatever feelings stir in your chest when you think of him.

You’d rather have him and everyone else safe, than to be selfish. This isn’t him choosing to ignore you, this is him choosing to save the world.

When you return to your family home, Leo kneels before your parents and Gram. “I have dishonored you, failed you. I know my words are not enough, but I hope you will allow me to defend you and your home. I will not fail you again. On my honor. On my life.”

Your father, filled with fear, sputters before leaving the room. You know him, he doesn’t put the blame on the turtles, not really. But he doesn’t have anywhere else to direct his feelings of anger, fear, and confusion. Not yet.

Leo appeals to the women as they remain. “I allowed my mind to be clouded by distraction. It will not happen again. I devote my life to ninja and to your protection.”

His apologies hurt more than you thought they would, know you’re the distraction of which he speaks. Though you came to that same conclusion less than an hour ago, hearing it from his lips ties your stomach in knots.

“It’s time for you to go,” you find yourself saying. “You being here puts a bigger target on us, doesn’t it?”

Leo nods and stands.

“Then, go save the city, Leo. We won’t stand in your way as distractions anymore.”

Leo’s face twists in pain before his emotions slip behind the wall he builds so well. He heads for the window and you close it behind him with more force than necessary.

Once he’s gone, you try not to think of him. Your family needs you. They’re shaken and confused. And you don’t have all of the answers, but you have faith in the brothers. You have to believe they can fight this threat to the city. You have to believe they can win.

The Krang don’t attack again that day. Or that week. And a lookout returns to the roof. But it’s Leo and you won’t go up there. You don’t want to talk to him and it’s clear he doesn’t want you around.

But being in the apartment, unable to spend time on your rooftop escape, is making you stir crazy. You do get little drop ins from the other guys, sometimes right before their patrol.

Raphael will stop in to see Gram, ask about a new stitch he’s working on for his latest yarn project - a blanket for Mikey. A birthday present the young turtle isn’t supposed to know about.

Donatello dropped in to give you a secure phone so you could contact them in case of an emergency. “Or, you know, if you ever just want to talk about life, the universe, and everything.”

Mikey leaves you horoscopes, but it’s bittersweet. He doesn’t stick around to explain what he thinks they mean.

You convince yourself you’ve gotten over Leo, that the reason you spend more time looking at his horoscope than the others is because he’s the one perched on your roof and if the horoscope is predicting bad news for him then that translates into bad news for you, for your family, for your building. And you need to be prepared. You are absolutely not looking for any clues in regard to his feelings for you, any clues as to when you can expect him to knock on the window and apologize for pushing you away. When you can expect him to announce he’s come up with a way for you to be a boon to their cause instead of the distraction he’s determined you to be.

When the Krang launches an attack on Times Square, it’s all over the news. People are frantic. The city is in chaos. And you don’t know what to do. There’s no way off the island - and though you’d like your family to get to New Jersey, to get somewhere safely out of the way, you don’t even think of leaving yourself.

You and Leo haven't spoken to each other in over a week and you have no idea how he’s been handling everything. The guys haven’t given many clues. Mikey’s horoscopes are too vague to understand without his interpretations.

You know Leo holds so much inside, not wanting to burden his brothers with more than what he thinks they can handle. Why doesn’t he realize that if he trusted other people to share the burden, it’d be easier for everyone to carry? His brothers wouldn’t be as worried about him and all four of them would be better prepared to handle whatever dangers are to come.

You kiss your parents and Gram goodbye and head south toward Times Square. They know where you’re going. They don’t try to stop you. Mother straps a pack full of medical supplies to your back and squishes your face before you go. “I would be right beside you,” she says, then casts a meaningful look at Gram and Father.

The city is madness. The streets, which you thought would be teeming with people running for cover, are empty. Everyone who could find shelter has found it. Those who couldn't, well, they don't need shelter anymore.

You charge through the streets on foot, sure the subways are out of order. There are no cabs to take you, no clear streets to drive through even if there was a vehicle to drive.

You duck behind an abandoned news stand as a disembodied brain alien floats past. You peek through the rows of magazines to see it's not the only one. There must be a dozen krang moving down the streets. They don't seem to be looking for anything, led by an unseen force.

You startle when you feel a large, cool hand close over your mouth and nose. "Don' scream, a’right?" You'd recognize Raph's voice anywhere.

The tension in your shoulders eases up, but only a little.

"Your supposed t’ be hitchin’ a ride with Don. Gettin' the hell outta here with Gram and ya parents."

You pry Raph's hand from your face and gasp for air. The dude really doesn't realize just how massive his hand is. "I'm not leaving. I can help."

You notice the gash on his arm, and without hesitation, you swing your backpack off of one shoulder and around to your chest. It takes only a few seconds for you to fish out antiseptic spray and a roll of gauze. You patch him up efficiently. And Rapahel grunts. It's about as much thanks as you could hope to get while he's focused on the fight.

"Told you. I can help. Get back out there. Is anyone else hurt?"

"Bout a few thousand New Yorkers." Raph’s brow furrows and his eyes look haunted. It only lasts a moment before he shakes his head and shifts his frown to a grimace. “These slimeballs fucked with the wrong city.”

You look around at the First Responders on the scene. "What about your brothers?"

"Why dontcha ask 'em yourself?" he asks as he scans the area for any sign of those things .

