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harlowdoylepi · 2 years

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TQQ AU Part 2

Being poked, prodded, brushed, and painted, all morning was not much to Jules' liking. It never felt natural. Octavia, Venia, and Flavius, all pranced in and out of the room. They rubbed Jules down with lotions and oils. They painted her nails, with black background and glittering orange and yellow overlaid, giving it a fire-like quality.

Her makeup was not minimal like last time. Bronzy pink blush highlighted her cheekbones. Her eyes were adorned with false eyelashes, black eyeshadow, and deep black eyeliner. Blinking felt slow and heavy. The eyeliner was underlined and outlined with delicate strokes of gold, made to look like a mockingjay's wings. It made her look much older than simply seventeen. Jules quite liked the effect this carried.

But she didn't like the effect her shoes would have on her feet. She had only worn them for a few minutes, but the stiletto heels were already starting to pinch. The suede straps ran criss-crossed over each other, until they reached just under her knees. She wondered what kind of dress she would possibly be wearing to go with these kinds of shoes.

"I saw the dress Cinna created!" Octavia chirped, as though she had been reading Jules' mind. She clapped her green hands. "It's stunning! Just the perfect thing for our girl on fire!"

"You are going to steal the show again, Jules!" Venia flashed a smile.

"And that's saying something, since you've got tributes like Richard, Gloss, Enobaria, and Monica!" Octavia swooned. "It's certain their stylists are working overtime like us! But I'm sure you'll take the cake!"

"Hope so." Jules gave a thin-lipped smile.

The door for her room opened, and Cinna and Flavius walked in, carrying a large dress bag.

Venia clapped her hands.

"Hello again, Jules." Cinna smiled pleasantly. For the first time since she had come back to the Capitol, Jules returned the smile with sincerity. Seeing her stylist again was the one good thing about coming back to the Capitol.

"Hi, Cinna."

"Are you ready to try on your dress?"

"Yup." She stood and retied the belt around her silk robe.

"I really think you will like this dress." Said Cinna. "I've decided to go with a different tack for you in this games. The look I'm going for is...otherworldly, and vaguely threatening."

Jules gave a small laugh. "That sounds pretty different alright. I like the sound of it."

She had become the face of the rebellion, even if she didn't want it. But she might as well look the part. She needed all the help she could get, and Cinna would be invaluable. He slid the dress over her head, helped her get her arms through the sleeves, and zipped up the back. Several delighted exclamations came from Octavia, Flavius, Venia.

Flavius ceremoniously helped Cinna extend the train on the back of her dress.

"Well Jules? Have a look and tell me what you think."

Jules turned around and looked in the full body mirror. She gasped. This dress was impressive. It was charcoal colored, studded with small laser-cut diamonds of leather, giving small glints of light; her whole outfit gave off a dull shine. The dress came just above her knees, with a train of the same fabric trailing behind her. A grecian neckline graced her neck and shoulders. Just looking at it made Jules hold her head high.

"Cinna, it's... it's-" She stopped and surveyed her dress again in amazement. "It's incredible." She breathed softly.

Venia squealed. "You've outdone yourself, Cinna!"

Jules grinned. "He always does."

Cinna smiled humbly. "I'm glad you like it."

"Does this one catch on fire too?"

"Yes, but me and Portia made some modifications to it so it will look a little different. I'll give you the activator button before you get on the chariot."

Octavia checked her bejeweled watch. "Speaking of which, it's time to get down there!"

Flavius took Jules' hand. He attached a fancy silver bangle bracelet to her wrist. "You are going to send them speechless."

Venia dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. "You really will!"

Effie came in. Jules decided this room was getting a little too crowded. "Time to go go go!" She stopped and looked at Jules in shock! "Cinna! This is brilliant! Just the right look for our girl on fire."

Cinna smiled. "That's what I was going for."

"You succeeded!" Effie snapped her fingers. "Let's go!" Cinna, Effie and Jules walked out the door.

They went down the elevator, Cinna and Effie stopped on the floor above, needing to talk to some interviewers. Jules was left alone as she walked to her assigned chariot. She could hear the crowds cheering outside, and some were already watching her from above, on a balcony overlooking the place where the tributes were lining up for the chariot parade.

The chariot was beautiful, lined with white flowers, mingled with the sweet scent of the horses. She walked over to the station and gently petted the horse's black coat. She wondered if it wished to be free, running about the fields instead of being a beast of burden, and a device of entertainment for the Capitol, no less.

"How did we get here, huh?" She softly asked. The horse twitched its ear in response.

"I don't know either."

"Jules!" An unfamiliar voice called to her.

She turned and recognized him upon sight. "Hello Richard."

He walked up to her with an ease that suggested they had been friends for years, when in fact they had just met. "You want a sugarcube?" He held several in his hand. "I know they're supposed to be for the horses, but at this point, who cares? They have years to live, while you and I - well, if we see something sweet, we better take it while we can."

Jules gave a forced smile. "I'll pass." She surveyed his outfit. "But I would like to borrow that outfit someday."

Richard's outfit consisted of a gold net draped over his shoulders, which complemented his tanned skin, and some fitted shorts made out of a jean like material. Made to look sexy, and showing off as much as possible while remaining appropriate. He walked around barefoot, and Jules wasn't sure whether it was the stylists idea or his own. A necklace of glassy blue sea rocks hung around his neck, as well as a longer one with a conch shell pendant.

He smiled. "I have to say, you look pretty terrifying in that getup." He said, referring to Jules's outfit. "A far cry from after last year's games and the victory tour. What happened to the pretty little girl dresses?"

"I outgrew them." Jules shot back.

"You certainly did." Richard flashed another smile. Before Jules could wonder what he meant by that, he continued. "It really is a shame about this whole Quell thing. Seriously, you could have made out like a bandit in the Capitol. Anything you wanted, money, jewels-"

"Well, I have more money than I need, and I don't care for jewels much, so-" She shrugged. "What did you do with all your wealth, anyway?"

Richard wrinkled his nose. "I haven't dealt in anything as common as money in years."

Jules raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Then how do people pay for the pleasure of your company?"

Richard took two steps toward her and stopped once his mouth was inches from her ear. "Secrets." He whispered. The corner of his mouth turned up, as though he were about to tell a juicy secret of his own. "What about you, girl on fire?" He said. "You got any secrets worth my time?"

Jules was beginning to feel uncomfortable, but stood her ground and maintained her poker face. She shrugged. "I'm an open book." She said, "Everyone seems to know my secrets before I even know them myself."

Richard raised his eyebrows. "Unfortunately, I think that's true."

Jules could see Buck and Cinna coming out of the corner of her eye. Thank goodness.

"I'm sorry you had to cancel your wedding." Richard said, with an almost insincere tone. "I know how devastating that must be for you."

He backed up a step and popped a sugarcube in his mouth. "Have a good day." He turned and walked past Buck. "Buck."

"Hey Richard."

Richard sauntered away to his chariot.

"What did he want?" Buck asked.

Jules snorted. "To know all my secrets."

Buck laughed. "He'll have to get in line."

Jules gave a small laugh.

Cinna, Haymitch, and two tributes walked up to them. They were both dark skinned, like Thresh and Rue. Jules recognized them from the victory tour.

"Jules, Buck, I'd like you to meet two friends of mine, Chaff, and Seeder, from District 11." He put a hand on both of the tribute's shoulders.

The group talked together, and Jules quite liked them. Chaff had lost a hand in his games, and refused a prosthetic offered by the Capitol. She got the impression that all Chaff and Haymitch had indulged in more than one bottle of liquor over the years.

Seeder was a kindly woman in her late forties, with a gentle voice and sparks in her eyes. She was not a woman who let the horror of the games get her down.

A voice over a loudspeaker ordered the tributes to get in their positions. They turned and Cinna followed them as they walked to their chariot.

"Alright, no waving and smiling this time." Cinna directed them. "I want you to look straight ahead as if this audience and this whole event are beneath you."

"That will be easy enough." Jules answered.

Cinna handed Jules a small fob with a button. "Just press this when you're ready." He put a hand on both their shoulders. "Good luck you two."

The horses received the signal, and made their way towards the cheering crowds at an easy trot.

The roar became louder as they got closer. Jules could feel the same rush of adrenaline that she had felt before. She reached over and silently took Buck's hand. He looked at her and gave her a slight smile. They rode out, blinded by the sunlight and deafened by the noise of the crowds. Instead of being at night this year, it was in broad daylight.

They could see the skyline, the pristine buildings of Panem, decked out with flags and buntings. Huge fountains blew geysers into the air, in the same rhythm of the bass drums and the blaring of the trumpets. They rode past these and went past the stands of thousands of cheering Capitol citizens.

They passed them in silence, not bothering to look or give them any indication they cared. They came closer to the large circular enclosure, where President Snow's balcony was, as he watched over them. Even though they were still so far away, Jules could feel President Snow's snake-like eyes watching her.

Now was the time. She pressed the button. Both her and Buck's costumes burst into flames, slowly overtaking their whole outfits. The final section of stands they were passing roared, some even got to their feet.

Their costumes were not fully ablaze like last time, instead they crackled, sparked, and were lit with small orange flames. They resembled embers, smoldering, but being able to light an entire forest ablaze in a moment of time.

They could hear their names being chanted in the crowds as they passed the final stands, and their horses began to circle, giving the chariots a chance to pass by the President. All the tributes waved to President Snow, but Jules and Buck stood still, staring him down until their ride turned and went back in the opposite direction. Jules held her head high. President Snow was not going to get the best of her, no matter what he did to her, in the arena or outside of it.

Their chariot pulled back into the preparation area, and they got off and headed straight for the elevator. Most of the tributes were eager to get out of there, talking to each other while walking.

Jules could see District 3 walking off rather stiffly in their costumes of blinking lights. It was something close to Caesar Flickerman's interview outfit, but much more cumbersome.

"So glad to get this thing off." Monica pulled her head dress of peacock feathers off. District 1 produced luxury items, and Gloss and Monica's costumes showed it. They were decked out in fancy outfits full of jewels, velvet, feathers and furs. Jules was shocked at how Gloss was even taller than he seemed on television.

All of a sudden, Brutus and Enobaria walked up to them. Their costumes were of a gold amour, similar to what Cato and Clove wore, except they were armed to the teeth with all sorts of weapons. Jules hoped they were fake. She could just catch them saying "strategy" and "games" as they stopped. Was that against the rules? Strategizing with your cohorts beforehand? She wouldn't be surprised if they pulled Richard over for their meeting. Where was he anyway? She looked over at the District 4 chariot and could see Richard stepping off and helping Mags down.

He took her wrinkled hand in his. "Allow me to help you, my lady." He said in a grandiose capitol accent.

Jules almost smiled as she watched Richard sweep Mags off her feet and carry her like a groom carries a bride. The light blue folds of her dress fluttered, resembling sea waves. The bodice of it was studded in pearls and seashells.

"Oh, I feel so special." She heard her voice come weakly as the pair passed by Buck and Jules. They both laughed.

They could hear muttered swearing; not far behind them came Bridget, who dramatically tossed her head dress of leaves behind her. "My stylist is a loser." She announced. "They've done tree costumes for District 7 the past forty years with no change. You'd think the Capitol would be able to think of something more creative." She snorted, taking off her bracelets that must have been made to look like chainsaw blades. She tossed them over her shoulder. "The cleaners can toss these out with the horse manure. Ugh, if my stylist were in the games, she'd be the first I'd kill." Bridget undid the straps on her shoes and kicked them off, one flying and nearly hitting one of the Morphlings. Neither paid any attention.

Buck raised his eyebrows.

She looked at them. "What? I've got nothing to lose. I'm going back to the games anyway. What are they going to do, make my life worse?"

"They could do that." Jules muttered.

"See, you're different. You still care about stuff." Bridget said, patting Jules' head as though she were a small child. "Don't worry. You're a victor now, that'll go away in time. If it doesn't kill you first." She stalked off. "Or if I don't." She called over her shoulder.

"Well, I know who we're not allying with." Jules said. "What was that all about?"

Buck couldn't help but chuckle. "You don't see what she's doing?"

"Talking herself up?" But she knew this wasn't true. Bridget really could kill them if she had the right weapons.

"No. She's trying to get under your skin. My guess is that's what Richard was doing earlier."

"But why?"

"Well, when you compare yourself with the others, and well, frankly the whole Capitol -- you're pure."

"What! I am not!" Jules protested.

"In comparison, sure. Though, I'm also guessing that they're using this as a defense. They know we'll try to make friends with them; they're doing it to dissuade us. It will be less guilt they have over killing us later. Haymitch said a lot of them have been friends for a long time, so it's already hard enough."

"Somehow, neither Richard nor Bridget seem like they would have remorse over killing, period." Jules responded tersely. She remembered when she, Buck, and Haymitch had watched Richard and Bridget’s games. They would do what it took to win. Richard had allied with Districts One and Two and then outwitted and killed them all the next day. He was fourteen years old.

"It wasn't personal that time."

Jules shot him a look of frustration. "Why are you defending them?"

"I'm not saying the choices they made were good, but I am saying that may be what's going on in their minds."

Because of the fact that Buck's birth father was a con artist and used to travel in different districts, Jules knew Buck was right. He knew how people worked, and how to work with them. None of these tributes wanted to make this any harder than they had to.

"They have a weird way of showing it."

"I never said they made sense." They both laughed in spite of themselves.

They came toward the elevator, went past the peacekeepers and were about to shut the door before they heard voices calling to them.

“Wait!” It was Bridget, running to them.

“Hold the elevator please.” Richard was running as well, still carrying Mags.

Jules was going to shut the door just to spite them, but before she could, the peacekeepers moved in front, blocking their way. The doors shut on their own and they shot up to their floor.

“I wonder what that was all about?” Buck murmured.

"More trouble, I imagine." Jules sighed.

"We'll never know."

They came to the twelfth floor. "Haymitch said to meet him at the meeting room half an hour after we came back up. They said they're having an early dinner and a strategy meeting about training. I think it's about making allies and such."

The doors rolled open and Effie greeted them cheerfully, holding two objects in her hands.

"Hello hello! You two did absolutely wonderful! Haymitch has several prominent sponsors talking to him!" She handed Jules her Mockingjay pin. "Here are our team tokens! I used some shiner on this to make the gold stand out even more! Here you are Buck." Effie handed him a golden medallion on a chain. It looked a bit like a locket that Jules' mother once had. "I bought this from one of the finest jewelry vendors in Panem!"

Buck gave a genuine smile. "Thanks Effie, it looks beautiful."

Effie beamed.

"Yes, thank you." Jules answered quietly. Effie could be silly, and she was Capitol, but Jules had to admit she had her moments.

"You two get changed into something more comfortable, and we'll be ready for another meeting in half an hour!"

"Alright." The two tributes answered. They started on their way down the hall.

Jules decided to change the subject. "I think I have some options for allies narrowed down."

"Richard and Bridget?"

"None of the careers. That's non-negotiable. They're in it to be back in the games. This is some kind of honor for them, not a death sentence." Jules didn't understand how a mind like that worked. District Twelve may have been poor but at least they had humanity; the decency to recognize how horrible the reality of the games were.

“Their names were drawn just like you and me. There are just more options to draw from.” Buck answered.

“I know.” Jules said softly. “But you don’t see me or you cheering at the fact that we got picked, or strategizing with our already-in-place allies.”

“It’s true that we’re starting from square one in a lot of ways. That’s why we need to make it count these next three days as much as possible. My guess is that’s what Haymitch will push for us to focus on during training.”

Jules pursed her lips. “It sounds good in theory. Tomorrow we’ll see just how well it works applied in real life.” The sudden weight of dread for the next day hit her. Training started tomorrow. It would be twelve hours of watching the other tributes prepare to kill each other. For two days in a row. She knew Buck was not looking forward to it, either.

She opened the door to her room and shut the door before Buck could say anything to disarm her suspicion. Jules sighed with relief. Enjoying the quiet, she undid the straps on her stilettos and wriggled her feet out of the tangles of straps that snaked around her legs. She sank into the downy soft blankets of the queen bed. Just a few moments of rest, then she would go wash off her makeup and change....

Before she knew what was happening, she slipped away in a light sleep.

~ the next day ~

Jules and Buck came through the elevator, and walked down the blnk concrete hall that led to the training center.

The automatic doors swung open for them with a metallic *swish*.

"Remember." Buck said quietly. "We're here to make allies."

They entered.

#adventures in odyssey #my ocs stuff #tqq au #adventures in odyssey fanfiction #aio #eugene meltsner #aio fanfic #fanfic #harlow writes #catching fire #hunger games #jules kendall #buck oliver

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totallysharkycomplete · 3 years

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Waiting For You Part Six (Ford Pines x Reader) Home In Your Arms

She awoke before the dawn as usual. Under the blankets was warm. Although the boat was cold Ford’s body, which was firmly pressed against hers, provided plenty of heat. The gentle swaying of the boat would have made it easy to fall back asleep, but since the weather was supposed to be clear today, she decided to get up and watch the sunrise.

Gently slipping out of the covers, and out of Ford’s grasp, she quickly dresses into more layers before quietly stalking up on the deck. She could still hear the heavy breaths and snores coming from the cabin below. The deck was even colder than the cabin, and there was a layer of frost on the upper windows. She quickly made a cup of coffee then downed it, then leaned against the front railing, and waited for the sunrise as the clouds on the horizon turned pink.

She was lost in thought, so when someone wrapped their arms around her waist she jumped. The person behind her chuckled and she let out a sigh.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Ford’s lips are right next to her ears, his stubble is scratchy on her skin.

She lets out a hum, then turns around in his arms to face him. “You could still be sleeping.”

