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felswritingfire · 3 years

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(Hades) Gods x Shade! Reader

No matter how much you try, mortality will always catch up to those who are not of gods. Even the most blinded of them learn this eventually. You take your death with grace, choosing to go and explore this new world as soon as Lord Hades permits you to go, impressed by how little you complain and demand. You are one of the brighter parts of his day (night?).

You drift along, catching certain snippets of other Shade’s conversations as you wander aimlessly. You notice a crack in the wall; deciding to muster up your courage, you slip through it to find yourself in the glowing green torches of Tartarus. With what little you have, you hold it close to your translucent body and push forward.

You’re quick to notice the large glowing ball with an oddly familiar symbol floating in the middle of it. You take your time circling it, feeling compelled to touch it. When you do, a beam of light comes slicing through the dreary air to reveal a mighty god who stares down at you at your shocked form...

Zues

Cause of Death: Lightning Strike

Zues is confused when he sees you. He’s even more confused when you start screaming at him, waving your hands about and threatening to fight him yourself.

“You fucker! You killed me!”

He raises a brow. “I think I’d remember if I killed you.” You flipped up your middle finger at him and his eyebrows drew into an angry v. “How rude! I am the God of Gods-”

“I don’t care!”

Zagreus had to high tail it to you before Zues tried to smite you (possibly a second time).

Suffice to say you hoped you’d never bump into that boon again. And you didn’t. No, the God of Gods and Lightning himself decided that he’d have to make a house call himself (Hades was not pleased when a bolt of lightning came crashing down and left a scorched black ring in the carpet).

He picks you out quickly and you try to zoom out of the lobby until he catches you by the back of your robe and then you’re swinging and yelling profanities at him. He’s kinda amused now instead of angry- you’re just so weak and tiny compared to him. It’s hysterical- ow! Did you just bite him?

After you and Zues finish your little “spitting match”- Hades kicks Zeus out and you're forced to hang out in Tartarus for a bit (“but I’m just a simple fisherfolk! I can’t fight anything!” You cry, Hades does not spare you a look as you're dragged out by Meg).

You think maybe that’s the end until you’re approached by a… a squirrel? You almost punt it when his voice spills out as he shoots into a long prattle about how much of a jerk Hades was and how he couldn’t handle someone as grandiose as him appearing before him. Threatened him as a god or something- you were busy trying to figure out how you were going to kill this guy and make sure he stayed dead.

Turns out, after the two of you chattered (argued) a bit about whether or not he actually killed you, Zeus had some neat stories about the gods.

While you were interested in his children’s and brothers’ and sisters’ stories, he was interested in your stories of the mundane. A simple fisherfolk? That was a word? You just fished and traded? Amazing! Tell him more!

After this particular interaction between the two of you, Zeus really ended liking you. Maybe a little too much, but, aw well, it wasn’t everyday a mortal soul had the balls to argue with him for something he doesn’t remember doing (he probably did. Probably. Most likely). He swore that he’d come and see you everyday as he sat on your shoulder as a squirrel, going on and on about how you should feel blessed to be praised by one such as he. You were about to throw him until a giant hand came out and grabbed him (seemed you drifted too close to Lord Hades’ desk), the hulking god flinging him out of a portal.

He continues to pop up and bother you and, to be honest, he’s kinda growing on you. Also, I’m gonna be frank and lay it out that, if he likes you enough, he’s probs gonna want to smash, especially if you lean more towards the feminine side (he’s fucking AWFUL). It’s up to you if you wanna indulge that or not, I don’t recommend it, but you can if you really want to.

We’re going with the option you don’t smash- he’ll be salty at you for a whole ass day before he comes back the one after that as a rat (Hades kept finding out his forms that he used to sneak in so it was an ever constant menagerie of appearances to keep up the disguise) and is like: “I thought you would miss me too much so I came back before you could even complain.”

Zag likes to watch the two of you interact because he finds it absolutely fascinating. It’s like watching… He doesn’t know what it’s like but he’s having a blast as you roast his uncle to bits. It really helps him out when he’s feeling a bit down after failing getting out one too many times.

When you first get Zeus an Ambrosia, he thinks it’s poison and then he gets all prideful because of course you would give him an offering, he was the strongest of all the gods! Him and him alone!

“Silly, mortal, you cannot poison me! I am a god.”

You squint your eyes at him before you huff and pull the bottle closer to you. “Fine, whatever, I’ll just give it to Zagreus- or better yet, Hades if you don’t want it.”

“No! No! I want it! Give it to me! It’s mine!”

During this time, he’s actually experiencing some purer emotions in life- he’s genuinely giddy that you got him the Ambrosia and asks how you got it. You hold up a makeshift fishing rod and grin at him, telling him you snatched it from some nasty shades before you wandered back down to Tartarus.

His gift to you is a little lightning pin that, when you're in danger, will send a nasty bolt of lightning down on your enemies. You wonder what good it’ll do since you’re dead already, but shrug and accept it, thinking that he looks years younger and friendler when his smile isn’t packed full of ego and pride.

Poseidon

Cause of Death: Drowning

Poseidon, Lord of the Oceans, Earthquakes, and many other things, is simply- how do you say? Amused? It’s the best way to describe it at least. Of course he was mostly surprised when he appeared expecting the Little Hades to be waiting for him just to meet a Little Shade in his place.

“Why, hello there, Little Shade! You wouldn’t happen to know where the Little Hades is, would you?”

You shake your head, he doesn’t miss the way you nervously play with your hands, drifting back as some of his droplets float close to you.

He laughs at your simple reply. “Shy one aren’t you?” He leans closer to you, squinting and running a hand through his beard while he hummed.

You fight the urge to take a step back, the smell of salt water making your stomach churn.

His eyes flutter shut as he takes a deep breath. He takes a moment before he opens his eyes again and a look of understanding flashes across his eyes. “You drowned. Didn’t you?”

You stare up at him, eyes round and glassy. You nod.

Before your conversation can go any further, Zagreus comes running through the window, surprised to see his Uncle talking to a Shade (you look so scared- he hopes that you aren’t being bullied). You’re quick to take your leave bowing to both and passing the boon to the Prince before you scurry away into the cover of the other Shades.

He hums to himself, a cryptid smile on his face as his eyes follow after you. Such a strange little thing you were- he wouldn’t mind seeing you again.

It takes a bit, but he does happen to see you again, by peaking through a fountain in a fountain room in the Underworld. He spies you trying to poke at the water that he happened to choose, but jumping back each time. You face scrunched up into one of pure frustration. He asks if you’re doing alright there, Little Shade? Causing you to flash out of existence for a moment before settling back down and looking into the pool with wide eyes. Posiedon almost busts a gut with how hard he’s laughing and you huff telling him that it wasn’t funny.

He says otherwise, but asks what you’re doing. When your face bursts into a large blush you mumble something that he doesn’t quite catch and he’s left with more questions than answers as you take the chance to phase out of the chamber when Zag walks in and steals his Uncle’s attention for a split second. He furrows his brow before asking his nephew about you, which Zag, surprisingly, supplies rather quickly, seeing as the two of you talk a lot: apparently you’re deathly afraid of water after you were thrown into the ocean by your supposed best friend. The memories of the waves crushing you deeper and deeper beneath them sticking with you even in death. So, you were trying to curb that phobia. Posiedon nods, letting the words sink in before he offers the Little Hades a thumbs up and says he’ll help with that.

The next time you see the god, he’s eager to call you over and explain that he’s figured out what you were doing last time and offers to let you mess with some of the drops of water that follow him wherever he goes. You stare at them, eyebrows furrowed and looking just as sick as a shade could look. Yet, you still nod your head and hold out a shaky hand. He smiles at you, praising you for your courage and flicks one towards you; it floats gently before it rests serenely on your palm, allowing you to feel the cool sensation of the droplet. You marvel at it, still shaking with an anxiety before you nod. He pulls it away, it shoots back to rest next to his head and you thank him for going out of his way to help you and ease your fears.

He remarks that you should fear the water out of respect: it’s unpredictable, terrifying in it’s own right- vast and, seemingly, never ending, what could possibly be more terrifying than the unknown, hm? He continues to say that you should also hold onto a bit of bravery at the very least, for untold treasures come from there for those who look.

After that conversation, Poseidon makes it a habit of having you hold onto his droplets of water, making them slightly bigger each time for you to get used to them.

By the time you’re able to touch them freely without experiencing crippling fear- the droplets are almost the size of you. Poseidon praises you the more you grow out of your fear.

You do eventually open up to him about how you died and he never tells you that he already knew. Just allows you to talk in a soft voice as you recall it. It’s a nice bonding experience for the both of you and Posideon decides that you’re his favorite Shade and he’ll treasure you for as long as you exist.

The first time you get him a bottle of Ambrosia, you come to him shivering and sopping wet. He’s confused and concerned as he hovers to you.

“What happened to you, Little Shade? Are you alright?”

It takes you a moment to be able to speak. “I- I found a bottle of Ambrosia. I thought-” you take a deep breath, holding out the bottle with both hands- “I thought you’d like it.”

It’s one of his prized possessions now, he takes little sips of it once in a while, but other than that it remains as one of his most precious memories. He’s very attached to you at this point and you’ll forever have his blessing. His gift to you, aside from the undying loyalty, is a shell necklace, if you ever need him- you only need to whisper his name to it and he’ll appear in an instant.

Athena

Cause of Death: Exhaustion

Athena had been prepared to meet with Zagreus- not a curious shade staring back up at her with all the relevance of one of her worshippers.

“What business do you have with me?”

She raises her brow at your gobsmacked expression, watching as you screw your face up before bowing. “Apologies, m’lady, I only happened to bump into your…” you look at where it glows, furrowing your eyebrow, “your orb?”

“Boon.”

You nod your head in understanding before bowing your head again. “Again, my sincerest apologies.”

Luckily, she didn’t smite you, instead asking the question of how you were even talking to her. Getting a shrug from you, you say that maybe it’s because you worshipped her (unofficially, you were never able to make it up to her shrine much to your disappointment) when you were alive- maybe a deeper bond is there compared to someone who had never prayed to her for her protection and guidance.

When she hears this, she’s very interested, pressing you to elaborate further when the Young Prince comes jogging out of the glowing window, waving to you. You slink away, passing the boon to him and bowing to her once again before you disappear into the mass of Shades that choose to wander their new home as well.

After the conversation, you had caught the Goddess’ attention, planting a desire in her to see you again. Even going as far as to write a letter to ask her uncle for a council with you after a week passed of her placing her boon in Tartarus so that maybe you would drift too close to it once again. But each time only the little prince would find them (which she was fine with, but it still left such an unflattering taste of defeat on her tongue each time it wasn’t you). She figured it would be a moot point to send the letter, but it was worth a try.

But she decided to place her boon down once more before she sent it out. Just to try. And this time it worked.

You were the one she saw and she was absolutely delighted- not that she showed it, choosing to keep her stoic and sharp expression. You greet her in a similar way before: awed before bowing your head to her. You continue to go on about how you're happy to see her again and, despite how little you had been buried with, you hoped that she would take this- a broken sword, despite the worn hilt and the deep scars the littered what was left of the flat of the balde; it was still polished (at least what was left of it)- as a proper offering to her for all she had done in your life- even if it truly wasn’t all her doings.

She takes the sword in her hand, holding it high, her eyes shining as she studies it: truly, it was a warrior’s blade. She watches as the history and memories flash in the smooth iron. She remarks that it is a remarkable offering, but she cannot accept it. It feels wrong taking a weapon of a warrior such as yourself.

You smile as her, shaking your head, urging her to take it, for you didn’t need that blade in this afterlife. You had already fought your battles, killing the man who you had been battling with and quelling the rage that had followed you since you were a child for revenge. Eventually, dying from the strain of the fight with a feeling of contentedness.

Athena raises her brow, remarking how that sounded more along the lines of Ares rather than her.

You nod, but say that you couldn’t help but desire her help for she was the goddess attached to your favorite animal. She had to fight the urge to laugh, a shaky smile slipping through as she nods at you. Such a silly thing you are. She decides that she’ll take the sword as a reminder of you, no matter where you should go now. She also decides that you were forming a rather soft cradle in her heart.

After this, she is quick to ask Zagreus about you every chance she gets- not that he minds too much, he tells her about how you’ve been helping him train and you’ve even told him about your life when you were alive (“a general, can you believe that? They’re so young!” Zagreus says as he shows her the new move you taught him). She’s only the slightest bit miffed at hearing that you and Achilles have begun to form a sweet friendship. She’s pleased to hear that his father has been trying to barter with you to get you into Elysium, though she’s a tad confused on the reason you refuse to.

She asks you about it one day and you say that it would take longer to see her and you would prefer to avoid that. It was the only time the goddess has ever had to fight down a blush.

When you get her a bottle of Ambrosia, she’s in pure awe at the huge bottle.

“How did you get one this big?”

You lean against the new sword you managed to get your hands on- something simple and obviously used- you offer her a lopsided grin. “Well, not just any Ambrosia would work, so I decided to try my luck with Lord Theseus and, The Great Bull, Asterius. Took me a couple of tries but I managed to beat them and snag it.”

Athena smiles warmly at it, telling you that she’ll treasure it and think of you every time she takes a drink of it. She realizes in that moment just how important you had become to her, never feeling this… soft for a mortal soul in her life. Her gift to you is a shield and a new sword: the shield bares her symbol of an owl while the sword was ornate with a divine glow. She promises that no matter what they’ll protect you and so will she, you only need to call out her name.

Aphrodite

Cause of Death: A Broken Heart

When the Goddess of Love first sees you- she thinks you’re absolutely gorgeous (of course not as gorgeous as her). The sad look in your eye and the slight frown that rests on your lips makes her almost fall in love right then and there.

“Hello, little one- do you know where the little godling is?”

You shake your head. “I’m sorry, Lady Aphrodite. I know not where he is.”

She raises her brows, a smile on her face. “How did you know I was Aphrodite, my dear?”

You look up at her, a sudden glint in your eyes has her yearning to see it once again. “No one else could be so breathtaking, my Lady.”

Oh. Oh, she likes you.

She chooses to chatter away with you- despite you mostly listening, adding little things here and there, she feels a strange sense of fullness, like she just ate a full and warm meal for the first time in a very long time, by the time Zagreus arrives. You bid your farewell and she can’t help but follow you with her gaze as your transparent form blends in with the other Shades.

Aphrodite is thrilled the next time she runs into you- or rather you run into her boon. She missed the melancholy look in your eyes, she also doesn’t miss the fact that you’ve come bearing gifts this time: an assortment of colorful flowers rests in your arms and you offer it to her. That glint coming and going like a shooting star as she accepts the offering, holding it up to her nose to take in their sweet scent. How sweet were you to hand her something so delicate.

She asks you where you got them and you remark that you made your way up to Elysium. She’s surprised to hear as such- you didn’t seem like the warrior type. You shake your head, your eyes sweeping low. You weren’t a warrior, far from it- a simple florist if anything. You just drifted until you made it up there and plucked some flowers to make bouquets. You mumble that maybe you’ll be more useful in death.

She tilts her head at the comment, beginning to ask until Zagreus is jogging up to the both of you and it was time for you to leave. She’s a tad annoyed, but reminds herself that the little godling didn’t know- simply trying to break out of this dreary place he calls home and see Olympus in all its glory. She’ll just ask next time.

You gave her another bouquet, this one more beautiful than the last, when she gets the chance to ask you her question. Your eyes pool with a mournful look as you gaze up at her, your hand resting over the place where your heart used to beat as you look to the ground. You explain that you were young when you were wed- just as you were young when you died. You were married off to someone you did not love- someone awful, vile, who beat you down daily just to build you back up so they could laugh when they toppled you over once again. You remark about how you could feel yourself dying little by little, your delicate heart bleeding as your want for life began to dwindle away. You grew sick and you would sit by the window day in and day out, staring out and wondering what your life could have been if you were married to someone you loved. A ghost of a smile blooms on your lips as you look up at her, that glint she oh-so loved twinkling in your eye as you say that you did not die in as much loneliness and pain as you could have; having been making a bouquet dedicated just to her love and sweetness: your Lady Aphrodite who you love, ever so much.

She’s shocked when she realizes the tears that drip down her cheeks, her hand coming to caress your cheek (really your head, she was hulking compared to your small form) with her fingertips. She comments that she would accept every bouquet you made and treasure each flower like it was the one you made for her with your last breaths in the living world.

After that interaction, she comes down a lot more, asking Zagreus if he could bring along her darling florist so that she could talk to you. He always obliges, loving to see the two of you chatter about (well, her chatter about, you usually just listened with a smile on your face as you used the flowers you had plucked into flower crowns for him and Lady Aphrodite). You two become a sort of comfort for him when he’s getting frustrated: seeing your usually melancholy demeanor light up as soon as the goddess appears and in turn the goddess becomes something less vain and more gentle as she speaks to you.

At some point, you’ll probably meet Ares himself- the two never that far from each other, also she adores you, so it only makes sense for you to meet him. He’s honestly a tad unimpressed when you first meet, but when he hears about the heart ache you faced he gains a sense of respect for you, remarking that love is a battle in and of itself and you fought valiantly to keep your ability to love freely (Aphrodite might convince you to have a threesome, I’m not gonna lie, she’s attracted to you on a deep level and she has her trysts with Ares- it’s perfect in her eyes. Though she won’t push you if you don’t desire it).

When you first get her Ambrosia, she’s flabbergasted before it turns into worry for how you got it and the potential danger you were in.

She takes the bottle of gold liquid and the flowers that you had so carefully arranged. Her attention, though, is focused on the said bottle of Ambrosia. “My Darling Florist, how did you get this?” Before you can answer she shoots into a flurry of questions. “Are you alright? Did anything catch you? Hurt you? You don’t seem hurt. Oooh-” she puffs her cheeks out, her gaze sharp- “why did you get me this? It’s dangerous!”

You wait for her to calm down. “I apologize for making you worry, but I simply snuck around and grabbed it from some witches- they didn’t even notice me. And I-” you tap your fingers together, a blush blooming across your face as you look away from the goddess and she decides that she craves seeing that expression on you again- “I thought that you deserved it. It’s a much better offering than my silly bouquets.”

Well, aside from the ‘silly bouquets’ comment (which she corrects you on very quickly), she’s absolutely flattered and it might be the final nail in the coffin that has her falling for you, the little shade in front of her. She decides that you hold a piece of her heart in your translucent hands, though she chooses to keep that information to herself.

Her gift to you is a hairpin that matches hers, though if you don’t have enough hair- she says, you can always pin it to your robe. It’s a blatant claim on her part, but it also helps ease the residual heartache that followed you into death. And, hopefully (a personal hope of her), each time you look at it, you’d fall deeper and deeper in love with her as well.

Artemis

Cause of Death: Arrow to the Heart

She’s confused when she sees you, quick to voice her confusion as well. Also depending on if you're more feminine or masculine (and I don’t mean woman or man, I just mean how you present yourself), she will treat you differently depending. So, for now, we’re gonna go with the more “feminine” option:

“Who’re you?”

You bow. “An honor to meet you, Lady Artemis, I seem to have bumped into that orb on accident. Wasn’t sure what it did and the curiosity got the better of me.”

She hums, she perks when she notices your bow. “You’re a hunter?”

You smile, holding it out to her. “Yes, indeed, my Lady- I prayed to you a lot.” You laughed, adding. “Hoped to join your hunters when I was young.”

She’s quite happy to hear that and begins to chatter along with you. For some reason feeling oddly at ease around you. It’s probably because you were a fellow hunter but she simply can’t help the way she grows an odd sort of… adoration? Something like that, she thinks- for you. She almost laments the fact when Zagreus comes to get the boon.

You nod to him, biding your farewell to the Goddess and passing the boon to the Prince. She doesn’t miss how Zagreus’ eyes shine as you walk away. She almost comments on it but bites her tongue, wanting to observe the prince and the dreamy look that drifts over his features, even as you disappear.

The next time the two of you meet, she asks if she can see you in action. You agree and search up ahead to find something to demonstrate your skills on. You’re quick to find a few Numbskulls. She watches as you take a deep breath, your eyes narrowing on your unassuming targets and your footsteps become silent as you skirt closer to them. You nock an arrow, never looking away. Her eyes gleam with thrumming adrenaline at the way the muscles in your arms tense as you draw the string back. The low groan of the wood barely above a whisper as you wait for them to line up. You hold your breath, releasing the arrow- it goes through all three of them, making them break into dust in a consecutive line, a harrowing scream being wretched from them as they fade from existence. You release the breath you were holding and stand, sending a smile to the young goddess whose eyes shine with stars.

She praises you for your amazing skill and sings of your prowess. You shake your head, looking down at the ground as you argued that you were but a simple bow folk in your living life. Nothing more, nothing less.

She begs to differ! That type of skill only belongs to those of her highest ranking huntresses! She continues to gush about you until Zag comes up and, once again, greets the both of you. That dreamy look coming over his face as he looks at you. She watches as you once again disappear into Tartarus, this time though, after you’re gone, she turns to her cousin and shoots into a tangent about why he had never told her about you before and where did you come from? She has to know!

He answers all of her questions to the best of his abilities but there are even some he doesn’t know about, for example: how you died.

Artemis accepts this and decides that she’ll just ask you the next time the two of you meet.

And, true to her word, she does. She asks you point blank and you can’t help but be slightly taken aback. You laugh softly, leaning on your bow as you begin to recount that you were traversing her forest, as you had done many times before, and noticed fresh foot prints of man. You decided that it would be a good idea to look and you found hunters trying to kill her Golden Stag. You had dove in as quickly as you could, shooting one- the arrow sailing in a clean arch through his wrist before he could let loose his arrow. But as you went to nock another arrow- a searing pain in your chest and heart. You looked down to see blood pooling around your robes, dying the olive green of your cloak a wine red. You remember the last thing you saw was the Golden Stag running away. You smiled telling her that you were happy he got away- you don’t know what you’d do if he had been captured despite your effort.

Artemis suddenly remembers that day: her stag rushing to her and urging her to follow him- he bounded through the forest, frantic and panicked. When they got to a clearing, she was quick to notice the blood and the drag marks of a body. Her stag pressed his nose to the ground sniffing at the pool of blood, his eyes watering and bulbous tears slid down his muzzle. It suddenly made sense. You were the one he was mourning for.

She couldn’t help but grab your hands, resting her forehead against the back of them; thanking you for protecting her stag when she couldn’t. You smile at her, bowing your head to her and thanking her for the countless hunts she went on with you. You pull your hands away from her and hold out your bow to her. She asks what you think you're doing in a watery voice and you say it’s an offering. You couldn’t give much when you were alive and you still can’t give much now, but, this bow- it shall treat her right.

She sniffles as she takes it, trying to hold in tears. She vows to treasure it for all of time as she admires the worn wood.

That day, the two of you became closer as comrades, she would actively come down to say hi to you (and encourage Zagreus to take the leap and court you after she learned of his growing affections for you). The two of you would talk about everything you could think of, explaining how your hunting styles differed or how you could set a trap easier. She had realized that she had never felt this carefree with anyone before. She felt like a child. It felt nice.

When you snag her a bottle of Ambrosia- she’s swaddled in a whirlwind of emotions.

“You… You got this for me?” She asks as she takes the bottle of golden liquid.

You nod, that gentle smiling spreading across your face. “Of course. You had helped me so many times- it is only fair, my Lady-”

“Artemis-” she sniffled, rubbing her eyes with her knuckles- “call me Artemis, my friend.”

She finds you to be a perfect friend- a breath of fresh air from home. She may not feel any romantic feelings towards you, but she still holds you in a dear place in her heart. Her gift to you is a new bow and quiver that will never run out of arrows. The bow is enchanted and you’ll never have to fear it breaking for it will protect you for as long as you exist- in this realm or another.

Ares

Cause of Death: Blood Loss

When Ares first sees you, he is… well- he’s impressed that you stumbled upon his boon, but at the same time… He’s a tad miffed? That you found it?

At the very least he’s condescending as all hell about it:

“What is this? A little lamb came to beg me for power? How foolish. No matter how hard you struggle you will never be much more than some little shade.”

“Ah, sorry, my Lord! Didn’t mean to bump into it!” You hold up the basket in your translucent arms, “I wanted to see if I could find some new ingredients to bake with! I do oh-so miss it, sir.”

Well, he wasn’t expecting that.

He ends up allowing you to chatter on with him despite his obvious judgement on your, what he calls, “soft mortal hobby” until Zagreus comes to do his daily try of breaking out from the Underworld.

As he watches you drift away (after passing the boon and giving words of good luck to the Prince, who happily takes it), he kinda hopes to see you again

And see you again he does! He literally sees you the next day- night? Whatever, he’s never sure when he drops a boon in there- it’s damn dark-

He’s presented with a basket of treats and your gleeful greeting as you chatter that you found ingredients to make some Baklava and you thought that, maybe, he’d like to try it?

He smiles- cruel and sharp- and asks if you truly think that this is a fit offering for a god such as himself?

You shrug, saying he doesn’t have to eat it if he doesn’t want to

He laughs and takes it and you two are off chattering again: him regaling you with his war stories and you of the ingredients you had (somehow) found down here until Zag shows up, once again, the boon is passed to him (this time along with a slice of the delicious, warm Baklava. Which, he’s confused on what it is but he finds out very quickly that it’s his favorite treat).

The two of you talk a lot, which Ares is pleasantly surprised about, usually he’s the scorn of everyone- not that he cares, it causes conflict and he likes that. But you’re so calm and sweet that he just can’t get a rise out of you. Which, on one hand, pisses him off to no end, but, on the other, it’s such a nice change of pace for him. He’s used to the bloodshed and animosity of battlefields- the iron tinged air that follows after the warriors that traverse those fields. And yet, here you are: a shade that always has a treat for him when you run into him and the smell of warm sweetness wafting after you.

So when he learned exactly how you died- he was absolutely floored.

“How did you die, little baker?” He asked one day, fiddling with his knife, tilting it discreetly so that your reflection was in it.

“Oh!” You smiled sheepishly, glancing away from him and placing the bag of flour (how did you even get that? He’d have to ask you next) back into your basket. “Well- you see, I bled out.”

He raised his eyebrow, suddenly very interested. “How? You’re so…” he tilted his head and flipped his knife so that the blade pointed at him and the hilt pointed at you, he poked your arm with said hilt. “Soft.”

“Well…”

You explain that you had a little brother who had a nasty habit of getting into trouble- he was a good person, just made foolish choices- and this time, it had cost you your life. He had pissed off the wrong person and, well, when the man had attempted to grab your brother when the two of you were out walking the stalls on your break- you did the only thing you could think of: you fought.

Of course it went horribly, you’ve never been in a fight before then and, despite all the work you did with dough, it didn’t help much when the man pulled out a knife and dug it straight into your gut. But, you don’t mind too much- your brother’s alive and well and, from what you understand from asking Lord Hades, he had started to be more aware of himself and who he angered. Which made you super happy and proud of him!

Ares can’t help but feel some sort of pity for you. So much life to be taken so quickly and placed in- wait. Why weren’t you in Elysium?