You grab the secure cell from your pocket and dial the open line to the turtles. "Mikey. You alright?"

"Hey! What's shakin'?" Mikey’s greeting is casual and bright, even amid bedlam.

"You sound winded."

"I'm kinda in the middle of something,” he explains, and you can hear the thuds and shuffling of a brawl. “Can I call you back? Later? Oof. A lot later? Yow! That's my good side, dude!"

In spite of everything, he manages to make you smile. "Where's Leo?"

A gruff voice joins the line. Deep and calm. “I’m right here.” Mikey’s channel cuts out and the background falls silent. Leo has found somewhere quiet to talk. "Where are you?"

Raph leans toward the phone to answer for you. "Wit me."

There’s shock in his voice, confusion and concern. "You're supposed to be with Donnie."

"Well, I'm-"

"Helpin', alright?” Raphael defends. “Got a little banged up over here. Glad I had someone on my side t' patch me up.”

You smile at him and he shoves your shoulder a bit before smiling back. And you were wrong, your first impression of him… that his snarl couldn't be improved by a smile, because when Raph smiles it really does light up his face. Softens his edges.

It's like the rare occasion when Mikey lets himself get lost monologuing about his interests - before he catches himself and hopes that you aren't upset by his enthusiasm.

You've only seen Donnie smile like that once. Carefree.

But you've never seen Leo wear a carefree smile. Not ever. Maybe something tight lipped. Or something fond. Sad. Leo’s smiles hold secrets and burdens. His shoulders hold responsibility. There isn't a carefree bone in his body. He holds the weight of the world on his shell. And try as he might to hide the toll it takes on him, his brothers can see he can’t do it alone.

"Fine,” Leo concedes. “Stay with Raph."

"We're comin' to you, brutha."

"Wait where you are- No!" There's a thud and a gasp and Leo gives a shout of pain before the line goes dead.

#tmnt x reader #leonardo x reader #leo x reader #gender neutral reader #tmnt leonardo x reader #my writing #guarded hearts and safe houses fic

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writer-k-pop · 3 years

Text

The Glass Smith (l.d.n) - Waning Crescent Hotel

Please read this (W.C.Hotel) if this is the first post of this series that you see. Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of death Genre: Angst, Hotel Del Luna AU, Choose your own adventure, SVT x Fem! Reader Staff: Yong (Spirit General Manager) / Jiwoo (Human General Manager) / Soon Bok (Room Manager) / Mun Hee (Front Desk Receptionist) / Shin (Grim Reaper assigned to Waning Crescent) Word Count: Ending A - 5.3k / Ending B - 5.2k

W.C.Hotel | Seventeen Masterlist | Masterlists

"Wait for me!" Mun Hee yells after me, his footsteps echoing off of the walls.

"Walk faster." I call out behind me continuing on my purposeful walk out of the garden.

"Did, did you want me to send up your unfinished champagne to your office?" Mun Hee asks when he catches up to me.

I wave a hand, giving nearly zero thought, "Whatever."

"Is that a yes?" Mun Hee steps in front of me, stopping me from continuing forward.

I roll my eyes and remind myself to put a stopper on his growing confidence, "Send it up."

Mun Hee nods, happy that he got an answer and steps aside. As we bust into the lobby, the regular day to day sounds of the Waning Crescent Hotel fill my ears: the faint piano music playing, the dings of the elevators, and the sounds of guests milling around. I spot Jiwoo standing across the lobby from me and make a bee line for him. But in my haste, I fail to notice another guest walking in a different direction until...

"Ooomf." I grunt when I collide with another body. The guest wobbles and I reach out my hands to steady them. I don't need a guest falling in my lobby.

"Oh, are you alright?" The guest, female, asks in a very familiar voice.

I look at the guest's face and nearly choke on air.

"Ch-Chaewon?" I stutter, not believing what my eyes are seeing.

Chaewon smiles warmly at me, "(y/n)."

"Chaewon." I repeat her name, a small degree of happiness creeping into my voice. Pulling her into a hug, she sighs over my shoulder and wraps her arms around my waist. With the moment of happiness passed, I pull away realizing that she's in my hotel but I keep ahold of her hands. "Why are you here?"

Laughing, Chaewon waves her hand at me, palm where I can see. "My lives are up. Lived a solid 9 of them and been here a whole nine days." My eyes widen in surprise and Chaewon smirks. "And you failed to notice me."

I glare at Mun Hee and he slowly backs away. "I didn't even know you had checked in."

Chaewon nods, "It's understandable. Your hotel has been pretty busy while I've been here." She looks around the lobby with a love filled gaze, "It's much busier than when I was around."

"Not that much has changed, has it?" I wonder, looking around in the opposite direction.

"Actually a lot has changed." Chaewon corrects me, "Especially you."

"Me?" I scoff, letting go of her hands, "I haven't changed."

"Oh yes you have." Chaewon points a finger at me.

"Name one thing that has changed." I challenge her and rest my hands on my waist while popping a hip with sass.

"Well, for starters, your style has greatly improved." She looks me up and down with a smirk. All I can do is roll my eyes. "And you didn't let me fall over when you ran into me when you used to let guests just fall without a second thought. Thirdly, your face has the warm glow of a woman loved by 13 perfect men."

I lick my lips, contemplating how I'm going to combat this one but Yong's voice beats me to the punch.

"Chaewon. There you are." Yong walks towards us from the doorway where all departures exit. "Are you- (y/n)."