He begins to plant gentle kisses to her cheek. “Couldn’t without you.”

She giggles and places a hand on his cheek, her thumb runs over his stubble.

“Why are you up so early?” He almost whines against her skin, still leaving soft kisses on the small amount of skin exposed on her cheeks and upper neck.

She let out a content sigh. “Weather is supposed to be clear. I wanted to watch the sunrise. Would you like to join me?”

He moves his head up and presses his forehead to hers. “I’d love to.”

She leans forward the inch she needs to so she can plant a kiss on Ford’s lips. It’s soft, but conveys so many feelings. Love, affection, the sense of being home.

Ford tries to lean forward for another kiss but she quickly turns around. He lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Sorry, but the sun rises this way.” She teases.

Ford’s hand is on the back of her neck, moving the hair away from it so he can press more kisses to her skin.

“You’re in a very touchy mood this morning.” She comments, leaning her back against his chest.

“Do you want me to stop?” He murmurs, lips still on her skin.

“No,” she quickly tells him. “Just an observation.”

He leaves a few more kisses on her skin before her hand wraps around his. “Ford, look.”

The sun had just peaked above the horizon, brilliant oranges and yellow began to fill the sky, casting warm rays of light on the small sleepy fishing village they had docked near. Soon the warm rays fell onto her face. “Isn't it beautiful?”

“Not more so than you.” Ford tightens his grip around her waist and rests his chin against the top of her head.

She’s glad Ford can’t see the blush on her face. Even after thirty plus years had passed, he could still make her blush. She was about to say something modest back to Ford until she heard a burp and scratching noises.

“Ugh, get a room.” Stanley had obviously joined them on deck.

“We have a room.” She rolls her eyes. “I think you forget we share sometimes. Your memory is slipping old man.” She teases without moving from Ford’s grip.

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves her comment away before heading inside the upper cabin to the coffee she had prepared.

There's a moment of peace, you might almost call it pure bliss. To spend the sunrise wrapped in your lover's arms, their warm breath leaving them in clouds of hot air, the boat gently rocking them as the morning tide rolled in.

“Everytime I wrap my arms around you, it feels like coming home all over again, to where I belong.” Ford whispers.

She turns to face him again and cups his face with both her hands, and kisses the tip of his nose. “When did you become so romantic?”

Ford leans into her touch. “I mean it.” He pauses for a second. “I don’t think I ever told you, but when I first came back and saw you, my first thought was that I had died and gone to heaven. Being with you again is everything I’ve ever wanted and more.”

“If you had died and gone to heaven then that would have meant Stan was in your heaven too.” She laughs.

“He’s still her now.” He grabs her hand to hold it still so he can tilt his head and kiss her thumb.

She laughs even louder this time, then wraps her arms around his neck to draw him into another kiss. “I love being in your arms. I love being your home, because you’re mine too.”

The boat rocks them gently as the morning sun warms their bodies. Their hearts are full of love for one another. “Let’s stay like this forever, and just let the world drift away.”

Ford is about the respond before Stan interrupts.

“Hey love birds! We gonna explore some anomalies today or what?” Stan barks from behind them.

Ford's eyebrows furrow and he goes to turn his head to snap at Stanley, but her hands catch his chin and turn his face back to her. She kisses him passionately three times and he’s breathless. She untangles herself from Ford and heads towards Stan.

“What’s on the agenda for today co-captain Stanley?” She smiles.

Ford is left standing there speechless and in a daze.

“Are you coming, co-captain Ford?”

Ford looks over at her. She squinting her eyes as the morning sun washes over her features, her cheeks pink from the cold. He has never been more in love with her.

“Coming, associate co-captain.”

---------- By the time the sun was high in the sky he three of them had docked the boat and climbed halfway up the mountain. The town folks had told them about strange flying creatures that lived near the top of the mountain.

The sun beat down on them, and they soon found themselves needing to take off some of the many layers of winter clothes they had dressed in for the day. About an hour into the hike Stan speaks up.

“Hey poindexter, how bout a break?” He huffs as he wipes sweat from his brow.

“We’re very close to where the creatures were reported being seen.” Ford is warm, sweat gleams on his brow, but his attitude is chipper and he’s not as nearly out of breath.

“Even the kid needs a break.” Stan motions towards her.

She rolls her eyes at Stan still calling her a kid. She’s also out of breath, almost as bad as Stan. The high altitude is getting to her, but she wouldn’t voice it.

Ford places a hand on her shoulder. “What do you think? Would you like to take a short rest.”

She smiles and nods. “Let’s take a short rest. We wouldn’t want Stan passing out on us.”

Stan grunts but doesn’t say anything. Glad to finally have a break from hiking. The three of them sit on the ground and drink their water. Ford is sitting as close as he can to her. She shivers as a cold breeze blows past them, feeling a little cold now that they have stopped moving. Ford wraps an arm around her shoulder, she looks up at him and smiles a wordless thank you.

After a few minutes they stand up and begin to get moving again. She groans as she stretches, and once they start moving again she is behind both the boys on the path.

“You alight? You’re normally faster than me.” Stan turns his head to talk to her while they move up the narrow mountain path.

“I’m fine, my legs are just a bit sore.” She tells him.

They continue their hike until they break through the tree line. They can see the horizon on the sea, and far below them is the small fishing village where they left the Stan O’ War II docked.

She’s stunned by the beautiful view and almost doesn’t realise Stan and Ford haven’t stopped walking like she had. She scurries to catch up to them, until she sees a bush near her shake. Looking over she sees a small head of a rat pop out.

“Aww.” She says softly to not scare the rodent away. “Hey little fella.” She coos.

The rat scurried back into the bush at the sound of her voice, much to her disappointment. She turns to catch up to the boys, After a few steps she hears a strange sound. Somewhere between a squeak and a squawk. Turning around she sees the rat has raised itself out of the bush with a pair of wings. This must be the creature they had been looking for!

“Fascinating!” She says to herself and pulls out her sketchbook and begins to jot down a quick doodle on the animal. The sun catches on her silvery pen and flashes a light up at the rat-like creature. It squawks loudly then dives towards her.

Further up the path Ford is mumbling to himself and Stan is tuning him out. Both of them freeze when they hear a shriek. They both stop dead in their tracks and whip around to see she is no longer behind either of them. The brothers share a second of a glance before booking it back down the trail.

It doesn’t take them long to get back to her. When she comes into sight they can see she's using one arm to shield her face, the other is holding her notebook and waving it aimlessly behind her, trying to hit the creature that’s attacking her hair.

Stan is the first to her, he pulls her to his chest with one arm and throws a left hook at the creature, sending it crashing into a tree. There's a moment of silence before Ford is pulling her into his arms. Stan makes his way over towards the tree.

“What happened? I thought you were right behind us?” Ford’s hands are on her face, tilting her head around and looking for any sign of injury. Her hands rest on his chest.

“Ford, I’m okay, promise. You were both further up the path when I noticed the creature. I thought if I called to you I’d scare it off. So I tried to get a quick sketch, and I must have scared it because it started attacking my hair.” She can’t help as a laugh escapes her.

“You could have been hurt.” Ford’s voice is soft as he scoulds her.

“But I wasn’t.” She teases.

“Please promise me you won’t go off on your own again? I don’t know what I’d do if you got hurt.” Ford told her seriously.

She stops smiling when she realises Ford is actually upset, not with her, but by the fact she could have been hurt. She takes his hands, which were still on her face, and holds them in hers. She leans up and gives him a soft, reassuring kiss.

“I promise.” She whispers.

“Check this out!” Stan shouts and holds the unconscious ratbird in between them by its feet.

She shrieks with surprise and jumps away from Ford. “Stanley that’s disgusting!”

“What!? I thought you like rodents!” He laughs, shaking the bird closer towards her as she takes another step back.

“I wouldn’t pick up a wild rat or bird with my hands, or let it that close to my face! Who knows where that thing has been!” She scolds him. “If it wakes up and bites you I’m not helping you.”

In the commotion Ford slipped on some protective gloves from his pack. “Hold it still please Stanley.” Stan complies and Ford gently stretches its wings open and begins to list off observations about it that she quickly sketches down. “It’s wingspan is too small to carry it far. That’s probably why it is native only to this island.” He lists other things off like teeth size and tail length.

Stan gently set the animal down. “Think that’s enough for today right?”

The other two agree and they begin their trek back down the mountain. She is in front of them now to set the pace, and so the boys can’t lose sight of her. When the path begins to get wider, Ford falls back a bit to walk besides Stan.

“Thank you for earlier.” Ford tells his brother.

Stan looks at him confused. “Didn’t do nothing.”

“You were able to get to her first and protect her from the rat bird.” Ford reminds him.

Stan waves it off. “Don’t mention it.” Stan wouldn’t admit to Ford how scared he was to see her get attacked like that, he’d rather not think about it.

When they make it back to the ship the sun is already touching the horizon. It was Ford’s night to cook and the other two went to rest in their beds. When the food was ready Ford headed below deck to find them both asleep. He wasn’t surprised Stan had nodded off. Almost anytime he wasn’t actively moving or engaged in an activity he would fall asleep. But his believed fiance would normally be reading a book or be annotating her notes.

He gently brushes some hair out of her face and she stirs. She smiles up at him and grabs his hand and brings it down to her lips to kiss his palm. His heart flutters at her sweet act.

“I fell asleep.” She murmurs, voice heavy with sleep.

“I noticed.” He leans down to kiss her. “Are you feeling alright?”

“I feel perfect now that you’re here.” She giggles and he frowns. She frowns too, but only to mock him. “I feel fine Stanford. I guess today was just too exciting is all.”

“Well, why don’t we have dinner then we can go right back to bed?” He suggested.

“You’re perfect. I love you” She smiles up at him, eyes half lidded.

“I love you too.”

They stare into each other's eye, and neither of them notice the loud snoring has stopped. There’s a loud groan announcing Stan has awoken.

“If you love him so much why don’t you marry him?” Stan teases, she rolls her eyes.

The next morning Ford is the first to wake up. His love is tucked close to his side, buried under the blankets. He turns on his side to draw her impossibly closer. She makes a noise at the movement but doesn't awaken.

The bed feels a little warmer than normal. Maybe the day will be warmer than the forecast had predicted Ford thinks. Ford lays there for a while, enjoying the silence and warmth for a while until she begins to stir.

He feels her stretch under his grasp and she looks up at him eyes still droopy from sleep.

“Good morning my dear. Would you like to join me for some coffee?” Ford murmurs into her hair.

She shakes her head no. “It’s too cold.” She tries to burrow closer to Ford to get any extra warmth.

“I’ll go turn the heater on upstairs, join me when you’re ready.” Ford moves the hair away from her forehead and kisses her there then freezes. He moves the back of his hand to her forehead, then his cheek to confirm his thought. “You’re burning up!”

“No, it’s cold.” She denies.

“You must have a fever. Do you feel alright? When did you start feeling sick?” Ford doesn’t bother keeping his voice down and clearly wakes up his brother.

Stan rolls his eyes at the commotion and makes his way to the upper deck.

Ford quickly stands. “I’m going to get dressed then go find a doctor in town. With a town this small there must be one to make house calls.”

“Ford, please, there’s no need for that.” She sniffs, still laying in the bed, pulling the covers closer around her.

“There really isn’t.” Stan grumbled, coming back down the stairs, a cup of water in one hand. The other was full of an assortment of pills. “Take these.” He gruffly shoved both the water and pills at her. She obeyed, sat up, and quickly tooked the unknown pills Stan had handed her. “Go back to sleep.” She layed down and closed her eyes, rolling over to face the wall away from the brothers.

“What did you give her?” Ford whispered, concerned.

Stan places a finger over his lips and motions towards the upper deck. They sit inside the cabin where Stan had turned on the space heater.

“She of course came prepared and packed herself cold medicine.” Stan slides the first aid box across the table so Ford can examine the medicine boxes of everything he had given her. “Almost every winter she gets a cold or two. Her legs start to hurt and she gets really tired. Should have seen it coming’ yesterday but was a little distracted by the birds. She must have noticed, but she never says anything. Thinks she can power through a fever.” Stan pauses a moment to laugh. “There was one time I caught her working on the portal shivering and sweating’ bucket. Practically had to drag her back to bed. The older we’ve gotten through, the less stubborn she’s gotten at admitting she’s actually sick.”

It finally dawns on Ford just how much Stanley had taken care of her while he was gone. Sure, she had told Ford directly that he had, but he thought she was just putting in a good word for her friend. Ford knows it to be true now. He remembers once in college she went to class with a fever just to be sent back to her dorm. If Stan hadn’t been here to make her rest when she was sick, she would have worked herself until she passed out or worse.

The cabin is silent for a moment.

“Thank you, Stan.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“No, Stanley, listen.” Ford looks at his brother and there are visible tears in his eyes. “She had told me before that you had taken care of her in my absence. I hadn’t thought much about it, since she's always been so strong and independent. I know she's also stubborn. If you hadn’t been there to make her rest… Thank you Stanley, truly, for taking care of her while I was gone.” Ford places his hand on his brother’s shoulder and gives it a firm squeeze. Stan returns the action, not commenting on the noticeable tears.

“She’d probably be happy to have you back downstairs to keep her warm.” Stan says, looking away from his brother. He doesn't want to see him cry, or he knows he will cry as well.

“I think you’re right.” Ford stands and goes to join her back in bed.

---------- Ford wasn’t exactly excited to go to the carnival on the boardwalk, but her and Stan conveyed it would be fun.

“It’ll be like the one back home! Remember when we tried to join the circus with our pet possum?” Stan laughed a deep belly laugh as they made their way past the ticket booth.

“You never told me you had a pet possum.” She's walking next to Ford, his hand is held tight in hers.

“But he told you about trying to join the circus?” Stan inquires.

“I’d argue he was more your pet than mine.” Ford argues.

They make their way around the attractions, eat some fair food, and play a few games. She has two stuffed animals they boys had won for her in her hands, and is filled with joy.

“You there, miss, would you like to know your future?” A voice calls to her, and she turns to see a fortune teller beckoning her towards their tent. The fortune teller's eyes are glassy and they don’t hold her gaze, they hold a long cane indicating they are blind. She feels an arm tighten around her shoulder.

“Fortune tellers aren’t to be trusted.” Ford tells her.

“It’s just for fun,” she comments. “There’s no way they could actually know my future.”

“I’ve traveled to different dimensions. I think almost anything is possible at this point.” Ford reminds her.

“I say we do it. I’d like to know when I get filthy rich.” Stan begins walking into the tent.

She tried to follow in after him but the fortune teller held up their hand. “Only one person inside the tent at a time please.”

So Ford and her wait outside the tent. It’s only a few minutes later when Stan exits with a huff. “You’re right, total scam, they don't know anything.”

The fortune teller exits the tent again and points over to her and Ford. “The six fingered one next.” Then enters the tent.

A chill runs up her spine. The teller was clearly blind, but to call Ford out like that. She shares a surprised look with Ford, who surprisingly goes into the tent after them.

Stan is clearly still mad about whatever he had been told, so she takes his hand. “I’m sure whatever they said it wasn’t true. Like you said, probably just a scam.”

Stan looks down at her warm smile and sighs. “You’re right kid. Just a scam. I should know.” They both share a laugh.

Ford exits the tent looking lost in thought.

“You’re next girly.” The teller holds open the flap for the tent and she makes her way in. The room looks bigger on the inside and there are two chairs on either side of a table with a fake looking crystal ball.

She sits and watches the fortune teller places their hands on the ball and thinks for a second before speaking. The ball lights up and smoke swirls around in it. “I would ask what you’d like to know about your future, but I already know what knowledge you seek. It weighs heavy on your heart. Knowing the truth might be even more of a burden. Would you still like to know?”

She thinks for a second. If the fortune teller was being honest and knew what she wanted to know, what she always thinks about, then she wants to know. “Will Ford and Stan die before me? I don’t think I could lose Ford again, and well, Stan is my best friend.”

The teller nods their head and hums. “As I suspected. Losing the ones you love is a heavy buren. Unfortunately you must bear the burden again, fortunately you only must bear it once.”

“Who?” Her voice quivers.

“As I said, losing someone you love is difficult, as you know. He cannot see his brother lost again. He will go first. You will be needed to comfort the six fingered one. This universe isn’t always fair, but it seems it will go easy on you, and you will not have to lose him again.” They remove their hand from the ball and the lights and smoke fade. “Now you know, you must live with this knowledge the rest of your life.”

She looks down at her hands and nods, then stands to exit the tent. She finds her boys standing exactly where she left them. Still looking lost in thought and a little angry. She pulls Ford into a hug and draws him from his thoughts.

“What did they tell you?” Ford asks, returning the hug.

She rests her chin on his chest to look up at him with a small smile. “That I’ll get to spend the rest of my life with you, and that’s all I want.”

“They really tell you that?” Stan grunts, clearly not happy with what he was told.

“No,” she confesses. “But they didn’t have to say that for me to know it, and-” She turns to look back at the tent and sees it's gone. She turns quickly to confirm what she sees if real. Then turns back to the twins, whose jaws are dropped.

The three share a look then agree to head back to the ship for the night.

Stan tosses and turns that night. He can’t seem to sleep. What the fortune teller had told his replays in the back of his mind and he’s still pissed about it. He throws off the sheets and puts on his coats and boots and heads to the upper deck. To his surprise, he wasn’t alone.

“Why are you up so late kid?” Stan slumps down onto the bench by her.

“I imagine for the same reason you can’t sleep.” She leans her head against her friend with her sigh.

There's a moment of silence between them. The only sound is the waves gently crashing on the nearby shore and the soft groan of the boat as it moves gently with the sea.