You’re incredibly confused when Ares suddenly disappears (Aphrodite appearing in his place in the blink of an eye- she greets you happily and asks if you have any of Baklava to share today. You do not but you do have some Loukoumades if she wanted some. She did). You’re even more confused when the Underworld shakes and angry yelling fills the entirety of it for a solid ten minutes before all goes back to normal.

You tell Ares about it the next day and he simply hums. Keeping it to himself that he made a whole scene about you not being in Elysium by popping up and butting heads with Hades, of course he got kicked out. That still doesn’t stop him from sending angry letters that can span anywhere from one word letters (usually containing a curse word) to a 30 page essay on why you should be in Elysium instead of milling about in such unkempt places.

The first time you go out of your way to get him a bottle of Ambrosia is the day that both scares the shit out of him and makes him hate you for giving him mushy feelings.

You came to him in, almost literal, tatters: your greenish, transparent form ripped in places, the few wisps of you following after your torn form like they were tied to a string. You had held it up to him in a basket, a plate of Baklava sitting next to it, along with some other treats. “Lady Aphrodite mentioned that she wanted to try my Baklava, so I made her some! Though the Ambrosia is just for you, my Lord!”

He blinked at you, taking the basket in a delicate hold. He turned it this way and that, his chest feeling… warm? He wanted to grimace at the soft warmth that thrummed through his veins, yet it was replaced with a smile as he held up the gold liquid. “Thank you, little Baker.”

It was the first time he felt something so unexplainably soft: so gentle and warm as it settled somewhere between the bottom of his ribcage and the top of his stomach. He listened as you told him how you had gotten it: with Zagreus’ help (you even got to meet Lord Hermes! It was so amazing! He had scoffed at that) he led you to a room with Ambrosia as the prize and, despite the young prince’s worry, you managed to beat the monsters and collect it, mostly, by yourself.

Ares was so flattered, but he couldn’t help the way that your tattered form made him feel a sort of worry. He waved his hands through the wisps of your body before he snapped his fingers and a small blade appeared: a beautifully constructed blade that was an exact replica of his (albeit much, much smaller). He handed it to you, telling you that you should have a proper weapon if you’re going to go out of your way to fight in his name.

Dionysus

Cause of Death: Alcohol Poisoning

Dionysus, unlike many, is incredibly excited to see you sitting there. He adores mortal souls and can’t help but look at them each time Zag chooses his boons and he has the chance to glimpse at their souls (despite his tendency to let them go completely after they die- he can’t help but wonder about them once in a while).

“Why, hello there! What’s a little thing like you doing strolling up to my boon, hm?”

He can’t help but notice the way your eyes are a tad dull, but he writes that off as the dark of Tartarus since it’s gone as fast as he noticed it. You smile up at him, absolutely beaming at the God of drink and madness. “Hello, Lord Dionysus!”

“Oho, you could tell it was me? What gave it away?”

The two of you laugh, diving into a conversation. He offers you a cup of wine and is put off with how long it takes you to decline it. He almost thought you looked absolutely ravenous as you peered into the deep red liquid. He shrugs it off and continues to chatter with you until his favorite Zagman stumbles upon the two of you. He’s quick to say hi to you and even leans down to ask you… something. Dionysus misses it, but still watches the way you stiffly nod before you pass the boon to the prince and scurry off.

He’s tempted to ask about it, but decides that he should probably ask you himself instead of trying to pry. Mortals didn’t take well to people snooping around their private lives, which he could respect.

The next time he sees you though, he relaxes you into a sort of peaceful lull as he chats with you before he drops the question.

You stare blankly at him, that dark look in your eye coming back and making his skin crawl. You suddenly laugh it off waving your hands as you tell him that a god shouldn’t worry about a little ol’ shade like you.

He doesn’t push for an answer but the question still swirls in his mind, even as you toddle off after his Zagman pops up. He decides that he’ll actually ask the Prince this time around.

He asks him point blank and Zag, despite him being hesitant at first, decides to spill how you died. You had been the black sheep of your family, never truly fitting into the carefully set path that they wanted you to follow- so you found solace in drinking from a young age. It had taken the edge off of everything, Zagreus recounted you telling him. It filled you with a warmth you had been missing all your life and you couldn’t help but indulge more and more in it until it slowly became your own personal poison. Dionysus grimaced, for once feeling a sort of queasiness in the pit of his stomach as Zagreus continued on with your story. So, one day, you had drunk yourself into a deep stupor after an awful argument with your parents. But, this time, you never woke up. Instead you woke up floating in the river of blood- the River of Styx.

Dionysus had nodded after the Prince finished the story, playing with the goblet in his hand and swirling the red wine that resides in it. He offers a bitter smile to Zag and bids his farewell (of course leaving a boon of his choice with the lad) popping off back to Olympus.

The next time he runs into you, he asks if you’re feeling alright- if you want to talk. You blink at him, confused at first until realization dawns you. You bite your lip, looking down. He’s quick to assure you that you didn’t have to talk about anything- you two could just have a good time like always. You tell him that you’d like that, not yet ready to face your past. He nods, immediately telling you about an embarrassing story about Ares and how much of a lightweight he was which had you letting out an ugly snort along with your loud cackles.

The god begins to take it upon himself to have you smiling more and maybe remedy those dark clouds that appear in your eyes once in a while. He’s pretty observant despite being piss drunk half the time, it also helps that he’s very intune to your emotions for some odd reason, so he’s quick to pick up on when you feel down or your having something the equivalent to a relapse. He has you drink just a little bit from his goblet since it’s better than quitting cold turkey. And that little bit is always enough to quench your thirst and calm you down. You’ve been needing less and less of it as the days (nights?) pass by.

The first time you get Dionysus Ambrosia is the same day that he almost swears that he’ll marry you. He’s quick to grow emotional with the sheer fact that you went out of your way to get something so special for him, his face almost splitting with how wide of a smile he has on his face.

“You got this for me, man?” He says, holding up the bottle in his hand and inspecting it like it’s a precious jewel. “You know this stuff is hard to come by, super hard.”

You nod, the clouds far from your eyes now. “I had to thank you some way and punching a couple of Shades to get my hands on that was worth it.”

“You punched people for me?”

“Of course.”

He fights the urge to squeal and pops the top off, summoning another cup and pouring some in it. “Here’s to us!” He says as he hands you the cup.

He’s honestly never had so much fun just existing with one person. After that he’s never far from you, one usually not seen without the other around- even despite the Underworld not being Dionysus’ favorite place, he can’t help but be willing to venture down there to see you in person (he’s been trying to convince his wonderful Uncle Hades to let you come up with him to Olympus for a little bit- he’s even got his dad and (other) Uncle in on it. Hades officially hates all of them). His gift to you is a matching goblet that will supply you any beverage of your choice. It also has the double power to protect you from all that wishes to harm you, but you’ll learn that in due time. It’ll be more fun that way, Dionysus muses.

Hermes

Cause of Death: Falling

Usually, Heremes wouldn’t have taken the time of day to chatter mindlessly with a shade. But, it was a different story when that shade summoned him through bumping into his boon- now it’s just interesting!

“Eh? Who’re you? It’s kinda strange for a shade to be here and not my Cos, huh? Did something happen to him? You his stand in or something? That’d be kinda funny because you don’t seem like his stand in- not buff enough or something like that.”

You blink slowly taking in the words of his mile a minute speech as he continues to prattle on. You take a seat in front of the quick mouthed god, getting yourself comfortable as he flutters about and chatters. Not like you minded- he filled in the places where you couldn’t with steady conversation. You nod to some of the quips he makes, just to show you were still listening.

He decides then and there that he likes you a lot and that you should meet Charon. As soon as Zagreus pops up to collect the boon- he grabs the back of your robes and goes zooming off with you in tow. You wave to the panicked prince, allowing yourself to be dragged around. He continues to chatter on and on, only taking a break when he reaches the Boatman (who was not expecting a Shade to be accompanying the God of Messengers). He sets you down, tries to introduce you two to each other- realizes he doesn’t know your name, so you end up telling them your name- and then is quick to say goodbye, after he gives a scroll to Charon, and shoots off.

You end up staying with Charon after learning a bit more about the quiet boatman and Hermes is quite pleased when he realizes that he’d be seeing you around a lot more. He’s quick to flutter about you and chatter for a few quick seconds before zipping off. You wave at him.

The process repeats for a while before he finally takes a moment to really sit with you, Charon having gone to pick up more souls and lead them down the River of Styx. He chatters on aimlessly, asking little questions here and there before he decides to ask the million dollar question: “How did you die?”

You blink slowly as him before murmuring that you fell from a very high place, you head cracking open on the rocks at the bottom and now here you are. He asks why you were messing about on a high place, as that seemed to be something most mortals avoided doing. You explained that there was a kitten stuck in an old root on the ledge and you couldn’t just leave her. So, you crawled onto the branch and put her back onto safe ground, but the root gave way and then you went tumbling to your doom.

Hermes is surprisingly quiet throughout the entire exchange until you reach the end and he says: “you’re a real bleeding heart under all that quiet, huh?” You nod solemnly and he laughs, pulling you into a side hug. How could something with such a fleeting life be so selfless with it? He squeezes you harder before he stands up and bids you farwell, shooting off once again. And, again, you wave as he goes.

He grows attached to you quickly afterwards, bringing you little things that might help make you more comfortable down in the Underworld. Of course Charon is there to keep you company which he’s happy about- and he voices that exact thought to the boatman, who just grumbles out a long: uuuuaagghhh as his reply. He pats his arm and says that he knew he’d get it.

When you manage to get your hands on a bottle of Ambrosia- he’s completely blind sided that he almost trips on his own feet. His face flushing a deep red as he takes the offered bottle.

“How’d- how’d you get this?” His speech is all jumbled and jumpy, though he tries to keep the giddy excitement bubbling in his stomach as bay.

“I saved up my coin,” you said, nodding to Charon who nods back. “And bought it from Charon. I would’ve fought for it, but I’m no warrior.”

A smile splits across his face and the wings on the side of his head flutter. He’s quick to scoop you up and hug you, floating up with you as he does.

Hermes is an absolute giddy mess with your offering, not sure if he should kiss you or simply remain holding you. He had a special place for you before but this just solidifies his adoration for you. His gift to you is a pair of boots with wings on the side of them- an exact replica of his (in your size! Somehow-). He promises that they’ll help you get anywhere you want quickly, also the two of you match! How cute is that?

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

CQL-verse! The characters have the same age gaps between them as their actors and actresses! Wwx and Jyl are the same age, jc is 5 years younger than them. Lxc is 3 years younger than wwx&jyl and lwj is 3 years younger than him. Nmj is two years older than wwx&jyl and nhs is 8 years younger than him and the same age as lwj. (1/2)

Meng Yao is 2 years older than nhs and jzx is 2 years older than MY. I'm leaving the Wen Sibs out of this because otherwise WN would be the same age as wwx and WQ would be 4 years younger than him. But hey! If you want to go with that, go crazy! I was thinking more of Yunmeng Sibs focus, but I will be happy with anything! (2/2)

ao3

Untamed

Nie Mingjue hated the Wen sect to the point of death and war, but he had always had trouble hating sad and gentle Wen Ning.

Wen Ning was technically his peer – there were only two years between them in age – and therefore capable of the same sorts of responsibilities and duties towards righteousness as Nie Mingjue, meaning that he ought to hate him as much as all the rest. But at the same time, Wen Ning was only part of the main branch family indirectly, a ward of Wen Ruohan; he was constantly suppressed and even tormented by Wen Chao, the eldest son of that family. If anything, it seemed almost as if he’d been brought into the family just to act as the family’s scapegoat, the inferior copy that was so hapless that he made that self-indulgent hedonist Wen Chao appear somewhat competent in contrast.

Nie Mingjue couldn’t imagine treating any of his own cousins that way.

He and Wen Chao were often compared, both being about the same age, and their young brothers were of similar age as well, both of them only fourteen; this juxtaposition made sure that every single person in the cultivation world talk of them in the same breath. Nie Mingjue always came out the better in the comparison, and Wen Xu the same for his, which in the minds of most people balanced out, but which caused Wen Chao no end of rage. He knew he couldn’t take out his anger on the talented Wen Xu and so took out on poor Wen Ning instead.

Nie Mingjue hated the Wen sect.

He did not hate Wen Ning.

Wen Ning, who should not be here.

“Please,” Wen Ning said, nearly in tears, as he threw himself down to the floor in front of Nie Mingjue. He’d burst into the room in the inn Nie Mingjue was staying at, the guards that no sect leader could do without no matter what they wanted following close behind in alarm until Nie Mingjue had waved them off with a gesture; he’d been panting so hard that he’d only just now caught his breath. “Please help this useless older brother do one good thing with his life.”

Alarmed, Nie Mingjue reached out and caught Wen Ning by the shoulders, pulling him to stand and even forgetting himself enough to reach forward with a sleeve to dab away the tears staining the other man’s face.

“What is it?” he asked, feeling anxiety curdling in his gut. He’d spoken with Wen Ning before during the discussion conferences, both when he was younger and even, in a few stolen moments, after he became sect leader; he knew Wen Ning had a steady personality, if a weak one from all the bullying he endured, and that he was not given to unnecessary hysterics. If he could tolerate Wen Chao’s endless torment with a faint smile and a don’t worry sect leader Nie once you’re used to it it’s more funny than anything else, then what could make him act like this? “What is that you need help with? I do not understand.”

Wen Ning looked tired. He always had, his health had always been poor, but now it seemed worse than ever; there were circles under his eyes, and Nie Mingjue had no idea how he’d managed to get away from the Nightless City to come find him. The town he was currently in was close to the border the Qinghe Nie shared with Qishan Wen, but it was still an effort, especially for someone like Wen Ning. He might be a member of the Wen family by name, but his freedom was significantly curtailed, and it wasn’t only because he was sickly.

“My little sister is going to be attending the lectures at the Cloud Recesses,” Wen Ning said.

“The - Lan sect lectures?” Nie Mingjue repeated blankly. It was a stupid thing to say; of course it was the Lan sect’s lectures, who else would give lectures at the Cloud Recesses? And yet, at the same time – “The Wen sect hasn’t gone to them in generations.”

“Sect Leader Wen asked A-Qing to look for something,” Wen Ning said. “I don’t know what. He talks to her more than he talks to me, when she’s treating him with acupuncture and other such things – he only wants blood relations treating him now, so she’s passing along what she can do, the doctors all say she’s talented – he told her something, I think, but I don’t know what, he doesn’t talk to me…and she doesn’t talk to me, either.”

“She’s sixteen, they’re like that,” Nie Mingjue said, trying to offer comfort, but he didn’t like the sound of that – Wen Ruohan growing reliant on the medical skills of a teenager, talking with her as if she were an adult…it didn’t speak well to the Chief Cultivator’s state of mind. “So she’s going to go spy on them?”

“She is. And maybe more. There’s – there’s something back in the Nightless City, something Sect Leader Wen is refining in order to increase his power. Whatever it is, it’s powerful and evil.” Wen Ning looked paler than usual, somehow. “It was something that was kept in a cave near our village when we were younger, once. Sect Leader Wen took it away to study, and it made something go crazy, I got hurt, and my parents – anyway, it doesn’t matter. I can’t go near it without losing my senses, so I really don’t know anything about it. But I know that Sect Leader Wen only has a piece – and the Lan sect has another.”

Lan Xichen had never mentioned such a thing, but then again, he wasn’t really old enough that Nie Mingjue would expect him to know everything about his sect – he was after all a full five years younger than Nie Mingjue, three years younger than Wen Ning; he was still only seventeen, having only just graduated from his uncle’s classes the year before. He was only very technically sect leader, in the same way Nie Mingjue had only been technically sect leader after his father’s death, although unlike Lan Xichen Nie Mingjue had fought his way to step up to the task for real early on. He himself was only barely considered an adult at the age of twenty-two; it was no surprise that in the Lan sect, which had Lan Qiren to rely on, Lan Xichen might not know it all.

Or perhaps he knew, and simply didn’t say. Each sect was entitled to its secrets.

“What are you thinking?” Nie Mingjue asked.

“I’m thinking that my sister is constantly afraid for me, even though she’s younger than me,” Wen Ning said solemnly. “I’m thinking that she will break her own principles into pieces to protect me. I’m thinking that she’ll find whatever it is, or find a hint to it, and then Wen Chao will take his forces to burn the Cloud Recesses to the ground in search of it.”

Nie Mingjue could see that.

He didn’t want to, but he could.

“My brother is attending those lectures,” he said blankly. Nie Huaisang was there right now. He could be in danger – no, he would be in danger. Nie Huaisang wasn’t a good cultivator, and at fourteen, he was just a baby. Nie Mingjue had sent Meng Yao with him, nominally as his attendant, but in fact to get the benefit of the classes himself and also bully Nie Huaisang into actually learning something – he’d brought Meng Yao into the Nie sect after Jin Zixuan, full of guilt over how his father had treated a boy only two years his junior, had sent him a letter beseeching him for help following Meng Yao’s public and humiliating rejection from Jinlin Tower – but Meng Yao was only sixteen, of age with Wen Qing; what could he really do?

Moreover, sending Wen Qing and not Wen Xu, even though Wen Xu was the same age as Nie Huaisang and Lan Wangji, indicated that Wen Ruohan didn’t want his more promising son to get involved in whatever it was that he was planning, or maybe in whatever consequences followed. If Wen Chao really were to try something violent, they couldn’t afford to have a weakness already there…

“I need to get A-Qing out of the Wen sect,” Wen Ning said, and Nie Mingjue turned to look at him in shock. “Permanently. I’ve begged her to go, but she won’t leave me, she won’t leave our family of the Dafan Wen, but she has to. Something bad is going to happen soon. I know it. I don’t mind trading my life for hers, but she has to live.”

“Is there any way you can go to the Cloud Recesses as well?” Nie Mingjue asked, his mind already racing. He’d long ago given up on helping Wen Ning because he knew the other man wouldn’t turn traitor against his family, being an upright and filial child, but if his family had reached such a depth of corruption as that, then it was only right to leave them behind. If Wen Ning was finally accepting that, maybe there was something he could do. “You’re sensitive to the – whatever it is. Right? Maybe Wen Qing can suggest bringing you around to help her find her way to it.”

“How would that help?”

“It gets you somewhere safe, while I can rescue Dafan Wen – without a threat to you or to them, your sister would have no reason to insist on staying,” Nie Mingjue said, though it wouldn’t be him, exactly, that did the rescue – he’d need a firm alibi lest Wen Ruohan use it as an excuse to start something with his Nie sect. He might have prepared for war as much as he could, but the Wen sect was still stronger; if war broke out, he needed to make sure that he had the moral high ground.

Luckily, Wei Wuxian, that walking calamity of a head disciple of Yunmeng Jiang, had of late developed the habit of wandering over to visit various other sects, including Qinghe (and Nie Mingjue in specific), at his leisure, and no one ever would think to blame him for such a strange thing as a subsidiary sect of distant Wen sect cousins disappearing.

After all, Wei Wuxian had no reason to know or care about the Dafan Wen, and everyone knew he abjured politics completely, violently and repetitively, so as to make no mistake about anyone who might otherwise see him as competition for the Jiang sect’s true heir, Jiang Cheng. The five-year gap between their ages kept them from being compared – you couldn’t expect a child, and at fifteen Jiang Cheng was still very much a child, to keep up with an adult just turned twenty like Wei Wuxian – but there had always been whispers given everything with Cangse Sanren, and Wei Wuxian had had to work very hard to put a stop to them.

Wei Wuxian’s wandering habit had started back when he’d been trying to find Jiang Yanli a new fiancée to replace the engagement he’d broken by fighting with Jin Zixuan, however shameful it was for him to fight with a boy two years his junior. It was for that that he had come to Qinghe to meet Nie Mingjue, leading to them hitting it off as friends despite Nie Mingjue expressing that he had absolutely no interest in getting married to Jiang Yanli, or indeed to any nice young lady at all; then, in turn, Nie Mingjue had brought him to the Lan sect to meet Lan Xichen. They’d gotten along as well, although the most notable outcome of that visit had been little Lan Wangji developing a crush on his elder brother’s new friend while Wei Wuxian remained blissfully oblivious. His wanderings had continued even after Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan had found their way back to each other, affianced once again through their own choice rather than their parents’.

Said parents had not yet been informed of this new situation, as they were waiting for the right time to mention it. Or perhaps more accurately, the right situation to exploit with it…

Now, Nie Mingjue thought. Now was the time. It would work perfectly.

And not just as a distraction.

“Are you sure…?”

“I am,” Nie Mingjue said. “Whatever it is, Wen Ruohan must be kept from obtaining all of the pieces; he’s already too powerful, and more power will only make him more arrogant. I’ll speak with Lan Qiren. Once I take the Dafan Wen back to the Nie sect, your sister will be able to testify to whatever it is that she was asked to search for, which will give Lan Qiren the evidence he needs to get his sect’s approval for retaliatory measures. Moreover, using Wei Wuxian to help me will force Jiang Fengmian to support me as well; there’s no way he’d ever refuse to back him to the hilt.”

“The Jin sect –”

“Will join us,” Nie Mingjue said, thinking of Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan’s yet-to-be-announced engagement. Once Jin Guangshan realized that he would be pulled into the same boat as the rest of them whether he wanted to or not, any resistance he had would crumble like a structure made of sand being beaten down by the tide. “They won’t have a choice. Is there anything else I should know?”

“There’s a child,” Wen Ning said, biting his lips. “Around the same age as your brother or my sister, or maybe the Jiang sect heir, I don’t know, around that. He helps Sect Leader Wen with whatever he’s doing.”

“A child helps him?”

Nie Mingjue didn’t like the sound of that.

“I don’t know. Some secret his family knows, I think…his surname is Xue.”

Nie Mingjue frowned.

“I don’t know much about him,” Wen Ning added. “Only that he has some history with the Yueyang Chang clan. Bad history.”

“That’s a good start,” Nie Mingjue said. He realized that he hadn’t yet released Wen Ning’s shoulders, and gave them a small squeeze before doing so. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I will do everything I can to help you.”

Wen Ning looked at him with admiration in his eyes, making Nie Mingjue feel a little hot under the collar.

“Thank you, Chifeng-zun,” he murmured, and Nie Mingjue shook his head.

“Call me by name,” he said, and tried to smile. “You’ll be here a lot in the future, if all goes well.”

Nie Mingjue hated the Wen sect, but he didn’t hate gentle and sad Wen Ning.

He didn’t hate him at all.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #wen ning #my fic #my fics #count your age #I know you said Yunmeng focus but this is what came out #sorry #full list of ages on the ao3 page

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ticklefits · 3 years

Text

AO3 LINK! | tickletober 2021 day 1: CHASE.

voltron: legendary defender | klance | words : 2572

“Oh, don’t let me stop you. Keep singing.” With a tone much too amused and muscular figure leaned against the door frame, Keith’s eyes have locked on his boyfriend who’s settled at the countertop, chopping up onions for their lunch. His ears were previously graced with the melodic & upbeat notes of Lance’s singing before he halted as soon as he noticed Keith’s presence, cheeks dusting over in a soft shade of cherry at having been caught.

"You snuck up on me! Y'know, all that Blade of Marmora training has made you seriously light on your feet, you're too quiet when you walk up on people--" Lance complains, obviously trying to shift the attention off of his virtuoso vocals, but Keith isn't falling for the trick. He merely grants the other a shrug, stepping further into the kitchen to peer down at the meal he was preparing before the interruption. It was a newer dish, something that Lance had talked about trying to cook before and though Keith rarely indulged in foreign grounds when it came to what he ate, Lance was a decent cook and he's willing to try anything for him. After a once-over of the food, he twists to match his gaze with Lance with Lance again, a small smirk now presented half-cocked upon his lips.

"Being quiet has its advantages," is his rebuttal, arms crossing along the width of his chest as he gently knocks a shoulder against his love's. "You can keep complaining about it if you do it in song."

A silent curse leaks out with the sensation of heat that strengthens on the surface of Lance's cheeks, half-tempted to run into the next room and half-tempted to actually take Keith up on his offer. Complaining while singing truthfully sounds sort of hilarious and maybe Lance might've considered it had he not been ambushed by the other, but the abashment that's welled up in the center of his stomach has stolen the reigns from his usual confidence and is keeping his vocal chords locked and twisted. At this point, he's temporarily canceled prepping lunch and his new focus lies on a getaway. Sapphire sight slowly inches from where Keith stands to the archway that connects into the living room, calculating the distance to it from his own feet and weighing the risks. Keith, however, is a warrior, and a highly trained one at that, so as soon as he notices Lance's fixed stare towards the living room, his smirk widens and his own stance alters.

"C'mon loverboy, don't make me chase you down. You know I'm faster than you." There it is. A challenge. A challenge to his Leo boyfriend, who's neatly sculpted eyebrows perk and furrow and his lips twitch at the corners.

"You're funny, Keith. The only one way you'd be faster than me, is if you tap into that cat-like Galran side of you and get on all fours. Stronger than me? Sure, maybe -- but not faster." Lance knows he just spit some fighting words, and judging by the slightly surprised, oh no he did not just say what I think he said look, Keith was about to square up. It was silent for a moment that dragged on like an hour, until Keith cements a stare at Lance and for a split second, Lance could swear he saw his pupils slit just like a feline.

"You get five seconds."

"Wha--"

"Run."

Lance did not need to be told twice. As soon as he heard that single word practically growled from his boyfriend, he sprang into a nearly full sprint into the living room. Keith kept his words and after 5 seconds, rocketed off after Lance. By the time he had an open view of the room, Lance was nowhere to be seen. He paused, rummaging through his thoughts to figure out where Lance might have escaped to next. He figures their bedroom would be a good place to start, plenty of the places to try and hide in there; try, being the operative word there. He enters the shared sleeping space and, just to tease Lance thoroughly in case he was hiding in there, starts to tap his nails on the walls and other hard surfaces, knowing damn well the clicks and clacks will echo.

"Oh, Laaance.." the swordsman practically coos, feigning an innocent tonality all the while checking under the bed and in their closet for his prey. "You know I'm not gonna hurt you. I wouldn't ever hurt you. But you do need to be punished for what you said."

Lance can hear him. He can hear him and Keith knows that he can. Their apartment isn't very generous with running room and hiding spaces, so he's taken refuge in their master bathroom. He nearly scoffs at Keith's statements; he knows Keith wouldn't hurt him, not intentionally, but that's not what he's worried about. He knows what those clickity clacks mean. The surface of his skin is already tingling and he's biting back a grin, hands smoothing over the goosebumps popping up along his arms. He could speak lies and say he hates when Keith does this, but they both know the truth: Lance thrives on it. Every tap of his nails drives Lance insane and he can feel his body trying to gravitate towards the sound, but he refuses to give in and admit defeat. Keith challenged him, so it's on.