I look between Yong and Chaewon then the hurt floods through my body. "You were going to leave without seeing me?" I ask.

"Of course not." Chaewon shakes her hands towards me, "I was going to wait outside and have you come see me off. But this way, you can walk me out too."

The hurt subsides almost immediately and I immediately link my arm with hers. "After the nine lives you lived, and the one when you were with me, I will be honored to walk with you."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jiwoo standing with a guest but his gaze occasionally glances over.

I lean close to Chaewon's ear and whisper, "You did introduce yourself to your family line, right?"

Chaewon smiles and nods, "I did. Actually Mun Hee was the one who made that meeting happen a couple days ago."

Jiwoo respectfully bows to the guest then shuffles over to where we are still, somehow, standing.

"You're leaving already?" Jiwoo asks.

Chaewon smiles warmly at him, "What's with the 'already'? I asked to be the last departure for the night. It's more like 'finally.'"

Jiwoo chuckles lightly, "Well, if I say finally, then it might sound like I really want you to leave. But that's just simply not true."

Chaewon releases my arm and opens both of her arms for Jiwoo, "I know it's not true."

Jiwoo walks into her arms and they hug each other.

"Seeing how you carried out your duties at the hotel, I want you to know that you're doing our whole family proud." Chaewon says quietly, "I'm so proud of you." She says and emphasizes the 'I'm.'

Seeing the two together, and hearing Jiwoo sniffle, my stupid heart realizes something.

Even though I was the one she worked closest with and even though I'm the one who actually knew her, I'm not the one who should walk her to the car.

Jiwoo pulls away and takes in a breath to steady himself to say good bye. But I place a hand on his shoulders, bringing the attention to me. I turn to Chaewon and straighten my shoulders.

"Chaewon, I know you wanted to have me escort you," I say, looking at her and memorizing her face one last time, "But there's someone who deserves it more."

"(y/n)..." Jiwoo whispers my name and I turn to him.

"Walk her out. I want you too." I tell him with a nod.

"But she... she knew you." Jiwoo says in awe.

The side of my mouth twitches in a memory filled smile, "I know. But I still think you deserve to walk her out." I shrug, "But I can make it an order if that'll prove how serious I am."

Jiwoo quickly shakes his head.

Chaewon wraps me up in a tight hug, "You really have changed." She whispers in my ear, "Thank you, (y/n)."

I give her waist a small squeeze, "No, thank you, Chae."

We pull away and Chaewon takes Jiwoo's offered hand. Yong and I stand side by side as they walk away. Just before they reach the door, Chaewon turns around.

"Don't feel bad about not coming to my funeral, (y/n)." She calls out, "I know why you didn't and I'll give the Gods a good earful for it."

A smile grows on my face as I wave and then Chaewon turns back around. Jiwoo opens the door for her and she's gone.

I stare the closed door for a few moments longer while the hotel continues about its day around me.

"Dino?" I remember the reason why i was in search of Jiwoo or Yong in the first place.

"Room 112." Yong responds and we turn away from the door.

"How long?" I ask.

"Seven." Mun Hee answers from my other side.

I breathe in and out, resetting my mentality for the day. "What's on the agenda for the rest of the day?" I ask and Yong holds an open file in front of me.

"First, the chefs have asked you taste some new dishes they concocted." Yong lists off the first item. Half of my stomach twists in fear of what they made while the other half wonders what delicious tastes they've melded together.

~The Seventh Day~

I'm standing in front of Dino's glass shop but the whole world seems to have a sepia filter over it. The door is closed but the open blinds and the sign on the door say the store is open for business. In the windows, glass vases and glass sculptures sit on shelves and glisten under the sun.

In the rear of the shop, and just barely in my view, someone shuffles around. I find myself walking towards the door and just before my hand touches the door handle, I hesitate.

What if it isn't Dino? I wonder.

Before I can find the answer for myself, the door swings open and a young male, probably in high school, stands in front of me, holding the door open with a smile. He looks familiar but I can't remember his name.

"(y/n)." He greets me with my name. "Dino said you would be coming around today. He's in the back." He gestures for me to follow him inside and my body does.

Walking in, I look around the shop and take in all the delicate glass works colored with streaks, spots, and tints of all the colors of the rainbow.

"So, this is your first time here?" The employee asks me.

"Yeah, it is." I answer.

"Dino's working on a project but let me go get him for you." He says, "Feel free to look around, I'll be right back." He mentions before disappearing through a veiled doorway.

I walk through the isles, admiring every single piece and their curves and delicate parts. The shelves are filled with everything from simple vases to plump little animals to sturdy glasses made for wine and other drinks.

In the back corner of the shop, standing alone in a protected shelf, sits an intricate dragon. It's snout is raised to the sky as its stream of fire is frozen in time. It's tail wraps around a leafless tree acting as a protective barrier.

"Took me forever to get the tree right." Dino says, creeping up next to me, "And I still don't think it's 100% correct. There's not enough life in it."

I smile, "I think it's correct." I glance over the tree again, "It never had any life anyway."

"That tree wasn't the one I was trying to emulate." Dino counters before turning and walking towards the counter. "I wanna show you this."

I turn away from the tree and follow Dino, "Show me what?"

Dino smiles and reaches under the counter then brings out a black box. "These." He states and lifts the cover of the box.