“What did they tell you?” They ask in unison. They both breath out a laugh.

“You first.” She says.

He thinks for a moment. “They told me I’m going to die before you and Ford. Ford, I get, he’s healthy and in shape.” She elbows him. “Not implying you ain’t! It’s just, I didn’t want to die before you is all. I’ve caused you enough suffering.”

She places her hand on his shoulder. “Stanley, don’t think like that. You haven’t caused me any suffering. You’re my best friend.”

He runs his hands down his face. “It’s my fault Ford got lost in the portal for thirty years, it’s my fault you didn’t get to start a family with him like you had planned to. It’s my fault you didn’t get to get married yet. It’s my fault that-”

“Stanley!” She shouts sternly at him and he turns to face her, surprised by the authority in her voice. She takes his hand in hers. “Stan you can’t think like that. You know I’ve forgiven you a long time ago with what happened with Ford. The rest of it… It doesn’t matter, because if it weren’t for you I wouldn’t have him back. If it weren’t for you I wouldn’t have met the most amazing great niece and nephew ever. If it weren’t for you I wouldn’t be sailing the seas right now with the two people I care the most about in the world, discovering amazing anomalies like I’ve always wanted to.”

Stan’s face is turned from hers but he gives her hand that’s holding his a tight squeeze. There's another moment of silence. “What did they tell you?” His voice croaks, she wouldn’t mention how he reached his free hand up to wipe his tears.

“They told me about the same.” She confesses. “That you’ll die before me, but I’ll be here for Ford.”

Stan Turns back to look at her. “Do you…” Stan doesn’t really want to finish the thought. He doesn’t want to think about their mortality.

“I’ll go before Ford. They said it was the universe going easy on me.” She smiles up at Stan, but the smile doesn't reach her eyes.

He pulls her into a tight hug. “Should we tell Ford?” She sniffs as tears sting her eyes.

“No. He wouldn’t want to know.”

----------- “Do you hear that?” Stan asks.

Ford and her are both sitting at the table noses in a book in the upper cabin of the ship. She and Ford listen, share a glance with each other, then look back at Stan.

“No,” they chime in unison.

Stan is driving the boat towards their next destination where there had been reports of strange ocean tides. He smacks his ear with the hearing aid.

“I must be picking up radio waves again.” He grumbles.

An hour later the two bookworms are asleep as Stan still mans the wheel, this time he hears the sound again. His head feels hazy and his body feels warm. He turns the boat towards the sound and begins to follow it.

Ford and her are jostled awake as the ship hits a large wave. They��re both lifted for a second from their seats before landing back down with a thump.

“Stanley what the hell is happening?” Ford is the first to notice the situation. The weather around them is awful. Rain pounds onto the ship, the boat jumps as it passes over enormous waves, going faster than she's ever seen it go. Lighting and thunder crash outside. Stan should have seen the storm coming.

Speaking of Stan. He’s standing at the wheel of the ship, eyes glued forwards, he doesn’t even notice Ford yelling at him. Ford pushes Stan out of the way and he falls to the floor. Suddenly Stan sits up and looks around.

“Where the hell are we?” He asks, hand held to his head.

“We should be asking you that, seeing as you were the one driving the last two hours!” She barks before reaching under the chairs for their life vests. She tosses the boys theirs and secures her own, they quickly buckle theirs as well.

“I don’t, I don’t know what happened.” Stan looks lost for a second. “I can’t remember.”

Her heart hurts for her friend. She knows that must be scary for him but now isn’t the time for comfort. Ford begins to bark orders, she helps Stan to his feet.

They begin securing lines and sails, making sure all objects are secured down so they won’t cause the three of them harm.

Suddenly she hears a noise and freezes. Her head feels hazy and her body feels warm. It seems as if her body is moving on it’s own as she begins to walk towards the door and exits the cabin. A strong hand grabs her arm.

“What are you doing?” Ford screams over the rain. Stan had taken the wheel again.

Her eyes are glazed over and she tries to continue walking towards the railing. Ford begins to drag her back inside but she resits. She freezes and he stops trying to pull her. She turns and points.

“There.”

Ford turns to see what she’s pointing at, and it’s the largest wave he’s seen in his whole life. He quickly wraps his body around her and tries to make it back into the cabin before the wave hits, but he’s not quick enough. The water envelops their bodies and they are thrown against the railing. The ship pops back up over the waves again and Ford looks into her eyes.

She's over the railing, dangling off the ship, her only tether is Ford’s hand.

“Don’t let go! I’ve got you!” He shouts desperately holding onto her and the ship.

Her body is like a rag doll as it’s slammed into the ship with the waves. She looks back up at Ford, eyes still glazed, and lets go of his hand, falling into the inky water below.

The second her body pops back up from water her head clears. Her life jacket inflated when she hit the water. The last thing she remembers was she was on the ship with the boys. A wave overtook her and she pushed back under the water. When she comes back up she realises she hears Ford screaming.

It’s dark and all Ford can see is the automatic light on her life vest getting further and further from them. He’s screaming for her, and for Stan to move the boat in her direction.

She tries to scream for him but is pushed under water again. When her head resurfaces she struggles for a breath before the same thing happens again. Coming back up this time she sees the ship be covered by a wave, then herself. This time when she comes back up she sees the light of the ship are gone. She feels something grab her foot, and is dragged under the water.

Ford feels warmth all around him. His eyes fluttered open and he squints as rays of sun blind his eyes. Waves softly lap and his boots and he quickly sit up as the events that just unfolded flood his mind. He looks around quickly hoping to see his love, or his brother.

Stan isn’t far from him and Ford hops to his feet to run from him. He falls to his knees and sees he’s breathing, Ford begins to shake his brother. “Stanley! Are you alright?”

Stan’s hand comes up to swat his brother away. “Five more minutes.” He mumbles.

Ford doesn't hesitate to slap him across the cheek.

Stan is quick to sit up. “What the hell was that for?”

“Do you not remember what just happened?” Ford barks.

Stan’s eyes grow wide in horror. “She went overboard… Didn’t she?”

Ford slumps forward and his hands cover his face. “I had her, she was in my hands and she… She let go.”

“She let go?” Stan echos in confusion.

“She had the same look in her eyes that you did when we found you steering the ship into the storm.” Ford breathing is quick and ragged, the panic of what’s happened starts to over take him. “I… Oh god, I-,”

“Shut your yap,” Stan commands. “You hear that?”

At first all Ford can hear is the gentle crashing of the waves onto the shore, then he hears it. The distant call of a voice. A very familiar feminine voice.

Ford’s eyes frantically scan the beach both ways looking for the source when he sees her. She must have spotted him at the same time because she begins to sprint towards him. Ford is quick to his feet and meets her halfway. Ford pulls her into a crushingly tight hug as tears fill both of their eyes.

“I thought I had lost you.” He cries into her hair. “I don’t know what I would do if I had.”

“I’m okay. I’m okay.” She sobs. “We’re safe now.” She whimpers against his chest.”

They stay there in each other’s embrace, until Stan slowly walks over to them.

“Glad you’re alright kid.” Stan smiles.

She grabs Stan and pulls him into the hug. He grumbles something but hugs both of them. After a moment they pull back. Ford’s hands are still clutching the back of her wet, sandy shirt. Ford and her look at each other and share a breathy laugh, and begin to wipe the tears away from their eyes.

“Now that we’ve had that lovely reunion, where are we and where’s the ship?” Stan frowns.

“Destroyed, I'd imagine.” Ford clears his throat.

“Actually…” She takes Ford’s hand and begins to lead them down the beach the way she had come. “When I had gone overboard, my mind cleared when I hit the water. I saw the ship get taken over by a wave and thought the worst. Something grabbed my foot and dragged me under, but…”

They round the corner on the beach and see Stan O’ War II, unharmed, anchored off shore. Ford and Stan both notice some splashing around the ship that wasn’t like normal waves. The brothers share a look.

“How is it not damaged?” Ford is in awe of the vessel's perfect condition.

“Turns out, we’ve had a guardian angel this whole trip we didn’t know about.” She smiles.

“Who?” Stan asks.

“Mable.” She laughs as theirs another splash in the water, this time closer to the shore.

The brothers both see the end of a tail then a few seconds later, a head pops up.

“Ford, you might remember what Mable had written in the journal about meeting her friend, Mermando. Turns out she still writes to him and told him about our trip and asked him and his people to look out for us.” She waves over at the head that had popped up signaling to him it was safe.

“It’s the least I can do to repay my friend. If it wasn’t for her then I might still be trapped in Gravity Falls.” Mermando smiles. He had swum over to them as far as he could without leaving the water.

“A real mermaid, huh?” Stan grunts.

“Fascinating.” Ford muses.

“He and a few others were able to pull us to safety after we were lured into the storm.” She tells them.

“Lured?” Ford repeats.

“Yes, unfortunately two of you had been affected by a siren’s song. They’re like merpeople, only they crave violence.” Mermando shakes his head.

“We really can’t thank you enough.” She sighs, giving Ford’s hand a squeeze. “And please, don’t mention this to Mable. I wouldn't want her to worry.”

“She will hear nothing of it. You have my word. Farwell Pines!” And with that, Mermando splashes under the water and is gone.

“Darn it, I should have asked him some questions while I had him here.” Ford brings a hand to his mouth in thought.

She playfully shoves him. “I say we should be happy that we’re alive.”

“You know what I say?” Stan asks and begins stripping his clothes. “I say we have a beach day! Been forever since we were in a warmer climate like this!” He splashes into the water in just his underwear, leaving the other two behind.

“What do you say, my love?” Ford pulls her to his chest.

She wraps her arms around his neck. “Having a nice calm day after almost drowning to death? I think we deserve it.” She plants a soft kiss to his lips before pulling away and begins striping down to her underwear. “Race you to the water.”

Ford doesn’t have to be asked twice before he follows suit removing his clothes.

After hours of relaxing on the beach and playing in the water like children, the sun had begun to set. Stan had made his way back to the boat leaving only her and Ford on the beach.

Ford is laying on his back, her head rests against his shoulder. His arms are tightly wrapped around her. Her fingers absentmindedly trace the knit pattern on his sweater.

“I can’t believe out of anywhere I could be in the world right now, I’m here with you.” She whispers.

He hums and she can feel his chest vibrate under her cheek. She turns her head to look at him. His eyes are closed but there's a smile on his face.

“Are you asleep?” She giggles.

He hummed a sound to tell her no.

She breathes out a laugh and sits up. “Let’s head back before the sun sets all the way.”

He opens his eyes half lidded and smiles at her. She takes his hand and helps him sit up. His hands move to her face to draw her in for a kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

---------- “Alright, there. I think that will work.” She places the tablet down on the table she and her boys are sat at.

“Are you sure you set it up right?” Ford asks.

She rolls her eyes. “I helped build an interdimensional portal. I think I can figure it out.”

“I just wanted to make sure. You remember what happened when you tried to set up our vhs to record Saturday Night Dead.” Ford reminds her.

“That was one time! It’s not my fault the vhs caught fire!” She huffs.

“Can you two stop arguing like an old married for a couple?” Stan groans.

Ford and her share a look and smile. Their attention is pulled away from each other when the tablet begins to make noise.

“Oh, it’s ringing!” She leans forward and presses the green answer button. “Hello? Kids, can you hear us?”

She's greeted with the sound of laughter. “You’re too close to the camera. Move back a little.” She moves back and the screen reveals Dipper and Mable.

“I told you I set it up just fine!” She pats Ford’s chest.

“Kids! It’s good to see you!” Stan greets.

“You guys look so cute in all your boat gear!” Mable squeals.

“Yeah you guys look really cool!” Dipper confirms.

“How has school been going!” Ford asks.

“Great! I got accepted into some senior level classes for next semester.” Dipper cheers.

Mable pushes dipper aside to hog the camera. “And I got a boyfriend!”

Dipper shoves Mabel back to get back in frame. “Yeah, and he’s actually not awful and kinda normal?”

“Congratulations to you both.” She smiles and leans her head against Ford’s shoulder.

They continue to talk and catch up for almost an hour.

“So we can come back to Gravity Falls next summer for sure?” Dipper inquires.

“Absolutely! I've been in contact with Fiddleford and he said we are more than welcome to stay with him in the old Northwest manor.” Ford confirms.

“Soos also said you’re welcome to sleep over at the shack whenever you want.” Stan chimes in.

“I can’t wait to see you two again! You’re really the best great niece and nephew ever.” She comments.

“You’re the best graunt ever!” Dipper and Mabel speak in unison, then begin to giggle and shove each other.

“See you two in a few months!” With that they end the call.

“A month and four weeks, four days, and six hours.” Ford says precisely.

“But who's counting?” She teases.

“And only a month, fours weeks, two days, and four hours until you become my wife.” Ford pulls her close, Stan rolls his eyes and leaves the upper cabin.

“Now that I am counting down to.” She plants a kiss to his cheek. “Mrs.Pines, I love how that sounds.”

“Well then, Mrs. Pines?” He kisses her forehead, then her cheek, then her lips. “Will you do the honor of being mine?”

“I already agreed to marry you, that’s why we’re getting married.” She laughs.

“I know, but I love hearing you say it. I still can’t believe you agreed to marry me.” He jokes. “Will you say it? Say you’ll be mine? Forever and always?”

Her finger came up to trace his jawline and lead his lips to hers. “Forever and always.”

#waiting for you part six #stanford pines x reader #gravity falls reader insert #ford pines x reader #please check my ao3 for all tags and warnings #a kudos and comments would be appreciated too

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nctsworld · 4 years

Text

just let me adore you

✩ jaehyun x reader (ft. mark) | fluff | campfire au | 2.3k → summary: in which the sparks between you and jaehyun burn brighter than the fire in front of you. → warnings: fluff, flirting, swearing, kissing, wingman!mark whoo let’s get it → rating: teen+

→ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!

Laughter atop of wooden logs and wisps of smoke from the recently made fire fly towards the darkening sky on the beach. On the topic of fires, you and your friends are now reminiscing about when Haechan almost set his house on fire on more than one occasion.

Your face is stuffed in Mark’s shoulder, unable to control your fit of laughter. As you pull away to breathe, you see a familiar group of men walking closer. Your eyes widen in reaction to one in particular.

“You didn’t tell me Jaehyun was coming,” you spew behind the gritted teeth of your smile, leaning into Mark while having your gaze still locked on the group approaching.

“Whoops?” Mark shrugs nonchalantly. You punch the imp smile off of your best friend’s face. He mumbles an ow and rubs the tender spot.

“Could’ve at least given me a heads up, you little shit.”

“Maybe tonight you two will finally—hey, guys!”

His words are cut off as the group finally arrives at their destination, greeting everyone perched on the logs.

You may as well have flung yourself into the flames when Jaehyun flashes you a smile and maybe it’s all in your head, but you swear his eyes are fixated on only you.

Jaehyun and you were in an... odd spot.

You may have gone to the same university, but the campus was huge, and you only ever really saw each other during large mutual gatherings, like tonight, so it was hard to get to know each other when you were often encircled with your particular clique.

You two were mutuals on Facebook, but there wasn’t any concrete reason for you two to message each other out of the blue. However, you’d be lying if you said you never opened up the chat, stared at the blank conversation, and spent more time than you’d admit in thinking of a message to muster up.

Yet, during only the handful of times you’ve been around Jaehyun, you liked being around him. He was sweet, like how he gave you pointers during the get-together at the bowling alley, and Mark has only said good things about him, giving him the seal of a best friend's approval.

Sure, it was a little awkward at times. Small talk was the norm, but neither of you could deny that there was something itching under the surface between you two. Maybe some nurture and care was all that was needed to break the chemistry free.

Or maybe all that was needed was tonight.

Because the logs near you are already occupied, Jaehyun and the latecomers sit across from you. Jaehyun’s in your direct line of sight with only the fire coming between the two of you.

The night falls as the blaze burns stronger and higher, becoming the only illuminating presence on the beach. Although conversations are all about, everyone’s attention is on it. Flames dance, entangling with each other in freedom. Orange and yellow hues reflect off of every face surrounding the warmth. It’s uncommon to see unconstrained flares like this often, so the rarity adds to the addictive pull of them.

Everyone’s attention is on the fire, save for two people.

You prefer listening to others speak and don’t really say much unless elicited, so you spend a lot of your time appreciating the beauty of the things surrounding you—at the rolling ocean waves, up at the stars, or across the wavy haze at the figure before you.

And when you aren’t looking at Jaehyun, you’re unaware of how he’s appreciating the beauty in front of him too.

Back and forth, neither of you expect to lock eyes, but when it inevitably does, neither of you break away. On the contrary, Jaehyun offers a side smile, which showcases his dimple, and a modest wave.

Returning his gesture with a giggle and a weak wave back, you then pretend to listen to neighbouring dialogue for a moment.

Five seconds later, you can’t help it and steal a glimpse of him once more.

You’re surprised to find him beaming back.

Even though Mark’s preoccupied with telling the recent story of him winning another watermelon eating contest, he sees you smiling in his peripheral vision. His mouth still runs off, but he turns his head and sees that Jaehyun's the reason behind your smile. Although the eye flirting makes him mentally gag, he fully supports your pursuit if it makes you happy.

Catching on, your best friend stands up to “stretch his legs” and moves closer to the ones he’s talking to, continuing the anecdote while standing. Not even a minute passes, and it doesn’t take much for Jaehyun to make a break for the empty spot next to you.

Jaehyun doesn’t sit as close to you like Mark did, respecting your space, but is close enough to have you nervously plucking the fabric of your jeans.

It starts off with the normal small talk, asking how classes have been and what you’ve been up to lately. Immediately after, silence takes over.