He's dragging his nails now, goddammit, and he's getting closer. Those silent steps aren't so silent anymore and Keith's doing that on purpose. He wants Lance to hear him coming; it's all part of the chase. Thankfully though, their bathroom contains a door that opens up to the hallway, so if he times it right, he can get past without him hopefully noticing. Slowly, nearly holding his breath, Lance scoots to the second door and ever so gently turns the handle to minimize any sound and opens the door. A quick peek tells him that it's safe, but as soon as he fully exits the bathroom and begins his quiet tread through the hall, Keith appears behind him from their bathroom, running towards him. Lance yelps and his reaction is immediate, making a break for the living room once again. He jumps onto the couch and grabs a pillow, deciding to fend off his hunter with a weapon instead of continuing to run.

"En guard!" Comes his battle cry as Keith reaches him and narrowly misses the swing of a cushion at his head.

"That's a dirty play, McClain!" He manages to say before he gets uppercut with a cushion and it's as if the world goes into absolute silence. Lance hadn't really meant to smack him like that, but the damage has already transpired, so all he can do is gently place the couch cushions back to their proper home, all the while observing with fright behind his eyes as Keith's visage lowers back down to look at him. He says nothing, amethyst sight blank, but he does start to move towards Lance, which has the taller scooting backwards on the couch, palm outstretched as if that were to quell Keith's wrath any.

"Keith -- Keith, babe, baby, look at me -- you know I didn't mean to do that, I swear--!" But Keith still doesn't utter a single syllable, even as he climbs atop and straddles Lance's hips. He then moves to grab some of the mini pillow cushions nearest Lance's head, one in each hand, and Lance's eyes widen, remembering a time when Pidge pulled this on him herself, except she used vinyl, elbow - length gloves. Keith's method is unorthodox, but Lance is sure it's gonna tire him out all the same.

"Keith! No! No, no, no, no--!" But his pleas are no use. Raising the small pillows into the air, it isn't a second later that Keith starts to rapidly smack Lance's upper body with them. It's a furious barrage, one arm raining down a strike right after it's counterpart. If this was an action movie, and pillows were bullets shot out of a gun, this would be absolutely brutal. Fortunately for Lance, these soft, fluffy pillows don't hurt anywhere near a bullet wound. In fact, he's grinning all the while, limbs held askew above his head as a shield.

"Now this is a dirty play, Kogane! Fight me like a real man!" And Lance is about to regret those words, because as soon as Keith hears him, he halts his assault and tosses the pillows to the side, eyes glinting dangerously.

"Oh, I'm just getting started." Now unoccupied hands shift to settle on Lance's sides and instantaneously, Lance knew he was fucked.

"Woahwoahwoah, no! No, now this is really foul--!"

"Sucks to suck."

"FIRST of all, I'm the one who taught you that saAAhahah--!" Keith's heard enough prattling out of Lance, it's time to hear some of that sweet, hilarious laughter now. Fingers scribble over the clothed flesh of his sides and waist and that already gets him into giggling hysterics. Keith will always be pleasantly surprised at just how ticklish Lance is. Nearly every inch of him is sensitive to something and it never fails to gift him with serotonin when he's got Lance beneath him, rosy cheeked, squirming around, and laughing his heart out - much like he is now.

"Nohohohoho! Keh--Keheheheith! Stahahahahap!" His pleas are broken apart by giggles that are only raising in volume the more his sides are attacked and he's only growing further sensitive by the second. Lance knows his religiously vigorous skin care routine is partly to blame for how ticklish he is, but can you blame him for wanting soft, youthful skin? And it isn't like Keith's complaining about it either.

"Nah, I don't think I can. My fingers are under some sort of spell." Such a blatant lie from the older pilot and the grin he dons is unmistakably teasing.

"Yo--you're suhuhuch a lihahahahahar!"

"What? I'm offended. I'm not lying at all. In fact, I'll tell you an easy way to break the spell and get me to the stop."

"Gohohohohohod! Fiiiiihihihine, OKAY, okahahahy!" Lance is really beginning to struggle, squeals forcing themselves free as Keith migrates from waist, to stomach, and then to his ribs, poking & scritching between each one in an agonizing manner. "Aaahahahahaha! Tell---tell mehehehehe alreadyyyy!"

"You really wanna know?"

Lance's strength is sapping quicker than he'd like it to, but he still possesses enough of it to gently smack at Keith's arm, his giggles evolving into full blown laughter once those dastardly fingers begin reaching towards his armpits in retaliation.

"All you gotta do is sing. Like, that one red-headed princess, to break a spell that was on her, or whatever." The fact that Keith really provided a Disney comparison to Lance's current predicament is hilarious all on its own, but Lance wasn't about to give into this torture, and deliver what Keith desired so easily.

"Hohohohow is -- i-is ticklihihihing me suhuhpposed to make me wahahahant to SING?? B-Besides, a kihihihihiss broke Ahahariel's spell, not -- not singihihihihihing!" Poor Lance, with his cracking voice and breathy, hollow words that could scarcely be understood through all of his laughter. Keith understood the gist of it though and contemplated his conditions. He still wanted Lance to sing to him, but a kiss sounded pretty nice too. However, he isn’t quite finished with his boyfriend’s torture; there’s still one last area he very much wants to explore before he allows Lance free. Spidering digits cease their actions, smoothing up and then down the expanse of Lance’s toned torso, granting him a desperately needed, albeit quick rest. Lance doesn’t speak, merely taking this opportunity in stride to gulp down as much air as he can, because a minute part of him knows Keith isn’t done and that something wicked this way comes.

Something wicked indeed. After some very short-lived moments of repose, without skipping a beat, Keith breaks into full force tickling all over the surface of Lance’s soft thighs. The first and last thing to run through Lance’s mind is a sharp curse to himself for deciding that today was a good day to wear shorts. Keith has an all access pass to one of his death spots and he is allowing no mercy. They’re certainly going to get a noise complaint from their neighbors ( not that Keith cares ), because the inhumane screech that burst from the tunnel of Lance’s throat could probably be heard blocks away.

“K---KEEEHEHEHEHEHITH!! NO! NOHOHO, NOT RIGHT THEHEHEHEHRE! PLEHEHEHEASE, AHAAAHAHAHAHNYTHING BUT THERRRRE--!” the couch has been shaved of all of its cushions by flailing, lengthy limbs and even Keith is having trouble keeping atop of Lance, what with all of his wriggling and buckling.

“Geez, Lance, you almost sound like I’m killin’ you.” Keith’s grin is now from ear to ear, more than enjoying himself, the view, and his love’s ridiculously adorable laughter.

“YOU AHAHAHAHARRRRE!! PLEEEEHEHEHEHASE!” But it’s only when Lance deflates into silent laughter, arms going limp against the couch underneath him, that Keith finally concludes his torture. Calloused hands remove themselves from the slender frame and he completely slides off of Lance, disappearing into the kitchen. Unbothered by Keith’s abrupt departure, Lance soaks up every single second of relaxation he can, until he glances up once he hears footsteps, and sees the water bottle Keith’s offering. Smiling a little weakly, Lance sits up, releasing a few lingering giggles as the movement of his still hyper - sensitive upper body brings forth some ghost touches.

“Alright, time to break your spell.” Keith’s statement is oh so cheeky and as he leans forward, waiting for Lance to close the distance, he half expects Lance to do anything but kiss him. A pleasant surprise is given to him when he feels those familiar, supple lips intertwining with his own, and he smiles into it. The kiss lasts for a couple of seconds before Lance pulls away and eyes Keith, brow rising along his temple.

“Guess whose job it is to prepare lunch now?”

A roll of lavender eyes, but he holds out his hand nonetheless. “Yeah, yeah. I tired you out, so I guess it’s mine. I don’t know how to make what you were making though.”

Lance takes the hand that’s offered and ascends from the couch, bending to start picking up the collapsed couch cushions. “Go on into the kitchen, I’ll be right behind you to boss you around.” Keith snorts a quickle chuckle, but does as instructed, making his way back into the kitchen. He nearly stops as something catches his ears, a heavy warmth blooming in his chest. Lance sings more than loud enough for Keith to hear him, even as he’s waiting in the kitchen. He continues singing, once all of the cushions are placed back in their proper place, and as he finally enters the kitchen. He saunters up to Keith, sight locked with sight, a hand on his chest, happiness brimming in the way he sings.

“♪ Maybe this love is mad, you're filling every thought I have. Now I've stayed too long, and there's no turning back. Might as well dance.~ ♪” As if on cue, Keith takes his hand and spins him, earning an even more brilliant smile from Lance, and he lands softly against Keith, arms coiling around his neck to bring him back in for another kiss. Suddenly, lunch doesn’t matter so much anymore.

#tickletober2021 #tickletober 2021 #voltron #vld #klance #tickle fic #tickling #lee!lance #ler!keith #ticklish!lance

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jisungsmochi · 3 years

Text

just one night - njm

summary: getting wasted at a random party wasn’t on your agenda for your saturday night. but when your best friend’s brother tends to you for the night, one thing leads to another...and suddenly he couldn’t leave your mind.

genre / warnings: highschool!au, best friend’s brother (oops), slightly suggestive (there is a section where sex is mentioned but it is not detailed at all lmaooo), fluffy, lil angst, i think that’s it !

word count: 10.2k (uMMM wow i didn’t expect it to be that long but pls enjoy)

mini playlist:

long story short - taylor swift

love somebody like you - joan

take me on - joan

photograph - ed sheeran

your ears were ringing from the intense blasting of the speakers at lee haechan’s monthly ragers. you didn’t know him too well, but your best friend, and platonic soulmate, jisoo, insisted you attend. you assumed it was because she had a growing crush on the party host, despite her constantly opposing the idea.

after taking your first shot of the night, something ignited in you. it had been a while since you let loose and enjoyed yourself. you often placed immense pressure on yourself in your studies, blocking out the outside world when you were in your element. jisoo cheered you on, clinking your shot glasses together as you both consumed the horrid liquid.

as the night rolled by, you had lost jisoo, assuming she was with haechan and the rest of his friends. you started to feel faint, your head whirling, eyes ready to completely shut. you felt yourself land harshly on the nearby couch, the group of teenagers who were seated on said couch, laughed hysterically at your state. you continued to moan and groan, your head pounding along with the beat of the song blasting through the speakers.

you could barely hear anything else, only a soft voice whispering to you,

“stay with me alright? i’ll take care of you”

the voice sounded familiar but you were far too drunk to even bother asking. you felt yourself being picked up, the figure now dragging you out of the house.

“gosh, you two are such a pain” the voice grumbles once again. your eyes started to flutter open, the blurred features of your best friend’s twin brother, jaemin, came into focus. he was visibly annoyed at the sight of you and your better half completely wasted. you noticed that you had been buckled up in the back of his car.

“good, you’re awake, now stay put until we’re home” jaemin sighed, closing the driver’s side door, starting the engine.

you didn’t remember much of the ride home, all you could hear was jisoo ranting about how haechan rejected her moves on him, and jaemin endlessly teasing her.

you were able to stand briefly as you exited the car, but jisoo on the other hand was utterly hammered. you helped jaemin pull her out of the car and to her bedroom. luckily their parents were away for the weekend, meaning they didn’t have to witness their daughter vomit on her bedroom carpet.

“oh my god, how much did you drink?” jaemin was practically pulling at his own hair. although you were tipsy, you were able to comprehend the situation at hand. you immediately ran to her bathroom, pulling out some cleaning supplies.

“you clean this up while i clean her up for the night”

“fine whatever” the boy rolls his eyes, holding his nose as he begins to scrub the carpet. you made your way over to jisoo, sitting close to her, starting to wipe off her makeup. she had practically passed out by now, only the sounds of jaemin furiously scrubbing and jisoo’s soft snores filled the room. you and jaemin had never really talked while you were over at their house. being jisoo’s day one, you found yourself basically living in her room, yet you couldn’t remember a time you properly hung out or even spoke to jaemin. you looked over at him, his face distorting with disgust at his sister’s mess. it made you chuckle slightly as you finished wiping off her makeup.

“what’s so funny?” he grumbled, walking to the bathroom to dispose of the garbage.

“i guess seeing you clean up your sister’s vomit was something i’d never thought i’d see you do” you shrugged, avoiding his glare.

“oh really? if anything, you two owe me big time” jaemin shuffled over to you, towering over both you and jisoo. your breath hitched once you realised how close he was to you.

“w-why do i owe you?” you muttered, looking up at him.

“because i saved you from embarrassment when others were laughing at how wasted you were” you blushed in embarrassment, attempting to hide your face from him.

“o-oh thanks for that then. i uh better get going” you stand up quickly, ready to leave the awkward situation at hand. but jaemin didn’t budge, he remained where he was, causing you to barge into his chest. he found your clumsiness amusing, holding you by your shoulders.

“you don’t seem too good to be walking home, just stay the night. i’m sure jisoo would want you here in the morning” he suggested, as you both gave the sleeping girl a solemn look.

“y-yeah, i guess so” your tired eyes meeting his. you had never been this close to him before. he stared down at you with his deep brown eyes that were enough to make any girl immediately swoon. but this was totally cliche, falling for your best friend’s brother? please.

besides, you’d never go for a guy like na jaemin. he was a loner, although he did have a tight knit group of friends, that you knew of. jisoo was the more outgoing and popular one between the pair, sometimes you couldn’t fathom that they were related.

“here, i’ll help you out” jaemin wrapped his hand around your wrist as he pulled you to the bathroom. he began wiping the makeup off your face, being careful to avoid being too harsh. you were practically holding your breath the entire time. why the hell was he being so nice to you? this had to be somewhat weird, right?

“all done, i’ll let you get changed” he threw the wipe in the bin before leaving the room without another word.

you changed into some of jisoo’s clothes, feeling yourself start to sober up a little. there was a soft knock on the door, in which you answered. you were met with jaemin holding two glasses of water. he gently pushed past you, handing you a glass before placing one on jisoo’s bedside table.

“you tired?” he practically whispered to you, eyes not leaving yours.

“uh not really to be honest” you replied, taking a large gulp of water. jaemin nodded, biting the inside of his cheek before suggesting,

“did you wanna hang out for a bit? i get it if it’s weird, i just thought it’d be nice” he mumbled, eyes breaking contact with yours. you had never seen him so nervous before, it was sort of endearing. you nodded, following him to his room. it had been the second, maybe third time you had been in his room. the first time was when jisoo attacked him on the morning of their birthday with some birthday punches. you observed the various decorations he had up on his walls. some random band posters and some photography portraits were scattered all over.

“did you take these?” you questioned, admiring a particular portrait right above his bed head.

“uh yeah, i dabble in photography” he shamelessly shrugs, sitting down on his bed. you look over at him, too nervous to sit down with him.

“so this is kind of strange huh? i mean, i’ve known jisoo for years but i feel like i barely know you at all” you started rambling, slowly moving to sit at the edge of his bed, keeping a generous distance between you both.

“well it’s not like we’ve made any efforts. you two are inseparable, it’s sometimes insufferable being in the same room as you both” he decided to rant, making you giggle slightly.

“i don’t really know much about you though, as an individual”

“ah well there’s not really much to me, all i do is sleep, eat, study and occasionally drink at parties, it’s just an endless cycle at this point” you sighed, feeling yourself inch closer to jaemin, your legs swinging onto the surface of his bed. your shoulders were briefly touching, but neither of you made the effort to move away.

“here i was, thinking you were actually interesting” jaemin smirked, nudging you softly. you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, gently shoving him back.

“no but really, there’s gotta be more than that. i mean, i’ve seen you at school. everyone likes you, even the mean teachers. i’ve never seen anyone make Ms Kim light up, even if you were talking about some mathematical theory that no one else understood-“ he stopped himself, looking over at you. you couldn’t believe the words that were leaving his mouth. here you were, believing that he didn’t give a rats ass about your existence but you were wrong.

“so you seem to know me pretty well then” you teased, watching as heat slowly rose to his cheeks. he could barely look at you now.

“but i don’t know the real you” he softly muttered, pulling your eyes back to meet his own. you didn’t say anything back to him. instead you admired how gorgeous he looked under the dim lighting of his bedroom. you weren’t sure if the alcohol was making you act upon this or if you were just caught up in his words, but nothing was stopping you from locking lips with the dark haired boy. it took a moment for him to process what was happening, his hand immediately finding the side of your face, gently stroking it as he deepened the kiss. a voice in your head was telling you this was wrong (probably jisoo’s) but you ignored it. the next thing you knew, you were straddling him, your hands moving to his shoulder as you softly gripped onto his white shirt. he was the first one to pull away,

“should we even be doing this?” he muttered against your lips, pecking you one more time.

“probably not” you smugly smiled, pulling him into you once again. nothing more than a heavy make out sessions with some (possible) groping occurred that night. you didn’t say much to jaemin after, watching as he started to fall asleep. you had no idea what just happened,

did he like you?

did you like him?

you decided to sleep on it, hoping that in the morning, it would have all been some chaotic dream. you made your way back to jisoo’s room, sliding into bed next to her. as you rolled to your side, flashbacks of jaemin’s lips on yours and his hands wandering over you filled your mind.

you remember thinking to yourself, this cannot be happening.

the next morning, you were woken up by jisoo’s groaning. she started shuffling, pulling the shared blanket between you both, off of you completely. you decided it was a good time to get up and make your way home. you wrote a note for jisoo to wake up to:

‘hey there, drink this entire glass and take some aspirin okay? i spent the night and will return your clothes soon, rest well! - y/n ‘

you hurriedly grabbed all your belongings that were scattered all over her floor. once you were able to gently close her door without waking her up,

“rise and shine” you jumped at the deep voice behind you.

jaemin has a smug smile on his face, flashbacks of the previous night still lingering in his head. you just froze, your mouth unable to form a proper greeting. he was dressed in the same clothes as last night, a plain white tee and grey sweatpants. his hair was shaggy, random ends were sticking out all over the place. yet you still found him really attractive, wait what?

“i-i’m just gonna head home now, bye bye” you tried to push by him, but he stopped you almost instantly.

“do you wanna go get breakfast?” he suddenly asked, why the hell was he being so nice to you?

“i haven’t brushed my teeth yet, and i’m sure i reek of alcohol or something. maybe some other time” you weren’t sure why you were being so hesitant to spend more time with him. you knew that if jisoo ever found out something was happening between you two, she’d probably freak out and cause a massive scene. you wanted to avoid the theatrics of your best friend as much as possible. even if it meant rejecting one of the most attractive guys at your school.

“so you’re just going to pretend nothing happened?” he let out a soft scoff, in disbelief at your attitude.

“no, i’m not like that. i just- i don’t know what this is. it shouldn’t even be a thing. we shouldn’t even be talking right now” you groan slightly, beginning to walk to the front door. jaemin followed in suit, his figure standing right behind you as you reached the door.

“why are you being like this?” he furrowed his eyebrows, the tiredness in his voice still evident.

“it was my first kiss, jaemin. you were the first guy i’ve ever kissed. and i don’t want it to be weird when jisoo is around. can you understand that?” you explained, guilt rising in your stomach.

“i-i didn’t know it was your first kiss. but if you really care so much about what jisoo thinks of you, then that’s your problem. i’ll just pretend it didn’t happen either” he raised his hands in defeat, reaching over to open the door for you. he leaned closer into you, lips lingering by your ear,

“but i won’t forget about it, no matter how hard i try”

what the hell is this guy playing at?

you broke yourself away from him, rushing out the door, jogging to your house that was just across the road. it’s been a wild 24 hours, all you needed was a nice, hot shower, and to forget that you ever made out with na jaemin.

the following monday morning, jisoo came knocking on your bedroom door, waking you up for school. you shot out of your bed, your body thumping onto the ground. jisoo entered your room, and immediately bursted out in laughter.

“god you’re even clumsy when you’re asleep!” she giggled, pulling you up. you just groaned in response, shuffling over to your bathroom to brush your teeth.

“anyway, you are in big trouble” the energy in the room just dropped. you looked over at her, worried about the words that would leave her mouth.

“jaemin told me everything” she continued, making you want to shit your pants even more.

“w-what did he say?” you spat out the toothpaste that was in your mouth, eyes now focused on your sink.

“he said that he saw you wearing my new pink pajama bottoms!” you sighed in relief, thank god.

“i know that we have a bestie code and take eachother’s clothes a lot! but i just bought those and i hadn’t had a chance to even wear them yet” jisoo pouted, folding her arms before huffing. you shot her an apologetic smile, finally finishing washing up before you made your way over to her. you handed her the neatly folded clothes beside your bed,

“i’m sorry, they were the first thing i saw! i’ll buy you something from the canteen. can i be forgiven?” jisoo pretended to think, before pulling you into a short hug.

“ah of course! now get ready for school, i’m going to raid your pantry” she skipped her way out of your room. you let out another sigh of relief, not realising that your hands were shaking the entire time. why didn’t jaemin just expose you both to jisoo? maybe he was a man of his word.

you walked through the hallways, jisoo right by your side. your eyes were practically scanning for any sign of jaemin. according to jisoo, he hangs out with his ‘loser friends’ behind the science block. she always assumed they were doing something sketchy there, but you had never seen it for yourself.

“i-i gotta talk to Ms Kim about the quiz, i’ll see you during our free period” you lied through your teeth, but luckily jisoo thought nothing of it, you were always meeting with Ms Kim about your grades anyway.

you cautiously made your way to the science block, eyes still on the lookout for na jaemin. you saw one of his close friends, jeno (?) but there was no sign of him. maybe he didn’t even hang out here, you were about to give up and go back to your own friends, when you heard the familiar voice call out to you,

“y/n? what are you doing here?” jaemin made his way towards you, catching the attention of his entire friend group.

“i-i was looking for you” he immediately perked up. you knew he was about to say something cheesy, but he stopped himself.

“why didn’t you tell jisoo about what happened saturday night?” he pursed his lips for a moment, thinking of what to say.

“i didn’t feel like it was any of her business. it’s between us” he smirked at the last part, making you stomach feel uneasy, but sort of in a good way.

“i’m sorry for rushing out that morning. i just felt really awkward about everything. i don’t want you to think you’re like a bad kisser or anything like i actually quite enjoyed it” you stopped yourself from rambling any further once you saw how amused he looked. god he was gorgeous.

“you can keep going, i like hearing you talk about me” oh this was bad.

“s-so what? do you like me or is this all fun and games to you?” you tried to get to the bottom of this whole mess.

“i do have some interest in you, yes. i wouldn’t be opposed to seeing you more often and kissing you again” he shrugged, still showing off the same smug expression.

“same here” you blurred out. you brought your hands to cover your face, you couldn’t believe you just admitted that to him.

“then i guess i’ll see you around then. jisoo doesn’t have to know” jaemin slowly backed away from you, eyes still wandering over your figure. was he really checking you out right now? infront of his friends? you wondered how many other people saw you two.

to say that you didn’t think about jaemin for the rest of the day was a complete and utter lie. as soon as you got home, you couldn’t get him out of your head.

you were finishing up the last bit of maths homework for the night, when you heard something tapping against your window. you assumed it was some bird that was pecking at the window sill like many others had before, but as you stepped closer, jaemin’s shaggy black hair came into view. you quickly opened your window, dragging the taller boy into your room, careful that your parents wouldn’t hear.

“are you insane or just dumb?” you scold the boy who was dressed in a baggy black hoodie and those same grey sweatpants from saturday.

“both? i couldn’t stop thinking about you” his lip cocked into a smirk as he stepped closer to you, hands now rested at your waist. you were caught up in how good he looked, especially at this time of day. you didn’t realise how strange it was that he literally just climbed through your window with no prior warning. you pulled away from him slightly, still reserved about whatever was going on between you both.

“look, i just wanted to hang out with you, i swear! i would invite you to mine but your bff would just hog you the entire time” jaemin let out a soft grunt, slipping off his shoes and making himself at home on your bed. you moved to the empty spot next to him, letting him pull you in by your waist as he smoothly linked his fingers with yours.

“this just seems like it’s going really fast. can we just slow down for a bit? i mean, we don’t really know eachother that well yet” you explain, resting your head back on your headboard. jaemin looked over at you, admiring how the loose strands of your messy hair were sticking in all sort of places. and how your glasses were slowly slipping down your nose but you were too lazy to push them all the way back up. you were wearing your classic plaid pajama set, which jaemin found absolutely adorable. he reached over to your face, pushing some hair strands aside before gently pushing your glasses back up.

“well what do you wanna know then?” he whispered, aware that your parents probably wouldn’t want to walk in on their daughter with a boy in her bed.

“have you always, like thought of being friends with me?” you thought it was a dumb question to say out loud but jaemin seemed to be hesitant to answer, only making you more curious.

“i- honestly, yeah i have. i actually remember the first time i met you. i was with jisoo and we saw you sitting on the swings on the playground at school. we were kids back then, all we wanted to do was make friends. i was the first one to suggest we go over together, but then jisoo beat me to it” he stopped momentarily, looking over at you once again to see if you were still listening. you gently squeezed his hand that rested so perfectly in yours, as he continued,

“as any other ten year old boy would do, i just shrugged it off and found my own little group. i know this doesn’t really answer your question as it was a long time ago. but since you and jisoo clicked, and you started hanging out more, i couldn’t help but think, what would happen if i went up to you first?” you nodded along at his words, finding his way of storytelling so compelling.

“even if you approached me first, we both know that jisoo would have tried to snatch me in an instant” you both let out soft chuckles, both agreeing that jisoo was quite a character. “but after all these years, you’ve barely acknowledged me. i actually thought you hated me at one point” jaemin’s mouth opened as if he was about to speak before closing it slowly. he thought hard about what he could say to impress you,

“i never hated you. i just never got a chance to speak to you personally. jisoo was always there, and if we start dating or liking eachother, it’s probably going to get worse” jaemin admitted. there was a certain degree in which you understood what he was saying. but if you both ended up having true feelings for eachother, who was jisoo to stop you?

“y-you think we might end up dating?” you couldn’t hide how giddy you felt, leaning in closer to him, your noses gently brushing against eachother. jaemin smiled widely, his heart beating erratically. sure, he’s kissed other girls and even dated some, but none of them could compete with how flustered you were making him right now.

“i-i mean yeah, i don’t see myself with anyone else at the moment” jaemin whispered against your lips, slowly closing the gap. you moved your hand to rest on his shoulder as he glided his own hands to cup the side of your face. everything was so natural with him. you didn’t have to be nervous, or second guess yourself around jaemin. he made you feel safe, comfortable, like you meant something to him. things started getting heated when jaemin started rubbing small circles on your thighs, his lips still attached to yours. you weren’t sure how far he was going to go tonight, but your mind was clouded with how good it felt to kiss him again. jaemin’s lips started trailing down your jaw, to your neck, before you interrupted,

“h-hey, taking it slow, remember?” he immediately stopped, eyes filled with list as he looked up at you.

“anything for you, baby” he mumbled, placing one last kiss to your cheek. you both ended up chatting the rest of the night, telling stories from your childhood to the horrors of puberty. despite the fact that you both had school the next morning, you didn’t want jaemin to leave, and neither did he.

“i have a proposition for you” jisoo exclaims, pulling you along as you walk through the local shopping mall, in need of some retail therapy from midterms approaching.