He removes the tissues laid across the top to reveal two beautiful glass champagne flutes. I take in a sharp breath and gaze over the two glasses.

The base is perfectly flat. The stem encases a braid of three tinier braids. The bowl's glass smooth with the tiny braids from the stem spreading out like the branches of a tree. The entire flute is tinted with streaks of dark blue and white. It reminds me of the nights at the hotel.

"What do you think?" Dino asks, never taking his eyes off of my reaction.

"They're amazing." I answer him, glancing up in time to see his smile.

"Good, cause I made them for you." Dino says, "Since you enjoy champagne and all." He explains.

"They're for me?" I question, part of me not believing it to be true.

Dino nods quickly, "Of course." He picks up one of the glasses, "Hold it, see how it feels in your hand."

I hold out my hand and Dino sets the glass down.

But the second my hand meets the cool glass, the flute cracks and then explodes.

I startle awake and nearly roll off the couch but my hand reacts and catches me before I can fully register anything. Blinking a couple times, I look around my office.

The dark night has successfully chased away all traces of the sun. In front of me, an open champagne bottle sits next to an empty champagne flute. But it's different from the one in my dream. This one is simple glass with simple straight lines and no character. It probably only cost a mere $10 in any store.

Running my hands over my face, I begin to wonder why the glass would've shattered in my dream. Maybe it represented Dino's heart and how I completely and utterly shattered it when I left.

"I hate dreaming." I groan when the thought crosses my mind.

Picking up the boring champagne flute, I turn it over in my hand and a frown grows on my face.

"I hate all of this!" I yell and throw the champagne glass to the side without looking. I close my eyes and listen to it crash against the wall. I listen as the pieces fall to the floor and shatter some more.

Pushing my hands against my thighs, I rise to my feet and stretch. I take in a deep breath and head to my upstairs room to change out of yesterday's clothes.

2 hours later, I'm freshly showered, changed, and made up for the day. Opening my bedroom doors with flourish, I walk back down the stairs to find Jiwoo waiting for me with a couple files in his hands.

"Late morning?" He greets me when I reach the bottom step.

I shrug, "More like late night." I correct him and make my way over to my desk.

"My roommate had the same thing, though I figure for different reasons." Jiwoo says as I sit down in my chair, "These are the guests who checked in during the day." He sets down the opened file in front of me. One of the many differences between Yong and him. Yong leaves the files closed until I open them. Jiwoo opens them for me whether I want to look at them or not.

"We had 6 check in?" I look over the list quickly.

"There was a..." Jiwoo pauses, "a terrible accident." I look up and his eyes are clouded over with immense sadness.

I decide not to press the situation as I can tell from him that the whole human world must be hurting from it. And if the whole world is hurting from it, then it was a massive tragedy.

"How many departures do we have tonight?" I continue on our usual daily info session.

"Just 3." Jiwoo says after some of the sadness is erased and places another open file on my desk.

I nod and glance over the short list.

"Ah, Shin's outside the doors and he wanted to talk with you." Jiwoo remembers and points a thumb towards the closed doors.

I sigh, "Alright, send him in."

Jiwoo bows. "Then I'll leave you be."

I wave him off and he walks to the doors. Just after he steps out of my office, Shin steps in, dressed in his usual black robes.

"(y/n)." He greets me and stiffly walks to stand in front of my desk.

"Shin." I greet him in the same manner, "What did you want to talk about?"

Shin shrugs, "I was kind of hoping you would tell me."

I scrunch my face in confusion, "I don't have anything to talk to you about?" I say as more of a question.

"I was guided to come see you this morning." Shin explains.

"Guided?" I repeat his word, "Guided by who?"

Shin nods his head upwards towards the sky and I understand his answer.

I sigh. The Gods love messing with my head and my heart.

"My dream last night." I start, giving into the Gods schemes.

"Was something odd?" Shin wonders.

"It started out as a memory, but then it quite literally exploded." I explain while standing and walking to the cabinet where I keep the specific champagne flutes hidden. Rummaging around, I finally find and pull out the dusty black box.

"It exploded..." Shin repeats my words. His eyes watch me as I walk back to my desk with the box.

I open the box and peel back the tissue paper so Shin can see them. "The memory was of the day Dino gave these to me." I continue, "It was also the first day I had ever visited his store front." Shin gingerly picks one of the flutes up and examines it closely, "Dino handed me one and the moment it touched my skin, it cracked and exploded."

"This is amazing work." Shin comments, his eyes fixed on the stem. Probably wondering how Dino was able to intertwine and insert the braids so perfectly. I always have.

After a few moments, Shin returns the glass to it's cushioned box. "So it shattered."

I nod.

"And you're worried because you don't know what it means." Shin continues spewing information I already know.

"Yes, I'm worried." I stare at him, "Memories don't just change like that. Especially not mine."

"You were sleeping though." Shin points out.

I let out a puff of air, "Even in my dreams, my memories don't change."

As Shin opens his mouth to answer, a knock sounds at the door.

"(y/n)." Mun Hee sing songs through the door.

"What Mun Hee?" I call back and Shin closes his mouth, placing his hands behind his back.

The door opens and Mun Hee pokes his head in, "Oh, hey Shin." He greets the Grim Reaper with a smile before looking at me, "Yong is bringing Dino down now."

I nod and wave him away. Mun Hee silently closes the door.