Now that he’s in close proximity, looking at him feels like a sin. Nevertheless, you still commit the crime, stealing little glances at him throughout the bustling chatter and crisp crackling.

Feeling overwhelmed by the silence, you grasp onto more small talk, which unfortunately soon reduces to you just rambling. Throughout it all, Jaehyun doesn’t say anything. All he does is nod and listens intently, leaning closer to you with his forearms on his thighs to capture everything that you’re saying.

When you take a breather, he finally speaks up.

“Although I love to hear you talk,” his voice is low and gentle, sending a small shiver down your spine. “And by all means, you can keep talking, but don’t feel pressured to fill the silence.”

He pauses for a beat, and you peer over to view him lowering his head.

He’s rubbing one thumb over his other, and the friction only makes his palms sweat more. Tingles reach Jaehyun’s ears, and he ponders if you notice it under the dim glow.

“You don’t have to say anything at all; I always like just being around you, even if we aren’t talking.”

The cool air blows, calming you along with his words. A shy grin spreads across your face. Feeling more at ease, you shift towards him, closing the empty space between you on the log and letting your leg lean onto his. Jaehyun’s focus trails from your leg to your face, and he dives deeper into your perfection with another of his famous, sweet dimpled smiles.

Despite Jaehyun’s reassurance, you two slowly start to converse with less tension. Through the night, you get to know each other bit by bit, unravelling each other’s life stories, yet simultaneously writing a new chapter, intertwining the lines of your lives together.

Additionally, you begin to melt for Jaehyun’s jokes. This is a first, to hear him joking around like this, but you soon find yourself laughing into his shoulder like you did with Mark not long ago.

And Jaehyun adores how you click with his humour, but he adores your laugh even more.

Someone remembers that they brought snacks in their bag, and fast enough, marshmallows are being passed around. Jaehyun, along with a few others, hunt along the beach and come back with stray sticks for the sweet treats.

As you two roast marshmallows, you’re sitting in comfortable silence, exchanging glances every so often. Suddenly, he lays a hand on yours, pulling it back along with the stick.

“Careful,” he warns softly into your ear. “You don’t want a burnt marshmallow.”

Your breathing hitches, thinking about the only other time Jaehyun touched you.

It was during Johnny’s birthday dinner at a buffet restaurant. You were in the midst of devouring your food when your hair got in the way (out of all the days you forgot a hair tie, it had to be today). Failed attempts transpired at moving it; you blew, you shook your head, you rubbed the loose strands against your upper arm sleeve...

“May I?”

His delicate inquiry made you freeze. Jaehyun already finished his food and offered his clean hands to fix your dilemma. You were so dedicated to finishing your meal that you forgot that he was right next to you, probably thinking you were a hot mess.

Regardless, you nodded. You gulped as he daintily tucked the strands of your hair behind your ears. His touch was so brief, so simple. He barely ghosted over your skin, and the moment fleeted as fast as the way your hair ran through his fingertips.

So if his touch was so simple, why was your heart bursting at the seams?

Your heart thumps against your chest just the same now as it did then. Maybe even more, since you turn to face him and he’s so close, you feel his warm breath against your face. Your gaze slowly wanders to his lips. Subconsciously, he licks them, and you catch him staring at yours too. Your mind’s drawing blanks, while your body takes control. Both of you draw your bodies nearer and nearer until someone hollers—

“Dude, your marshmallow’s burnt!”

Both of you stop in your tracks and whip your heads towards the fire, realizing it’s Jaehyun’s marshmallow that the person is referring to. Hastily, he pulls it away, blows the flames off, and stares at the charred piece with a pout.

“Well, I guess you like burnt marshmallows though, huh?”

Jaehyun turns to you again, watching you chew your marshmallow with a smug expression. Shaking his head, he runs his tongue along his bottom teeth.

“Hey, for the record, I saved your marshmallow from being burnt.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, sure,” you hum, still chewing, then getting up. “I’ll go get us some more marshmallows. Maybe extra for you, in case you burn more.”

He clutches his chest in jest at your quip and watches the way you saunter over to the bag, his eyes full of hearts, yet regret courses his veins over how the moment was ruined.��

It’s past 1 AM, and the combination of the summer air and ocean waves pack a bite that urges you to go home. You’re both standing near the fire, waving at others who are leaving, when you begin to say you your good-bye.

“I should also get going.” Your hands are in your pockets, feet kicking at the sand.

“Is Mark your ride home?” You nod in reply and open your mouth, ready to tell him how nice the night went with him.

“Can I…” he abruptly cuts in before inhaling sharply. “I was wondering if you’d let me drive you home?”

Your jaw drops at the suggestion, causing his expression to change instantly. “Unless you’d prefer Mark to, I totally understand.”

Obviously, you accept without hesitance, and run off to Mark to inform him of the change of plans. After hugging him and saying your good-byes, Mark whispers, “Don’t stay out too late.” Then, he gives you a wink before you run to your driver for the night, walking side by side with him back to his car.

Because it’s late and you’re both a little tired, the ride home is quiet, albeit for Jaehyun’s music playing in the background and when you begin to speak up to give directions on how to get to your place. Rolling up in front of your home, he turns the ignition off, but leaves the music still on.

“I had a great time with you tonight,” he says with a hand still on the steering wheel.

Tucking your hair behind your ear, you nod, “Me too.”

Anticipation lingers in the air for a while prior to Jaehyun cutting it with a question you’ve been dying to hear.

“Are you free next weekend?”

You press your lips together, trying to hide a smile back.

“Only if you are.”

He laughs with a shake of his head, amused at your playfulness. He can definitely get used to this.

“I’ll message you when I get home and we can work out the details soon.”

“Sounds good,” you sway a bit in your seat whilst holding in your excitement. “Well, good night, Jaehyun.”

Your fingers are on the door handle, but you aren’t quite curling them around it.

“Good night,” he says your name in a hush and you look back at him. The two of you match eye contact and get lost in the gleam of each other’s starry eyes.

You’re unsure who made the first move, but it doesn’t matter because his kiss scorches you, melting you into putty. As you think you’re about to fall apart between blissful sighs, Jaehyun catches you with each caress, holding you together by your cheeks and the nape of your neck.

Breaking away for air, you lay your forehead against his, panting, “Wow.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles softly. “I’ve been waiting to do that since I burned my marshmallow.”

No coherent thoughts are running through your mind, except your yearning for the man in front of you. All you want is him and his touch on your skin again, so you agree with his sentiment by diving in again without warning.

It takes much strength for you to finally depart from each other’s embrace for the night, but when you do, Jaehyun plants a kiss on the back of your hand and wishes you sweet dreams.

Exhausted and in disbelief over tonight’s events, you quickly change out of your clothes and tuck yourself into bed. Unfortunately, sleep is near impossible because your mind replays everything over and over.

Suddenly, your phone lights up, notifying you of a new message.

Little did you know you’d stay up messaging the man on the other end until the sun rose.

Next weekend really couldn’t come fast enough.

#jaehyun #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #nct 127 fanfic #nct fanfic #nct fluff #nct scenarios #jung jaehyun #jung jaehyun x reader #nctcreations #myfanfics #mywritings

2K notes · View notes

vnderoos · 4 years

Text

better than butterbeer ✷ cedric diggory

(gif is not mine, credit to the owner) warnings / language(?), a barely steamy scene at the end word count / 2.8k

masterlist in bio ↴

THE CORRIDOR WAS FILLED with students, all of them rushing every which way as they all transitioned from one class to another. "Watch where you're walking, you bloody—" Y/N started to snap when she slammed straight into the chest of another student, but she cut herself off when she looked up and her eyes met the beautiful grey's of Cedric Diggory. Her stomach did a backflip and her cheeks immediately flushed red at her previous words. She cursed her quick tongue silently. "I'm sorry, Diggory, I thought you'd be someone else," she told him, feeling guilty for trying to bite his head off.

Cedric, on the other hand, was quick to shake his head and flash her a toothy smile. "No problem, Y/N/N, just read this, will you? I've got to get to class," he hummed, holding a folded note out to her, and she took it in her hands softly. She didn't have time to ask him questions about it—in fact, she didn't have time to say anything else at all—before he patted her once on the arm and stepped around her.

She cast a quick glance over her shoulder, watching as he disappeared into the flood of other students, and she looked back down at the piece of parchment between her fingers with furrowed brows. She felt a little uneasy thinking about what was on it as she started towards her own next class, as Cedric normally tended to speak with her in person and not through exchanging notes, but she was curious about it nonetheless. She thumbed it open delicately and her eyes flickered over the paper.

Come to the Great Lake after your classes. I want to show you something. — From: Ced :)

Y/N couldn't help but grin down at his message after she'd read it, tracing his smiley face with her thumbnail. This wasn't the first time that Cedric had wanted to show her something. He'd taken her on handfuls of spontaneous trips, actually—like the time he brought her to a field outside of the castle grounds to see a bunch of light blue wildflowers, or when he snuck her up to the Astronomy Tower after curfew just so he could point out the constellations with her—and she couldn't help but feel excited that he'd thought of something else.

She folded his note back up and tucked it neatly into one of the pockets of her leather bag, for safe keeping, of course.

—

Y/N's classes hadn't seemed to end quick enough that day as she'd sat through the rest of her lectures with Cedric's message pinging around in her head the whole time. All she could think about was what he wanted to show her at the Great Lake that she hadn't already seen before. It was just a lake—filled with nasty little Grindylows and a giant squid, sure—but it was just a lake nonetheless. At one point during her day, her head had been so clouded with possibilities that McGonagall had even gotten onto her for neglecting to write any notes for the entire first half of the class.

Miss Y/L/N, I do hope you realize that daydreaming all class won't help you pass your OWLs. Plus, I'm sure your parents didn't buy you such a pretty quill for you to tap it against your chin all year, she'd said. The red that had tinged Y/N's cheeks after that had been brighter than Ron Weasley's hair, especially since almost every head in the class had spun to face her.

All of that had been forgotten, though, as she hurried down the dirt pathway to the Great Lake, her hair and her leather bag bouncing as she ran downhill. The path soon faded into the rest of the grass, and as she neared the lake, she spotted a figure laying in a patch of sun on the grassy slope that led down to the bank. She recognized the familiar mess of his brown hair and his Hufflepuff robe and she was quick to identify him. One of Cedric's knees were bent, keeping him laying steady on the slant of the ground, and the other was extended out in front of him.

He was looking up at the sky when she walked up behind him, a small smile tugging at her lips at how concentrated he looked. "Hey, Diggory," she called from a few feet away, with a playful lilt in her voice and her green robes swaying with the gentle breeze.

At her greeting, Cedric pushed himself into a sitting position and he turned to smile at her over his shoulder. His cheeks were dusted pink from the slight nip in the air and it was all she could do to notice how good he looked in that moment, especially with the warm light of the sun rays shining behind him. She'd always found herself captivated by him, though, as most girls did. He really was a good-looking boy, but something inside of her always made her feel like it was better that she kept that to herself.

"Hey, Y/N."

Y/N flashed him a light smile in return, choosing to ignore the way that her stomach swirled when her name left his lips. "You know, we could've gone to get butterbeer instead," she told him as she made her way towards him, setting her bag next to his in the grass, and he shook his head softly.

"I wanted to show you something, though, remember?" he told her and she nodded once. How could she forget it when it was all that she'd been thinking about since she bumped into him in the corridor? He patted the space beside him in the grass. "Lay next to me," he instructed and she waited until he moved his hand away to take her seat, lowering herself down onto the ground.

She folded her hands over her chest and Cedric rested his over his stomach as they looked up at the sky. Nothing about it looked out of the ordinary or particularly interesting to her. "So, what'd you wanna show me?" she questioned, curiosity prickling under her skin as she studied the familiar, blue sky and the same, white clouds for something new.

Cedric let out a breath of amusement, a smile breaking out onto his lips, at her eagerness. She was always like this when he took her to see these sorts of things—impatient and overly excited—but he blamed himself for that in part. He loved a good buildup. "Just wait a bit and you'll see," he promised, tapping his thumbs against his stomach, and she nodded. The two of them fell into a comfortable silence as they laid still in the grass until the sun started to set. As the sun went down, it painted the sky with so many pretty colors—shades of pink, orange, and yellow streaking between the clouds. Since they were sitting on the side of the lake, with no trees looming over their heads, the view was beautifully unobstructed, too. "This," Cedric said, grinning up at the sight. "This is what I wanted to show you."

When she'd come to meet him, she hadn't known what to expect, but it certainly wasn't this. She'd heard from Fred and George a long while ago that on particularly sunny days, the giant squid would bask in the shallows of the water for warmth, so the thought of that being Cedric's surprise crossed her mind once, but she hadn't even considered such a spectacular sunset.

"This is beautiful." Her voice was a breathless whisper as the sight had left her in awe. She found herself lifting one of her hands up to the sky, pointing her finger at a specific place where the sunlight looked like trickling gold behind the clouds. It was so vivid that part of her thought she might be able to coat her fingers in it if she reached out far enough. "That's my favorite part. It's so pretty, isn't it?" she asked him and she could see his hand enter her field of vision as he pointed up at the same, molten cloud.

"That one?" he asked and the side of his hand grazed her own in the close proximity. His skin left tingles against her own that shot all the way down to her elbow, and she looked over at him with newly flushed cheeks. She nodded her head. She had noticed when she walked up that Cedric looked nice that day, with a bit of color in his skin from the cold, but only then, while they were laying face-to-face, did she realize how handsome he really looked. His walnut hair spilled into the grass and a little over his forehead, some of the strands sleek with the reflection of the sunlight. His skin looked so warm beneath the orange lighting that the sun cast across him and she could see patterns in his irises when her eyes came to meet his. Her breath hitched in her throat when his full lips parted before he spoke. "It is pretty," he muttered with his eyes never veering from her own and she could barely hear him over the drumming of her heart in her chest.

It was like time seemed to stand still in that moment as the fingers on their hands, both still suspended in the air, fell relaxed. She saw his Adam's apple bob in his throat as he swallowed thickly, moving the back of his hand to graze over her own softly. She sucked in a breath and his knuckles rustled over hers, before he began to trail them down her arm slowly.

Cedric's eyes were locked on hers the whole time he did it, like he was looking for a sign that she didn't want this, but she was frozen still. His touch left goosebumps in its wake as it travelled the length of her arm and she shuddered.

When his hand reached Y/N's face, he hooked his forefinger beneath her chin and swiped his thumb over her bottom lip. She couldn't stop herself from grabbing his wrist lightly and pressing a kiss to the pad of his thumb. He blinked once and his tongue darted between his lips, running itself over them as he watched her. She managed a small smile at him, and she folded his hand into a fist, peppering a kiss to each of his knuckles.

"Diggory?" she asked and he hummed curiously. "I've got something to tell you," she whispered against his skin. His eyebrows lifted, as if to encourage her, and she closed her eyes. She took a deep breath before she opened them again and she gave his hand a squeeze. "It's been on my mind for a while, but I think I really like you," confessed Y/N, her voice as quiet as ever. "I realize that we're friends and it's probably stupid of me to even think of you like that, because it might ruin everything, but—"

Y/N stopped talking when Cedric leaned in to kiss her. His lips planted a soft peck against her own, leaving the sweet taste of caramel and her heart pattering after they'd gone. "I really like you, too," he responded with a grin.

She could feel her cheeks flaring, probably just as pink as the setting sun, and she smiled softly. "Oh." Her heart was thundering in her ears and her stomach was swarming with butterflies at his similar confession. She never would've thought that her sly, Slytherin heart would beat so quickly for a happy, Hufflepuff boy, but she'd be damned before she ever found herself complaining. "That— That's nice," she stuttered out, still in a state of disbelief, and his honeyed laugh filled her ears.

Cedric, whose hand was still in her clutches, pulled her hands over to his own lips and he kissed the back of her hand. "'Nice'?" he repeated. "Just 'nice'?" he asked again, his voice obviously teasing, but her face was on fire nonetheless.

She shot him a look of mock annoyance—the smile tugging on her lips giving her away—because he'd always known but how to get under her skin. "Shut up, you know you make me nervous, you prick," she told him and another laugh spilled from his lips, but it didn't last long that time because he caught her staring at his lips. His laughter died down as her eyes moved back to meet his, her hands falling from his own. With the thought now in his head, his eyes flickered to her mouth, only for a second, and she reached out to grab one of the sides of his robe. She ran her thumb over the fabric nervously, shifting her eyes to her fingers and back up to his again. "Would you... Would you kiss me again, Diggory?" she questioned, clearing her throat, and a smirk crossed onto his lips at the question. He was quite cocky then, and part of her hated it, but the other part of her thought it was the hottest thing.

"Diggory? Really?" he muttered, pretending to ignore her question as he plucked at a piece of grass between them, and she sighed in frustration, still playing nervously with his robe. "I thought for sure you'd use my first name by now," he teased and she rolled her eyes.

"Is that what you want?" she asked.

"I don't think I've ever wanted anything more," he joked, touching a hand to his chest and tightening it into a fist to make it seem like it wasn't all just a ploy to tease her—which it was.

"Fine," she hummed. "Would you kiss me again, Cedric?" she repeated her question and his name fell from her lips like a whisper, the cockiness on his face falling clean off after it did. She could see a flicker of something pass in his eyes and she furrowed her brows. "What?" she asked.

He shrugged his shoulders. "I think I might like it when you call me Cedric," he said with a small smile on his lips, and before she could answer, he propped himself up on his elbow. He reached out to cup one of her cheeks softly in his hands, leaning down to press his lips against hers.