“what is it now?” you playfully roll your eyes as sip on your bubble tea.

“i’m going to set you up on a date!” she practically squeezed you so hard you almost choked on the boba.

“w-who? what? when? where? why?” you couldn’t believe her sometimes.

“it’s with renjun, you know, the guy in our bio class. anyways, he’s recently single, you’re just single. and i think he’d be a good match for you!” she explains further, as you both take a seat on a nearby bench in the middle of the mall.

“what makes you think he’ll even be interested in me? did you threaten him or something?” you give her a subtle glare, still recovering from your choking experience.

“well i saw him looking at you a few times during class, so he must think you’re pretty at least” her logic never failed to entertain you.

“i’m not interested in dating anyone at the moment, please don’t tell me you already set it up” she looked over at you with a soft smile, moving strands of her hair behind her ear.

“god you already did” you groan in frustration. jisoo saw how annoyed you were. you know she had good intentions but you were capable of getting a date...if you really wanted one.

“i’m sorry, i just thought it’d be cute, you know since he’s friends with haechan and you know i have a crush on him. so i thought we could all hang out together!” she started babbling, but somehow you understood it all. you were going to do this for her, and her only.

“okay fine, ONE date, and it’s a group one” you firm with your best friend as she nods in compliance.

here goes nothing.

the evening of the double date, you were getting ready in your room. what were you even supposed to wear? your thoughts were interrupted by repetitive taps on your window. you glance over, seeing jaemin’s fluffy hair peek through the glass. you giggle lightly at the sight, rushing to open your window to let the poor boy in.

“hey, you won’t believe what just happened, jisoo is freaking out beca- woah, you look, uh really nice” jaemin stops himself, taking a moment to admire your look for the night. you felt your cheeks heat up immediately, turning away from him to hide them as best you could.

“t-thanks, why was jisoo freaking out?” you tried to draw back to his sudden outburst.

“oh yeah, she was asking me what boys liked, and if i thought haechan would like her back. ahh it was hilarious, she’s a nutcase” jaemin chuckled lightly, flopping himself on your bed, eyeing you closely.

“she’s just nervous! we’re going on a double date” you didn’t get to continue, as jaemin practically leaped from your bed, over to stand infront of you again.

“a double date? who are you paired with?” jaemin furrows his eyebrows, a wave of worry just washing over him within the past ten seconds.

“don’t worry, it’s just with renjun, a guy in our bio class. i’m only going to calm down jisoo, i’m sure renjun is a nice guy but-“ you hesitate, taking in a short breath before continuing. jaemin has his eyes fixed on you, listening to ever word that strung from your mouth.

“but what?” he whispered, his face inching closer to yours.

“but he’s not you” you finally felt a weight lift off your shoulders. your words only made jaemin confirm for himself that he was so completely into you. without another word, he pulled you in for a warm embrace, placing small kisses on the crown of your head.

“that’s all i needed to hear, have fun tonight. let me know if an SOS situation occurs, jisoo can get full on with her crushes” jaemin pulls away from you, fixing bits of your hair that be accidentally messed up.

“you say that as if she isn’t my best friend” you roll your eyes, allowing him to pat down strands of your hair as gently as he could.

“well sometimes i forget. you’re just that amazing, jisoo needs someone like you. i need someone like you” jaemin finishes what he was doing, his hands now moving to cup your face, softly squishing your cheeks together.

“let me know when you get home, i’ll come over and we can uh, lock lips” he started making loud kissing sounds, only making you push him away from you in embarrassment.

jaemin seemed fine with the idea of you going on the double date. you would assume so, considering you indirectly confessed to liking him. you just had to get through tonight, and then you and jaemin could continue whatever, odd friends with benefits but not really, relationship you have.

“so y/n, how did you do on the last bio exam?” renjun tried to make small conversation with you, trying to avoid the constant chattering of your friends. you appreciated how considerate he was being, considering you barely knew him or haechan.

“i think i did okay! how about you?” you continued, taking a quick sip of your strawberry milkshake. you were all sitting in a random diner that haechan recommended. you’d think after one game of bowling, a walk through the local park, and dinner at this diner, that they’d all be tired. but no, you forgot how energetic your friend was, and renjun was slowly starting to realise the same thing.

“the last few questions were challenging, i’d be lucky to get one of them right” you both chuckled softly, your eyes diverting to jisoo and haechan who were too caught up in their own world.

“did you want a ride home? i’m 99% sure haechan is going to offer to walk jisoo home” renjun offered, reaching for his car keys. you hesitated for a moment, nudging jisoo softly as she just waved you off. you rolled your eyes, opting to interrupt her conversation.

“renjun’s taking me home, let me know once you’re home okay? and haechan, make sure she’s safe” you sternly point at the cheery boy, who just nodded. you walked with renjun to his car, hopping into the passenger side. the ride was fairly quiet, he didn’t try to force any awkward conversation into you, thank god. all you could think about was going home and seeing jaemin again.

as he reached your house, you quickly gathered your things, ready to bid him farewell.

“thanks for agreeing to go on this double date. i had fun, i hope you did to. maybe we can do this again sometime, but maybe just us...” renjun stooped you from leaving the car. you widened your eyes at his words, was the really asking you out right now?

sure you thought he was a nice guy, but the ‘date’ didn’t seem much like a date to you at all.

“i-uh i had fun tonight, but i’m....actually seeing someone, i’m sorry” you quickly blurred out, even more shocked at your own words. renjun’s mouth was slightly agape, not expecting that answer at all. he pulled himself together, shaking off the entire situation.

“it’s okay, i understand. have a nice night” he gave you a small smile, but you knew it was filled with shame. you didn’t know what else to do but signal him a small wave as you exited his car and walked to your front door. you felt guilty for lying to renjun, but it wasn’t a complete lie. you started replaying the whole scene through your head. as you entered your room, you were met with jaemin looking all cozied you in your bed. he had an oversized hoodie on, with some plain grey sweatpants.

“ah you’re home, i queued up some videos to watch!” jaemin made his way over to you, pulling you in a for a tight hug. and just like that, all thoughts of renjun just washed away. jaemin was your person, one day you’ll be able to tell the whole world. but right now, you were happy with keeping it your little secret.

“what’s this i hear about you telling renjun you’re seeing someone? who the hell is it? because surely they have to be able to top this perfect dude i found for you” jisoo starts ranting on your way to first period the following day. your mind was still foggy, memories of the night you spent with jaemin, floating through your head.

“i-i just wasn’t interested in him. or anyone for that matter, it was a little white lie” you shrugged, trying to drop the situation completely. but she wasn’t buying it at all.

“there has to be someone, the last thing you are, is a liar” jisoo furrowed her brows at you, giving you a playful stank glare. you broke eye contact with her, rushing ahead to get to your class so she couldn’t pester you anymore about this situation. unfortunately, you felt your barge against someone with a very hard chest, they didn’t even flinch. you looked up to apologise, the playful glare of jaemin meeting your eyes. you quickly stepped back, pulling yourself together from that embarrassing scenario. jisoo ran up to you, softly giggling, before you saw her face fall at the sight of her brother.

“ugh it’s you” she scoffs, making sure you were okay.

“oh don’t act so happy to see me” jaemin sarcastically responded, eyes only fixed on you as if he has tunnel vision.

“leave poor y/n alone, it’s bad enough she has to see you when she comes over, don’t make it hard on her here” jisoo teased, pulling you away from him slowly. but jaemin quickly caught onto your arm, leaning down to your ear,

“i’m very sorry, y/n”

he had a hint of mischief in his voice, that you hoped jisoo wouldn’t catch onto. all you could do was not a mumble that it was okay, before jisoo completely pulled you away from him. seeing him at school everyday, while keeping everything a secret, was going to be a lot harder than you thought.

why did he have to be so alluring? so enticing? all you wanted to do was sit with him and talk for hours on end. maybe share a few pecks here and there, but as days went by, jaemin would engage in lengthy conversations with you. he would tell you about how spoilt and bratty jisoo could get, and how their parents would push jaemin aside, and support jisoo in all her studies and other extracurriculars, but they couldn’t even attend one of his photography exhibitions at school. he confided in you deeply, telling you things that no other soul would know. you didn’t know why he just lets it all out to you, but who were you to oppose? you loved listening to him talk as he played with your hair. you loved his lame jokes and stories about detention. you loved when he talked about his photography, how passionate he was whenever he talked about capturing the most beautiful moments through his lens. everything about na jaemin was close to perfect. you just wished you could call him yours, officially.

jaemin: meet me out front in 20 mins, i wanna show you something

your face contorted into a mix of confusion and excitement. you pulled on your most puffy winter jacket and some black boots, before slowly creeping out your front door to meet jaemin across the road. he was leaning against his car, dressed in a white hoodie with a leather jacket over it and some plain black jeans. you embraced him in a warm hug, as he chuckled into your neck and how adorable you looked in your puffy jacket. he placed a soft kiss to your cheek before opening the door for you, you kindly accepted, hopping right in. you noticed he had a suspiciously packed duffel bag in the back of his car, what the hell was he planning?

“so you’re gonna tell me why we’re going out at 11:30 at night? if you wanted to make out, we could have just done it in my room, my parents aren’t home, we don’t have to be qu-“ you were interrupted with his lips on yours, like many times before. his cold hands reached to hold your face, causing you to jump at the sudden touch. he stops kissing you momentarily, shooting you a smirk before continuing. as much as you were enjoying it, you were still curious as to where he was taking you.

“jaem, seriously, where are we going?”

you pulled away, lips slightly swollen. jaemin wiped his thumb gently over your lips, looking at you with such adoration in his eyes.

“we’re going somewhere i like to go when i need to clear my head, or just be alone. i wanna share it with you” your heart swelled at his words. how was he this perfect?

as he started the car, his hands immediately found its way to hold yours. your fingers instantly linking.

your eyes switched between focusing on jaemin, to your window. you weren’t really used to going out so late at night, never having a reason to. being with jaemin, made you feel like you were finally able to escape from everything else, even if it was temporary. there was a stillness in him that no one else was able to give you. he made you feel like you were doing okay, that you were going at a steady pace in life. jaemin was comforting to you, you wanted nothing to disturb this peace.

jaemin parked the car, tugging on your hand that you had arrived. you observed your surrounding immediately, where the hell were you? all you could see were trees and shrubs, as well as a gravel trail leading up a fairly large hill.

“you’re not gonna like murder me or something, right?” you cautiously asked, pulling your jacket to wrap around you tighter. jaemin chuckled at your words, pulling his fully packed duffel bag over his shoulder as he made his way over to you.

“don’t worry, baby. you just gotta trust me” he placed his free arm around you, leading you both up the hill. as you reached the very top, jaemin set down his bag. he pulled out a small picnic blanket, along with his camera equipment. you took a moment to grasp the view. it was a mini aerial view of your small neighbourhood. although it wasn’t a view of the entire city or pretty bright lights, you understood why he liked to come here.

“so this is my spot. i usually sit, take some photos and uh write in my journal” he sits down on the blanket, signalling for you to join him. you plop down right next to him, leaving no space between you. he pulled you closer, if that was even possible, his arms linking around your waist.

“it’s really pretty up here, thank you for sharing it with me” you leaned your head against his shoulder. as you were admiring the view, jaemin was admiring a view of his own. your hair was slightly messy, the soft breeze blowing your baby hairs in all sorts of places. your glistening eyes observing the view that jaemin sought for comfort. but he found his new comfort place. and it was with you. wherever he was, if he had you beside him, he knew everything would be okay.

“why aren’t you saying anything?” you gently nudge him,

“i just like the quiet” he pauses for a moment before suddenly reaching for his camera. he removed his arm from your waist, which made you feel slightly empty inside. but he made up for it when he started fiddling with his camera, pulling it up to face you.

“oh come on, stop it” you hid your face with your hands, pulling away from him. jaemin moved his camera down, revealing the most adorable pout you had ever seen. you couldn’t resist his charms.

“ugh fine” you slowly pulled your hands away, allowing your lips to form a small smile as jaemin snapped the picture.

“you look gorgeous, as always” he mumbled to himself, not thinking you would hear him, but you did. the rest of the night was spent taking as many photos as jaemin wanted.

he was attempting to take a selfie with his camera, claiming the quality was much better than your measly phones. he held the camera up slightly, fitting both your faces in the frame.

“okay, three, two, on-“ you leant closer to him, placing a quick peck on his cheek as the camera flashed. his eyes shot over to you, a mischievous smirk washing over his face.

“you think you’re slick?” he mumbled, capturing you in another kiss, carefully discarding his camera to the side as he slowly moved his lips against yours. you felt yourself lean back under his grip, your back now laying on the blanket completely. jaemin leant over you, pulling away for a short moment,

“i-i think i love you” your eyes widen at his confession. love?

you hadn’t put too much thought on how you really felt towards jaemin. you knew you had formed a crush on him since day one, but love? you weren’t even sure you knew what love was. jaemin noticed how nervous you were getting, immediately becoming concerned.

“i-i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have put that on you, i’m such an idiot”

“no, it’s okay, jaemin. i just don’t know what it’s like to love someone, like how you say you love me” you admitted, his face still inches from yours, you hands now rubbing over his arms. jaemin nodded, completely understanding how you felt.

“but loving you, isn’t something i see as impossible. i’m falling for you everyday, i’ll say it back when i know i’m ready” you assured him, watching as his eyes glided over you. he couldn’t believe how unbelievably incredible you were. how you were able to accept his confession. jaemin was confident that you would return his feelings. he couldn’t wait for the day you would confess your love for him.

“you’re amazing” you blushed at his words, pulling him down to lay next to you as you wrapped your arms around him.

“thankyou for tonight, this can be our thing” jaemin couldn’t argue against that. this was now officially your spot. that would never change.

at the na family home, jisoo was furiously searching for her usb drive that contained the video for her audition for the school’s upcoming musical. she pulled at her hair, letting out multiple huffs and grunts. her thoughts led her to her brother’s room. luckily he was currently out with his friends, doing who knows what, otherwise she would have been dead. she sorted through his desk, assuming he may have taken it by mistake when she left it on the dining table the previous night. there were stacks of random papers scattered on the boy’s desk, she was slightly appalled at how unorganised he was. after a solid minute of shuffling, the bright yellow usb stick came to view. before she picked it up, a sudden notification appeared on jaemin’s laptop, he must have forgotten to properly shut it off. jisoo ignored it at first, until she noticed the all too familiar contact name.

y/n?

why on earth were you texting jaemin?

jisoo felt sneaky, already snooping through her brother’s desk, only leading her to his precious laptop. if jaemin caught her right now, he’d be furious. but jisoo couldn’t get over her growing curiosity, moving her fingers on the trackpad to open your messages.

y/n: hey, could you send the photos from a few nights ago?

jisoo furrowed her brows for a moment, what photos were you talking about? she swiped over to his desktop, a folder titled ‘special moments’ already opened. it was mainly filled with jaemin’s photography assignments and other things he found intriguing, but the last thing she expected to find, were multiple photos of her best friend and her brother on a date. she scrolled further, eyes landing on the photo of you kissing jaemin’s cheek.

‘are you fucking kidding me?’ she whispered to herself. it all started making sense to her. jaemin constantly sneaking out of the house on numerous nights, you avoiding her nightly facetime calls. how awkward you two would act at school, how you rejected renjun, claiming you were seeing someone else. jaemin was that someone else.

“what the hell are you doing on my laptop? or in my room, for that matter” jaemin exclaimed, storming to his desk. jisoo glared at him, bringing her right hand to slap him harshly on the shoulder.

“how could you?” she gritted through her teeth, pointing to the laptop screen. jaemin held his arm in pain, looking over to what his sister was so mad about.

“we- i didn’t want you to find out like this, i swear” his voice softened,

“you mean you didn’t want me to find out at all, did you?” jisoo couldn’t hide the fact she felt betrayed by the two people she trusted most in the world.

“i thought we were closer than that, jaemin. you used to tell me everything. and out of every person in the world, you choose my best friend?” jisoo still couldn’t fathom the thought of you together. in her mind, you were her friend first before you were jaemin’s girlfriend.

“not everything revolves around you, you know? i’ve been going through shit and you haven’t noticed in years! y/n is the only person who listens to me and makes me feel like i actually matter” jaemin practically shouts back at his sister, causing her to tear up. “and if you hadn’t noticed, we’ve been together for a while, i even told her i loved her” jaemin’s delivery for the last line ended in a sudden whimper. jisoo couldn’t believe what she was hearing, was she really that naive?

“you love her? did she say it back?” was all she managed to say.

“she hasn’t said it back to me yet. she’s scared, i know she is. she’s scared of what you’ll think” jaemin shuffled over to sit on his bed, feeling himself cool down from the confrontation. jisoo softly sniffled, remaining completely still.

“i can’t do this, don’t hurt her, jaem. she’s never been inlove and i don’t want you ruining her first love experience, she deserves so much better” jisoo scoffs, grabbing her usb in a hurry before slamming the door behind her. jaemin couldn’t believe his own sister would presume such cruel things about him. but he knew it was only a matter of time before it was your turn to get the heat.

*incoming call from nana <3*

“oh hey! did you get my text?” you started the call, gently folding your clothes from the wash. jaemin coughed slightly, unsure of how to bring up the conversation. you halted your actions before asking,

“are you okay? do you want to come over?” you quickly became concerned.

“she knows, y/n. jisoo knows. she was snooping on my laptop and found the photos. i’m so sorry” your heart sank at his words. you felt like your whole world was turning upside down. of course you knew that she would find out one way or another. but at such a critical stage in yours and jaemin’s relationship, the timing was just not aligning. you knew that jisoo lived for the drama and theatrics of things, expecting her to blow up the entire situation.

“was she pissed?” you nervously gulped, not ready to face the fury of your best friend.

“yeah, she said some things to me, i-i’m fine though. i just wanted to give you a heads up. i didn’t mean for this to happen” jaemin groaned, pulling at his hair as he thought of ways to soothe the situation.

“i’ll try and talk to her, i guess the truth is finally coming out” you sighed, immediately worry washing over you. this wasn’t good.

you hadn’t heard from jisoo in almost a week. to say you were worried was an understatement.

nana <3: uh she wants us all to meet, preferably at our house. she doesn’t seem too mad?

y/n: fingers crossed, i’ll be there in 5

you wiped your palms over your leggings, feeling your hands shake in anticipation. the walk over to the na’s house seemed like a lifetime. you were greeted by jaemin, who avoided pulling you in for a warm embrace like he usually does when you see eachother. he led you to the living room, where jisoo stood, her arms crossed over her chest, an unreadable expression on her face. you cautiously took a seat on the opposite side of where jaemin sat on the couch. jisoo’s glares flickered between the both of you, unsure of how to begin.

“i have gathered you both here to discuss this little...relationship, between you both” she started,

“is it even a relationship?” you looked over at jaemin who was already looking over at you. you had never put any labels on whatever you and jaemin had.

“w-we’re not dating” you mutter, eyes avoiding those of your best friend.

“then what? friends with benefits? have you guys screwed eachother?” she continued to hound down on the details. jaemin noticed how uncomfortable you looked, he needed to just be honest.

“no we haven’t screwed. we made out on the night of haechan’s party, the one where you were knocked out drunk. we brought you home and we found ourselves hanging out together for the night and we kissed. it started from there and we’ve just been seeing eachother regularly ever since” jaemin summarised, hoping it would bring ease to her mind. jisoo was stunned, so it had been months since it all started.

“but you told me you loved her. do you love him back, y/n?” jisoo’s voice suddenly softened, allowing you to finally look at her.

“i-i do” jaemin’s eyes shot towards you instantly, a soft smirk growing on his face. jisoo’s mouths slowly widened, this was the first time you had admitted you loved somebody in the entire time she had been friends with you. jisoo moves over to sit between you both on the couch, leaning back slowly.

“why couldn’t you guys just be honest with me?” she sounded hurt at the thought of you both not trusting her. you held her hand in yours, noticing how she seemed choked up about everything.

“we just didn’t know how to tell you. especially since we hadn’t made things official yet” you explained, signalling jaemin to jump in.

“we wanted you to know when we both knew that we loved eachother and it wasn’t going to change” jaemin assures his sister, practically pleading for her blessing and forgiveness.

“i-i’m sorry for blowing up at both of you. and i’m sorry for ignoring you, y/n. it’s just so weird, the idea of you kissing my brother” jisoo started fake gagging, causing jaemin to give her a stank glare. you laughed softly at her antics, pulling her in closer to you.

“we didn’t want to hurt you, or make you feel like we didn’t trust you. we just needed time together” you continued to explain, jaemin nodding along.

“y-you guys actually don’t seem too bad together. as long as you’re both happy, i guess i’ll be happy for you too. just, no making out infront of me, please?” after hearing those words, you and jaemin tackled jisoo in a fit of tickles and hugs. her giggles and pleas to stop echoed through the house. everything felt like it had been restored in the world. everything was aligning for you and jaemin to finally be together.

that night, you left their house with the biggest smile on your face. jisoo was already knocked out on the couch after you three decided to rewatch all the high school musical movies. jaemin slowly crept you out of the house, grabbing your hand in his. he offered to walk you home, despite it only being barely a minute away.

“tonight was really nice, thankyou” you whispered to him softly, pulling yourself closer to him as you both stood on your front porch.

“s-so you meant what you said? you love me?” jaemin’s eyes met yours as he nibbles on his lip anxiously. you held both his hands in yours,

“of course i do. i love you, jaemin” you finally said it out loud to him. jaemin immediately picked you up in his arms, swinging you around gently before placing endless kisses all over your face.

“does this finally mean you can be my girlfriend now?” he stopped kissing you, his lips only inches from your face. you felt his breath fan over your cheeks, letting out a soft giggle. you enthusiastically nodded, pulling his lips onto yours. jaemin was taken by surprise, but he surely wasn’t going to complain.

“can i spend the night?” jaemin muttered against your lips, your eyes slowly opening to see his pouty expression.

“finally, you can come through the door for once” you both started laughing, rushing you to your bedroom where jaemin helped you remove your jacket. he pulled you gently over to your bed, slowly kissing your lips as gently as he could. you found your arms wrapping around the back of his neck, playing with his hair. jaemin let out a short grunt,

“don’t do that” he mumbled, moving to kiss your cheeks.

“why not?” you whispered, continuing your actions,

“because you shouldn’t start something you can’t finish” he admitted, pulling away from you. you held your breath before you spoke. you hadn’t gone further than some heated make outs sessions with jaemin, you always stopped him when you felt uncomfortable. but right now, it felt right.

“i-i want to go further” you finally admitted, watching as jaemin widens his eyes. he did not expect that from you at all.

“i do too, but uh contrary to popular belief, i’ve never done...it before” jaemin confesses, pushing someone strands of hair from his own face, feeling his cheeks heat up.

you had always assumed he wasn’t a virgin due to a lot of baseless gossip from kids at school.

“really? that’s...great” he looked at you with the most confused expression you’d ever seen.

“i-i mean it’s great because i’m a virgin too” you started to giggle in order to diffuse the tension between you both. jaemin let out a sigh of relief, you truly were the most person person in the world for him.

“so you’re okay with this?” he wanted to affirm once again, earning another enthusiastic nod from you, “yes”

let’s say, the rest of the night took your relationship to the next level.

“come on, you two! we’re going to be late!” jisoo hurriedly scurried around the house, looking for her new boots. you all were heading to another one of haechan’s parties. his reasoning was for the ‘mid semester break’ which really was just a long weekend but no one bothered to question him. jaemin opted to be the designated driver, like he always was.

“so are you going to make a move on haechan or what? it’s been months” you slightly teased her as you all entered the car.

“n-no, i can’t flirt to save my life. after the double date, he and i barely talked” jisoo huffed, fixing up her makeup.

“i’ll just have to have a chat to him then” jaemin chimed in, cheekily grinning at the thought. you knew he was going to be up to something, but jisoo decided to ignore her brother’s words, too caught up in her own mind.

as the three of you entered the house, haechan shuffled to greet you all. jaemin met him first, giving him somewhat of a bro hug, followed by you who loosely wrapped your arm around him. once he got to jisoo, he paused, causing her to look up directly at him. he softly chuckled before pulling her into his chest, making you and jaemin snicker in delight. you agreed not to drink much tonight, not wanting a repeat of the last time you got drunk. but jisoo on the other hand, was a complete mess as per usual.

“i’m gonna get some water, want one?” you offered to jaemin as he slowly allowed you to pull away from his warm grip.

“sure, love” you blushed at the nickname he gave you, rushing to retrieve the drinks. as you were in the kitchen, you heard a familiar voice next to you,

“y/n? hey how are you?” renjun’s voice chimed through your ears. you greeted him with a bright smile, slowly fading as you remembered the last time you properly spoke to eachother.

“i’m doing well, and you?” you continued the conversation, sipping on your own cup.

“yeah i’ve been good. you here with anyone?” he asked cautiously, but before you could answer, jaemin cut in,

“she’s with me” you felt his arm wrap around your waist, leaning over to grab his cup. you weren’t sure of what else to say, only able to look at renjun who seemed dumbfounded and a little embarrassed.

“oh, i see. you’re with jaemin, i should have known. have a nice night” renjun scurried off to meet his own friends, wanting to avoid you at all costs.

“you didn’t have to say it in that tone, you know?” you turned to face your boyfriend who had a playful grin on his face.

“i know, it just came out that way, i promise” he brushed his fingertips over your cheeks, making your face slightly heat up.

“jaemin!! y/n!! there you are!!” jisoo ran up to you, grabbing you into some sort of side hug. you helped hold her up as jaemin analysed how drunk she was.

“are you alright?” you questioned, trying to find a seat for her to rest. jaemin followed in suit, watching over the both you closely.

“yes! i’m great! haechan kissed me, well i kissed him and he kissed me back!” she started giggling. you both weren’t sure if she was being delirious or not. until haechan came to meet you all, asking if she was okay.

“she’s had a crush on you like forever you know?” jaemin teases, causing jisoo to slap his chest. haechan started blushing, slowly nodding,

“i-i’m aware. she’s pretty cute” he smirked, watching as jisoo hid her face in your shoulder.

“we should actually get her home to rest, and stop her from embarrassing herself further infront of you. but call her in the morning, yeah?” jaemin shook hands with the other boy, hooking one of jisoo’s arms over his shoulders and you copied with her other arm. haechan led you to the front door, bidding you all a goodbye. jisoo was mumbling endless compliments towards haechan, too drunk to even care what she was saying.

“like i wanna kiss him so bad and run my hands through his fluffy hair” she giggled as jaemin started the car. you both found the entire situation entertaining, recording bits of her rambling for future blackmail. as you reached their house, you helped jaemin lead her to her bed, much like the first time. once jisoo was tucked safely in bed, finally fast asleep, you changed into more comfortable clothes before hopping into jaemin’s bed.

“i’m getting some massive déjà vu right now” he teased, jumping right next to you as he pulled you to his side. you softly played with his hands as you placed small kisses over his knuckles.