"We can continue this after?" Shin suggests carefully.

"No, I'm sure I'll figure it out by the end of the day." I shake my head and stand up.

"Mmm." Shin hums in understanding and walks next to me as we exit my office.

Once the doors are closed behind us, Shin takes his leave.

"I will see you at the forest, later." He bows and walks down the hall before turning the corner and disappearing from my sight.

I chew on the inside of my lip in thought and make my way to the elevators. The entire way to my garden, the image of the champagne flute exploding in my hand replays over and over. Like the one part of a song that always gets stuck in the mind.

When I do reach the garden, the memory vanishes and is replaced with Dino inspecting every inch of the bare tree.

He lowers his gaze from a branch and meets mine with a wide smile. I return the smile and immediately cover the distance to him. Dino's arms instinctively wrap around me and he sighs contently.

"Hey." He whispers in my ear.

"Hi." I say, squeezing him tighter.

When we pull away and I pause to take in Dino's appearance. His clothing is simple enough but comfortable and looks great on him. Though when has he ever looked bad in an outfit...

He has a warm smile on his face and his eyes are full of life, or at least the memory of lives lived to the fullest.

"What?" Dino asks when I've stared a few seconds too long, "Is there something on my face?"

I shake my head, "No, no. I just, it's been a long time since I've seen you."

"Ah, so you were in awe of my good looks." Dino strikes an exaggerated model pose then raises an eyebrow at me.

Laughing, I shake my hands in a visceral answer of 'no.' Dino laughs at my reaction and returns to a normal standing position. When our laughter dies down, his gaze is again captured by the tree that looms above us.

"So the metaphorical tree actually exists." Dino guesses, following one of the branches to the trunk.

I clasp my hands behind my back, "It does."

Dino reaches out to touch the trunk and a shiver runs down my spine when his fingers meet the rough, old bark. "I always thought it was just a metaphor for yourself. It's why I was never satisfied with the way the glass tree looked. I always saw you with so much life but the glass trees I made always looked so lifeless..." He trails off and pulls his hand back to his side.

"The tree is as dead as I am." I state, "For every day it doesn't age, neither do I."

"You, my dear, have much more life than this tree would ever have in a million years." Dino compliments me and I half smile.

"I thought you created the glass tree just right." I inform him. "With just the right amount of death and the perfect sliver of life."

"You don't see what I see." Dino leans in and whispers before walking over to the bench. He lets out a breath as he lowers himself onto the bench, much like an old man.

"And what do you see?" I question and cross my arms over my chest.

Dino smirks and motions me closer with a single finger.

I take three steps closer then stop.

Dino just shakes his head and does the same 'come closer' motion.

Four more steps and I'm standing right in front of him.

"Closer." Dino says and I lower myself so my face is just in front of his.

"I see a woman, who pulls on the optimism of every situation, a woman who showed no fear even in the face of a burning furnace." Dino stares into my eyes, "I see a woman who loved every part of me." He wraps a hand around the back of my neck and collides his lips with mine, shocking me for only a second before my body responds from memory.

When we pull apart, Dino has a mischievous spark in his eyes and I just laugh as I sit next to him on the bench. Once I'm seated, I lean my head on his shoulder and he wraps an arm around my shoulders.

"Did you keep the shop?" I ask, suddenly hating the silence that surrounds us.

Dino nods, "I did. Tae Oh took over the shop when I retired but I still visited." Dino's apprentice's face flashes in my mind.

"Your kids didn't take over?" I wonder because he'd often talked about his dream to pass the shop down to his kids.

"I never had kids of my own." Dino tells me, "I never even married."

I sit up straight and look at him in disbelief. "You didn't marry?"

He nods while avoiding my eyes.

"Why not?" I ask though i'm slightly afraid of the answer.

"I just never found anyone that matched with me." Dino shrugs.

My shoulders slump as I hear the unsaid ending to the sentence bounce around my head.

'After you left.'

"After you left," Dino says, "I wondered if people were really meant to only love one person in their lifetime. Maybe that's why I never found anyone else. Maybe I was too engrossed in that thought that I couldn't see the others in front of me." Dino grabs my hand and looks over at me, "But I don't regret it."

"You don't?" I ask, trying to understand.

"What do I have to regret?" Dino argues, "I lived a full life. Tae Oh essentially was my child and I somehow became a father to him. I got to watch him grow up and have a family of his own. I didn't have anyone to come home to, but then again, I didn't exactly want anyone to come home to."

I frown knowing that he never found another love.

"But don't you worry." Dino says, booping my frown, "In my other lives, I had lots of loves. In fact, in my fifth life, I swore I was in love like 4 different times." He tries to lighten the mood and for the most part, I let it, but a small part of me is still sad for his first life.

"Tae Oh was good to you, then?" I ask, diverting the conversation.

"The best son-not-son a man could ask for." Dino says proudly, "He received awards for his glass work and was really famous. He always told me I could retire early and he'd support me but gosh, how could I?"

"You could've." I put in my two cents.

"I could've, yes, but then what would I do?" Dino questions me, "He and his wife didn't have any kids I could watch over so I'd be stuck at home watching TV like an old fart."

I laugh out loud at his simile. "Fair point, fair point."

"And besides, our works were selling like crazy and there was no way Tae Oh was going to be able to handle all of them by himself." Dino continues, "So I had to stay on."

"So caring as always." I stroke his hair with sort of teasing smile.