The kiss started out slow and sweet, just two longing mouths melding into one quiet moment, but the second that Y/N sighed against his lips, the mood shifted. Cedric's hand slid from her cheek and he knotted his fingers in the locks of her hair, pulling her mouth roughly against his by the back of her neck, and he poured more passion into the kiss. Her fingers were still clasped around the sides of his robe and she pulled his body closer to her own.

Cedric's balance teetered at her actions and he grunted against her mouth, his hand leaving her hair and slamming down on the other side of her. His lips broke from hers at the quick motion and their eyes met for a second. His pupils were dark as he looked down at her, his chest heaving, and they only stayed apart long enough for him to slot one of his legs between hers. His lips attached themselves to hers once more and her hands let go of his robe, sliding up the muscles on his chest and coming to tangle themselves in his hair. He lowered himself down closer to her body, using his hands to keep himself hovered over her, and his tongue swiped against her bottom lip in his next kiss.

From then on, the two were a mess of lips and tongue, and they'd even cracked teeth at once on accident, but when they'd gotten their fix, Cedric pulled away. The two were both red, and not just from the cold anymore, and they were panting like dogs. Cedric started to laugh softly, pulling his arm up from the other side of her and falling back onto his side as she joined in. "I take back what I said earlier." She lifted a hand to wipe the saliva off of her swollen mouth and she pushed herself up onto her own elbow. "This was way better than butterbeer," she hummed.

Cedric chuckled and he threw his head back. "You're telling me," he agreed. When he let himself fall back into the grass again, Y/N did the same and he set his hand, palm-down, in between them. She tucked her hand beneath his and intertwined their fingers, sending him a soft smile.

For the rest of the sunset, she stared contentedly up at the sky, sneaking glances at the beauty laying beside her, but for him, it was the other way around.

He found her far more stunning.

↴

taglist / @pvintbreak @umpoedameron @h4ppydancing

#harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagines #cedric diggory #cedric diggory imagines #cedric diggory x reader #robert pattinson #robert pattinson x reader #robert pattinson imagines

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kyberphilosopher · 3 years

Text

Amychesis

Word Count: 2898 Requested? No. Note: Should be read as the same reader from “Smile”.

Warnings: Sexual overtones, one particularly blurry but smutty bit, disturbing themes.

“Amychesis” (n.) (AM-i-KEE-sis) – The involuntary act of scratching or clawing your partner in the heat of passion.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

A hiss of pain slips from between your lips like a moan, but the way your body folds in on itself shows the true nature of the noise.

Your moist palm hits the ground, knee soon to follow. As your back curves over into a hunch, the pain begins again- a burning, sharp, sting over and over again. It’s as if you’d been whipped. Lashed. Chained down as you twist up and down in such a way that leaves your back aching. At the time, you’d thought only of how the pain would be worth it. Even how nice that pain felt. Though now you weren’t so sure.

Shit, your brain whispers. How are we supposed to bathe like this?

It doesn’t really matter, another part says. You have to. It’s been too long.

If you start falling into the same habit as your lover, you’ll never know the scent of relative cleanliness again. It’s time to bathe.

But your back. How could you have let him do this to you?

The water ahead of you hurtles from the faucet and down into the tub, splashing around like multiple waves slapping up and down. Churning over each other, making you think of how he’d described the ocean to you. Bouts of steam are emerging, almost so soft you can’t make it out. It’s rare that the water actually gets hot like this. It’s usually lukewarm, but almost never hot. But will this help, or worsen the wounds on your back?

Worsen. You can picture the soap seeping into your skin now. And then there was the way that you would have to twist around to reach those parts.

“Shit,” you hiss again.

Finally, you force your hand from the floor to clasp against the side of the tub. You’ve enough strength to pull yourself up somewhat, but not to a full standing position. There’s a few steps, pitter patters of your bare feet slapping on the wet floor, and then you’re rolling over the side and falling into the steam both with and without grace.

You hadn’t been wrong about your wounds. The stinging sensations intensify like it’s boiling. And though you know it’s for the best and will surely help fight off any chance of infection, you grit your teeth to keep from yelling out a string of curses.

As you reach the bottom of the tub, a soreness sparks through your body. It blooms through your skin from your ass, all the way up to your flaming spine, causing your lips to fall open briefly before being trapped under your teeth sharply.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

The pain subsides somewhat, the only after more than thirty seconds at least. Boiling, heated water laps against your skin, the sting of nails washing away slowly but surely. It still hurts but it’s not so bad now, and you wonder if this is something you should bring up to him.

But then what would he say? Would he even say a thing at all? Or would he just stare at you with his still eyes, waiting on you to come around to the truth of it?

“I’m sorry,” he probably wouldn’t say. “But you looked like you were enjoying it.”

A shiver runs over your back despite the steam rising up around you. Your knees come against your chest as the water sloshes, arms wrapping around for a sense of security.

You were enjoying it. Regret now wouldn’t change the fact you knew it was worth it, and the memory on its own was enough to make your thighs vibrate and shake.

God damn it, Eren. You were right. You bastard.

As God’s impeccable timing proves true, the door to the washroom creaks open. You don’t move anything but your orbs, which flash momentarily with the orange glare from the light above. You see his shoes, hear them scuff against the floor a few times before you look back to the water.

Eren’s feet stop in front of the chamber pot. His knees bend until they’re totally in the sitting position in line with a long, wooden bench attached to the wall. There’s a little huff from the wood under his weight, but then the only noise is that of water droplets peeling away from your skin and popping against the surface below.

He’s looking at you- that you know for certain. Your profile, hair, the bend of your spine and the pink and red marks across it. Marks that remain his doing. He hadn’t said anything about it before, but now there seems to be nothing else on you to look at.

You scratched me. He scratched you. You can’t tell if it was on purpose or not, if he even enjoyed it. No- did you even enjoy it? You couldn’t have if you’re feeling this way now. But the way the hot water slips over the raw, thin gashes- the burns, the piercing glow in your ‘lovers’ eyes...

What’s wrong with you?

If you’re looking for comfort, Eren isn’t giving it to you. He’s silent. His eyes are silent, still. They glow in the warm candlelight that floods the room in a dull, emerald sheen. Strings of dark brown hair hang down in thin wisps- over his eyes and shoulders. It’s gotten so long compared to your cadet years. Eren’s changed. At one point, you found him a tad annoying. Now you wonder if you’d rather take annoyance over harmful sex.

You turn your eyes back to the water. Old dirt is peeling from your skin like dust in it, but the shine in the water doesn’t stop for a second.

One hand swishes around under the surface. Little tiny waves churn up and swim around on their own. For the splittest of seconds, you forget about the man in the room with the searing eyes. It doesn’t even feel like there’s anything wrong with your back, or your ass, or the fingerprints you’re just now registering on the soft insides of your thighs. And then you frown, because you remember.

Has Jaeger always been this rough with you? If so, how could you have blocked it out? Is something wrong with you? Or is something wrong with him? What if it’s both? What are both of you capable of?

Isn’t it worse if you liked it?

His fingers were hard. They were nimble and strong, and at first they went for your throat. One hand pushing you down and away by your hip, the other squeezing on either side of your neck. Alright. Standard. So at what point did those sharp, dirty nails start raking your skin up and down?

It was when Eren flipped you around. You crane your neck over your shoulder best you could to get a glimpse of his face. It was handsome, with his dark hair pulled back and his eyes squinting somewhat. For whatever reason, you could’ve sworn you saw the hot breath exit his mouth as if it were the winter.

There was so much going on in the next few seconds, there was no possible way you could’ve felt what he was doing. It wasn’t your fault.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

At first, it was not intentional.

While his pelvis snapped forward and down steeply, his hands wandered down your back. They ghosted along your spine quite a few times- up and down, wondering about all the spinal fluid inside. The thought made Eren go soft for an instant, which sparked embarrassment. The embarrassment sparked anger. His hips snapped harder again to overcompensate- though you hadn’t even realized what for. The only thing your partner heard from you was the choked, sharp breath of a quick pain.

His hand slips. A nail scrapes over your skin on the right of your back.

“Hmph.”

And then it starts. The blood rushes through your veins hotly. Your head feels full, hips feel full- everything feels full. Full, and hot, and angry. Everything inside you feels just like Eren Jaeger.

Wetness slips from between your lips and onto the rough fabric below you. Your shoulder blades are rolling back and forth, right foot twitching with every movement. In your ears, your heartbeat starts to beat through like a drum. It pounds against your chest, every so often lining up exactly with the force pumping in and out of you. Pumping against you.

His eyes widen. There could be more redness than this... this one, singular, narrow line. It’s beading slowly. Those tiny little... tiny little scarlet pearls. He’s seen them a million times before in titans and in people. But now, inside your tight form, he’s never wanted to see it more.

Eren lets both hands grip at your waist, forcing it down even further. You seem satisfied. Your eyes are rolling back without realizing it. You’re pushing against him while losing strength at the same time. Your skin is getting patchy with marks and sweat, and all the little moist spots on the mattress from your spit.

All ten nails drag down on your skin at the same time. Some deeper than others, quicker than others. He does it again with his left hand, higher on your back. Then with his right on the adjacent side. Eren can practically feel the burn from them himself, but you show no signs of pain whatsoever. Has he gone too hard and killed you? No, no. So long as spit is running out of your mouth, you’re alive.

Yes, you realize, staring down into the water. I liked it. I liked him clawing at me.

Your body tenses in realization.

I liked it when Eren hurt me with his hands.

“Does it hurt?”

Your eyes snap over to your partner. He hasn’t moved an inch- shoulders hunched over, thin hairs sprawled flowingly down his neck and collarbones. “The water?”

You turn back towards the murk. You liked it, yes. But something inside you tells you not to forgive him. And then you’re left wondering what there even is to forgive.

“Yes,” you tell him.

Silence.

“I could get an infection.”

That’s a true statement. You can’t reach your hands all the way around your side enough to clean those wounds.

“How would you get an infection from the hot water?”

Oh.

Eren wasn’t talking about your injuries at all. He wasn’t talking about those raspy, pink, red markings up and down your back. Trailing close to your ribs, little purple bruises in the shape of fingers. Yellow and green patches from... something he can’t name.

“I don’t know,” you decide to reply after a minute, so quiet and hoarse it strains your partner’s ear to try and hear. “It hurts.”

You love him, though. You’ve loved him for years. Even when he’d help you back in the kitchen fingering you to the point of choking, you loved him. When he sat with you, told you he’d seen how you’d come to die. But what he accomplished here wasn’t the same as giving you a hickey, or even an unintentional bruise. Eren meant to claw you. He knew how badly this water would sting at your skin after. And what about stretching your back to put on clothes? Sleeping in the position you like? Every little thing is going to make your nerves feel like they’re on fire now.

And all you have to say for it is that you liked it?

You hear a shuffling movement from beside you. You don’t dare look over. Feeling the air shift is enough for you to understand what’s going on.

Your lover leaves the room. The wooden door clicks closed behind him. He comes back in a few minutes.

The floorboards, moist from little specklings of water jumping up when you’d slipped in the tub, creak underneath his weight. It gets louder and louder, heavier and heavier until it stops right beside you.

If you look at him again... will you be sick?

You don’t get sick at all. You hold eye contact with your lover, and you’re relieved. Getting to see him, feel him, knowing he’s been coming all the way out here all for you. Looking into those muted emerald eyes now, in the yellow glow of the candles all around, you know whatever he’s feeling now is genuine, and when was the last time you were able to say that?

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

The water stings again against the scratches, the clawings. The soap feels like acid. Again, Eren’s hands are both rough and gentle at the same time. They trail up and down along your spine, over the marks he’d given you, now covered in soap and antibiotics that he smears all over. Occasionally, his right palm presses against your shoulder to hold it in place, meticulously cleaning at the harm he’d given you.

“Ow,” you mutter once, numbly.

“I won’t do this again,” you hear Eren speak from behind you. A ridiculous thing to say, considering the both of you are smart enough to understand that’s not even close to true.

Not only will Eren Jaeger do this- scratch at you during sex- again, he’ll do it faster. Deeper, more intensely. He knows you’ll not only get used to it, but soon you’ll need it. He could see it on your face right before he pushed it down into the dirty fabric on the bed. He could hear it when you’d let out that quiet little hiss of a moan getting into this very bath. Furthermore, he knows that you know.

“Why?” you ask, looking at his distorted reflected through the tiles you face. You see one of his eyes twitch in- what? Anger? Frustration? Pure uninterrupted love?

Eren decides to lie. “I’m going away soon.”

“You’ll be back.”

A stinging sensation spreads along your spine. Nerves in shock, exploding vertically and all at once. It feels hot, and then cold. And finally, within only a few seconds, your mouth still hanging open in unpreparedness, you feel something slow begin to run down your back.

Your lovers thumb creeps near the area. You feel it run over whatevers slipping down your skin like sweat would, then roll in messy circles. Five, six, seven laps so far. Then over to your left side, and all the way back to your right.

“I’ll be back,” Eren says, lowly.

He scratched you. He put his longest nail against your skin and pressed. It dragged right over your spine- not deep enough to do real damage, but enough to leave a scar. At once, blood surfaced like rose petals, racing down for the water. Now he stares at your back all covered in blood that he’s washed all over.

Facing away from him is you, who’s too embarrassed to let him know the action has made you suck your bottom lip in between your teeth. It’s like Eren’s marking you. And then, once it’s completely healed, there’s going to be a scar. You’ll have new skin over an old wound, and it’ll be like you can finally have him as a part of you until you die.

“Stay still.”

He watches the blood disappear in the water, making the red gash look pink and pale. “I love you,” he tells you. And even though it sounds as apathetic as everything else he’s said recently, you know it’s true.

“Love you too,” you whisper hoarsely.

When his fingers leave your skin completely, you twist around and put your hands over the side of the bath to watch him. Though he’s standing and fixing his shirt, Eren’s eyes are already on you, dancing with something you’ve seen before but never named. “You know I love you, don’t you?” you question.

“Yes.”

He takes a roll of gauze medical wraps from his pocket. It unravels in his rough, scarred palms. You watch him watch you, all while beginning to wrap it over his left eye rather calmly.

You look away, coming face to face with the now bloody water. “Do something to your leg too. You can use the crutch in the barn.”

“Thank you.”

When you look back to Eren, of course he’s beat you to it. Looking at you with only one eye which seems to glow dangerously, you’re satisfied to realize he’s gone back to not having a single clue what you’re thinking. Only in your moments of weakness is he able to be omniscient with you.

“I’ll free you,” Eren promises.

Of course you will, you think. All Eren’s ever talked about is freedom. Freeing you, freeing the world. Killing all his enemies over dinner and then sleeping right next to you like it was nothing. But as the dirty, now red water churns over the scratches- old and new-

you realize Eren has no intention of giving you true freedom.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

I don’t know why, but this is one of the most unsettling things I’ve ever written. But it’s also very sexual? I don’t understand what I’ve created here.

I didn’t proofread anything. Maybe I’ll go back if enough people like it and tweak it.

339 notes · View notes

fanfic-me-up · 3 years

Text

All The Colors We Cannot See {Bakugou x Reader}

Synopsis: He sees you in the colors that light the sky, and longs for you in the darkness that follows.

Pairing: Pro Hero! Bakugou Katsuki x fem! reader

Warnings: attempted suicide, suicidal thoughts, language

Word Count: 4k+

A/N: This took me like 9 months to complete, but it’s finally here. I didn’t completely stick to the request, but this is what came out. I still hope you like it! Banner made by my amazingly talented friend, go follow her @jm.rvice on instagram! 💖

💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

Blood pumps to his legs. Cement pounds his feet. Bits of rubble catch in his boots. The first spark of the night shoots up- swallowed whole by the black sky. A trail of embers remains in its wake.

Katsuki stops. And waits.

A second passes- the crowd silent in anticipation. No one can see the spark, but everyone knows it’s there… waiting… for the right time to explode. And just when the darkness thinks it has won, an enormous burst of light blankets the sky. In that moment, it’s so bright that Katsuki can see the skyline. Like paint splattered on a blank canvas, the sky now bleeds in red, and the explosion leaves an imprint the size of a supernova long after it’s gone.

The crowd applauds.

A roar is ripped from Katsuki’s throat. He pounds at the brick wall again and again, despite blood trickling down his fists. He rips his cochlear and smashes it against the wall. A sick satisfaction settles within him. The ringing that greets him is like a devil sucking on the lobe, whispering tempestuous nothings into his ear.

Katsuki continues his ascent, taking steps by three until he reaches the top. The poor door is yanked off its hinges, but it doesn’t even cross Katsuki’s mind as he’s hit by everything all at once. Smoke slithers down his throat, roasted yakitori wafts up his nose, the rhythmic booms caress his ear, and the lavender shaded sky comforts his eyes. From up here, the people below remind Katsuki of the dots he used to see after he ignited a big explosion- how the dots blur, mix, and separate in one fluid motion again and again.

His phone ringing is a distant echo. They’re looking for him no doubt, but who the hell cares. Not like they’d find him up here. This was yours and Katsuki’s place.

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

He’d blow himself up if he missed even a second.

His lungs burned. They ached for a clean breath, yet inhaled the stench of nitroglycerin-like sweat. He could’ve just blasted himself to the top and saved himself the trouble, but fuck. That. Katsuki thrived on a challenge. He loved the rush of adrenaline more than his own mother. (He’d never tell her that- she’d kill him before he reached this goddamn roof.)

He threw himself against the door in time to see the first burst of citrine hit the sky. But he also saw you, a trespasser, standing on the ledge and looking like you were about to kill yourself. You didn’t flinch at the sonic boom (like most people) nor cringe at the heat. It was like you thought the beauty outweighed its destruction.

All that said you were fucking stupid.

“Oi! Get down from there!”