“i’m glad you were there to look after us that night. otherwise we’d never be where we are now” you muttered, feeling frostiness slowly taking over.

“i’m just glad you’re here right now. i’m too used to climbing through your window. maybe you should come through mine sometime” he joked,

“i think we should start getting used to front doors don’t you reckon?” you retorted, causing him to pull you on top of him.

“don’t be such a smart ass” he mumbled before placing a chaste kiss to your lips. the rest of your night consisted of endless rambling and chatter on the most random topics, before you both fell asleep.

being jaemin’s girlfriend was always a secret fantasy when you were kids. but now you were wrapped in his arms, all you could think about was how happy jaemin made you. you were grateful to find someone who understood you, someone who cared for you, someone who gave you comfort. being inlove with na jaemin made you feel on top of the world. And if you’re lucky, if you’re the luckiest person on this entire planet, the person you love decides to love you back.

a/n: not the one tree hill quote as my finishing sentence oops

#na jaemin fic #nct dream fic #nct dream imagines #jaemin imagines #jaemin x reader #nct imagines #nct fic #nct x reader #na jaemin imagine #nct jaemin imagine #nct scenario #nct writing #nct fan fiction #jisungsmochi masterlist #jisungsmochiimagines

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maki-s-wife · 3 years

Note

Okay, hi, I love your writing and I’ve seen your post AND IM THIRSTY FOR MAKI X F!/GN!READER AND IDK, SIMPLY WRITE ANYTHING YOU WANT? I DIE FOR PINING??? SLOW BURN??? Gjwjfjdengjsj A little angsty??? They have feeling for each other but reader thinks she’s in love with Nobara sort of things?? Or something based on THE song SURRENDER?idk rlly, anyway you wa— OR BASED ON ANOTHER SONG: MERCURY BY SLEEPING AT LAST.

Okay I’m done. Thank you for coming to my tedtalk

Pairing: maki zenin x female!reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 2.4K

I loved this request and I love maki so this fit hand in hand😇 Sorry this took over a month to write it is very very long compared to anything else I’ve done but I still hope you enjoy❤️

It hadn’t been the first time. The first time you sat staring a Maki train with Nobara. Her moves were so swift, much has changed from you and her’s first year.

Panda and Toge sat across from you looking at your moody state, they’ve tried to nudge you to ask out Maki for months now. “y/n they’re just training there’s nothing more going on”, Panda said as you squinted took get a better look at the girls battling. You huffed, “Panda-“. “Bonito flakes”. Toge said with an annoyed look on his face. The two had been experiencing this constant back and forth pining with the both of you for almost a year now. Either they were trying to convince Maki to ask you out or You to ask out Maki.

In your first year Maki was always embarrassed around you. You were much stronger than her and if she was in trouble you were always the one to swoop into save her. She already had motivation to grow in strength but now she had more motivation. She didn’t like the embarrassment of being saved. It wasn’t your fault of course but she didn’t want you to view her as weak.

In your eyes weak was the opposite of what Maki was. To still want to be a sorcerer with her low cursed energy took courage. She was powerful, of someone couldn’t see that you’d threatened to beat that fact into their head.

Panda was about to speak again when there was a huge thump. Looking to where Maki and Kugisaki was training your jaw dropped at the image of Maki pining the first year to the ground. Her enamoring voice spoke her win of the match. Toge looked at you and giggled slightly. “What’s so funny” you said, your face glowing redder than a rose. “Salmon roe” he said. “I-I do not wish that was me you weirdo” you grumbled, the bright blush very apparent on your face. Standing up to chase him around Maki looked over at you. She had trained in front of you on purpose. She wanted you to see her, see how much she’s grown, see her abilities now. It was her way of trying to impress you. She didn’t think she could impress you with much else. Instead she saw you pulling at toges ears yelling into them about some nonsense she couldn’t hear. Maki sighed in defeat, the amount of attempts she had to get your attention always failed.

Panda looked between the two of you seeing Maki now carrying Nobara bridal style to shoko after seeing her leg was injured. You were still chasing Toge around when you looked up to see Maki carrying Kugisaki. You paused in your tracks. “Why was she carrying her, she never Carried me like that...” you mumbled words like these until you reached your room. Throwing yourself in your bed you looked to your side. On your nightstand there was a picture with you, Gojo, Yuuta, Panda, Toge, and Maki. Next to it was a Polaroid. A Polaroid of Maki and you on the day you almost confessed to her. You were hugging in the picture, your faces smushed next to each other, smiling and laughing from the event of the fun festival Gojo took everyone to.

Maki left Nobara with shoko and went to get ready to shower. Going through her dresser to grab products and such she picked up a Polaroid from the same day of the picture you had. In hers you were still close to each other laughing just a in a different area. That day she was so close to confessing to you.

The thing is neither of you remember why you didn’t go through with your plans. Nervousness, fear of rejection, was there another person? None of you could recall. It just didn’t happen and sent Panda and Toge into a grumpy state with Yuuta trying calm the two down.

You’d taken a nap while Maki showered. Groggily trudging through the hallways to find her. It wasn’t as though you’d ignore if she was dating Kugisaki. Simply you’d be jealous...for a very long time. But it would pass at some point...right?

You were snapped from your thoughts when you saw maki walking towards her door. Before you could even wave your hand and say her name she was pulled into her dorm by a hand you could only tell was Nobara’s. You paused for a moment and slowly pulled your hand down. Turning back to walk to your room you bumped into Megumi. “Sorry y/n” he said. You apologized as well but Megumi grabbed your arm. “I was actually supposed to get you, panda asked for you”. You sighed hoping it wasn’t training he was asking for.

When you arrived you saw panda,toge,itadori and now Megumi sitting in seats. “You humans and you complicated feelings” panda grumbled with his arms crossed. Toge following suit imitating him.

In Maki’s room Nobara sat her on her bed. “What’s wrong Nobara” Maki asked eager to go find you after what ever Nobara had to say. Nobara put her foot down. “You know that you have to do it soon, it’s obvious that she likes you back” “with all the spying you make me do it’s very clear”. Maki looked away. She wanted to believe it but it came off as weird that someone would find her attractive. Yes she was confident in herself but the only thing she couldn’t see was someone wanting a relationship with her. Especially you. Nobara huffed “Gojo wants to take us to a festival this year, I heard that happened last year to”. “Yes he did” Maki replied looking back at Nobara. “And you told me you had an elaborate plan last year to get y/n correct?”. Nobara had been Maki’s wing girl as soon as she realized Maki’s crush on you.

Maki hunched over, nodded and sighed. It would be a perfect time to try again but could she really pull it off? She wants to. She truly does. But the fear and embarrassment of rejection still lingers over her as it does you. “Fine I’ll do it but-“. “No buts y/n is head over heels for you and will say yes. She’ll be all-“ queue Nobara making lovey doves faces imitating you in a hysterical way.

Now here you were being pressured into re trying your plan to ask out Maki by the boys. Toge spewing nonsense with a grumpy face, Megumi sitting back not paying attention, itadori being enthusiastic about everything Toge and panda were saying.

“I don’t know...she might say no or worse hate me” you admitted. The fear of Maki hating you was a nightmare.

Finally Megumi stood up. “Y/n your just dragging it out. Do you want to date Maki or not?”. “of course I do” you mumbled. “Then THATS all it will take, Maki likes you and you can beat us all over the head if she somehow says no”. “Now gojo is taking everyone to some festival, that’s when you should do it”. He said before beginning to walk off. Everyone looked at him stunned. No one would have thought Megumi would contribute let alone put yourself in a confident mood ready to execute something you’ve been meaning to do for months.

It’s been a week since you and Maki decided to prepare to ask out the other. The week was fairly normal, Maki and you hung out and trained. Not a day went by without the two of you thinking about today, the day of the festival.

Everyone walked there considering panda couldn’t fit in the only car available (let’s pretend a panda walking and talking In public is normal here)

There were games, food, rides. Everyone was pretty scattered out. Gojo around the snack stands, The boys with you around the games minus Megumi who had decided to go eat in peace somewhere else, and Maki with Nobara by the gift shops”. You looked for Maki around everywhere as it was getting dark, you wanted to spend some normal time around her before the confession. Once you spotted her across the large area you waved and got her attention. Itadori and panda wishing you luck while Toge did the same but still stared holes into your head as you jogged over to Maki making sure you didn’t turn back.

Maki looked over to Nobara who had paid for her things. “Go, when the time is right you’ll know”. Nobara said putting her thumbs up with a large smile. Maki gave her a final hug before turning around to see you already there.

You rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly, starting to get nervous. A hug didn’t mean dating but people who do date usually hug-.

Trying to push down your nerves you greeted Maki and went off the play games and go on rides.

You almost completely forgot all your worries as you won prizes from games, got dizzy from rides, and ate various sweets with Maki. The entire time Maki was becoming more flushed in the face. Everything you did set her to look at you in awe. Often catching herself staring at you before you could see yourself.

The night was coming out and the both of you were reminded of your tasks.

Maki was about to speak when you did first. “Can we...go over there”. You pointed behind her. Maki looked back to see the vast area with many blossomed trees and grass. She nodded...but what could you want to go over there for?

You sat and patted next to you. She sat down next to you and you mumbled somethings he couldn’t hear. “Hm?”

“Can I ask you something maki?” You said more clearer. “Alright, about what” now Maki was concerned. Did you catch her staring at you? Did she freak you out? Did you know about her feelings and came her to let her down easy?

You waited a moment. “What is I-“ “are you and Kugisaki dating?”. You asked bringing your knees up to your face slowly squeezing them tighter. Maki looked at you shocked. “huh, What made you think that?” She said completely baffled. you perked up “wait so your not?” You asked your jaw now slack open. “No?? Seriously when did we ever seem that way”. You let out a huge sigh falling backwards onto the cold grass. Maki didn’t know what to say. How does she ask you out from here? All she could do was go for it.

“Y/n I think-“ “well the true reason I asked you here for was...” you took a deep breath it was now or wait months more to try again. “I have feelings for you, like romantic feelings”. You turned away from her as you said it. The silence was so loud until you heard small laughs coming from Maki.

Now she was laughing at you, great. “Um just ignore tha-“ you began as you started to get up ready to run off for a while out of humiliation. But before you could you felt Maki’s slender fingers softly grab your chin, pulling your face closer to hers in for a kiss. It last fir no longer than 5 seconds but when you pulled away for face could be compared to the reddest tomato known to man.

“I can’t believe you beat me to it...or really said it at all” Maki said laying her hands on yours. “You- wait...WHAT”. You blinked fast, was this a dream? A joke? Did you really just get to kiss the girl you’ve had feelings for almost since you met her.

“I planned to tell you the same news y/n, but I guess we both had the same plans”. Maki looked at you her blush very noticeable making you heat up more.

After a couple more minutes of explanation you were both in each other’s grasp laughing and continuing to talk about how this was supposed to happen long before today.

Spying on you from afar was the rest of the group who watched the whole thing go down even Megumi. Toge did dances with yuuji, panda clapping his hands (paws?), and Megumi with a slight smile on his face.

They were happy that the two of you were finally happy together now.

#jujustu kaisen #jujustu kaisen x reader #maki zenin x reader #maki zenin #maki x reader

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sleepdeprivedsloth · 3 years

Text

Wrong Answer

[MHA - Bakugou, Kirishima]

summary: Kirishima is struggling with math and asks Bakugou to help him study for an upcoming test. Unique tutoring methods are introduced, leading to some interesting discoveries between the two friends. (platonic KiriBaku tickle fic)

potential warnings: swearing, tickling

words: 1.7 k

a/n: here’s another mha fic because i’m obsessed :D if you couldn’t already tell i freaking love bakugou lmfao i promise my next fic will be for a different fandom but anyways please enjoy!

“How did I allow myself to be associated with an absolute idiot?” Bakugou asked aloud, fondly shaking his head.

Kirishima gave out an awkward laugh, embarrassedly rubbing his hand against the nape of his neck. “Sorry man, I seriously thought math was supposed to be about numbers. I genuinely don’t understand where all these letters are coming from.”

The two boys were seated on top of Kirishima’s bed, facing towards one another, with their notes and homework assignments scattered across the blankets. It had been the redhead’s idea to work on their homework together, knowing that he would be needing Bakugou’s help.

“This is just a review on the Pythagorean Theorem, Shitty Hair. You should’ve learned it three weeks ago instead of waiting until two days before the test!” Bakugou exasperatedly exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air to further emphasize his half-hearted frustration.

The blonde watched as Kirishima’s sheepish expression quickly turned into a look of distress, cringing slightly as he asked, “Wait… we’re having a test on the Python Theory?”

Bakugou facepalmed, dragging his hand slowly down the length of his face. “Oh fucking well. I’ve done all I could. At this point, you’re a lost cause.”

“C’mon Bakubro, I don’t need you to make me feel any more dumb than I already am! A little crash course is all I need, just please tutor me!” Kirishima pleaded, looking desperately into his friend’s eyes.

“You know what…” Bakugou started, an almost-evil smirk growing across his face. “I do have this one study method that I’ve been meaning to try out on someone.”

Kirishima beamed, oblivious to the suspiciously eager look on Bakugou’s face. “Oh that’s perfect, bro! You get to test out your new method and I can study for our math test, a manly win-win situation! So how does the method work?”

Repressing most of his excitement as to not reveal his true intentions, Bakugou explained, “It’s pretty simple really. I just have to ask you questions and then you gotta answer them. Here’s the twist though: instead of being praised or rewarded when you get the answers right, you get a little punishment if you answer them wrong.”

“Wait wait wait, hold on a second,” Kirishima butt in. “What do you mean ‘punishment?’ Are we talking like giving me a thumbs down, o-or like torture, or-”

“I wouldn’t hurt you, Shitty Hair, no matter how much of an idiot you are,” Bakugou quickly reassured.

Kirishima let out a sigh of relief. “Whew, thank god! You had me a little worried for a second there, man.”

“Don’t stress out over this, it’s just studying,” Bakugou said with a grin that implied that the pair were going to do more than just study. “All you have to do is answer correctly. Ready, dumbass?”

Kirishima gave the blonde two thumbs up, smiling warmly. “Ready as I’ll ever be! Hit me with it!”

“Good,” Bakugou smirked. “First question: what’s the formula of the Pythagorean Theorem? You’ve got five seconds, Shitty Hair.”

“Five seconds?! Dude that’s not enough- WOAH!” Kirishima had started to object when suddenly Bakugou lunged at him, knocking the redhead down onto his back. Before he could fully process what was happening, Kirishima was being straddled just below the waist and his hands were pinned underneath Bakugou’s knees. The brief struggle made a complete mess of their papers and pencils, some even falling down to the floor. “Uhh.. Bakubro? I mean this in the friendliest way possible, but what the actual hell, man??"

Bakugou rested his hands on Kirishima’s sides, causing his friend to stiffen slightly. “What’s the formula of the Pythagorean Theorem? If your dumbass answers incorrectly, or doesn’t answer at all within the next five goddamn seconds, you’re gonna get punished,” he repeated, giving a small squeeze to emphasize his intentions.

Kirishima’s eyes widened in realization, a shaky smile coming across his face as he attempted to backtrack. “O-oh, I was actually just thinking that we should definitely try another method? Maybe we could- AAHahaha nohohoho!!”

“Wrong answer, Kiri,” Bakugou replied bluntly, starting to lightly wiggle his fingers along Kirishima’s sides, just enough to keep him squirming and giggling. “Why try another method when this one is working so well? Answer.”

Kirishima couldn’t help but tug on his hands, writhe from side to side, squeeze his eyes shut tight, anything that could possibly alleviate the soft, tickly sensations. Unfortunately, his attempts were only in vain. “Ihihihihi dohohon’t knohohohow! Thihihihis is wh-hihi-y Ihihihi need tuhuhutoring!”

“Alright dumbass, I’ll help you out a little. Just repeat after me…” Bakugou offered, showing a small bit of mercy towards his clueless friend. It wasn’t exactly a fair fight if Kirishima had no idea how to answer the questions; that’s why Bakugou was helping him in the first place after all. Without pausing his fluttering fingers, the blonde recited, “A squared plus B squared equals C squared.”

“Ihihi cahahan’t- EEHEHEHAHA” Bakugou dug his fingers into Kirishima’s sides in warning. “OKAHAHAhay okahay! A-hahahaha squahared pluhuhus B-hehe squahahared ehequals C-hihihi squahahared!”

“Nice job, Shitty Hair,” Bakugou momentarily ceased his tickling, giving Kirishima a chance to catch his breath. “Second question: can the Pythagorean Theorem be used on all types of triangles?”

Lucky for Kirishima, he had actually paid attention to that part of the lesson in class. With small, residue giggles getting mixed in with his words, he proudly answered, “Nohope, only rihight triahangles!”

“Correct. About time you started getting some of these shitty answers right,” Bakugou mocked playfully before a predatory glint filled his eyes. “Third question: where’s your worst spot?”

Kirishima’s head shot up and he immediately locked eyes with his friend, shaking his head pleadingly. “No noho no, I cahan’t!” Anxious titters slipped out of his mouth as he tried to bargain. “I-I’ll tell yohou my second wohorst spot, it’s rihight below my behehelly button!”

Bakugou wasted no time in slipping both hands underneath Kirishima’s shirt and moving them to his lower stomach. Forming miniature claws, he started vibrating his fingers deep into the sensitive flesh. Uncontrollable laughter spilled out between Kirishima’s pointed teeth, but Bakugou wasn’t satisfied yet. “I don’t want your second worst spot. Fucking answer the damn question, or I won’t ever stop~”

His head fell back to look up at the ceiling instead of Bakugou’s piercing gaze. Kirishima put as much strength as he could into trying to buck the hands off of his torso, but the redhead quickly came to the realization that there was no way out. If he didn’t answer, there was no doubt that Bakugou would keep tickling him until he died of laughter. Blushing at the thought, Kirishima surrendered, “RIHIHIHIHIHIHIBS! IHIHIHIT’S MY RIHIHIHIBS!!”

“Perfect.” Bakugou instantly slithered his hands further up until they reached the dreaded spot. He gently massaged his thumbs into Kirishima’s ribs, not hard enough to hurt, but with just the right amount of pressure that got his friend squirming hopelessly from left to right. “Damn, these guys are pretty sensitive, aren’t they?” Bakugou teased fondly.

“YEHEHEHEHES! IHIHIHIHIT TIHIHIHICKLEHES!!” Kirishima confessed, screams of laughters flowing out of him before he could even think about resisting them. But then again, he didn’t really want to resist. Kirishima had to admit that it did feel good to let loose from the stress of school and just laugh freely. Those thoughts were immediately pushed to the back of his mind the instant Bakugou’s fingers scribbled against his second lowest ribs, a particularly weak spot on his ribcage. “NO NO NOHOHOHOHAHAHAHA! BAHAHAKUG-AAHAHA! NAHAHAHAT THEHEHEHERE!”

Bakugou’s eyes practically gleamed with excitement as he honed in on the newfound spot. “Ohoho, what is this wonderful little spot I’ve found, Shitty Hair?”

Kirishima was hysterically howling and shrieking, losing his mind to the sensations and barely able to form complete sentences. “PLEHEHEHEHEASE NOHOHO! IHIHI CAHAHAHAHAN’T!!”

The blonde slowed his fingers down, but drummed them against the second lowest rib to keep Kirishima wiggling and giggling. “Alright Kiri, final question: who’s the best tutor in all of UA? I’ll even give you a small hint: your dumbass better say that it’s me.”

Having more control over his mouth, Kirishima bravely teased, “Wohohow, suhuhuper suhubtle, Bahakubroho.” This earned his ribs a few ticklish pinches, causing the redhead to jolt and squeal before returning to his steady stream of chuckles.

“That loudass mouth of your’s is gonna get you into some serious trouble,” Bakugou lightly taunted. “Now spit out your fucking answer already!”

Through his giggle high, Kirishima quickly responded, “Yohohohou! Ihihihit’s youhuhuhu! Yohohou’re the behehest tuhutor to ehehever exihihihist!!”

Bakugou climbed off of Kirishima and helped him sit up before crawling back to his end of the bed. “Hell yeah I am, and don’t you ever forget it!”

Kirishima rubbed his hands along his ribs to get rid of the funny, tingling feeling that was left behind from the attack. “Geheez dude, I seriously dihidn’t take you ahahas the type to initiate a tihihickle fihight like that.”

Rolling his eyes as he started to pick back up their school work that was previously disregarded on the blankets, Bakugou retorted, “Oh please, this was just payback for what you and the other idiots did to me on my birthday. Karma’s a bitch like that.”

“Oh c’mon, man, there’s no need to lie. You and I both know that you loved it!”

Bakugou’s head quickly whipped around to look at Kirishima incredulously, eyes widened slightly. “No I didn’t, you ass! It was absolute torture and you’re honoestly lucky that I don’t hate you dumbasses for doing it.”

Keeping eye contact with his friend, Kirishima effortlessly came back with, “Dude, if you seriously thought it was torture, there is no doubt that you would have found a way to make us stop. Or, at the very least, you would’ve asked us to stop.”

Realization flashed across Bakugou’s face for a brief moment, accompanied by a light blush that Kirishima easily noticed. But in the blink of an eye, Bakugou’s defenses were put back up, as if they had never gone down in the first place. “Oh yeah? Then how come you didn’t ask me to stop the whole time I was tickling you just now? Explain that, Shitty Hair.”

A challenging smile spread across Kirishima’s lips. “I never said that I didn’t like it.”

a/n: ngl i had some troubles starting this fic, but let me tell you that when i finally got into it, everything just started coming together and now i love it! thanks for reading everyone <3

#bnha #bnha tickle #mha #mha tickle #bakugou #katsuki bakugou #kirishima #eijiro kirishima #ler!bakugou #lee!kirishima #ticklish!kirishima #kiribaku #platonic #tickling #tickle fic

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sage-nebula · 3 years

Text

The past three years were eventful for Misaki Shiki, and not just because she ran her own fashion brand. They were eventful, but they were not easy. Of course they weren’t.

Working on Gatto Nero helped. Shiki and Eri started working on it as soon as Shiki returned from the UG, meaning that they were working on it before Coco murdered Neku and he was trapped in the UG once again. Building a fashion brand is incredibly difficult, especially since Shiki and Eri were still in high school for half of the past three years, and that means that a lot of Shiki’s time, energy, and attention was taken up by her business. This doesn’t mean that she didn’t care about Neku, of course; quite the opposite. She was frantic when she found out what happened to him, that her foreboding feeling had turned out to be right after all, and she was only able to choke down her hysterics when Rhyme reminded both her and Beat that Neku’s death wouldn’t be permanent. Neku would get to play the Game again, whatever Kitaniji had said before, and he would win and come back. That was certain. There was no way he wouldn’t win; all they had to do was wait for and believe in him, and Shiki could do that.

The thing is, the rest of the RG didn’t know that. Neku’s relationship with his parents was . . . complicated, to say the least, but they were still informed of his murder and still had to plan the funeral. Shiki, Beat, and Rhyme all attended; Neku was their best friend, after all, and they’d been around his house enough times for his parents to at least recognize Shiki and Beat in passing, and it would have been strange to everyone (Eri, their own parents) had they refused to attend. How were they supposed to explain that they didn’t want to attend his funeral because they knew he wasn’t really dead? That although it had already been two weeks, they were sure he was coming back? There was no way to explain it, so they didn’t even try. They just attended his funeral, and reminded themselves over and over again that it wasn’t real, that it wouldn’t stick, that Neku would come back.

(At one point during the service, Shiki caught a flash of light out of the corner of her eye that she could have sworn was Joshua. But when she turned to look properly, he was gone.)

In the weeks following his death, Shiki waited by Hachiko whenever she could—which wasn’t often, given how much work she and Eri had to do with Gatto Nero, although Eri wordlessly took up the bulk of the work, figuring that Shiki needed time to grieve. Which was . . . not exactly wrong, but not exactly right, either. Shiki wasn’t grieving, because Neku wasn’t really dead. Not dead forever, at least. He would be back, she knew he would. He just needed more time.

Weeks turned to months. Months turned to a year. A year turned into a year and three months.

It was around this time that Eri started cheerfully suggesting double-dates for the two of them. At first, Shiki politely declined without thinking too much of it; Eri was an extrovert whose life motto was “the more the merrier” and so it wasn’t surprising at all that she’d want company for her dates with Mina. But the third time Shiki declined Eri’s offer to go out on a double-date, Eri frowned and said, “Shiki . . . come on.”

“What?”

“It’s almost been a year and a half. Don’t you think it’s time?”

“Time . . . for what?”

“To . . . you know.” Eri waved her hand in a circular motion in the air. “Move on. Or try to, at least. With someone new.”

Oh.

“I’m fine,” Shiki said, and though she thought her voice was happy enough, it sounded brittle in her ears. Strange, too, like the words were gibberish instead of actual words. I’m fine, I’m fine. “I’m happy enough.”

“You shouldn’t have to settle for ‘happy enough.’ You should be happy! Really, truly happy.” Eri took Shiki’s hands in her own. “Just come out with us. Get to know Takeshi. We’re going for karaoke—it’ll be fun! You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready to, but . . .” Eri smiled ruefully. “You can’t date a ghost, either. I think it’s time to let him go.”

It wasn’t, and it never would be, because Neku wasn’t a ghost, not really. He was just in the UG, which was a separate plane of existence, and he wouldn’t be there forever. Shiki knew that, but knew just as well she couldn’t explain it to Eri without Eri recommending she check herself into a psychiatric hospital. So with a rueful smile of her own, Shiki nodded and accepted Eri’s invitation. She would go on the double-date—just one. Just enough to satisfy Eri.

But one double-date wasn’t enough to satisfy her. Eri accepted that Takeshi and Shiki didn’t vibe, but if there was one thing that could be said about her, it was that Eri was never one to rest when she felt one of her friends needed help. To Shiki, it felt like Eri was pulling potential suitors out of the woodwork; every time she turned around Eri had another blind date to send Shiki on, sometimes as doubles and sometimes just on her own. Shiki went along with them, to placate Eri—but eventually, Eri caught onto that, too.

“Why don’t you just try? You don’t have to try for me, but for yourself?”

“I’m—!” Shiki took a deep, calming breath. “I am trying, Eri. It’s just not working.”

“You’re not trying, I can tell. Your heart isn’t in it. Just attending the dates isn’t enough; you have to unlock your heart if you ever want to let someone in.”

Shiki pursed her lips, to stop herself from saying that maybe she didn’t want to let someone in—that maybe she was fine staying single, fine with waiting for Neku to get back. But this time, it wasn’t just the fact that she couldn’t share this information with Eri that held her back, but the knowledge that it would make her a hypocrite. Wasn’t she the one who had told Neku to give her a chance, to let her in? To open up and let her know what he was thinking? And that had been for far higher stakes than a simple date.

Shiki sighed, and nodded in acceptance. “Okay. I’ll try a little harder.”

Eri beamed. “That’s my girl.”