Dino rolls his eyes, "Whatever." He says and chuckles, "By the way, what did you do with those flutes I gave you? Did you use them?"

"I still have them." I tell him, then lie, "I bring them out from time to time."

Dino narrows his eyes at me in suspicion. "Liar."

"I do." I defend myself, "Though time to time usually means a few hundred years between uses."

"(y/n)." Dino exclaims, "They're meant to be used, not on display collecting dust."

I smile in embarrassment and Dino gasps.

"You kept them stored away?" He realizes with wide eyes.

I press my lips together, unsure how to respond when I'm pretty sure my facial expression says the answer.

Dino places a hand over his heart and feigns pain. "Ah, my heart. All my hard work and you put it away in storage for hundreds of years at a time."

I push his shoulder and he over dramatically falls over, "Stop it, they were too precious to use constantly."

"But you did use them at least once?" He asks, still toppled over but looking at me with eager eyes.

I smile, "Yes, I think I've used them maybe 10 times?"

"Were any of them special occasions?" Dino wonders and sits up properly.

"Once." I answer and then explain, "The day of your funeral, I sipped through 5 champagne bottles with them."

"My funeral." Dino repeats, "Not the special occasion I had in mind but oddly enough, I'm kind of happy that you at least had something to remind you of me on that day." He scoffs at himself.

I blow out a breath, "Can I ask a strange question?"

Dino raises his eyebrows, "You ask that like none of your questions were ever strange."

I giggle, "I'm serious, Dino."

"Okay, okay." Dino surrenders, "What's your strange question?"

I readjust my posture like a child who is about to ask her friend for the juiciest gossip on the street. "What was the strangest thing a customer asked you to make?"

"The strangest thing?" Dino thinks out loud, "Mmmm, there's a few that stand out."

"What's the first?" I push, leaning closer.

"Uh, I think it was the puffer fish." Dino says in thought and explains the whole situation because of my nagging questions.

After the strange creations he was asked to create, we dive into Dino's life with Tae Oh and his family. Then Dino filled the rest of the fleeting hours with stories that he kept in his memory for me. The places he visited, the people he met through his work, the fascination in people's eyes when they saw his work- that was his favorite part.

The sun lowers itself into its western bed and I shiver as the cold night caresses my skin.

"You ever wondered where the sun leads?" Dino asks a pensive look on his face.

"What do you mean?" I ask, looking at him.

Dino leans back, sliding his hands along his thighs, "Like if you were to follow the sun, where it would lead and what you would find."

"You would find water and then land and then more land." I deadpan and he chuckles at my seriousness.

"I'm asking a serious metaphorical question here, (y/n)." Dino pouts and I smirk.

"Okay, okay." I give in to his puppy eyes, "I have wondered but I never tried. The moon is my domain and that's the one I'd follow."

"Do you think I'll be chasing the sun?" Dino asks glancing out the western windows.

"Depends." I say, "Are you the night chasing the sun or are you the sun chasing the night?"

Dino looks at me in disbelief, "Now who's the one talking in riddles." He chuckles but then sighs in thought, "If you put it that way, I think I'd be the sun chasing the night but only if you were the moon in the night."

I push him away and stand up. "Alright Mr. Cheesy." I hold out both of my hands, "Your journey towards the sun is awaiting you."

Dino holds a hand over his mouth and pretends to baby barf while standing up. I roll my eyes at his tactics but he just laughs.

"You started this." I point a finger at him and begin to walk away.

"Awww. (y/n)." He drags out my name and wraps his arms around my shoulders from behind. "You're no fun."

"I am too." I defend myself.

Dino smooshes a kiss against my cheek, "You are."

We walk out of the garden with Dino hanging off of my shoulders and our steps teeter and totter from left to right. The hotel is silent with most guests still sleeping and/or adjusting to greeting their past lives and my staff are probably just waking up to begin their duties around the hotel.

"I like this quiet." Dino whispers as we reach the departure door.

"It is nice, isn't it?" I agree and open the door. "Less aggressive on your ears than the raging furnace."

"Hey, don't diss Bertha like that." Dino says with serious eyes.

I burst out laughing and pull the door closed behind us. "I totally forgot you named your furnace."

"How could you forget Bertha?" Dino gasps.

I giggle and grab his hand tightly, "Well, I won't forget now."

"You better not." Dino says and swings our hands back and forth. "You'll come there too, right? One day?" He asks, looking at the idling car Shin is standing next to.

"One day." I nod, "I don't know how soon but one day soon I'll get there."

"I'll wait for you then." Dino whispers.

"There will be others before I get there and you might have to share." I inform him as we slow to a stop a few feet away from where Shin has the car door open.

"Then I'll fight them all and win you over." Dino says defiantly.

An airy chuckle bounces in my chest, "Don't hurt yourself in the process."

Dino sighs happily and there's a twinkle in his eyes, "I love you, (y/n)." He says and presses a kiss to my forehead.

"I love you too." I tell him and close my eyes to memorize the feeling of his lips against my skin.

Dino pulls away, squeezes my hand briefly, and then lets go of it. I watch silently as he greets Shin with a polite nod before sliding into the car without a look back. The sure slam of the car door closing pounds against my heart like a sledge hammer.

Every inch the car drives away, my heart tears apart further and further. When the car finally disappears into the forest fog, my knees give out and I fall to the ground with my clutching my chest. A few tears manage to escape. I watch as one drops into the dirt and disappears.