You were immersed in skylight, and though your back was turned, Katsuki knew you were staring up in awe; your eyes reminiscent of glassy pools reflecting red, yellow, blue and all the possibilities they create.

“Fuckin’ hell…” Katsuki muttered. He just wanted to enjoy the show in his spot. Alone. Like he did every year. “Oi, lady! You wanna kill yourself? Do it on some other roof dammit!”

You jumped at the blasted words, losing your balance and falling off the ledge. Katsuki expected you to scream, to gasp, to cry... anything but fucking wink on your way down like playing with death is just some fucking game. But Katsuki had no time to think before he blasted himself across the roof to grab your hand- but you didn’t need it. You threw a safety line in mid-air, hooked it to the ledge with skillful precision, and used the leverage to hurl yourself back up. You landed on the ledge like a ballerina tip-toeing on a tightrope. The sheer turn of events rendered Katsuki speechless.

“Phew! That was fun! Let’s do it again sometime, yeah?” You wrapped the safety chord before bouncing up to Katsuki.

The fuck?

How did you…?

You didn’t seem to notice Katsuki’s loss for words.

“I’ve never met someone with a quirk like yours. You could put on your very own firework show!”

You tried grabbing his hand, but Katsuki’s growl stopped you. The flickers popping in his hands were a sign to back the fuck off.

You’re scared. Good, Katsuki thought.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m a bit of a pyro.” You sheepishly smiled, twirling a pink and yellow band around your finger. (You’d later twirl your wedding ring the same way.)

Katsuki’s growl cut in its tracks. You weren’t scared like he thought, in fact, you looked lost in his sparks- your eyes zooming back and forth, trying to catch each and every one. Katsuki killed his sparks, causing you to look up at him in disappointment.

“I can’t. Mine don’t change color,” he muttered.

Fireworks always fascinated Katsuki. As a child, he wished his explosions could change color. He imagined people looking up in awe when his sparks rained down. They’d recognize the power and the beauty.

“Hmm…color is what makes a firework...” you trailed off.

“No shit,” Katsuki snorted. How stupid are you?

“Hold out your hands.”

Katsuki crossed his arms, “No.”

“Oh, c’mon! Gimme your hands!” You bounced up and down, overcome with excitement. Katsuki stepped back but immediately stopped himself because Bakugou Katsuki never backs down.

“I’m not giving you anything, woman. You’re fuckin’ weird for jumpin’ off roofs and asking for stranger’s hands. Stay the fuck away from me. In fact, this is my fuckin’ roof. Find your own.” Katsuki looked down to see his hands popping. It must’ve happened on instinct- a defense mechanism to scare off the extras who won’t leave him the fuck alone.

Except it didn’t work on you. You only came closer.

“Do you want to burn in color or not?”

Katsuki saw flashes of himself in your eyes everytime a firework went off. A hunger burned in the pit of his stomach- one he’s felt countless times during battle, but this one was different. This strange warmth made him feel like jumping off the roof himself, and if he put all his might into it, he could brush the spark of a firework from fifty feet above.

“Yes,” he said.

“Then you’re gonna have to trust me.”

“Trust you!?” Katsuki shook his head, “I don’t even know you!”

“That’s half the fun, isn’t it?” You giggled, “Now hold still.”

Katsuki grumbled how ridiculous this was, and that whatever you tried wouldn’t work, but you ignored him in favor of pulling his hands and laying them face up. You nodded and Katsuki sighed, activating his quirk anyway because what the hell.

You’re entranced from the moment flickers popped, one by one, in his hands. They died as quickly as they were born, but still left their mark in the air.

Katsuki’s sparks faltered as cool fingertips brushed against his wrist.

“It’s okay, keep going,” you encourage, and he does.

He can’t pinpoint exactly when the change happened. Like all change, he blinked and suddenly his sparks burned in color. Angry red, rooted in tormented crimson, ravished the usual, boring, orange of his sparks.

Katsuki laughed in disbelief because how is this real? Yellow began to flicker in and out of the red, until it finally caught like a flame and engulfed the red like a warm blanket. Pink and light green began to swirl around the yellow, and the firework show Katsuki had been looking forward to all year didn’t hold a candle to the fireworks fluttering in the palms of his hands.

Katsuki looked up at you.

Who the fuck are you?

You giggled at his awed expression, “Our very own firework show.”

And that’s how you spent the rest of the night. His hands in yours while he burned in color for the first time.

Katsuki later discovered you could read emotions through auras. The aura becomes visible, allowing you to color a person’s quirk.

He also discovered that you didn’t need to hold his hand for it to work.

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

A round of fireworks triggers the ringing in Katsuki’s ear. He throws his head back in ecstasy and prays the sensation tickles his eardrum for a little longer- enough to shut the part of his brain that keeps remembering you.

Katsuki pulls the pistol out. The leather grip, so slick with sweat, that Katsuki has to wipe his hand to make sure he doesn’t accidentally set off his quirk.

He’s not an amateur. He’s held a gun before. Every pro-hero has to undergo weapons training, but he’s never used one in combat. His quirk was always more than enough. But there’s something inherently dangerous about a gun. His quirk is an extension of himself, but a gun is a separate entity altogether- and it was designed to kill.

Growing up, adults would praise Katsuki for his quirk. They’d say, “With a quirk like that, you’re destined to become a hero!” But they were still afraid to get too close. They saw his quirk as a weapon that was designed to destroy. And soon enough, Katsuki became the embodiment of just that. But he always felt incomplete. He wanted to be a hero like All Might. One that people looked up to- in awe of their power, not in fear of it.

That’s why he loved fireworks. The only explosion that makes people stop and stare, instead of running away, in fear for their lives.

You were the first and only person to see the beauty in his quirk.

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

“What’s your favorite color?”

Such a basic question that Katsuki should already have the answer to. But color meant so much more to you. You saw the world in a way that made everyone else seem colorblind.

You twirled that same pink and yellow band around your finger as Katsuki twirled the ring in his pocket. You leaned in closer, basking in the warmth radiating from Katsuki. He watched how your eyes never left the sky, and he was content with missing the show if it meant he can watch you instead. He caught glimpses of you only when lit by a firework. He made sure not to blink during those moments else he’d miss you. Your expressions mixed and swirled as the fireworks continued, but you never lost the primary color of mesmerization painting your face.

“Blue,” you said. Katsuki had to lean in to listen; your voice an ember in a sea of fire. “But not sky blue like on a sunny day. It’s nice, but I much prefer the darker washes of blue, deep like sapphire.”

Blue, the color of sadness.

“Why blue?” Katsuki asked. The ring in his pocket danced between his fingers.

You turned back to the fireworks. You always made sure to think before you speak when answering a question that mattered.

“Because there’s always an interesting story behind an aura of such sorrow, more importantly, there’s always a light at the end of the tunnel.”

“So your favorite color isn’t blue, it’s yellow,” Katsuki cut in, but you shook your head.

“There’s nowhere to go but down with yellow. Yellow is the epitome of brightness and joy, and when you crash during the high, you crash hard. But when you’re drowning in deep blue, as I’ve seen many people do, you’re at the lowest of lows- you really can’t get any lower in this life. But when an aura- and I’ve only seen this once- when an aura changes from the deepest of sapphire to sunrise yellow- well it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

The twirling of the ring in his pocket stopped.

“That is why I believe blue is the true color of hope,” you whispered.

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

Katsuki should feel the smooth texture of leather as he grips the gun in his hand. He should feel the weight of the gun as he brings it to his temple. But he’s numb to it all. It’s like an invisible string, pulling at his muscles, directing his body how to move. His mind goes blank for the first time, and all the inner-turmoil he’s been unable to escape just straight up… stops. It’s like he’s floating in a body of water with no current. Complete and utter stillness.

It scares the fuck outta him, but it feels good.

As he’s about to turn the safety off, his phone rings again, snapping him back to reality. Katsuki guts his phone.

“Die!”

The phone slides down the door like a dead pidgeon.

“God-fuckin’-damn it...” He pushes the barrel back to his temple, craving that mind-numbing stillness once more. Anything to stop the feelings that just won’t seem to go away.

The fireworks crescendo as the show reaches its climax. The colors begin to mix and blur together so much that it becomes too convoluted to look at. An infinite regress of color swirling in Katsuki’s mind.

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

You glowed on purpose so Katsuki could find you. He spotted you from miles away, like a beacon of light in the middle of a storm. The melancholic blue of your aura contrasted against the raging reds that painted the sky.

Katsuki ran. He pushed and pushed past his limit, harder than any battle he’s fought in. He could’ve made it if he used his quirk, but he was in a crowded marketplace with too many people. He ripped off his gauntlets and threw them in a random alley. He immediately gained speed. A couple more feet and one minute left.

He should’ve saved his breath. If he did, he would’ve caught you in time. But he had to make sure you knew he was there. You looked down at the sound of your name. He could barely make out your face, but you saw him. He knew you saw him because your aura changed from that melancholic blue to sunrise yellow in an instant. Everyone around him gasped at the flood of light emanating from above.

You were right. It was the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

If Katsuki produced a strong enough blast, he could make his way to the top and get you out before the bomb went off. At this point, he didn’t care who else might get hurt in the process. Next to him, Kirishima knew what Katsuki was thinking. He hardened himself to block Katsuki’s takeoff.

“Don’t do it, bro.”

“Get outta my way.”

“You can’t make it.”

“Yes I can.”

“You’ll both die.”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP” Katsuki pushed him away, and prepared to blast himself, when two other heroes stepped in to hold him down, but no one stood a chance when Katsuki goes feral. Explosions erupted, not enough to seriously hurt, but enough to get people to back the fuck off. Even Kirishima (whose quirk is to literally be a human barricade) was having trouble blocking Katsuki. One more blast was enough to send Kirishima back and Katsuki used that half a second to blast off. But suddenly he couldn’t. He tried and he tried, but his quirk refused to work. A growl escaped from low in his throat as he whipped his head around, trying to find the cause to his problem so he could decimate it.

Target acquired.

Katsuki was about to march right up to his high school homeroom teacher and deck him right in his fuckin’ face, but before he could, he was held down once again.

He couldn’t fight three pro-heroes off without his quirk. He couldn’t get to you without his quirk. All Katsuki could do was look up and watch you die.

Five seconds left.

He saw it in your face. The moment you realized he wouldn’t be able to save you. The yellow of your aura growing dimmer and dimmer.

Three.

You smiled through your tears.

Two.

And winked.

One.

Then closed your eyes as you took your last breath.

The darkness that followed was unbearable.

A cacophonous wail erupted from Katsuki’s throat- loud enough to go up against any explosion. He couldn’t help but fall to his knees, unable to hold himself up any longer. He still wasn’t able to use his quirk and that only frustrated him more.

He’d never felt so helpless in his life.

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

He hardly uses his quirk anymore because he sees you in the sparks. He’s got no drive to be Number 1 if you’re not here to watch him do it. His will to live is gone without you and that scares the fuck outta him. He hates you for filling his head with ridiculous bullshit. He hates you for opening his mind to the possibility of love, and hope, and shit that shouldn’t matter but it fuckin’ does for some goddamn reason. He hates you. He hates you. He hates you.

That same cacophonous wail erupts from his very core. The gun falls from his hands, to the ground. It could’ve gone off at that moment and Katsuki would never know.

His focus zeroes on his hands. How tense they get when he flexes them, how the vein protrudes from his wrist, and how his glands secrete sweat from his palms. He points them to the sky, and a familiar rush of power, that he hasn’t felt in months, surges through him. His blood boils from under his skin and he’s literally shaking from the intensity. Like a volcano spewing hot-blooded lava after an eternity of dormancy, he shoots blinding white heat into the black night.

The color from the fireworks surround his explosions as if they’re echoing his sentiment. Hot red dominates the sky- reminding Katsuki of the sky that night. This causes Katsuki to rattle off explosions quicker, setting off one after another in a staccato rhythm. The crimson sky ravishes all other color.

If only he saved his breath. If only he’d taken off his gauntlets sooner. If only he ran a little faster. If only he blasted himself a second earlier. If only he didn’t stay back at work that day. If only he turned right instead of left at that goddamn intersection. If only he picked up the ingredients for your favorite meal the day before so he could go straight home. If only he didn’t have to drive back to the market because he fuckin’ forgot the milk again. If only he decided it was still worth it to pick you up from work early like he planned. If only he cared more about your anniversary than about cracking Top 10. If only he went to more of your art shows instead of taking extra patrols. If only he went on that trip to New York with you instead of cancelling last minute because the agency needed him. If only he realized that you meant more to him than being Number 1 before it was too late.

Little by little the crimson wash is buried by the black night and Katsuki’s eyes hurt just staring into the black abyss. It’s suffocating him, weighing his chest down and making it hard to breathe. It’s enough to drop him to his knees, just like he did that night.

You and Katsuki had long talks about your future plans. How you fit into his life, and how he fit into yours. When you’d be able to properly settle down and have kids. You accepted that the first couple years into his career would be the toughest on your marriage. Katsuki would spend more time at the agency than at home with you. Relationships with pro-heroes were like that. But you respected his ambitions. You understood the amount of time that was required to fulfill those ambitions. You never held it over him, never guilted him into spending more time with you, and never made him choose between you or his career. You loved him enough to share him with the rest of the world. You were never each other’s other halves. Instead, you co-existed as separate individuals who made the best team Katsuki’s ever been a part of.

Yellow begins to flicker in and out, but it’s muted behind the black veil of regret. The more Katsuki thinks of your empathy and your love, the stronger the yellow becomes. It finally brightens the black sky, to the point that Katsuki almost has to cover his eyes because it’s like looking into the sun in the middle of the day.

And that’s when it clicks.

He’s burning in color.

You must be conducting this masterpiece from above, using the sky as your canvas and coloring the emotions coming from within him.

He kills his explosions as quickly as he fired them. The fireworks come to an end at the same time. The crowd’s cheers is a fly on the wall to Katsuki.

He falls back, lying flat on the ground and looking up at the sky still shaded in yellow. His chest heaves as he tries to get his breathing back to normal, and the sloppy mixture of sweat and tears continue to slide down his face. The cool breeze is a blessing against the nape of his neck.

He struggles to hold his hands up, they shake as he brings them up to his face. He reignites his quirk with the last bit of strength. The sparks lack their usual vigor as they flutter lazily in his palms. They remind him of fireflies swirling in a jar. For once, the orange doesn’t piss him off.

Has anyone else seen his quirk like this? When he’s not trying to intimidate or take down a villain? The only person he could think of was you. Maybe his quirk wouldn’t be seen as a weapon, maybe he wouldn’t be seen as a villain, if the world saw what he’s seeing right now.

Katsuki sits in this revelation, and the calm that washes over him is nothing like the numbness from before. He’s far from being okay, and he still longs for you in these moments, but Katsuki has a hunch that if you were here right now - holding his hands in yours- his sparks would be burning in your favorite color. And he’s okay with that.

“That is why I believe blue is the true color of hope.”

Katsuki’s phone goes off even in its broken state. His eyes dart between the phone and the gun. He groans as he gets up. His limbs, heavy, after exerting himself. He picks up his phone.

“Hey. Yeah, man, I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”

Katsuki’s about to hang up when he takes a look at the gun. A reminder of what he was about to do. A decision he could never come back from.

If things turned out different, he would not be here right now.

Just the thought is enough to make Katsuki slide down the wall. He takes a deep breath- his heart beating rapidly at what he’s about to admit aloud for the first time.

“Actually, I’m not okay. I need you to come get me.”

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

The Plus Ultra Chronicle

Musutafu Tower Attack: 06/18/2020

WHEN HOPE PREVAILS:

A DAY OF REMEMBRANCE

By: Yamamoto Ichika

06/18/2021

Today marks the one year anniversary of the 2020 Musutafu Tower Attack. Hundreds gathered this morning in remembrance of the lives lost that night. Several people who’ve lost loved ones in the attack have already come forward with statements.

Of those people, Number 7 Hero, Dynamight, has chosen to sit down with The Plus Ultra Chronicle for an all-exclusive interview. His late wife, Bakugou Y/N, was among the citizens that were held hostage that night. After taking a year sabbatical, he has decided to return to the field of pro-hero work. Here is a snippet of that interview; you can find the full interview here.

“Thank you, Dynamight, for sitting down with us. It is truly an honor. The people want to know- what are your thoughts on what occurred that night? Can you take us through what happened?”

“It was hard on us all. Whether you were at home watching on a screen or out there in person. All of us heroes felt like sh*t- unable to do anything. It’s even worse when you had a personal attachment to a victim like I did.”

“It must’ve been difficult as a hero- having to make quick decisions that forced you to separate your personal life from the objectivity of the situation.”

“If I’m being honest, I couldn’t, and it took a toll on me.”

“Is that why you took the sabbatical?”

“Yes. I constantly questioned the validity of my title. Whether or not I deserved to be called a ‘hero’ if I couldn’t save the one person I vowed to always protect.”

“You’ll be returning to the field next month, and with a new addition to your hero costume. An amulet of what looks to be a blue-colored spark attached to the left side of your chest. It stands out against the black, orange, and green of your costume. What is the meaning of this?”

“When I was at my lowest, my failures were all I could see. But someone once told me that you can’t get any lower when you’re at that point. The only real change you can make is to acknowledge and move forward.”

“A symbol of hope is definitely something we all need right now. What made you decide to finally give an official statement?”

“It is my responsibility to protect the citizens of Japan so this never happens again. But I also think it is important for people to see the shortcomings of the heroes they look up to. We’re human too. We f*ck up. I used to think that made someone weak. Now, I see it as part of the journey. The testament of a true hero.”