That night, Shiki texted the last person she’d been out with, a guy named Keisuke, and asked him if he’d like to go out again later in the week. To her mild surprise, he replied quickly and enthusiastically that he would. The date set, Shiki lingered for only a moment more before she gathered her things and went to sit by Hachiko for a while, watching the crowds pass by without really seeing any of the people at all.

She promised Eri that she would try, so she did. She listened when Keisuke told stories about himself and his friends and, to his credit, some of them were kind of funny. He was nice. He was polite to just about everyone they encountered and had real interest in Gatto Nero, even though the only way Shiki and Eri had made any sales so far was through their online store (which was less a store and more a page they made on a site that let indie creators sell all sorts of things). It wasn’t bad spending time with him. Shiki didn’t mind it. And Eri was really happy when she learned there was a third date on the horizon, so that was a bonus, too.

Two dates turned to three, three dates turned to four, and before Shiki knew it she was graduating high school and in a steady relationship with Keisuke.

It had been a little over two years since Neku had been killed, and so much had changed but it still didn’t feel real. Of course, it couldn’t, because it wasn’t. His death wasn’t real, or at least wasn’t permanent. But it had been two years, and she and Eri were now able to do once-a-month popup stores near Tower Records to sell Gatto Nero merchandise in addition to their online store, and she and Keisuke had been dating for six months. Truth be told, her relationship with Keisuke felt the least real out of any of it. They went on dates regularly, and he texted and called her regularly, but she still felt a little flash of surprise when people referred to him as her boyfriend and didn’t notice very much when time lapsed between when they were able to see each other, though he always seemed to. It wasn’t that she didn’t like him. She did, even though Beat and Rhyme didn’t (though only Beat would say as much out loud; Rhyme only smiled and said, “If you’re happy, I’m happy,” and Shiki could never bring herself to respond if she was happy or not). But it was just that being with him was . . . he wasn’t . . .

He was fine. Being with him was fine. It was fine. She was fine. But sometimes . . .

Sometimes, it was the little things.

He was nice. Keisuke was nice. But he had a habit of making little comments. They weren’t mean—he was never mean. But a few months into their relationship he started making little comments that, while Shiki never thought much of them in the moment . . .

“You keep your hair so short. I bet it would be pretty if it was longer.”

“Why do you always wear such baggy clothes? Form-fitting clothes look better, don’t you think?”

“You should wear makeup, you’d like nice with it.”

“You always carry the same bag. You must like that one, huh?”

“Wow, you sure do eat a lot!”

“Your glasses are so big, it’s like they take up half your face.”

“You’re like the only girl I know who never does anything with her nails.”

Nothing Keisuke said was mean. Shiki never felt as though he was being mean, even when the moment had passed and she reflected on what he said later. But his comments . . . his little comments . . . they weren’t one-offs, not really. And it must have been important to him, for him to mention things like her hair or her nails or her clothes more than once. She supposed, if she was going to date him (and she had been dating him for months already), that she should take what he said into consideration, if for nothing else so that he wouldn’t feel the need to comment as much anymore. So she started growing her hair out, and smiled when he noticed and pointed it out and beamed at her for it. She switched up her wardrobe to clothes that were less comfy, but that hugged her body more. She had Eri give her lessons on how to correctly apply makeup. She ordered prescription contacts and made sure to take a different bag with her at least once a week, if not a little more often than that. And she started paying more attention to her diet, too, because it was important to eat healthy, after all.

All of these changes were good ones—positive ones. Keisuke certainly seemed to like them, and while Eri was surprised when Shiki asked for things like makeup lessons or to borrow clothes from her closet, she didn’t mind, either. The only ones who seemed to were Beat and Rhyme; Beat openly derided the idea that Shiki was making changes for Keisuke (“It’s not for him, Beat, I’m just . . . making changes”), while Rhyme gave her strange looks when she thought Shiki wouldn’t notice. Shiki tried not to let it bother her. She was too busy to dwell, what with a deal being in the works for a Gatto Nero store in 104, dates with Keisuke, and time spent at Hachiko whenever she stole a moment away.

Of all the things he found bizarre about her, Shiki’s time at Hachiko seemed to be what stuck in Keisuke’s craw the most. Whenever she told him she was there (usually sketching out new pin or clothing ideas nowadays) he could never let it go. It was a tourist spot, he said. It was weird for her to be there if she wasn’t meeting anyone there, he said. If she had time to be there why wouldn’t she come over to his place, he said. Shiki dismissed his comments by changing the subject or, if he was really reluctant to let it go, with a kiss. It was enough to placate him until the next time, which Shiki felt was a good enough compromise. It was one thing she refused to give up.

And then he saw her phone.

Nine months into their relationship (two years and three months after Neku’s death), she returned from a trip to the bathroom to find Keisuke staring at her phone, which she had left on the sofa behind her. When his eyes met hers, they were blazing.

“Who is this?” he demanded, and flipped her phone in his hand so that her phone’s wallpaper—a selfie she had taken with Neku at Hachiko, weeks before his murder—stared back at her.

“I . . .” Shiki’s voice was lodged in her throat. “It’s me. And a friend. How did you unlock my phone?”

“Why does that matter? A friend?” Keisuke got up from the couch, his phone still in her hand as he stalked toward her. “Who is he? Why haven’t I seen him? And why is he your wallpaper, if he’s just a friend?”

“I . . . that picture’s been my wallpaper for years, I . . .” Shiki shook her head, and took her phone as he angrily thrust it back at her. “I never thought to change it.”

“Never? We’ve been dating for almost a year, and you have some other guy’s pic as your wallpaper—”

“Keisuke—”

“Is he who you’re hanging out with at Hachiko every other day? Is he—”

“He’s dead!” Shiki’s voice splintered on that single word, hot tears she hadn’t planned on burning in her eyes. It was the first time she’d said as much out loud; every other time she’d nodded in placating agreement with Eri’s insistence that Neku was a ghost, or her parents soothingly telling her that they knew that a friend’s death was hard but that they knew she’d make it through. She knew it wasn’t true, not really, and so she’d never bothered to dignify it by saying it out loud. But here, now, as her—as Keisuke accused her of cheating— “He . . . died—he died two years ago. He was murdered.”

“. . . Oh.” The silence was tense. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Shiki shrugged, and sniffed as she swiped her tears off her cheeks—gently, with a finger, lest she smudge the mascara she’d painstakingly applied before going to his apartment that night.

Another moment passed before Keisuke crossed the last few paces and put his arm around her shoulders, and placed a kiss in her hair. “I didn’t know he was dead. I wouldn’t have yelled if I had. I’m sorry.”

Shiki swallowed. He’s not . . . “It’s okay.”

“But . . . hey. He’s gone, right? Has been for a while now.” Keisuke’s voice was light, and when Shiki looked up at him, she saw that he was smiling. “Why don’t we choose a new wallpaper for your phone? Maybe one of the two of us. That will help get your mind away from your sadness, too.”

Keisuke wasn’t mean. He wasn’t trying to be hurtful. And she couldn’t fault him for his logic. What was it Eri had said a little over half a year ago? That it was time to move on? To try?

Shiki squeezed down a sob as she nodded, and scrolled through her photos to find a selfie she had taken with Keisuke upon his request a few weeks prior. She set it as her wallpaper, and forced a smile as he kissed her cheek.

Shiki left his apartment not too long after, and returned to the one she rented with Eri. Eri wasn’t home when Shiki arrived, but that wasn’t surprising; it was a Saturday, and Eri tended to stay out late on weekends. Shiki slipped her shoes off by the door, hung her bag on the coatrack, and went to the kitchen to pour herself a cup of water. She took one sip before she found she wasn’t thirsty; she abandoned it on the counter and went to her room to turn in for the night instead.

She didn’t make it very far. She and Eri kept a mirror in the hallway, just outside the living room, for a quick check to make sure they were ready to leave before they did. Usually, Shiki didn’t pay the mirror too much mind unless she had specifically decided to check it. But as she made her way to her room the mirror caught her eye—or rather, the reflection inside the mirror did, and her heart stopped.

For a split second, she didn’t recognize who she saw.

For a split second, it was if she had forgotten that what they had hung on the wall was a mirror and not a window. The girl who stared back had wide eyes unobscured by glasses, but rimmed with dark, smokey makeup. Her dark hair was just past her shoulders and lightened on the ends. Her lips were painted to make them look fuller, foundation and concealer both caked on her cheeks to hide blemishes, with artificial blush added on top. Her clothes were tight, hard to move in. Her feet hurt from the heels she’d worn. A girl was staring back at her from the other side of the looking glass—a girl who was not who she was, but rather who she had become.

Her reflection’s painted lip trembled, and this time Shiki couldn’t restrain the sob that burst unbidden from her chest.

She tore into her room, ripping her clothes off with enough ferocity she was at risk of tearing the seams. She threw them not in her hamper, but on the floor, and ripped every similar article of clothing—every tight miniskirt, every suffocating tube top—out of her closet so it could join them. She changed into the baggiest, ugliest pajamas she could find, and then charged into the bathroom to scrub her face with makeup remover. She scrubbed hard enough to burn, to tear her skin a little as she ripped off her false eyelashes and tossed them in the trash, her contacts following soon after. She stared at her now blurry reflection in the bathroom mirror, and ran her fingers through her long hair. Her hair. Her hair. That was the next thing. It had to go.

Eri came home in time to find Shiki surrounded by a haphazard pile of her own hair on the kitchen floor, for after retrieving the scissors she hadn’t had it in her to make it back to the bathroom before starting her hack job. (Not that it would have mattered; it wasn’t as if she could see without her glasses, and she was too upset to remember where she’d stashed them.) To say that Eri was alarmed was an understatement; she pulled the scissors from Shiki’s trembling hands and asked, over and over, what had happened, what was going on, was she okay, no she wasn’t okay, but what happened, what was wrong?

“E-Everything,” Shiki gasped, gripping Eri’s shoulders for dear life, fighting to get the words out around her tears. “It’s—it’s not fine.”

That night, Eri held her while she cried. Held her until she fell halfway asleep, and then helped tuck her into bed. Eri was waiting in the kitchen the next morning when Shiki woke, breakfast already made, warm tea prepared just the way Shiki liked it. Eri patted the seat at the table beside her and said, “I’m here to listen if you’re ready to talk.”

Fortunately, an emotional breakdown and a long rest after a strong cry was enough to help Shiki sort through her thoughts, and feelings. She told Eri . . . not everything, but most of it. She told her how she’d lost herself—how she had, without meaning to, changed herself to meet the expectations that Keisuke and she felt the world at large had for her, as one of the lead designers for an up and coming fashion brand.

“That’s why? I thought . . . I thought you just wanted to try something new . . .”

“I thought that, too. But I was just . . . lying to myself, I guess.” Shiki smiled ruefully at her mug of tea. “I should have listened to Beat. He knew. Rhyme too, but she never said so out loud.”

“I always liked your clothes. You looked so cute and comfy.” Eri squeezed her mug more tightly. “You never had to change . . . I never wanted—!”

“I know, Eri.” Shiki placed her hand over Eri’s, and smiled despite Eri’s watery eyes. “I know.”

Shiki wasn’t okay with how things were. She wasn’t okay with how she’d lost herself, how she’d broken her promise to never go back to the old Shiki who always tried to meet others expectations of who she should be, rather than staying true to who she actually was. She wasn’t okay with her relationship, with tying herself to someone she didn’t truly love, who brought out the worst in her whether he meant to or not. She wasn’t okay with Neku, either—with the whole situation surrounding him. She wasn’t okay forcing herself to try to move on and let go, but she also wasn’t okay pretending that she was just fine waiting indefinitely without having even a clue as to how he was faring in the UG.

Shiki wasn’t okay. But she knew what she had to do to get there.

First, she called Keisuke and had him meet her at Hachiko Café—a public place, in hopes he wouldn’t make a scene. She told him, firmly but politely, that she wanted to end their relationship.

“What? I don’t understand—why?”

“I’m not happy. And I don’t think we’re right for each other. I . . .” She reached up to cut her short, unevenly cut hair. She would need to get it fixed sometime soon, but this had to be done first. “I changed myself for you, a lot. And—”

“You looked good. Your hair was so pretty. Why did you do this to it? Where is all this coming from?”

“I wanted to. This is who I really am. And I know that you preferred me the other way, but . . . that’s not who I was. And I think it would be better for you to find someone who can be that person, just like it’s better for me to find someone who likes me as I am.”

“Like that guy on your wallpaper?”

“Like . . .” Shiki smiled a little as she stared down at the table between them. “Yeah, I guess so. Like him.”

“I thought he was dead.”

“He—” isn’t “—is.”

“Then why—why are you comparing me to him? That’s not fair.”

“I know it’s not. That’s why I’m ending things.” Shiki stood up from the table, and pulled her old bag over her shoulders. “I’m sorry, but this is for the best. Goodbye.”

She kept her eyes forward, and left him sputtering protests behind her.

After leaving Keisuke behind at the café, she blocked his number on his phone and changed her wallpaper—not to the selfie with her and Neku, but instead to a picture of her and Eri outside a Gatto Nero popup. It wasn’t that she was giving up on Neku. She wasn’t—she never would. But . . . she needed time, and besides, that picture was outdated. She would get a new one whenever he was able to come back.

In the following days, she made several appointments. One was with a stylist, who fixed her shaky, messy hack job into a cuter pixie cut that would, with time, grow back into a bob Shiki would be more comfortable with. The next was with a therapist, recommended to Shiki by her primary care doctor, whom she would see once a week. Of course, she was limited in what she could tell her therapist as well; it wasn’t as if her therapist would understand about the Reapers’ Game and the UG. But her therapist did understand about unhealthy relationships, about difficulties with self-esteem, about the stressors of launching a fashion brand, about how painful grief was and how difficult it was to balance it with everything else. And in that, her therapist helped.

Three months after Shiki started therapy (two years and six months since Neku’s death), the 104 deal went through and she and Eri cut the ribbon on their brand new, brick and mortar storefront. Three months after that (two years and nine months since Neku’s death), Shiki was able to cut her therapy meetings down to once every two weeks, and her hair had grown out again, enough so that she could get a nice little trim to keep it neat. Two months after that (two years and eleven months since Neku’s death), Eri approached her with a month-long business trip to South Korea to market their brand.

“A month?” Shiki frowned as she looked over the itinerary that Eri handed her. “I don’t know . . .”

“I know it’s a long time, but I think it might be good for you to get away for a little while. You’ve been doing so much better!” Eri added quickly, as Shiki frowned at her. “But, you know . . . a change of scenery might still be nice. And you can still talk to your therapist over video chat, right?”

Eri was right, of course. And she was also, Shiki was sure, all too aware of how Shiki still visited Hachiko whenever she could, and how just a few weeks prior she’d re-sewn a coat she’d made a year ago for a so-called ghost, to move it up a size, just in case.

So Shiki nodded. “Okay. I’ll go.”

Eri beamed, and gave her a tight hug.

One month after that (three years since Neku’s death), Shiki had just stepped off the bus that had retrieved her from Narita Airport when her phone buzzed in her pocket. She fished it out, and smiled when she saw Rhyme’s contact photo beaming up at her.

“Hello?”

“Shiki! Are you back in Japan?”

“Yeah, I’m back.”

“I’m happy to hear it. Things have been a bit hectic here since you left.” A pause. “Do you have some time to talk about it?”

It had been three years since Neku’s death. Things were always hectic in Shibuya, and there was no reason for Shiki to believe that what Rhyme had to talk about was anything related to Neku or the UG. After all, she would have said as much immediately, wouldn’t she?

But—

“Mmhm. When can we meet? Are you free now?”

Rhyme laughed. “I am, but I think I can hear the sounds of the bus station behind you. I think you need some time to at least get your suitcase home before we talk. Call me in about an hour? Or whenever you’re ready, I can wait. Patience is a virtue, after all.”

Shiki smiled. “All right. Got it. Talk to you then.”

“See you later!”

Rhyme ended the call before Shiki could, and Shiki took a deep breath after she slipped her phone back into her pocket. An hour or two. Just long enough to get her suitcase home, a shower and a fresh change of clothes, and then she could meet with Rhyme to discuss what had been happening in Shibuya—why the air felt oddly still as Shiki made her way through the West Exit Bus Terminal, toward the Scramble Crossing.

It had been three years since Neku died, and there was no shock of orange hair near Hachiko when Shiki passed it. Despite everything else that had changed, Hachiko’s plaza being devoid of her partner hadn’t. But . . .

Shiki looked up at the sky as she waited at the crosswalk, and watched as a bird swayed jerkily through the air, as though having trouble flying.

She had a feeling that, too, finally had a strong possibility of changing soon.

#the world ends with you #neo: the world ends with you #misaki shiki #twewy eri #neshiki #fic fix #this started as a meta then turned into a fic & spiraled out of control & it's almost 2am #i spent several hours on this #anyway I don't think that Shiki sat by Hachiko every day for 3 years #she never gave up on Neku but also she had a life to live too #& I can't see Eri being content watching her bff refuse to move on from someone who is (as far as Eri can see) dead & not coming back #she wants Shiki to be healthy & happy #anyway I will revise this later but for now here's this #ntwewy spoilers #neo twewy spoilers #ntwewy #neo twewy

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crown-anon · 3 years

Note

aah i thought of a req!!!!! could i maybe request one shots or hcs (separate) w dream, sapnap, n wilbur with a s/o (preferred he/him!!) who draws a whole lot,, n one day they catch him drawing him?? tysm :]

@ghcstbnr asked

gn i just realized i made a typo i meant cc catching reader drawing them- but ty again :)

of course! it's kind of long, sorry about that

I took a little creative liberty with the notion of "catching you drawing." also Sapnap's looks kind of long but it's also dialogue heavy. if you want me to redo it, I will. hope you like it 💗

& a note to everyone else, I don't write for Wilbur yet! I only write for the dream team at this time. sorry about that! this will probably change in the future, though, so look out 👀

CW: swearing

format: one-shot

people: dreamwastaken, Sapnap

pronouns: dreamwastaken's piece is ambiguous, Sapnap's piece uses he/him

edited 27 April 2021

—

dreamwastaken

since he doesn't use his camera, you find yourself with your boyfriend in the studio more often than not. when he's gaming casually, you play together, or one of you will cheer the other one on. when he's streaming, sometimes you interact with the viewers, or read donations for him; sometimes you just sit next to him, soaking up his energy and warmth. when he's working long days and long nights to edit videos, you're content with just relaxing together in the same space. at times you have to drag him out to the kitchen to eat, or help him to bed if he passes out, but…he's really cute when he's focused. (and you're starting to think he does it on purpose just so you can dote on him.)

today is a little different. he's recording for a manhunt that's meant to drop in a couple days. you're quiet, trying to avoid disrupting them. you're perched up on the loveseat, staring fondly at him across the room. he's so animated, the way his eyes shine when he talks to his friends, how he tears up when he laughs…

Patches mews at you from the arm of the couch, as if to say, disapprovingly, I cannot believe how sickeningly sweet your inner monologue is.

and you try to understand where she's coming from, you really do, but the sun's starting to set, and the gentle rays slotting through the blinds are shifting from white to gold.

he looks so divine, you decide. it's unfair. how could I not love him? he's seriously pretty. and before you can stop yourself, you're sketching him out on your tablet. you glance up at him fast to get the details right, and look away just as quickly. he never meets your eyes. soon your whole page is covered in little Clays, capturing the way he feels, the way he acts, the way you feel about him. Patches jumps off the chair, with all the moving. and before you know it, you've drawn up a whole page of concept art of your unfairly beautiful boyfriend. Patches was right about me, you muse to yourself.

fuck. Patches. the same Patches who's been meowing at you for the better part of an hour, now sitting patiently at the door? there's no way Clay didn't pick up on all that noise, you fret. but he's still playing, looking intense as ever. relief washes over you, replacing the guilt.

come here, girl, you think to yourself, knowing Patches wouldn't have even understood you if you spoke. sorry to keep you waiting. and you rise, slipping quietly out the door with his cat in your train.

—

you're coming back to the studio. Patches, fed and sated, is napping in another room. opening the door, you have to stop yourself, you freeze. your boyfriend's kneeling on the ground, sitting on his heels, right next to the door—you'd have hit him if it opened any further.

"baby, what are you…" the words die on your tongue.

my book. my sketchbook. my sketchbook full of drawings of him. shit, he's gonna think I'm such a simp! the embarrassment, the shame, the fear, it's overwhelming you.

you hear your voice break. "…what happened to recording…?"

"finished half an hour ago," he says simply.

and that was that. for the first time in ages, the silence hanging between you was thick and heavy with tension. you wait. and wait. and wait. you wait for the criticism, the hate, the argument that never comes.

suddenly, he seems content with what he's seen, when he looks up at you adoringly, and takes one of your hands, giving it a soft squeeze. "is that…me?"

you've lost your voice, all you can do is nod.

"you…you think I'm beautiful?" he glows.

ah, I suppose I did write that, somewhere in there. you look away. all the things I've said…

he brings your hand up to his lips and leaves kisses on your knuckles.

you sound small. "do I not tell you that enough?" you pause. "that you're beautiful? that I love you?"

and just like that, his nervousness dissolves into euphoria. you both start laughing at the same time.

"oh my god—" he wheezes. "—you're so sappy."

"only for you," you blurt out, and start laughing harder. but he quiets, he hesitates.

"only for me," he repeats.

you sink down onto the floor next to him. he's staring so fondly at you, you can't help but smile back.

"only for you," you affirm.

he rests his hands on your knees, pulling himself closer to you. he's so close to you, you can feel his blush. you let your eyes close, softly.

but the kiss never comes. instead, you're met with a "then what about all those drawings of Patches?"

laying on the floor, tangled up in each other, in hysterics, you distantly think I hope he remembered to leave the call from recording earlier.

—

over dinner, you meet his gaze, and he gives you that look. that stupid, handsome look; the one with the smile and the danger behind his eyes. he makes a point of pausing mid-bite, but it takes you a minute to notice that he's stopped eating.

"what's up, honey?" you ask, sounding a little more concerned than you should have been.

he shrugs dramatically. "oh, nothing…just figured you'd appreciate a muse." there it was. the teasing. you knew it would happen eventually. but the tone, it's kind, it's tempting; gentle, unlike a serious jab.

so all you do is roll your eyes, but you can't help the way your mouth quirks into a smile. "you're so dumb," you murmur with affection, and shake your head at nothing in particular.

Patches curls her tail around your ankle as she passes you by.

—

on the couch hours later for movie night, you're the last one up. Patches is curled up in Clay's lap, purring. Clay, in turn, sleeps soundly in your lap. (you think if he could purr, he would, but he settles for humming softly when you play with his hair.) you might think it's funny looking back on it later, but it feels so tender and vulnerable now. you like calm evenings like this one. Studio Ghibli plays quietly on the flatscreen; you don't know which one, you're not really paying attention anymore.

you're busy tracing the contours of Clay's skin, feeling more than seeing his shape in the dark room. mapping him out in your mind, learning his figure like you're seeing him for the first time again. you think you understand him a little bit better, every day you spend together. and with confidence, you make your first stroke, illuminated by the moon.

—

Sapnap

you only barely stop yourself from drawing a big "X" across your paper. exhale, and start erasing furiously. don't rip the paper—well, we didn't need that sheet anyway. ball it up and throw it at the dark, cobwebbed corner of the room. along with the rest of your mistakes.

you're trying. you're really trying. but those lips. his fucking lips. fuck.

your boyfriend smiles at the camera as he gets a donation with a sweet message on it. it should be so easy. he's right there. right here.

you check the time. it's been an hour. you've been trying, and miserably failing, to get his lips right for an entire hour. today, at least. you scoff at yourself, your misery, and pinch the bridge of your nose. it isn't fair.

his camera's on, and he's live, so you know you can't be in there with him. nobody knows you're together, and you don't want know what kind of backlash to expect if people found out. so you've been avoiding his streams…the whole room where he streams, really.

you've kept yourself busy by drawing. and you've cycled through many subjects in your life, and eventually, been able to draw whatever you put your mind to with enough time and effort. the problem is, your sights have been set on Sapnap, even for months before you got together. okay, maybe that isn't the problem. the actual problem is that you fucking suck at drawing him.

you get going, start it out, do an okay job, but midway through screw it all up somehow. to make things worse, your reference is his 2D image. he doesn't…know that you draw him. you're terrified to say. so you can't use the real life Sapnap as a reference, like you would prefer.

ugh, and this one's ruined too. you rip it up and throw it at your growing pile of paper balls, but being tiny confetti-sized pieces of paper, they don't make it very far. great, something else to clean up later, you huff at your own thoughts. it isn't fair.

—

"[name]?" he calls for you. you're one step ahead, already opening the door. you can't remember when you got here and decided to brood outside his room.

"hey, do you think you can—" he tears his eyes from his camera, his waiting audience, to look up at you expectantly. when he sees you he stops immediately, looking concerned, standing to meet you.

"what is it?" your voice is flat.

out of view of the camera, he mouths, are you okay? you only shrug and avert your eyes.

he falters, contemplates, sits back down at his desk and starts to talk to his viewers. "hey guys, I'm sorry for the short notice, but I gotta cut this stream short. my…" he glances at you for approval, only to see you motioning with your hands as if to say, no, don't.

(you yourself don't really know what for. no, don't end the stream for me? no, don't out us like this?)

he looks back. "…my friend…something came up with my friend. I have to take care of it. it's really important." you can tell he has trouble finding the right words. you can tell it throws him off, he's acting out of character for his internet personality. do you blame him? isn't this your fault? "sorry again. bye guys!"

the second he made the last click, he gets up and pulls you into a hug. it's unexpected, it knocks the wind out of you. you're certain he feels the tension.

"babe…what's wrong?" it's muffled by your neck and the sweater you're wearing. you just hold him, saying nothing.

he pulls away and holds you by the shoulders. "look at me. what's wrong?"

you feel all the more embarrassed. it's so silly to be upset about. "I…I…well, it's a lot."

he shakes his head, to say I'm not going anywhere, but his expression softens, his grip loosens. "do you want to talk about it?"

you sigh. "it started as 'I can't draw for shit', then it became 'why am I afraid of asking you for help?', and finally, worst of all, 'why the fuck can't we be seen together?' it isn't fair. it's never been fair. I'm sorry."

he thinks about it for a second. "okay, what makes you feel like we can't be seen together?"

"are you joking?" you snap. "we're two fucking boyfriends. in this society." he didn't look hurt by the outburst, but the guilt crept in anyway. "…I'm sorry."

he shakes his head, "do you really think I'd let that happen? I wouldn't ever let anyone hurt you, darling. remember that."

"I know, I know…" you don't know what to say. "it's easy to forget, I guess."

"what are you afraid to ask me for help about?"

"I…" shit, you guess you have to tell him. close your eyes, breathe, "I've been drawing you. trying to draw you. but I can't, it never turns out right."

you peek, and he's red in the face, stuttering. "me? you draw me? of all the hot people out there?"

you furrow your eyebrows at him. "don't give me that shit. you know you're cute."

he shakes his head incredulously. "are we talking about the same person here?"

"dude, your smile is literally the most radiant fucking force of nature I have ever seen."