And back in the hotel, in my garden, a white chrysanthemum does the same.

It takes a little bit of time but eventually the ache in my chest subsides enough for me to rise back up. With a deep breath, I pull my hair behind my shoulders and turn away from the forest. I face the hotel and prepare to face the night.

Return to the Navigation Page (Waning Crescent Hotel) to choose the next guest.

"You call yourself the moon and yet you shiver in the cold." Dino notices me shiver against the night air.

I chuckle, "I'm not immune to everything."

"Let's hope that the other side is a lot warmer than here." Dino says and stands up with dramatic flourish.

I follow suit and stand nearly chest to chest. "Shall we see if that's true or not?"

Dino grabs my hands and smiles widely, "Hell yes."

As we walk out of the garden, Dino does a couple skips in happiness and while I do feel a great amount of happiness that I get to leave with him, there is a seed of sadness tucked away in the shadows.

We walk hand in hand to the lobby where Yong, Mun Hee, Soon Bok, and Jiwoo stand solemnly.

"So this is it?" Mun Hee asks with tears in his eyes. "This is the day you leave us?"

I wrap him up in a hug, only a tiny bit annoyed that he's being so sappy. "Maybe I'll get punished again and be back here by the end of the year." I try to joke but Mun Hee abruptly pushes back from me.

"Don't you dare say that. You better not return here." He says angrily through his tears.

I chuckle, "I won't come back. I promise."

Turning to Soon Bok, I thank her for her service and her amazing work. Something I never did and should've done more.

Next onto Jiwoo. I also thank him for his and his entire family's service then I unclip the bracelet that has held him to this place.

"When you leave today, you won't be able to find this place again." I inform him, "I hope that you'll be able to go and live your life happily."

Jiwoo nods, "Thank you for letting me work with you. I won't ever forget you."

I smile sadly, "You will. But thank you."

Finally I reach Yong who is sniffling and trying so very hard not cry.

"You'd think after all these years of waiting that I'd be prepared for this day." She says through sniffles.

"Thank you, Yong." I rests my hands on her shoulders, "For everything. Thank you."

With lips pursed together, she leans forward and wraps me in an unexpected hug. But I soon wrap my arms around her and squeeze her tightly.

We pull apart after a couple seconds and I wipe the few tears that have escaped from her eyes.

"Keep this hotel running beautifully." I tell her before Dino grabs my hand again.

With final waves of goodbye, Dino and I walk out to the foggy forest that will take us to our resting place.

At the edge of the forest, Shin stands next to an idling car, a somber look on his face.

"(y/n)." He says when we reach him, "It has been an honor working with you. I wish you both a peaceful rest." Shin bows his head and I pat his arm.

"The honor was mine." I tell him with a smile. Now the tears start to line my eyes as the realization fully sets in.

I'm free. I served my years of punishment and now I'm free to let my soul rest.

I turn back towards the hotel and look up to the top where the rooftop patio is outlined with bright string lights. Then to the mid floors where random room lights are turned on, some guests staying in while others opting to experience the hotel's many services. Then to grand base where guests would be milling around, waiting their turns to leave this world.

"(y/n)?" Dino softly asks pulling my attention to where he sits just inside the car, "Are you ready?"

I take one last quick look at the hotel before turning away from it. "Yeah, I'm ready. Let's go."

I lower myself into the car and Shin securely closes the door after I am completely inside. As the car begins to drive forward, Dino securely grabs my hand and I let his warmth guide me towards our final destination.

In the garden, the final chrysanthemum withers and dies so that no more stand at the base of the bare tree.

#kpop #kpop imagine #seventeen #seventeen imagine #seventeen dino #seventeen dino imagine #dino imagine #dino #seventeen chan #seventeen chan imagine #chan imagine #lee chan imagine #lee chan #chan #writer-k-pop #waning crescent hotel

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ynbutwithoutheyn · 3 years

Text

The Princess' Composition

Chapter One || WC: 1.4k

Long, long ago, in a far away land, there was a princess and her piano teacher... and they hated each other's guts. She thinks he's heartless and he thinks she's a spoiled brat. Neither of them are interested in having anything to do with the other. Only now, the King and fate are forcing them together.

"No, Your Highness, that was the wrong note. Start from the beginning." My fingers twitched as they jumped away from the keys. My hands were cramping from how long I've been playing the piano. I've been rehearsing but one song, Minuet in G Major, not even having made it past the halfway mark before being told to restart by my instructor. I have no bearings of just how long I've been practicing for, only that it has been long enough to see the shadows in the room extend until they were no more. "Your posture, Your Highness." My shoulders pull back into place, my head held high once again, in annoyance rather than pride.

Subconsciously, my jaw tightens as I move my fingers back to their starting position. Irritation and frustration flood each inch of my body as I begin to play. My hands move fluidly over the keys, muscle memory ingrained in my fingers. The notes flow and melt together, creating a pleasing sound that echoes across the large, vacant room. Whether it was negligence or pure fatigue, I don't know. I do know that my pinky slipped and accidentally hit the two keys instead of one. It was just a tiny sound. There's no way he could've noticed. Right? Without hesitation, I continue my piece-

"Your Highness, a mistake like that won't go unnoticed. I would think after all these hours you would show some improvement. Again." He grabbed my wrist, yanking me away from the keys. I cannot tell if my jaw is on the floor or not because of how in shock I am. "Mr. Deighton, as if speaking to me in such a manner wasn't insulting enough, putting your hands on me like that..." The palm of my hand met with his cheek the moment I ripped away from his grasp. "Do not ever demean me like that again." I stood up, watching the imprint of my hand surface on his cold face. "I'm sorry, Your Highness, but unlike your other servants, I do not see any benefit in coddling you. Your actions don't have any consequences, to begin with. If you want to act like a spoiled child, I'll treat you as such."