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wishingstarinajar · 3 years

Text

Kill or Be Killed (snippet)

A thick droplet of sweat ran along the curved line of his jaw. Bony fingers clutched the front of his tight shirt. His toothy grin twitched at the edges, hidden beyond an eternally grinning mask. Eyelight flickered persistently against the brightness he was staring at.

It was time to go.

The portal awaited like a beast’s maw with jagged teeth, showing nothing but a white void beyond the shredded edges framed by multiple tiny ones and zeros. He came to learn that those numbers were his universe’s coding, still a strange concept to process and one he didn’t fully understand. At this very moment, he didn’t wish to linger on what it all truly meant.

What he did know was that his home was damaged beyond recognition, perhaps beyond saving; there was hardly anything left of it, corruption had permanently erased or altered all and everyone he knew. But the fact he still had some hope to find a solution and stop the corruption festering in this world was the very reason why he stood before the portal. Just a snip with his massive scissor-like weapon and there was a way out; it was as simple as that. Leaving, however, was not.

It was time to go, Sans told himself. He had told himself this far too many times but it lessened when he finally took the first step. He still needed to urge himself. What if he can never come back to this place, his home?

No. No, he thought about this for way too long. Papyrus is with him, that’s all that matters. There was nothing else here that kept him, not anymore...

He clenched his socket shut as he pressed on, through the rift he’d created and away from all he knew. What would it be like on the other side? He had no idea; he never dared to peek his head through during previous testing attempts to create stable portals. A gasp left him when solid ground simply disappeared after he stepped forward, his feet sinking away into a crisping softness before he became aware of the chill. Snow. His socket snapped open to gaze at the knee-high powdery snow he stood in, at first standing like frozen until he dared to wiggle a foot before trying the other. Damn, it felt like forever ago since last he saw and felt snow, including the cold of winter. The corruption had overtaken Snowdin Forest so damn quickly through the many RESETs. He didn’t think he’d miss it until it all was gone. But if he’s standing in snow at this very moment, then—

Sans searchingly patted his chest upon the realization that the journey through the portal was a success, panicked and haphazardly checking if Papyrus was still with him.

Did he make it through??

Calling forth the projection of a heart-shaped anomaly kept hidden in his ribcage, Sans breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of a familiar monster soul pinging into existence above his held-out hand. The right side of the orange-hued soul was fragmented and in a permanent state of dusting. Tiny particles moved slowly like dust in a ray of sunlight falling through an attic window, fading in and out in an eternal dance of life and death.

It was his brother’s soul… The one he managed to salvage before dust would take it completely after the poor monster was ruthlessly assaulted by that damn demon child. The soul was damaged beyond healing but oddly enough unaffected by the RESETs that followed Papyrus’ final death; it has been in Sans’ possession ever since. Aside from the red scarf wrapped around Sans’ neck, this was all he had left of his dear younger brother and without it, this whole quest would be for naught.

Speaking of which…

The broken soul was returned to its hiding place after Sans’ worries were stilled, his single eyelight wandering to take in the surroundings. A snowy forest, not a hint of corruption in sight. No glitching, no void spaces. It’s like… before everything went to shit.

Wait, did he go through another RESET? No, no, that can’t be! That’s not how the portal is supposed to work!

He clutched for his face, fingers wrapping around the elastic broad strap he wore around his skull and his pinky hooking behind the mask hiding his grimace, the look of horror simmering down after he nearly succumbed to searing disbelief and rising anger. He hadn’t changed in the slightest, still wearing the same clothes as before he stepped through the rift; this was no RESET, thank fuck, so where exactly did he end up?

Glancing around, the first thing he noticed was the loss of the portal’s bright yellow-hued glow behind him, the binary coding and gaping hole gone. The way back home had closed during his panic session and he wasn’t certain if that was a good or a bad thing. He stretched his arm and extended his hand to summon the ridiculously oversized scissors he had made the portal with, but no magic responded to his calling and no weapon materialized.

Shit.

It seems the cooldown on the scissors he aptly nicknamed ShortCUT was no joke or a miscalculation. How long does it last again, an hour or two? Damn it, he should have tested it more before he decided to leave. Well, no point in getting frustrated and he’s sure as hell not going to sit here for an hour and do nothing.

Hoisting himself out of the snow, the eyepatch-wearing Sans ventured further into the forest with the hope to find anything familiar. The trail he followed was untouched, not a single footprint defiling the fresh snow aside from the ones he left behind. He dared to say the surroundings felt incredibly familiar but the hole he came across was an obvious difference.

Lingering by the edge, Sans peered down into the dug pit that was once tied off by barricade tape, the snapped long strips of white and red fluttering weakly in the breeze. Although a thick blanket of snow covered the bottom of the pit, pointy ends of sharpened sticks pierced through the white, indicating it was once upon a time a very dangerous trap. One careless trip down and you’d be dust.

What madmonster would place a trap like this?

And that wasn’t the only kind of spiky trap he came across after Sans continued on. There were several more along the trail, most out of commission and warned about by the same bright tape or crudely painted and crafted warning signs. Why the energy poured into taping things off or creating signs wasn’t used to remove the traps was beyond Sans but one thing was for sure; this wasn’t home anymore, or at least not a timeline he’s familiar with.

The flashes of red and white tape amidst the monochrome surroundings no longer caught his eye but when more red appeared up ahead and seemed to come closer, Sans’ attention and curiosity were piqued. Someone was approaching.

-To be continued-

=======================================

I figured I'd share the first two pages of a short story I've slowly been working on. It's about Rewind and his very first venture into the multiverse. (He's is called Sans in this short story because he doesn't take on the Rewind alias until later.)

I'm not sure why I felt compelled to share this small preview xD but it's a small glimpse into Rewind's story and I hope that whoever reads it will enjoy it.

#undertale au #underewind au #rewind sans #rewind papyrus #mild swearing #Rewind's first AU journey!#So proud of my boy #Wherever did he end up though...?#Who is heading his way??#wish writes #English is not my first language! But I try.

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gothighunicorntolerance · 3 years

Text

Daydreaming (all the time)

AO3 link

When Nico comes home and sees an two identical Thomases asleep on the couch, he discovers some new sides of his boyfriend. When Nico throws his car keys on the wall-mounted hook and sees Thomas asleep on the couch with someone sitting next to him, his first, anxiety-ridden thought is “he’s cheating.” But he quickly dismisses it, replacing it with his second thought: “I didn’t know Thomas’ brother was over!”

When Nico tiptoes to the couch to better see which of Thomas’s many brothers it is, his third thought is “ Thomas never mentioned he had a twin brother!”

Everything about the two men is identical except for their clothes- the way their lips quirked up into a small smile, the little mole on their chins, even their sleeping positions.

But his fourth and most conflicting thought appears when the man next to Thomas, clad in a purple shirt, black skinny jeans, and a black jacket with purple patches, wakes up with a jolt and looks directly at Nico.

“Uh,” Nico smiles. “Hi. Didn’t mean to wake you up sorry about that! Thomas didn’t mention his brother coming over- last-minute visit? Can I get you something?”

The brother pales (as much as he can, between how pale Thomas is naturally and what seems to be the even paler foundation the brother used.) and the black lines under his eyes, which Nico had previously thought were just bags from lack of sleep, suddenly stretch down to his cheekbones.

“I- uh- Thomas!” The brother stutters, his voice increasing to almost a shout when he calls Thomas’s name.

Thomas jolts awake, almost flying off the couch as he sits up. He looks around wildly for a second, his hair flopping into his eyes before he looks up at Nico.

“Ah! Nico! You’re… home. Early. Is it early? Uhm, I, he- we were- uh-“ Thomas stutters. Nico had known him long enough that he only trailed off like that when he was particularly anxious.

“You never mentioned having a twin brother! That’s so cool!” Nico sits down next to Thomas as the brother stood up, moving to the stairs.

“Oh- he’s- we’re… we aren’t actually twins. Or brothers. Or related at all, actually,” Thomas rubs the back of his neck.

“Oh! A doppelgänger, then? Don’t worry, I still like you better,” Nico laughs. Thomas gives a small grin.

“No… he’s…” Thomas looks towards his purple-clad… friend? Nico wasn’t sure anymore. The friend sighs and nods before sitting down on the bottom step and crossing his legs. “I should just… show you. It’s hard to explain.”

“Oh, okay then. Er, what exactly are you explaining?”

Thomas took a deep breath. “Okay. Nico, I, um, so you know when you hear me arguing with myself sometimes? Well, uh, I’m arguing with him.” Thomas pointed to the person on the stairs, who gave a smirk and a small two-finger salute. Nico gave a slight eyebrow raise as he noticed the eyeshadow had gotten darker and even more caked on, almost looking like black tears.

“And, uh, he’s not the only one,” Thomas continued. “That’s Virgil, and there’s Patton, Roman, Logan, Ja-“

Thomas was cut off by another voice chiming in.

“Yes Thomas, please do ruin my entrance. I love it when that happens.”

Nico whipped around to see who had spoken and did a double-take as he saw who was standing in front of the blinds. It was another person who looked eerily similar to Thomas- well, on half his face, anyway. The other half seemed to be a snake? And to top off the look, the snake-faced man was dressed in a getup similar to what Nico imagined a Victorian-era vampire would wear; a black capelet, black tunic, and a black bowler hat with a yellow band.

“Who-“ Nico started but was cut off yet again by someone else appearing right next to Snakeface. The newcomer gave a bright smile towards Thomas and then turned to face Snakeface.

“Hiya Janus! Um, you’re in my spot again… I’m sure we can share, though!”

Janus- an odd name, but weirdly fitting, Nico thought- rolled his eyes. “Patton, congratulations on being the second person to ruin my entrance today alone,” he drawled.

“What entrance? Thomas already knows all about you- oh!” Patton suddenly looked directly at Nico. “We’re doing this now? Hi Nico!” Patton grinned and clapped, while

“Ah, Thomas,” Nico whipped around yet again to see who had appeared next to the stairs. “And Nico. I suppose you are doing this now.”

“Not without me!” Someone else sang as he appeared in front of the couch.

“Boo!” Another shouted from… behind the TV? All of the other Thomas Clones screamed, and the newcomer clad in green with what seemed to be a mustache sticker taped on.

“Okay… what’s happening? And… Why do they all look exactly like you?” Nico asked cautiously.

“Okay,” Thomas took another deep breath, holding this one for several counts. “So… these are all the guys I argue with when you hear me arguing with myself. And I actually am arguing with myself, because they’re all me, but- agh, this doesn’t make any sense.”

“Allow me to explain, then. Hello, Nico. I am Logan, the representation of Thomas’s logic. We are what he calls sides, for the alliteration I presume. We each represent a portion of his personality, in a way. I am every fact he’s ever learned, his critical thinking, curiosity, and the only reason he graduated college with a chemical engineering degree. And then proceeded to waste that degree, but that is not today’s discussion.”

“Not true! Remember all the argumentative papers? That was all me!” Janus glared.

The other Thomases broke out into an argument and Logan rolled his eyes- Nico could have sworn he saw an orange tint- and Thomas gave an apoplectic look.

“Sorry about… that,” he gestured.

“Do they- you? Does this happen often?”

“Yeah. Sometimes they mix it up and argue in song form.”

Nico looked around the room and nodded. “So they’re all you? Is it like a superpower or something?”

“No, I don’t really know what it is. They’re all imaginary, so I don’t know why you’re able to see them… I knew if you were somehow able to see them I’d tell you, but…” Thomas trailed off.

“But what?” Nico prompted.

“I didn’t want you to think I was weird.”

“Hey, don’t worry- if no one was weird I’d think we’d all be pretty boring. Besides- this actually makes a lot of sense.”

“Yeah- wait, what do you mean it makes sense?”

“Well,” Nico gave a nervous laugh. “I’d seen a bunch of stuff moving on their own, flashes of color out of the corner of my eye, even heard voices a couple of times. I was nearly starting to believe in ghosts!”

Thomas chuckled. “I never even thought about that! Well, I’m glad I haven't scared you off yet. I didn’t scare you off, right?”

“It’ll take more than figments of your imagination to get rid of me, Mr. Sanders,” Nico smiled and planted a kiss on Thomas’s cheek, smiling as he flushed a bright pink. “Now come on, I’m going to bed. Pack up your… you’s … and join me.”

taglist: @theimprobabledreamersworld @edupunkn00b

inspired by a prompt from @tss-au-slash-fanfic-ideas !

#Sanders sides #Thomas sanders #nico flores #logan sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders

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thatslikely · 3 years

Text

Seeker - D.M.

Seeker- Draco Malfoy x fem!reader (unspecified house but not slytherin)

Warnings: none! just lots of fluff

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: This is my first ever fic! I hope I potray Draco accurately! Feel free to D.M. me for any requests or anything like that. I’d also really love feedback, positive or negative. Special thanks to my friend Ocean, who is an amazing author and editor <3

Just a reminder: Y/N is Your Name - Y/L/N is Your Last Name - Y/H is Your House

----

Draco Malfoy.

Anyone who has ever graced the steps of Hogwarts during his reign is bound to have heard the name. The poor first years hear about the hexing of their friends after so much as glancing at his striking blond hair. The second year Quidditch players hear about his skill and precision on a broom. Even the O.W.L.s-stressed fifth years hear of his (almost) unparalleled smarts.

You, of course, heard all these things too. You’d seen firsthand his occasional ruthlessness. There was no doubt in your mind he was a force to be reckoned with. You never let his daunting image intrude your thoughts, however. He would never have a reason to bother you; so why should you care what he did?

That all seemed true until Quidditch results came back for your house. Your eyes scanned over names on the list until you saw your name next to the title of Seeker. You were thrilled to be on the team. You worked so hard over the summer, waking up at dawn to fly laps around the lush forests by your home.

After everyone in the common room was informed of your new title, they all congratulated you for what seemed like hours. They all chanted “Y/N!” at the top of their lungs or gave you encouraging pats on the back. After a while of sober celebration, someone finally managed to sneak in a few bottles of Firewhiskey. You eagerly downed a shot or two before your head started to feel fuzzy. The music and chatter of the party seemed to make your head pound, and you decided you needed some fresh air to clear your head.

The moment you stepped out of the bustling common room, you felt way better. Your whole body calmed, releasing the tension you didn’t know you had. While you could still very well feel the effects of the Firewhiskey, you felt clear enough to walk all the way to the Owlery.

The Owlery had always been a place of comfort for you. You had never owned an owl for yourself, instead opting for an adorable black cat, but something about the flying creatures comforted you. Maybe it was their piercing yellow eyes or their fluffy feathers that seemed to stick out in any direction, or maybe just because they remind you of whenever your mother’s owl brings sweet letters at breakfast every month.

The air tonight was chilly, but you were simply grateful that it was too early in the year for snow because whenever Hogwarts was covered in soft white blankets, the steps up to the Owlery were dangerously icy. Thankfully, the only things on the steps were your boots and the occasional fluttering orange leaf.

Once you reached the top, you breathed a sigh of relief. The thoughts of you becoming the new Seeker came back to you and you were able to celebrate a little bit again. Before you could fully imagine yourself flying around the Quidditch pitch in search of the shiny Golden Snitch, you were interrupted suddenly by none other than Draco Malfoy’s taunting words.

“Well, well, well. Who do we have here? Y/L/N?”

You froze. In all the times you had been to the Owlery at night, this was the first time you had company. And his company at that. His voice seemed strong and almost amused. Before you could give him a response, he kept going.

“You’re the new Y/H Seeker, aren’t you? Maybe this year I’ll have some actual competition, though I doubt it.”

You felt your face heat up in rage, a feeling you rarely expressed. The Firewhiskey must’ve brought it out of me, you thought with a sigh. You knew you wouldn’t want to say something you’d regret, especially to your new Slytherin rival.

“I think you might be pleasantly surprised, Malfoy. I’ve been training all summer.”

Draco didn’t deserve to know that you had been practicing all summer, and the summer before that, but you inexplicably felt the need to prove yourself to him. He always seemed to be one step ahead of you, though.

“And I’ve been training for Quidditch since I could walk, Y/N. You’re not special.”

His comment stung a little. But you knew you deserved to be Seeker, and you could prove that to him next match.

“What brings you up here so late anyways?”

“That, Y/L/N, is none of your concern. I could, however, ask you the same thing.”

“Just getting away from the crowd is all. The Common Room’s loud as all hell.” Why did you tell him that? He didn’t need to know anything about you or your common room.

Draco pulled up the sleeve of his black blazer, presumably looking at his watch. You didn’t notice how Draco’s platinum blond hair shined so handsomely in the moonlight until he pushed himself off of the wall he was so casually leaning on to walk towards you.

“It’s past curfew, Y/N. I could so easily tell my Slytherin prefects that I found you out so late at night, especially after a loud night in the Common Room…” The smirk on his face as he looked up into your eyes was so charming but mischievous.

“You wouldn’t da-” you muttered, before quickly getting cut off.

“I won’t tell them, though, only because I plan on crushing you next game. The look on your face as I hold the Snitch will be priceless.”

You desperately tried to find some way to rebut what he said, but his words it seemed, took the air from your lungs. You watched him, stunned, as he casually handed a black envelope to what you assumed was his owl. As the owl flew out of the window and into the pitch-black sky, he walked towards the doorway, which you happened to still be standing in.

He purposely brushed your shoulder as he walked past you and down the stairs. Without even looking back, he simply said, “I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

You stood there, almost breathless. That had quite possibly been the strangest and most unexpected interaction you’ve ever had. You’d always seen Draco as some stereotypical bully, but you never realized how truly witty and quick-on-his-feet he was. He would be a tough opponent, both on the field and off.