"you're hot too! why are you coming after me?"

"I'm not 'coming after you', you're being defensive about your looks, when you shouldn't be! you're gorgeous, baby."

you're both giggling like girls at a sleepover, the anger and frustration long forgotten. now it's a war of who can be more grossly in-love with the other.

"what part of me," he manages between laughs. "are you having trouble drawing?"

"oh god," you groan, remembering yourself and your dilemma. "your lips."

"my fucking lips? you would think that—"

"no," you warn. "shut up. don't say it. don't you dare say it."

he leans in close, his hands have moved up to cup your face. you shiver.

"don't worry," he grins. "I won't."

the kiss is long and sweet, nothing like the ones you've shared in the past. he takes his time, you savor each other. you feel time stop ticking, you feel your heart stop beating, you feel the way he tilts his head. you grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him in. and when you part, you're breathing heavy, in tandem.

"thanks," you manage. "but I needed to see your lips, not kiss you into next saturday."

"nah," he laughs. "I think you needed that too."

you choose your words thoughtfully. "do you need me, too?"

he hums, and—

ding!

dreamwastaken donated $69!

you could die. you could really, seriously die.

the response is instant. you don't even see Sapnap move from you to the PC, flushed down to his neck, apologizing, apologizing, and apologizing again. "change of plans, guys, we're doing an art stream!"

the chat is filled with "huh?"s and "what?"s.

"huh? what?" you didn't have the time to process what just happened.

karljacobs: I thought we were doing a make-out-with-our-secret-boyfriends stream :(

he smiled warmly at you. "yeah. my lovely boyfriend is going to draw me! he's been wanting to for a really long time, and his art is really good. let's go get your stuff."

you're in so much shock that he makes it past you and out of the room, while you stand there waiting. after a pause much longer than you intended, you hurry after him.

—

down the hall, in your room, he's got your sketchbook tucked under his arm, closed. you're sure you left it open when you came out.

you only barely get the words out. "um, did you…go through it? please don't laugh."

your heart sinks when he laughs heartily, but he grabs your hand, resting it on your book, about to hand it off. but he holds you there for a second. "of course not. I respect your privacy." he ponders for a moment. "I respect you."

you can feel the sigh of relief when you let it out. "I…love you."

your holding your book now, as he moves to collect the boxes containing your pens and pencils and colors. he gets them all together, but before he picks them up to head back, he turns around to face you. "is this too much?"

you absently reach for a hand, tracing over the lines on his palms. and you think about it. am I okay? is this too much?

"I don't think so. not with you. I'm okay."

he moves to open the door and grab the rest of your things. "well then, let's not keep them waiting!"

—

edited 27 April 2021

#dreamwastaken x reader #dream x reader #clay x reader #sapnap x reader

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happyandticklish · 3 years

Text

Unusual Interrogations

Notes: For the ask by @ticklish-sidekick who requested villain/hero tickles with Percy Jackson. It gets a little angsty at the end, fair warning. I hope it lives up to expectations! :)

Summary: Luke kidnaps Percy for information and uses unorthodox methods to acquire it.

When Percy first opened his eyes, he found blank walls staring back at him, grays and white blending in and out of each other. Some of the walls were peeling, and as he glanced down he could see the remains of debris covering the ground, indicating some kind of ongoing construction.

It took him a second to realize he was in a warehouse. It took him an even longer second to realize he was still in boxers, his preferred apparel each night. He shivered, wishing he could somehow cover himself. Unfortunately, it seemed as though his arms and legs were tied securely to either side of one of the many supporting beams in the building, stretching his exposed body out.

He tried to think back on his most recent memories. The last thing he remembered was going to bed the previous night, safe and secure at Camp Half-Blood. How he got here was a mystery.

He struggled for a moment, attempting to somehow wriggle his way out of the bonds, but whoever had tied him here certainly knew their way around a knot. He exhaled in frustration. He didn’t have Riptide either, as the pen/sword was stored securely in the front pockets of his jeans, thrown haphazardly on his cabin floor. Not that a sword would have been much use anyways, with his hands out of commission as they were.

“Hello?” he called out warily. “Who’s there? Is this some kind of prank? Ha, ha, very funny. Tie the great Percy Jackson up, see what happens. Well, you’ve had your fun now, I think it’s time you let me go.”

“This is no prank.”

Percy startled as a figure emerged from behind him, stalking around the pole slowly to face him. A scar ran jagged down his features, and a shock of blonde hair crested his forehead. Percy frowned. “Wait. Luke?”

A smirk tugged up the corners of his lips, and Luke spread his arms wide in welcome. “Bingo.” He glanced down in amusement. “Nice underwear by the way. Is that… Nemo print?”

Percy flushed, bristling at the comment. He had almost forgotten about those. He wished now that he had chosen to wear something more dignified, but admittedly nobody really prepares for a kidnapping. “It’s for all ages. Look, forget about that, what’s going on? Where are we?”

“Do you like it?” Luke asked, surveying their surroundings. “Very roomy, spacious. This building has been ongoing construction for years now. I believe it’s supposed to be a law firm, but the plans for it fell apart and now I have the place all to myself. It took a while to find somewhere we wouldn’t be interrupted, but I pulled through—as always.”

Wouldn’t be interrupted. The words sent a chill down Percy’s spine. Despite his apprehensions, he didn’t want it to seem like Luke was getting to him, so he tilted his chin up and spat, “What are you gonna do to me, then? Torture me? Kill me?”

Luke shrugged, calmly approaching him until they were inches apart. “No, no, no. I can’t kill you, remember? You have that pesky curse that prevents me from doing so. What I want is information. I know you and your little camp is planning and attack, and I want to know what it is.”

“I’m not gonna tell you that!” Percy exclaimed indignantly. “You’re crazy!”

“Obviously you’re not,” Luke agreed dryly. “I figured you weren’t going to just hand over top secret plans willingly. But—” Luke placed hands on either side of him—“I have ways of making people talk.”

“So you… are gonna torture me?” Percy confirmed hesitantly.

“In a way,” Luke agreed. “See, I figured normal torture wouldn’t be enough. Anyone can hold out against pain—it just takes endurance. No, what I’m going to do to you is much worse. The kind of torture that needles away at your sanity slowly, an itch you just can’t scratch no matter how much you want to. The kind of torture that has left grown men begging for mercy within seconds. Do you know what it is?”

Percy slowly shook his head, feeling almost hypnotized by Luke’s words.

Luke curled his fingers in slightly on either side of Percy, smirking at his sharp inhale. “Tell me Jackson... are you ticklish?”

Instantly, nerves flooded Percy’s stomach at those three words, words that had foretold his doom many times in the past though usually he was at free to at least defend himself. He scoffed, though the sound came out more nervous and giggly than he had intended. “Really? Tickling? This is your hardened torture method?”

“You never answered the question,” Luke reminded him, his fingers ever so slowly wiggling against his sides, though it had the effect of making Percy want to crawl out of his own skin. “Are. You. Ticklish?”

Percy tried to answer but the second he opened his mouth a volley of laughter attempted to escape and he slammed it close again. His lips tugged up into an unwilling smile, and he squirmed underneath Luke’s touch.

“No answer?” Luke asked, raising an eyebrow. “I guess I’ll have to assume that’s a yes.”

Percy shook his head rapidly, his smile growing wider with the other’s words.

“You’re not?” Luke preformed a rapid squeeze attack on his sides and Percy shrieked, breaking into a fit of hysterical giggles. “What was that then?”

“I-I’m nahahahat!” Percy insisted, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to somehow block out the sensations. “Iihihit dohohohoesn’t tihihickle a-ahahat ahahall!”

“You’re not a very convincing liar, Jackson.” Luke gave him a brief break, letting the other breathe for a moment. “You know, I almost feel bad for you. If you’re that ticklish after only a couple seconds of this, I can’t imagine how you’re going to last an hour.”

Percy’s eyes bugged out of his head. There was no possible way he could last another couple minutes like this, let alone an hour. “A-An hour?” he repeated nervously, desperately hoping maybe he had just heard him wrong.

“Or longer,” Luke mused, running a finger slowly up his sides and watching him flinch away. “Maybe days. However long this takes, really. It all depends on how quickly you break.”

He had to be bluffing. There was no way Luke would risk keeping him that long; his friends would eventually come to his rescue and his entire plot would be unveiled. It would be ludicrous to keep him longer than a day. Still, as Luke’s finger made its slow path up his side, just brushing against his armpits before darting down again and sending shudders down his spine, Percy couldn’t help but doubt his own assessment. His friends wouldn’t notice he was missing till morning at least. That gave him hours in which to suffer under the assault of the torturous sensations.

“C-C’mon,” Percy stammered, panic writhing sudden and quick through his stomach. “You don’t need to do this, really—”

“So we know your sides are ticklish,” Luke interrupted, ignoring his protests. He traced his fingertips lightly over the spot as he spoke, sending the other into a round of reluctant giggles. “But I wonder if there’s somewhere else that would get a better reaction out of you? Do you want to volunteer any information? No? I guess I’ll explore on my own.... Maybe this soft little belly of yours is ticklish?”

“Ihihit’s nahahat sohoft—ahAHAhaha, nohoho!” Percy’s laughter jumped an octave and quickly shot through his own denial. Quick, nimble fingers scratched gently against the skin, a delicate tickle that was quickly driving though his inhibitions. He jerked on his arms, but the bonds held as tight as before and no matter how much he squirmed and writhed to get away from the touch, he found himself ultimately helpless to stop it. “Nahahat thehehe stohohomahahach!”

“Hot spot, is it?” Luke taunted. “You know it’s strange—in all the time I knew you I never realized how ticklish you were.”

“B-Behehecause yohohou wehehere ahahalways t-trying toho k-kihihill mehehe!”

“It seems so silly now. All my past trouble could have been solved if I had just tried tickling you instead of trying to kill you.”

“I-Ihihi wohohould hahahave preheherred ihihit!”

“Oh?” Luke’s eyebrows shot up on his forehead and he leaned, a shark’s grin glittering on his teeth. “Is that a confession, Jackson? Do you actually enjoy this torture?”

Percy’s eyes widened as he realized the connotations of his statement and he desperately tried to backtrack. “N-Nohoho, Ihihi juhuhust—ehehe, ahaha, Ihihi juhust—fuhuhu—nohoho—Ihihi dihihidn’t mehehean—pfft, aha, lehehet mehehe ahahanswer!”

“Gladly,” Luke agreed, changing his gentle touch into a series of rapid pokes that made Percy jump.

“T-Thehen stahahap tihihihickling mehehehe, ahaha, nohohohoho!”

“Ah, see, I’m afraid I can’t help you there,” Luke informed him sympathetically. “See, that’s the thing about torture—it doesn’t exactly end when you want it to. But feel free to talk. All you have to do is resist a little bit of tickling. Should be easy for the famed demigod, hmm?”

Percy, quite possibly, was going to kill him. At the very least slap him. Certainly give him a stern talking to or write a note to his mother. All of those options were proving rather difficult at the moment however. “Fuhuhuhuhuck, ahaha, shihihit!”

“Such strong language,” Luke noted. “Feeling anymore like talking?”

Percy squeaked at each poke of his finger, shouting out obscene phrases that in the normal light of day he would never dare utter, but otherwise refused to answer.

“Still holding out?” Luke said, shaking his head in disappointment. “You know, you’re only hurting yourself with this petty resistance. Sooner or later you’re bound to give in; it’s only a matter of time. It does make me wonder though—is your upper body really the best place to tickle you?”

Luke momentarily stopped his attack, circling around the pole to the other side. Percy allowed his eyes to flutter open once more, breathing heavily. His relief was short-lived however, as soon as he realized where Luke was headed. “No,” he ordered, a giggly panic lacing his words. “No, absolutely not, no fair, not the feet, c’mon, please!”

Luke kneeled down by his feet, slowly sliding one and then the other sock off. As the cold air whistling through the ware house hit his skin, a shiver of anticipation coursed its way through Percy’s limbs. Goosebumps scattered down his flesh and he curled his toes preemptively.

“Just to clarify, not your feet?” Luke repeated, grasping one of his feet in a firm grip that left the sole completely exposed.

“Yes,” Percy agreed, squirming in his hands. “Please, I can’t handle it, you don’t understand—pfah!”

The involuntary noise left him before he could stop it as one nail dragged slowly down the length of his foot. A slow smile made its way over his features and he stiffened, letting out a soft, “No. No, this isn’t f-fahair.”

“It’s perfectly fair,” Luke contradicted, keeping up the light teasing. For the moment, anyways. “I want information and you’re keeping it from me. Sometimes you have to resort to drastic measures to get what you want.”

Percy stammered out a response that was lost as Luke’s pace changed from a single finger into many spidering down his arch and onto the ball of his foot. He squeaked, giggling uncontrollably as his foot shook in the other’s grasp. “Nohoho, stahahahap!”

“Are you gonna tell me what I need to know?”

“Thihihis ihihihis sohohoho uhuhunfahahair!” Percy repeated instead through babbling laughter, clenching and unclenching his toes as he fought to somehow control his reactions. “Thihihis ihihihis—thihihis ihihis—gahahaha!”

“I’m hardly even touching you,” Luke informed him, amusement dancing through his words. “Is this a bad spot?”

Shakily, Percy managed to flip him the middle finger.

“Ooh, bad move,” Luke said, clucking his tongue in disappointment. “I think you’re forgetting the power dynamic here. Maybe this will help you remember.”

Without preamble, Luke raked his nails quickly up and down his foot, digging into the skin in a way that made Percy near lose his mind. He jerked forward, arching against his bonds though he knew it was useless now. He squeaked and snorted at each and every touch of Luke’s fingers, the ticklish torment racking his body. “Nohohoho, gahaha, ehehe, stahahap! Thihihihis ihihihis sohohoho ehehevil!”

“It is, isn’t it?”

“Y-Yohohohou’re ehehenjoying thihihis tohohoo muhuhuhuch!”

“Maybe,” Luke admitted. “I have to admit it is sort of fun to get back at you, for wrecking my plans so many times now. Do you know how many times I’ve been scolded for your interference? This is kind of therapeutic in a way.”

“Ihihihihi hahahahad tohoho!” Percy protested, struggling to get out coherent sentences as the intense tickling on his feet drove him slowly insane. “Y-Yohohou wehehere, ahaha, shihihit—ehehe, uhuhum—nohohoho—yohohou hahahahad tohoho behehe stohohohopped!”

Luke’s smile dropped a little, a dark shadow crossing over his eyes. “I did what had to be done. No one asked you to get involved.”

There was something about his tone that made Percy want to inquire further, but he found that speech was quickly becoming impossible. The upper body tickling had been bad but ultimately bearable. This was something else. It was hell. It was torture. It was exhilarating.

He had no idea how to feel about that.

In an attempt to distract the other from the earlier course of their conversation, Luke decided to switch up tactics. He momentarily stopped his attack and Percy sagged against the rope, breathing in much needed breaths. A silly grin was plastered to his features, and even the slight breeze wafting through the building seemed to tickle. There were shuffling sounds from behind him as Luke reached into a bag of supplies Percy hadn’t noticed from his vantage point. Unseen by the other, Luke pulled out a bottle of skincare oil and a simple hairbrush—both seemingly harmless from the outsider’s perspective. Unfortunately for his bound captive, the objects were far more intimidating than they appeared at first glance.

Percy frowned when he first felt the cool oil being applied to his feet, flinching a little when Luke’s finger pressed in to rub it into the skin. “What is that? Is this a massage now? Because I would much prefer that.”

“That would be nice, wouldn’t it? No, this is something much better.” Luke smoothed the oil out, gently sliding it in-between his toes. Percy twitched and giggled throughout the process. “Not many people know about this method, strangely. But trust me, it’s very effective.”

Though Percy couldn’t imagine how simple oil could make things worse than they already were, a crawling anxiety spread throughout him regardless. He tried to plead once more, in the hopes that maybe this time it would be somewhat effective. “Why are you doing this? Aren’t there better ways of getting the information?”

“Maybe,” Luke conceded. “But this method seemed easiest. You’d be surprised by the number of people who will talk under the influence of a mere feather.”

“Even you?” Percy challenged.

A hot pink tinged the ends of Luke’s ears, though the sight was invisible to Percy. “That is for me to know and you to never find out. Besides, I’m not the one tied up am I?”

It was an obvious lie, but Luke was right in that there was little the other could do about it in his situation. “Well what is your ingenious method then?” Percy said instead, a sarcastic lilt to his voice as he attempted to brave through his fear. “Because I hate to break it to you Luke, simply smearing oil over my feet isn’t going to—shihIHIHIHIT!”

The expletive broke from Percy suddenly as hard bristles were dragged back and forth quickly over his soles. It was a new and rough and intensely, unbearably ticklish in a way Percy hadn’t known could exist before. “AhAHAHAHahaha, whaHAHAHAhat thehe HEHEHELL?!”

“Isn’t going to what?” Luke inquired, raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t going to tickle? Is that what you were going to say? Tell me Jackson—does this tickle?”

He dragged the brush over the ball of his foot and Percy went ballistic with laughter, shrieking and twisting like a madman in an effort to somehow, someway, get that damned brush away from his foot.

Thus far, he was entirely unsuccessful.

“OHOHO MIHIHI GOHOHOD!” Percy exclaimed, throwing his head back in ticklish agony. “THAHAHAHAT’S SOHOHOHO BAHAHAHAD! PlehEHHEHEhehease STAHAHahahAHAHAP!”

“Are you gonna give me the information?”

“IHIHI CAHAHAHAHAN’T!”

“Sure you can, it’s very simple,” Luke assured him. “Just tell me your attack strategy and the brush goes right back in my bag where it’ll stay for the rest of your future. But first I need you to talk, okay? Do you think you could do that for me?”

“PLEHEHEHEASE! IHIHIHIT TIHIHIHIHIHICKLES!” Percy choked on uncontrollable giggly shrieks, every swipe of the hairbrush sending him into a whole new level of hell. Every inch of him pleaded with himself to just talk already, to make it stop even for just a moment. The only thing that made him resist was the thought of everyone back at camp currently asleep in their beds. He thought about what would happen if he let Luke win, if he had to face each and every one of their disappointed faces. So he held out. Despite the fact that he had never experienced tickling like this and each second that ticked by felt like an eternity, he held out.

“Percy,” Luke said, a bit of hesitation creeping into his voice. “Are you going to tell me or not?”

Percy could only laugh in response.

“Because I could keep doing this,” Luke insisted, narrowing his eyes. “Hours of just this, just this hair brush on your feet. Is that what you want?”

Percy threw his head back, eyes shut in helpless mirth.

Luke was getting irritated by this point, the other’s reluctance to speak bothering him for reasons he couldn’t explain to himself. “You would rather endure this—” to emphasize his point he started attacking the other foot with spider tickles and sending Percy into hysterics—“than rat out your friends?”

Percy squealed and writhed, the tickling to such an intense degree at this point that he hardly allowed himself to even focus on the words coming out of Luke’s mouth.

“Fine then!”

With a flourish, the tickling stopped as Luke dropped his hands, sitting back in annoyance. Leftover giggles spilled from Percy’s lips, his feet tingling from phantom sensations. A strange euphoria clouded his brain, similar to that of staying up for days on end or winning a battle. His nerves were exhausted, his mind rattled, and he couldn’t erase the stupid smile from his face no matter how hard he tried.

Luke shoved the bottle and the brush into his bag, which he slung over his shoulder jerkily. He grabbed a knife from his pocket, resolutely and suddenly cutting the ropes holding Percy. The boy dropped to the ground, his legs feeling like jelly and unable to support his sudden weight. Percy threw a confused glance up at the other, managing a frown. “What are you—”

“Don’t tell anyone about this,” Luke snapped, holding the knife out to him threateningly. Percy’s eyes widened at the weapon, though he was too exhausted to try to move out of the way at all. Luke looked like he was going to say something else, but after a moment he just closed his mouth into a firm line and stalked off, the assumption that Percy was not to follow him.

Percy slowly made his way to his feet, his legs shaking underneath him. He made his way through the ware house cautiously, though at this point he was too tired to care much about anything. As he exited the building, sunlight blinded him and he realized it was probably early morning by this point.

For a moment he considered what would happen if he told the others about what had happened to him that night. In the end though, he decided that it would be better, for him at least, if no one ever knew about the events of that night.

With a sigh, he raised his hand to call a taxi and resolutely made his way back to Long Island Sound.

#tickle fic #percy jackson #luke castellan #fic request #requests #tickling #pjo #fanfic #fanfiction #tickle interrogations

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writesowhatnext · 4 years

Text

please don’t touch the artwork // fred weasley

Summary: Beauxbatons!reader has a thing for Fred – something their friends won’t let them forget.

Request: Hi, I’m not sure if you’re taking requests right now. But I have an idea for a Fred Weasley x reader where this takes place in the goblet of fire, and the reader is from Beauxbatons. Her friends keep teasing her whenever Fred flirts with her. Again I apologize if ur not doing requests rn ahhh

A/N: It took me forever to start this because I couldn’t decide whether French would help oml

Reader: female, Beauxbatons

Warnings: swearing I suppose

You had absolutely no intention of putting your name in the goblet of fire. All you wanted, if not just a holiday and a break from all the schoolwork Beauxbatons threw at you, was an English boy. Your friends, who were more enamoured with the French offerings of romance, thought you were crazy. Whilst you had to admit that French people did tend to be extremely attractive, and you were inclined to include yourself in that bracket, there was something about British guys that attracted you beyond belief. It was hard to explain to your friends why you wanted someone witty and funny; it was harder to explain why you thought Fred Weasley might be just that. And for your complete inability to explain, you were teased mercilessly.

Fred, as you learnt his name was, had caught your eye. When you first danced your way into Hogwarts’ great hall, you looked over the four tables of students with an excited nervousness. The nervousness seemed to fade away when you made eye contact with a ginger boy at the table with a red banner above it. He had a twin opposite him, who was hooting and clapping along with the rest of the students. He wasn’t clapping though; he just stared at you with a handsome smile. You bit your lip, looking away from his stare. When you looked back, though, he was still staring, completely unabashed. To say you were intrigued would’ve been the definition of an understatement.

“George,” Fred said, loud enough for George to hear over the music and his own cheering.

“Yeah, Fred?”

Both brothers stared at the Beauxbatons students. George’s eyes flicked from girl to girl; he made a face as one student he focused on turned out to be a boy but continued with his admiring anyway. Fred’s eyes, though, remained solely on you.

“There’s a girl over there-“

“There’s a lot of girls over there.”

“-And I’m going to make her mine.”

It took him less than twenty-four hours to come and find you. You’d been at the breakfast table with the other Beauxbatons students. Granted it didn’t take a detective to find you, but you were still surprised to see him saunter over, the shouts of his friends, and twin, behind him. Your friends’ chatter and laughing stopped when he got closer, all of you confused. You wondered why he was staring straight at you, remembering him from the day before.

“Bonjour,” he said smiling with his hands held behind his back. He seemed to be both aware and indifferent to how awkward and extremely British his French was and you couldn’t help but smile. Your friends laughed and you were glad when he didn’t seem offended by their giggling, he didn’t seem to even notice.

“Salut,” you replied, biting your lip to hide your smile. He nodded and then quickly looked down at the palm of his hand before looking back at you.

“Vous êtes belle.”

You felt your face heat up at his words, your friends’ giggles not helping. Somehow his clunky pronunciation and cheeky grin made the compliment even sweeter and you found your heart swelling a little that he was trying to impress you.

“Je suis Y/N.”

He frowned for a moment as if unprepared before his red eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. They drew downward again as he tried to figure out how to respond.

“Fred,” he nodded, hoping you’d understand – Hermione had only taught him how to compliment and he was frankly surprised he that he’d even got that far.

“Alors, merci, Fred.”

When you smiled at him, he swore he fell for you right there and then. His cheeks felt like they were going to burst as he mirrored your grin. He only snapped out of it when your friends started laughing at the both of you, with you grinning at each other like fools.

“Alright, well,” he tongued his cheek, wiping his leg with his hands. “See you later, then.”

“Bien sûr,” you muttered, biting your lip, smiling as the whole Beauxbatons table descended into hysterical laughter. As Fred raced back to his friends, you saw smudged black ink on his hand and you found your smile growing even wider.

You had a habit of seeing Fred in the corridors that next week. Nearly always from far away, you’d meet each other’s eyes and wave, sometimes he’d wink, and every time, your friends would giggle. He’d grown accustomed to their teasing; it didn’t bother him at all. He would’ve liked, though, to see you on your own – seemingly an impossible task. It wasn’t until before the champions announcement that he actually spoke to you again. You were stood by your table, talking to your friend, debating who would be picked for the tournament. You didn’t see him approach but familiar laughing from some of the girls sitting down gave you an inkling; you looked up to see Fred, smiling.

You excused yourself to your friend, crossing your arms loosely as you turned toward him. He cleared his throat, sending you a smile before fishing a ripped-up piece of parchment from his robes.

“Je pense-“

“Fred,” you said, stepping closer with a breathy laugh. Your hand hovered over his forearm. He didn’t seem to mind that you interrupted him, a smile lifting his cheeks at your closer proximity. “I speak English.”

“Oh, brilliant,” he sighed in relief, scrunching up the paper and throwing it over his shoulder. “Thanks for that; I bet your friends would’ve loved my little speech. Probably think I’m a right muppet.”

You couldn’t argue with him there.

“Ignore them. They are- how you say- arseholes?”

His smile grew at your words and it wasn’t long until you were both standing there, grinning at each other, again.

“You just get better, don’t you?”

You felt your face heat up and you hoped he didn’t notice how nervous he made you. Looking up at him to see his shit-eating grin, you realised he definitely did.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go to the Yule Ball?”

You raised your eyebrows.

“With me, I mean.”

You let out a chuckle, pursing your lips at his slightly flustered expression.

“Avec moi-“ you heard your friend mimicking him behind you. With your mood souring slightly, you whipped around to face her, hitting her on the back of the head with your outstretched palm.

“Ta gueule!” you hissed, earning a teasing ‘ooh’ from the other students. You rolled your eyes, turning back to Fred.

You expected him to be put out by the mocking or your rudeness, but instead, he was staring at you with wide eyes, his lips parted in awe.

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly, running your hand up your arm nervously.

“Blimey, don’t be.”

Fred wet his lips with his tongue, smirking as your eyes widened and you remembered what he’d asked you.

“Oh! Yes,” you nodded. “I would love to go with you.”

He nodded, too, and you noticed his eyes flick down to your lips. You couldn’t help but smile.

“Sorry,” he crossed his arms cockily and you had to enjoy how confident he was. “I’m just enjoying the view.”

A laugh escaped your throat as a strange murmur filled the hall and people began to rush to sit down. You looked around, your mouth opening as you turned back to Fred. He was still staring at you.

“Oi, Fred!” his twin yelled from his table. Fred didn’t reply and you couldn’t help the amusement that twitched at your lips.

“I just need another minute,” he said, more to you than his twin.

“Y/N,” your friend pulled on your arm.