"'Coddle me'?" I couldn't help but laugh despite myself at his reasoning, "I can assure you, you're doing far from it. Maybe if you didn't push me past the point of exhaustion, I could retain something! Let alone teach me through demonstration. If I knew any better, I would assume you tricked my father into hiring you the way you seem repulsed by touching the keys yourself!" Soon my emotions consumed me completely. My voice grew in volume and passion with each passing sentence. I couldn't help myself. Nor could I realize just how loud I got until my lady in waiting, Lucille, came rushing into the room.

"Princess Serene! My dear, what is all this commotion?" Immediately, Lucille was at my side, cupping my face like a doting mother. Her eyes scanned over my face, looking to see if a hair on my head was misplaced. "I'm sorry for worrying you, Lucille. I'm quite alright. Please don't fret." Seeing her so upset dissipated any remaining anger left in me; instead, I felt guilty for causing such a scene. I placed a gentle hand on her head, giving her a reassuring smile. It seemed like yesterday that I was a little girl, reaching up to wrap my arms around her waist. Now, I'm looking down at this sweet woman with all the same love in my heart. Only this time, there's a complete brute next to me.

"Oh good," Lucille's face relaxes finally, promptly noticing the man who has remained silently sitting, "Mr. Deighton, would you care to- My stars! That mark on your cheek..." Her hand flies up to her open mouth. Her eyes dart over to me, knowing very well I'm the only one to blame for this. I can see the cogs in her brain turn as she pieces together the context of what she has stumbled upon. It takes him a moment to reply, giving a heavy sigh before elaborating. "Mrs. Moore, I'm the one at fau-" "It's just a flush, Lucille. It's terribly hot in this room, what with all those windows. After such a lengthy lesson stuck in here, Mr. Deighton and I are just a tad fatigued and overheated."

I could not tell you why I lied. It would've been believable if I wasn't caught red-handed- Well if he wasn't caught with a red-handed face. He was the one in the wrong, after all. Maybe I figured it would save me the trouble. Or maybe I just lied out of pity. I simply could not tell you. "Oh, I see," Lucille looked between the both of us, clearly not fooled, "Mr. Deighton, does that sound right with you?" Without missing a beat, that fictitious smile appeared on his face. "Of course, Mrs. Moore, who am I to go against the word of Her Highness?" I don't know why I lied. I regret

nothing more. I've never met such a horrible man in my life. From his cold expression to his condescending tone and his cruel words, I cannot stand him.

"Ah, well, if that's the case, I must get Princess Serene on her way, or else she'll be late for supper. Thank you for your time, Mr. Deighton." Lucille tactfully defuses the situation once again, taking my hand to lead me out. "Of course, I wouldn't dream of holding up her schedule; Your Highness, thank you for the honor of teaching you." With an exaggerated bow and a smile that didn't reach his eyes, he said his parting through gritted teeth. "Thank you for the lesson, Mr. Deighton. Every lesson with you is such a pleasure." With a curtsy and another smile that didn't quite reach the eyes, I turn my back to him, nearly dragging Lucille behind me. Taking care to close the door behind us with a heavy thud.

"Oh Lucille, what a miserable man! In all of my life, I have never met such an obnoxious, rude man. I have never been manhandled in such a manner before." While helping me change into my evening wear, I spill my guts to a very attentive Lucille. "My Dear," sighing, she ties up the back of the gown, occasionally looking at my dejected expression in the mirror. "I know Mr. Deighton isn't an easy person to get along with. I don't even understand why he took a position in the castle since he seems to resent it since he arrived. What a shame, such a young man being so worn already." She finishes off my gown, turning me to face her. "Please promise me you'll try to keep peace with him. Your debutante ball is soon and, your father is already driven mad planning it. Just a little bit longer and, this whole mess will be done."

Lucille is right. Tensions are at an all-time high around the castle as everyone is prepping me to find my perfect suitor. I should try to worry my father as little as possible. Bringing up what happened with that man will only make it harder for him and the rest of the people working here. I nod my head in agreement, hoping I can keep said promise. Lucille cups my face, bringing it lower so she can press her lips against my forehead. "That's my girl. You know, I am proud of you for sticking up for yourself. You've always been strong-headed like that since you were a little girl..." She trails off, a faraway look in her eyes as she recalls distant memories. "It's hard to believe you're so grown now." Her voice becomes hoarse, tears pooling in her eyes. While the rest of her face showed few signs of the toll of time, her eyes never lost that same sparkle from all these years.

"Thank you, Lucille. You're my best friend, you know that?" Her eyes crinkle as she laughs. "Oh, Serene, you've been in the castle for too long to have an old lady like me as your best friend... You're mine, too, though."

#fairytale au #my writing #original story #original fiction #princess #ao3fic #my ocs #fairy tales #romance #enemies to enemies

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