More and more people began to take their seats, with their headmaster, Dumbledore, walking to the front of the hall. And still, you and Fred stood there, staring at each other. It became more of a joke the longer you stood there; with both lots of your friends calling you to move. When nearly everyone was sat down, he huffed, tutting before walking backwards to his table. You sat down, still facing him.

“See you,” you said, wiggling your fingers in a wave.

“Oh, definitely.”

When he sat down, George nudged him with his shoulder.

“You stared at that poor girl for about ten bloody minutes-“

“Boy, is she worth staring at.”

The other Gryffindors set off in a round of laughter and jesting before Dumbledore began his speech and the whole hall fell silent. Whilst the tournament champions should’ve been interesting, Fred was much more interested in your profile. Throughout the announcement, he watched you with a smile, his grin growing when your eyes met his.

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #imagine #writing #harry potter #Harry Potter imagine

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ibijau · 3 years

Text

Price of Wishes / on AO3

Nie Huaisang tries to find a solution to his newest problem

The unexpected words ring loud into the room, shaking Nie Huaisang to his core. He gapes at Lan Xichen, eyes round and mouth open in shock, hardly able to breathe. The god looks down at the book, seeming mildly embarrassed, while Nie Huaisang manages to get himself under control.

"You can't read this particular style of characters?" he asks, all too hopeful. If that’s the problem, then with a little practice...

"I can't read at all," Lan Xichen announces, ruining Nie Huaisang’s fragile hope. "It didn't exist when I was alive. By the time it came up, I had started to decline as a god, and I was too busy surviving. Besides, I'd figured it was just a passing fad."

"You… just how old are you?" Nie Huaisang gasps, feeling nearly dizzy.

If Lan Xichen is so old that writing didn't exist when he'd been mortal… then he had to be born centuries ago, or even a dozen centuries, or more. His head spins trying to understand that length of time. Nie Huaisang’s own sect was founded only a few centuries ago, there are records of it. Even Gusu Lan and Qishan Wen, by far the oldest of the major sect, and older than most sects in general, are much younger than the invention of writing.

“I’m not quite sure my age,” Lan Xichen admits, frowning slightly as he tries to remember. “Keeping track of that hasn’t been a priority. I… I’m sorry. Is it really so inconvenient that I can’t read?”

Nie Huaisang wants to cry, and bursts out laughing instead, his voice high and hysterical. He brings his knees against his chest, trying to ground himself, while Lan Xichen watches him with ever growing concern.

“Inconvenient doesn’t even begin to cover it!” Nie Huaisang squeaks, desperately hugging his legs. “Gusu Lan is a sect of scholars! You’d be expected not just to know how to read, but to be exceptionally well-read, to know all the classics, to have a deep understanding of poetry…"

Nie Huaisang pauses, nearly breathless with horror. He didn't think to put these things on his list. His mind was so full of his stupid crush on Lan Wangji, it seemed so obvious it didn't need to be detailed, and now this is biting him in the ass.

Again.

"This is an absolute disaster," Nie Huaisang hisses. "We're going to be caught, and I’ll be in so much trouble, and then da-ge will hear about it and he’ll be furious, and he won’t keep your altar, and then what will happen to you? You’re nice, I don’t want you to die! But I also…" he gasps in horror. "Oh no, Lan Qiren is going to kill me if he figures out that I’ve…”

“I won’t let anyone harm you,” Lan Xichen earnestly interjects, setting aside the book to put his hands on Nie Huaisang’s shoulders, trying to comfort him. “I will protect you. What happened is my fault more than yours, I’m the one who misunderstood what you wanted.”

Nie Huaisang, whose laughter has turned into weak tears, pitiful nods. It says a lot about Lan Qiren and the terror he inspires that Nie Huaisang feels even a god might not be enough to protect him from the venerable teacher's wrath.

Then, realising something, he gasps.

“My list! How did you understand it if you can’t read?”

Lan Xichen’s hands move away. Instantly Nie Huaisang misses their weight on his shoulder, the slight warmth of them. It really had comforted him to be touched like that.

“I’m not sure how that was possible,” Lan Xichen says after taking a moment to consider this. “I don’t think I read it exactly. But you offered that list to me, and so I understood it, if that makes sense?”

Nie Huaisang’s tears stop, and he quickly wipes the lingering wetness from his face.

“Then maybe…”

Just as quickly as he fell into despair, Nie Huaisang's brain starts racing. There's got to be a solution. Already he can think of one… no, three things to test that could solve their problem. If this one doesn't work, then that one. Or maybe they could…

He stands up again, and goes through his qiankun pouch once more until he finds some blank paper and his ink. While a puzzled Lan Xichen watches, Nie Huaisang paints a quick portrait of the god, one that he would normally be ashamed to ever show anyone, but which is enough for his purpose. Then it’s just a matter of setting a piece of fabric on the nightstand, putting a candle there, installing this picture of the god, and making a first offering out of some candies Nie Huaisang has on him.

It’s not the best of altars, and any other god would surely be deeply offended by this, but surely Lan Xichen won’t mind.

“You really don’t need to pray to me right now,” Lan Xichen mumbles as he comes to stand besides him, sounding mortified.

“I do,” Nie Huaisang retorts, rushing to grab the discarded book of Lan rules and placing it on his improvised altar. “My lord, accept this humble offering,” he says in the most formal tone he’s capable of, putting the book on that improvised altar.

Nie Huaisang bows down before his little altar, then waits a moment before turning to look at Lan Xichen who appears more puzzled than ever.

“It didn’t work,” the god sighs. “Whatever you were trying to do, it didn’t work. I’m sorry.”

Nie Huaisang shrugs. “It’s fine, I didn’t really expect that to work,” he admits, going through his pouch again.

He's still panicking, but it's a productive sort of panic now so it's fine. Fear just makes him think faster, which is what they need right now. They only have three weeks to prepare, every instant counts.

“I’ll just try something else, until something does work. And I have a plan if nothing works, as well," Nie Huaisang explains with a grimace, "but it’ll involve more actual lying than I’d prefer, so it’s a last resort.”

Grabbing the book again, he opens it at random and copies the rule there onto a piece of paper. He tries to be more careful with this than he was with the portrait, trying to make the character nice and neat in spite of his trembling hands. Before the ink is even dry, he presents that new offering onto the altar, bowing before it and praying silently to Lan Xichen.

“Oh!” Lan Xichen gasps. “Have a strong will and anything can be achieved. Is that right?”

“It is!” Nie Huaisang exclaims with a grin. “And if you look at the paper, does it change something?”

Lan Xichen comes close to the altar, and picks the quickly scribbled piece of paper. There is a slight frown on his face as he inspects it, but he eventually nods.

“Now when I look at those characters, I can recognise them,” he admits, before sitting down to pick up the book and observe it as well. “Have a… strong… oh, the way you wrote that one is really different, so it’s harder to recognise. Then… anything… can be… yes, I think I can recognise them, once you’ve offered them to me. So I suppose if you were to offer me every character there is…”

“I’ll have to,” Nie Huaisang sighs, the initial joy of his discovery crushed as he realises the enormity of the task ahead of him.

That’s a few thousands characters to share, and Nie Huaisang knows he’s nowhere near as cultivated and well-read as a young master of Gusu Lan would be. He’ll have to do more tests, see how much his own understanding of characters is necessary if they are to be transmitted to Lan Xichen. And that won't solve the problem of all the books Lan Xichen should have read, books Nie Huaisang definitely doesn't have on hand right now.

“This is a nightmare. I don’t know if I can…” Nie Huaisang takes a deep breath, fighting a sob. “I don’t think I can. But we’re going to try anyway.”

He sighs again, and looks at Lan Xichen who seems so truly sorry that Nie Huaisang can’t even be angry at him. It's annoying, because it means he can only be angry at himself.

“And you’re also going to try to learn the normal way as well,” Nie Huaisang announces. “I’m going to find you a book to teach children, so you can study while we travel. It’s… we’re going to make this work." He hesitates, and looks up at the god. "We are, right?”

Lan Xichen doesn’t answer right away, as if seriously considering their chance of success. For some reason, and in spite of his anxiety, Nie Huaisang likes that better than if the god had immediately agreed. It makes it more meaningful when Lan Xichen finally nods.

“We will do our best,” Lan Xichen says. “I will learn all I can, and... If you believe in me, I know I can convince others that I am what you wish me to be. I will work hard to ensure I do not bring trouble for you.”

Nie Huaisang smiles weakly. He trusts Lan Xichen to try his best, which surprises him, considering they haven’t known each other very long. Nie Huaisang doesn’t think of himself as particularly trusting. Aside from his brother, his cousin Nie Zonghui, and Lan Wangji, he just can’t think of anyone in his life worth trusting. Those three, and now Lan Xichen too, never mind they have just now started being honest with each other.

Even though it is already late, Nie Huaisang decides to copy a few more rules for Lan Xichen to learn, this time starting from page one. No matter how many times he’s been forced to copy those stupid rules before, it’s the first time he’s paying so much attention to every word of them. He is careful to use his most legible style of writing, so Lan Xichen can learn the words properly, so he can recognise them more easily if he encounters them in another style. Lan Qiren would probably approve of his efforts, which would be funny if the situation weren’t so strange.

Nie Huaisang only manages to copy a dozen rules that night before he gets too tired to write properly. When he figures he won’t manage more than that, he places his sheets of paper in front of his improvised altar and offers them to Lan Xichen. The god recites the rules one by one, flawlessly, and even manages to read part of the next ones, since it touches on similar concepts. It is incredibly encouraging, Nie Huaisang decides, though with only three weeks ahead of them, they might still lack time to do everything.

It's fine. He has an idea for that, as long as they can get Lan Xichen to a certain level of familiarity with Gusu Lan's way. Nie Huaisang wants to start explaining that, but his god stops him.

“You must rest,” Lan Xichen advises, giving Nie Huaisang a critical look. “It has been a rather intense evening for you. Let’s go to bed, and see in the morning how to proceed next.”

Nie Huaisang nods sleepily. He should feel his modesty take offence at the idea of undressing in front of a near stranger, but he’s too exhausted to care. Anyway, Lan Xichen is so old he doesn’t really count, and also they might get married someday, and then it’ll be normal to undress like this, so Nie Huaisang doesn’t see why he should make a big deal of it.

That logic makes sense in his exhausted mind, but it can only go so far. Nie Huaisang, once in his under clothes, looks around to decide which bed to pick, only to realise with horror that there’s only a single bed in this room.

“I thought this was a room for two?” he gasps, feeling a little faint.

Lan Xichen, slowly divesting himself from the many, many layers he has to wear to pass as a Gusu Lan disciple, nods distractedly.

“It is a big bed, Nie gongzi,” Lan Xichen says. “we could fit three or four in there.”

It might be exhaustion, or it might be embarrassment, but Nie Huaisang feels a little faint. Sleeping in the same room as someone else was already big, but this is huge. The last time he’s slept in the same bed as someone else was…

It hasn’t happened since those first few months after his father’s death, when he had nightmares and couldn’t stand to be alone, terrified that his rageful father would return during the night and do something terrible. So it's been years, and at least Nie Huaisang was young back then, which excused the impropriety.

Maybe if Lan Xichen showed any trace of unease, Nie Huaisang would try to protest. But the god treats this situation as if it’s perfectly normal, and maybe it is for him. Maybe in the olden days, people just slept like that. Nie Huaisang thinks it’s something poor people do, but of course he wouldn’t really know. He is too tired to try to explain why it’s odd, anyway. If Lan Xichen thinks this is fine, then it’s probably fine. Gods are supposed to know what’s right and what’s wrong, don’t they?

If Lan Xichen doesn’t mind, Nie Huaisang will try not to mind either.

Before things can get a chance to get awkward, Nie Huaisang climbs in bed and curls up under the blanket, as close as possible to the edge of the mattress so there will be plenty of space between the two of them, for propriety. He then closes his eyes tightly, desperately trying not to notice when Lan Xichen comes to lay down next to him.

He fails in that endeavour.

Lan Xichen doesn’t lay particularly close to him, the way lovers do in certain books that Nie Huaisang isn’t supposed to own, but he isn’t particularly careful to keep distance between them either, as if this doesn’t mean anything to him.

Perhaps it doesn’t.

Nie Huaisang can’t help but curl a little tighter when he thinks just how much of a stranger the man in bed with him is. All Nie Huaisang knows for sure about Lan Xichen is the fact he had been lying to everybody, and would have lied to him as well if he could have gotten away with it.

Or would he? Lan Xichen said he wants them to be friends, that he doesn’t like feeling Nie Huaisang’s fear of him. Was that the truth, or another lie to fit with what the list demanded?

Maybe Nie Huaisang doesn't know anything at all about this god he’s going to help deceive everyone.

What he does know, then, is that he wants to trust Lan Xichen, even if it goes against all good sense. Lan Xichen hasn’t done anything to hurt him so far, has he? On the contrary, he has been kind, he allowed him to take refuge in his temple, granted him a wish so huge that Nie Huaisang hadn’t ever thought to actually ask for it, and now he’s trying his best to make Nie Huaisang comfortable and…

It’s not that Nie Huaisang has much to complain about. He knows he’s lucky, that he’s never lacked for anything, that his brother loves him, in his own manner. The Nie elders don’t like him too much, and he’s not close to any disciples, but he has a friend in Wangji, and he has his birds, so he’s not lonely, not really.

Not exactly.

He’s not lonely, but nobody has ever acted like being at his side was worth making an effort. Wangji just doesn't have anyone else, his brother can't go against blood, his birds are kept in cages. Nobody had much of a choice. Not until he met this odd god, who is ready to go to incredible extremes just to be around him.

A mean little voice in the back of Nie Huaisang’s head tells him that it’s just because Lan Xichen is so desperate for believers he’d latch onto anyone at all, that Lan Xichen is forced like all the others, but… but it’s still nice to have been the one who entered that temple, who made those offerings, who prayed to that abandoned altar, and thus became worthy of those efforts. At least, he hopes he’s worth it. He hopes Lan Xichen won’t regret choosing him. He hopes…

“You need to sleep,” Lan Xichen orders, shuffling closer, close enough to almost touch Nie Huaisang. “Is there a problem? Is the bed not comfortable? Are you cold?”

Nie Huaisang curls so tight on himself that his chin pokes the space between his knees. Briefly, a sill thought crosses his mind. If he says he’s cold, what will Lan Xichen do? Hug him for warmth like people do in stories? The idea makes him shivers, and he quickly shakes his head, because he’s terrified Lan Xichen would really do something like that, because it’s ridiculous how much he wants a hug right now. It’s been an awful, intense evening, and he’d give anything for a hug, but he’s sure he’d die of embarrassment if Lan Xichen were to hold him.

“If you’re nervous about this situation, we can always think of another way to deal with this,” Lan Xichen offers. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow if you like, but for now…”

Lan Xichen puts a hand on Nie Huaisang’s shoulder, seeking to offer comfort, or to calm him perhaps, but Nie Huaisang flinches so violently that he nearly falls off the bed.

The offending hand is immediately removed, and Nie Huaisang can feel the god’s eyes on him. He braces himself for questions, or accusations, or anything at all really. But Lan Xichen just sighs sadly, and moves away, closer to the other edge of the bed, and that’s the end of it.

Nie Huaisang curses himself. Of course even when something good happens, when someone tries to be nice to him, he has to ruin it.

Sighing as well, Nie Huaisang tries his best to fall asleep, while cursing himself for making things so awkward when clearly Lan Xichen is just being friendly. What else but friendly could he be, anyway? Even if he modelled himself after Nie Huaisang’s list, it’d be stupid to ever expect him to fall in love or anything. After all, Nie Huaisang knows he isn’t a very likeable person, or else his brother wouldn’t always be angry at him, and he wouldn’t have needed to invent a version of Lan Wangji that doesn't just tolerates him.

Likeable people don’t need a deal with a god to find someone to marry them.

And with that thought in mind, Nie Huaisang finally manages to drift to sleep.

When he wakes up in the morning, the other half of the bed is empty, and Nie Huaisang finds that he has been carefully tucked under the blanket. It must have happened recently, because he knows he moves a lot in his sleep, something his brother has complained about at length those few times they shared a bed.

Nie Huaisang knows he should get up, get dressed and grab some breakfast so they can continue their journey toward Gusu. He should do that, but instead he stays in bed as long as he can, enjoying the warmth of that blanket so meticulously wrapped around him, and pretends it means something even when he knows it doesn’t.

#xisang #nie huaisang #lan xichen #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #xisang wishes au #I've had a rough week so nhs gets to have high anxiety and a small breakdown #as a treat

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katnissmellarkkk · 3 years

Text

Chapter Two

Hiiii! Okay, soooo I wanted to get the new chapter out ASAP! I really, really love any of you guys who read/kudoed/commented or anything on AO3 🥰🥰🥰🥰. Means the world to me.

As I mentioned on here yesterday, my one eye is basically sore and I went to the eye doctor and basically can’t wear my contacts for a few days. So because of my how nearsighted I am and the fact that I haven’t updated my glasses prescription in over a decade .... I edited this chapter on my phone? So yeah. I think it turned out just as well as any of my other writing but ya know. For verification, if there’s some mistakes here or there. Ya girl was tryin, ok. 😂😂😂😂😅😅😅😅😬😬😬😬😬😬.

Okay anyways I’ll stop talking, here’s the next chapter :

“You just have to get to know her,” Peeta claimed. “Bailey’s a good person. Don’t let her outer shell fool you.”

What I really wanted to ask him was how he ever got beyond her—as he so delicately phrased it—outer shell.

Never big on social interactions, on top of being generally awful at making friends, I did my best to get all the information Peeta would willingly offer about his new, mysterious girlfriend, before having to deal with her directly.

Which wasn’t much. Peeta, the boy who gossiped about his father wanting to marry my mother while we were in a televised death match, who seemed to always have some insight on other people, who never hesitated to share his gossip with me before now, suddenly had tight lips when it came to Bailey Robyn.

The biggest emission I got from him was, “she had a childhood a lot like mine.”

I don’t know what that means? Bailey was the child of District Nine’s baker? District Nine had a class divide as well and she was of a merchant equivalent? She was a popular wrestler?

And then it hit me all at once. Like a train storming for the Capitol, it hit me with crushing force. Peeta never confirmed the fact, but the look in his eyes when I made the guess was enough to suggest I was right.

Bailey also grew up with an abusive mother. Just like Peeta.

The idea was a lot for me to process suddenly. I knew people who looked perfect could hide dark secrets. Peeta and Finnick Odair were both evidence of this. But for some reason I was taken aback by the notion that Bailey, who seemed so lively and pristine and collected, could have come from a violent and vicious household like the Mellark’s.

I mentally berated myself for the shock. How many times had strangers misjudged me in the last couple of years? How much had that infuriated me to find out?

When I go over to Haymitch’s house the following week for dinner, I make considerable effort in preparing myself to see Bailey sitting at the table.

And I’m not disappointed.

Bailey Robyn is sitting in the dining room when I walk in, half her hair gracefully combed into a cascading updo, looking as porcelain and perfect as ever. In her hand is a cookie covered in pink frosting, her mouth pulled up in a sparkling white smile as she laughs at something Haymitch has said.

Evidently Bailey puts my old mentor in a good enough mood, because he gives her a real genuine grin in reply.

Before turning to me with a scowl, of course. “Well, sweetheart, look who decided to join us?”

“I’m on time, Haymitch,” I immediately grumble, eyeing him with aggravation.

“If we give or take twenty minutes.”

But Bailey apparently wants to be my buffer. “Like you’ve ever been on time for anything, Haymitch Abernathy,” she retorts, looking at me knowingly. Like she’s trying to let me in on her joke. Like we’re old friends, who gang up on Haymitch together all the time.

A part of me feels displaced, as this interaction, if I didn’t know better, gives me the idea that I’m the odd one out and Bailey is the aquatinted one in this dynamic. But still, I take a deep breath and smile back in her direction.

I promised Peeta I would try. I promised to give Bailey a chance. And I’m not going to break another promise to him.

Not after everything that’s happened to him because of me.

Before I can find a semi-conversational thing to say back though, more voices join us.

“Katniss!” Delly chirps, rounding the corner from Haymitch’s pigsty living room with Peeta by her side.

“Oh, look who finally showed up,” Peeta says, teasing me.

I have an entirely different reaction to him nudging me versus Haymitch. Instead of getting defensive, I feel myself immediately blush, suddenly a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I got held up in the woods.” My words somehow get choked in with a giggle and Peeta smirks in response.

Luckily for me, Bailey seems to not mind our interaction. Instead she laughs once again. “Held up in the woods by what?” She murmurs curiously.

“Knowing her?” Haymitch mutters, eyeing at me wryly. “Squirrels.”

I give the night my best effort. I talk to Bailey, ask her questions—pretend not to notice how elusive her answers are—and plaster a completely fake smile across my face, trying my best to appear as sweet and as pleasant as I am capable of.

However, by the end, I’m so glad Delly is there by my side that, without hesitating to think about it, I invite her to be a permanent member of our weekly dinners. If Peeta can bring Bailey every time—as I suspect he will—I can surely have someone here too. Someone else who is a bit apprehensive about the new addition, someone who doesn’t think I’m just blatantly rude for remaining on my guard.

I expected Haymitch, at least, would be a little unsure about Bailey. I expected he’d be at least slightly cautious of her presence. But instead the opposite seems to be true.

Instead Haymitch almost seems more apprehensive about me being at dinner.

Every time I glance at Peeta too long, every time I cringe—in my mind, internally, but evidently the old, paunchy man notices—when Bailey plants her lips all over Peeta, I feel him kick me in the leg, step on my foot, nudge me roughly as he passes by.

Delly finds the whole thing really funny. She finds Haymitch and my subsequent glares and glances more entertaining than any of the stories Bailey shares about District Nine.

And Delly Cartwright has never been one for subtly. She’s never been one for holding back her emotion either.

What should be her quiet chuckles are loud, snorting giggles and her standard laughs are practically hysterics.

And I find unexpectedly, when mixed with such a tense air, the sound of her boisterous laughter cracks even me up. Even Haymitch smiles a little.

Of course, the fact that this conjures up an image of me and Delly sharing some kind of inside joke is sort of an unexpected gift. I only realize it after the fact, but the idea that it looks like me and Delly are laughing together makes me feel suddenly less alone. Makes me feel suddenly like I belong here again.

Bailey is pleasant enough, I note to myself. She smiles in all the right places when someone else speaks, she manages to softly laugh in all the appropriate spots, she tell us vague details about her home in Nine easily enough.

Apparently she was born and raised on a farm, learned to produce grain from a young age and left her parents’ home at fourteen.

She makes no mention of the abuse Peeta implied but I never expected she would. It takes practically a microscope to uncover it in Peeta’s own tales. And even that’s from my point of view. An outsider who didn’t survive two games and a war with him would be hard-pressed to decipher it at all out of the stories he tells. I anticipated Bailey would be just as allusive.

I did not anticipate however, that Bailey would grow so uncomfortable when asked where she lived after she left her parents’ home. I didn’t expect her to look around the room in an abrupt, stiff silence, that she would stare past the walls of Haymitch’s home with a glassy look in her stone blue eyes, or that she would stand from the table without warning and flee down the hall.

And I’m thankful now that it was Delly who asked the question and not me, as surely my old mentor, who’s nearly smashed by this point, would find a way to cast the blame onto me.

“Did I say something wrong?” Delly asks, genuinely disturbed that she apparently must have hurt Bailey. She may not be her biggest fan, but Delly Cartwright isn’t one to intentionally upset people.

Peeta hesitates for a moment before shaking his head. “No, she’s just... it’s nothing you did, Delly,” he promises but his voice is far away now too, and his gaze flickers towards the hall the blonde disappeared down.

Still, Delly bites her lip in fear she caused an issue and excuses herself from the table in a haste, offering to clean everyone’s dishes.

Neither me nor Peeta—or even Haymitch himself—say not to bother. The house itself is in atrocious condition after the decades of neglect and washing the dishes will only cover the plates in grim and mold instead of food. But it’s not about the actual cleansing of the dishes and we all know it. It’s about avoidance.

Something the three of us know more about than anyone ever should.

I use the given opportunity to catch Peeta’s eye. “What’s going on?” I murmur under my breath, hoping Haymitch wouldn’t insert himself into the conversation for once, that he won’t shut my question down and bark at me for being nosy.

“Bailey just needs a minute,” Peeta states, and I can tell from his tone it’s better not to ask again. Whatever’s going on with his girlfriend has him on edge as well. It seems to me, at least.

The next thirty minutes feel like hours as they pass. No one speaks. Haymitch is almost out cold from his liquor. Peeta refuses to meet my eyes or even so much as tear his gaze from the direction Bailey walked off in. I’m about to tell him to just go after her, when she decides to reappear.

Like magic, she reappears, her face seemingly flawless, her smile as bright and as stunning as before, her poise back again like it never slipped.

“Are you okay?” I ask anyway though, because there’s no use in pretending she didn’t just run off after a harmless comment. Delly obviously wants the answer to the same inquiry or she wouldn’t be currently lingering in the doorframe, afraid to even enter the room.

Still, I receive a pointed glance from Peeta and an outright disgusted look from a barely coherent Haymitch.

I fight my natural instincts that says to justify myself. My natural instincts that tell me they’re being far too defensive over a simple question.

And for what reason? Peeta just met her a few months ago and Haymitch probably wouldn’t be able to tell her apart from half the merchant girls in the district. What is it about Bailey that makes both of them take up their metal armor to protect?

“I’m fine,” she says lightly, and offers a tight, closed-mouth smile that doesn’t come across as real for a second. “Delly, do you need any help in the kitchen?”

“No,” the typically bubbly blonde says almost instantly. There’s a waiver in her voice and I feel a pang of sadness spread across my chest, because Delly is obviously afraid of even being in the same room as Bailey now.

“Okay well, we should be going anyways, Peeta,” she says definitively and tugs on his hand with a bit too much force. If you ask me.

“Me too,” I murmur before mentally kicking myself, realizing that I just boxed myself into a corner, looking like I was playing a game and trying to tag along with them for the walk home.

Well, the entire two minutes it takes to get to each of our respective homes, that is.

Even without the added awkwardness of tagging alongside Peeta and his girlfriend, a part of me—a naive, juvenile part—doesn’t want to watch Bailey enter through Peeta’s front door, doesn’t want to accept the fact that she isn’t just spending the night, that his home is now hers too, as a definitive fact.

Within a matter of days, his home is officially her’s. I already know it must be true. But that doesn’t mean I’m anxious by any stretch of the imagination to have the suspicion confirmed.

Haymitch chuckles darkly though, seemingly at my expense, as he lifts his head from the grimy table. “I see someone’s trying to escape before we can light the candles and start singing.”

I blanch the same moment I feel Peeta’s eyes turn and land on me in shock.

I was hoping everyone had forgotten my birthday somehow.

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#everlark #thg #hunger games #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #fic #everlark fic #everlark fanfic #dancing on my own 💔👸🏼✨#jealousy #jealousy fic

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