----

Quidditch practice these past few weeks has been very tiring but helpful. Every time you mounted your broom it made you feel that much more confident, which was good because you needed as much of that as you could get if you wanted to even stand a chance against Draco. By the time the first match came around, you felt as though you could easily beat the green-jerseyed players.

The practice room pep-talk before the game was finally the moment your confidence was cemented. As your captain stood on the bench, yelling and inspiring, you were on top of the world. You could see Malfoy zooming on his broom far behind you as you reached for the Snitch, its shiny metal now covered up with your worn leather gloves. You could hear the crowd cheering your name as Draco sat in awe of you.

That daydream was short-lived however when everyone got up from the benches to grab their brooms and fly into the stadium. As you proudly mounted your broom, a sudden spike of anxiety hit your chest. Of all the times nerves had to hit, did it have to be two seconds before the match began?

The stadium was filled to the brim with students from each of the four houses. The large pillars of red, yellow, blue, and green emitted cheers as your team glided on the field, doing a fun formation along with it. Not long after, the green and silver-clad team swooped onto the field. They flew around the oval-shaped pitch in the shape of a very coordinated V. It was more intimidating than you’d like to admit.

As the Slytherins settled down and hovered in the air, ready for the match to start, you saw Malfoy send you an intimidating glare. You rolled your eyes in return before the referee shouted a loud, “brooms up!”

With those simple two words, you darted off towards the top of the pitch. You gripped the broom as if your life depended on it, which it might. Your eyes scanned the field for any signs of the snitch before you saw a flash of blonde next to you.

“Scared, Y/L/N?” Draco spat, clearly trying to tease you.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You smirked, your gaze reaching his enticing silver eyes. He cocked his eyebrow at you, playfully, before you sped off, the air from the tail of your broom blowing his pale locks over his eyes.

The Golden Snitch had caught your eye while you hovered up with Malfoy, and now you surely had the advantage. You were mere feet away from the golden snitch, with the blonde Seeker trailing behind you. The crowd sat captivated, wondering who would reach the snitch first. Just as your fingers brushed the golden sphere, it shot straight up, out of your grasp. You both wasted no time shooting upwards on your brooms. He was now at your side, both your arms reached up to the sky.

Suddenly, you felt the metal of the snitch in the palm of your gloves. But you also felt something else, and you almost fell off your broom at the sight of Draco’s fingers intertwined with yours, both of your palms wrapped around the snitch.

Without hesitation, you both recoiled from each other, your interwoven hands breaking apart, which sent the snitch flying. Your face got red and hot with embarrassment, and by the expression and color of Draco’s face, he felt the same. He managed to mime himself gagging before he swooped in the opposite direction in search of the snitch once again.

----

As you stepped through the painting guarding your common room, you could already hear the screams and cheers. Some people chanted your name, some people talked about the highlights from the match, and there was loud music blaring in the background. Your close victory that afternoon definitely produced some happy house-mates.

You weren’t in much of partying mood tonight though. The match had worn you out, and you were ready to lay down. You did have a lot to think about, after all. The way you and Draco’s hands fit together perfectly around the snitch, or the way his face contorted into a frown when the Slytherins accepted defeat. Or even the way, when your team picked you up in celebration,, a smile pricked at the sides of his mouth, barely noticeable.

You didn’t know why you couldn’t get Draco out of your mind. You guys were rivals, but the way his image played back in your mind, you didn’t feel hatred. You didn’t feel a big success by proving what he said in the Owlery wrong.

You finally came to the conclusion that maybe it was because you thought he was handsome. Just a little bit, of course. The way his blonde hair blew in the wind was attractive, sure, but you didn’t like him or anything. You’d never even talked to him before the night at the Owlery. He was just the Slytherin Seeker, as you were just the Y/H Seeker to him. Simple.

Except, you didn’t know that he also thought the same about you. The way you smiled in victory after his (very close) loss made it sting just a little bit less. The disapproving stares from his fellow green-wearing peers didn't hurt his pride as much when he remembered you two’s hands together around the snitch.

It’s only because she’s my rival, he thought to himself, but he couldn’t even fool himself with that lie. All he really knew was, he had to talk to you tomorrow.

----

“Congrats on the win yesterday, Y/N. But don’t think next time I won’t hesitate to push you off that cheap broom of yours.” Draco spat. He never really had a way with words, especially with people he took interest in. He really did try to make it as nice as he could.

You merely smirked at his comment as you sat down at your table in the Great Hall. “It’s okay, Draco. I know you just can't accept that you got beat.” He huffed a bit at your comment, but his expression quickly changed to that of a sarcastic smile.

He reached across the table and grabbed a goblet of pumpkin juice, much to your surprise. Just as quickly, he sat down next to you. You finally got a good look, and smell, of him for the first time. His silver eyes and blonde hair looked as alluring as ever, and he smelled really good, like green apples and cologne.

Just as you were about to ask why he decided to sit with you, of all people, he stated, “It’s rude to stare, you know?”

“Sorry, it’s just weird seeing someone in those green robes of yours sitting at our table.” You replied sheepishly, snapping out of your trance.

He only let out a small chuckle before grabbing a green apple from the middle of the table. He gave it a small toss before looking back at you. You glanced into his eyes, which apparently you like to get lost in, but you couldn’t read what emotion ran through them.

“Why did you decide to sit here, by the way? Don’t you have some first years to hex?” You asked, partially defensive and partially curious.

Your friends, and some other fellow house-mates, all watched in anticipation for his response, but instead he said, “If my prescence bothers you that much, I can just go back to my table. My ego won’t be too hurt.” He gave his signature smirk at the end of the sentence, clearly not taking it seriously.

“I didn’t mean it like that, okay? I don’t mind the Slytherin prince sitting at our table for one day. Two may be pushing it.” He didn’t answer your question though, about why he wanted to sit here. It did seem a little odd, but you weren’t complaining.

“Very funny. Well, I’m afraid I can’t stay much longer. I have more pressing matters, like preparing to absolutely crush you next Quidditch match.”

He left just as fast as he had come, still grasping the green apple in his hand. Once he was back to his throne at the Slytherin table, you glanced down to where he was previously sitting, only to find a shiny black envelope resting on the bench. It had your initials written down in silver ink, the same shade as his eyes. You quickly shoved it beneath your robes, so your friends wouldn’t see.

Once you were safely out of the field of vision of the Great Hall, you broke the emerald green seal of the envelope. You pulled out a crisp, white piece of parchment. Your eyes read the inked black text, which read:

That’s strange, you thought, he’s top of the class for potions. Why would he need my notes? You quickly brushed it off as you just overthinking. Clearly, he only sat at our table and wrote me this letter because of stupid Potions class. Right?

I need your Potions notes from last class. Meet me at the astronomy tower at 11.

D.M.

Eleven o’clock came around faster than you expected, and you were rushing out of your dorm in order to make it. Luckily all your dormmates were still up, gossiping the night away. Much to your surprise, they didn’t question where you were going, besides knowing that you had to give a friend some homework. You didn’t blame them, it did seem like a lame way to spend your after-curfew hours.

By the time you had finally gotten to the top, Draco stood with his back to you, his chisled hands holding onto the cold railing. You walked up to him quietly, your Potions homework fluttering in the wind. His eyes weren’t focused on you or your notes though; instead they were pointed at the crystal-clear sky. The moonlight bounced magnificently off of his platinum blonde hair once again, just like it did at the Owlery.

The air was colder than it was last time you had seen him against the inky-black sky, and you started to shiver. All you wanted was to be back within the walls of your cozy dorm. You let a signaling cough emerge from your throat as you leaned against the rail.

Instead of asking about the Potions notes, he asked, “Aren’t you cold? Why didn’t you bring a jacket?”

His eyes still seemed glued to the shining stars, but you did notice his hand sliding down the rail, closer to you. Your eyebrows furrowed as you grumbled, “Yes. I’m freezing!”

He let out a small chuckle as a response before his eyes finally moved to you. “I’ll only be a minute… unless you want to stay longer.”

Despite the uncomfortably cold temperature outside, you felt your cheeks get warmer. You kept telling yourself it was only because he did seem a bit good-looking tonight, dressed in his signature black turtleneck, with a matching long black peacoat on top. Suddenly, the cold didn’t feel so bad.

“Likely, Malfoy. Here’s the Potions notes you asked for.” You slowly handed over the ruffled papers. For a second you thought you saw a look of confusion flash onto his face, but a small grateful smile covered it up almost instantly.

You continued to shiver, and your nose started turning pink. Draco almost felt bad for dragging you up here, for the Potions notes of course, so he sent an enticing offer your way.

“You look absolutely miserable, Y/N. I think if we can sneak into the kitchens, I could make you some tea. Though I do expect a favor from you in return, of course.”

Your eyes lit up at the idea of a warm cup of tea, especially made by none other than Draco Malfoy, who was supposed to be your Quidditch rival. Even you couldn’t come up with an excuse about enjoying his company this time.

----

Draco stood one of the many kitchen counters, swirling an ornate sliver spoon in your warm tea. Once it was stirred to his satisfaction, he handed the steaming cup to you with a warm and genuine smile, one rarely seen by anyone. You smiled back thankfully, before taking a large sip. The tea tasted nearly perfect, which surprised you. Someone who was raised with house elves doing everything for them had made a delicious tea.

“I must say, I’m impressed, Draco. I never pegged you to be a tea expert.”

“What can I say? I’m a man of many talents.” His sarcastic and slightly cocky attitude was back once again, though you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it.

After the evidence of your late-night tea making had been erased, he leaned against the counter, a content smile on the corners of his lips. Your shivering was long gone, replaced by a cozy warmth from the tea.

Comfortable silence filled the room for many minutes before he simply said, “You know, Y/N, I’d like to get to know you better. I don’t think we have to be Quidditch rivals, off the field at least.”

“I feel the same. Though don’t get your feelings hurt when I absolutely beat you again.”

“I bet I could get the snitch years before you, with my eyes closed!”

“Like you did the other day, right?” He put up a sarcasticly angry face on, but you could see the fire of determination in his eyes. He really would try to get you next match. But you would never let him.

After a night full of talking with the dashing Slytherin, you soon grew too tired to continue. The tea must’ve made you extra sleepy because soon enough you could barely think straight. You held onto poor Draco for dear life as he carefully walked you back to your common room.

He put on his classic face of annoyance, but underneath you saw that his mind was filled with nothing but admiration. As you finally reached the painting, you withdrew your hand from his shoulder. Since you were so sleepy, he thought you wouldnt notice the loving look on his face as you walked through the doorway. You waved him goodnight.

“Night, love. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he smiled.

And that was the start of something wonderful.

You can read Part 2 here!

#draco fanfiction #dating draco malfoy #draco #draco fluff #draco malfoy #draco malfoy fanfic #draco fuckingmalfoy #draco lucius malfoy #draco imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco x y/n #draco x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy fluff #hogwarts #harry potter fanfiction

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snothing · 3 years

Note

Request: Drabble in which Jake looks through some old stuff and finds a rather odd yet captivating item: a red tunic with a green scaly leotard, a black-yellow on its right side, a black domino mask, green gloves and finally green pixie boots. he decides to try the suit on

I want to apologize for how long this took! I’ve been so busy with school, and I made this way longer and convoluted than necessary. It’s definitely not a drabble anymore, and I added a lot of sibling banter, lol, I can’t resist. This was so much fun to make, I had so many ideas. Thank you so much for being patient, and I hope you enjoy!

I decided to deviate from my universe, while keeping some old things. Mar’i and Jake are still twins, and Mar’i can turn invisible.

"Go away, Jaki! This is my hiding spot!" Mar'i whispered-hissed at her brother. She glared at him through a jungle of coats and umbrellas in the armoire, her mouth in a tight frown.

"Oh, come on, Mar'i!" Jake cried. With a flair for the dramatic, he threw his hands up in the air. Of course, his annoying sister would take his favorite, top-secret hiding spot!

"Shhh!" she snapped, finger to her lips. Pink eyes flashed brightly at him. "Would you be quiet? Do you want Dad to find us?"

He pursed his lips and looked down the hall. Pretty soon, his dad would be done counting and be searching for them. Still, a great wrong had been committed in the eyes of Jake. "You took my hiding spot! Get out!" he seethed, just a decibel lower.

"Nuh-uh, it's not your hiding spot!" Mar'i shot back. "You don't own it!"

Jake smirked cockily and pointed a finger past her. "Uh, yeah, Mar'i, I do."

A deep, unamused frown settled on Mar'i's face as she noticed— in bright cerulean blue crayon— the word "Jake" hastily scribbled on the panel. "That means nothing! You don't own everything you put your name on."

He silently raged. "How am I not surprised a heathen like you-"

"-Heathen?! I watched you squirt an entire can of Easy Cheese in your mouth!"

"That was a long time ago. I’m a different man now."

"It was last week!"

"As I said, a long time ago," he retorted drolly. "Anyway, as I was saying— only heathens don't respect the sacred rules of hide-and-seek!"

"You're so ridiculous," she sighed, exhausted. "You act like I broke the law."

"Well, you might as well have. I'm hurt, Mar'i, really I am. I never thought you'd betray me like this. My own flesh and blood— my wombmate--"

"Ew, don't call me that!"

He clasped his hands together. "I think the only way to solve this and mend our broken relationship is for you to leave and find a new hiding spot."

Mar'i stared blankly at him. Jake was her favorite person in the entire universe, but there were times where she wanted to slap him. "I'm not leaving, Jaki."

"By the love of X'hal, you can turn invisible!" he argued.

"So? Dad's using heat-sensing goggles this time."

"Mar'i!"

"Hey, babe," their father's voice filtered in from downstairs. They stilled, eyes wide and locked on each other.

"Hello, my love. Are you looking for something?" they heard their mother ask him.

"Oh you know, just for two half-human, half-alien eight-year-olds? Have you seen them? They're like yay-high, black hair with orange skin? Got glowing green eyes?"

"Oh," Kory chuckled. "I think I know the two. Say, are they dangerous?"

"Very. The little rascals will eat all your cereal and blame it on an innocent larva."

"My, they sound like quite the dastardly duo," she mused. "I believe I saw them go upstairs. Please, proceed with caution."

Dick let out a laugh. "Don't worry, babe. I think I'm well-equipped to handle them; Batman raised me after all."

Mar'i snapped back her attention to Jake, panicked. "Go away, Jaki!" she nearly growled.

"But-" he tried to argue, but her hand shot out and closed the armoire door, effectively ending their discussion.

Frantic, Jake looked around for a new hiding spot. Under his bed? No, there was a monster. Behind the house plants? Nope, too obvious. In the air vent? Nah, he'd get stuck again. Finally, his eyes found the inconspicuous attic door.

He was like 90% sure it was haunted. Uncle Jay showed him and Mar'i a horror movie once, and he learned that attics were prime real estate for ghosts and couldn't be trusted.

But...

It would probably be a great hiding spot. His dad wouldn't expect it.

The creaking of the stairs interrupted his thoughts and effectively ended his inner turmoil. He dashed to the attic door and braved the darkroom.

"Oh wow," he said, looking around. The room was cramped, littered with boxes and other knickknacks. Moonlight filtered in through the port window. "Okay, ghosts, listen. I don't mean to trespass or anything. I just need a place to hide from my dad, alright? So no possessing me, okay? I'll only be here for a couple of minutes."

Slowly, he made his way through the clutter, hoping to find a nice nook to squeeze in. A thick layer of dust coated everything in the room, and it was not long before he started hacking. It was then that his left foot hit a meddlesome snag in the carpet, causing him to plummet down on a pile of boxes.

He let out a rather undignified squeak when his knee slammed into the ground. A flurry of Tamaranean curse words left his mouth; thank heavens, his mom was not around to hear him. "Stupid ghosts!" Jake spat. The crash was loud. His dad knew where he was now. "And stupid Mar'i for making me hide in this stupid, haunted attic!"

He went to glare at the confounding boxes, but he halted when he saw something interesting. His ire vanished, his head cocked slightly. He pulled himself up from the ground and went to analyze the contents of the fallen box closer, his hand alit with a low-energy starbolt.

Inside the unsuspecting box was a brightly colored uniform. Jake's eyes widened the size of saucers. Could this be? There was no way. But sure enough, he found the iconic scaly leotard and black domino mask. Yep, this was his father's old Robin uniform.

He stared at the red tunic with the utmost reverence; his thumb traced the R. Jake was so absorbed in the costume he failed to notice his sister hovering over him.

"Whatcha got there, Jaki?" she asked curiously, face inches from his.

He let out a squeal and jumped several feet in the air. He snarled, eyes ablaze in a blue fury. "Mar'i! Don't do that!"

She snickered, an eyebrow raised. "It's not my fault you're not observant."

"I was in stealth mode," he said defensively. He crossed his arms. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be hiding in my hiding spot?"

She shrugged. "Dad found me pretty quick, so I decided to come to bother you."

Jake was surprised. "Wait, do you mean he didn't hear me fall?"

"Nah, I told him you were being a cheater and hiding outside. Thankfully, you decided to be a klutz after he left," she informed him. She frowned when she noticed the betrayed look on his face. "What? I thought you'd be happy I saved you!"

"I think it's funny you pick and choose when to be a loyal sister."

She smiled. "Gotta keep you on your toes, Jaki. Now, what's that?"

Jake followed her pointed look at the costume. He showed her excitedly. "I think it's Dad's old Robin costume!"

Green eyes rounded. "What? No way!"

"Yes, way!" he dazzled. "Look at the insignia!"

"Whoa," she breathed. She fingered the black-yellow cape gingerly. Her head snapped up. "Come on, put it on!"

"W-what?" He gave her a bemused look.

"I know you want to," she said wryly. She held up the tunic and pushed it towards her brother. "I bet you'd look just like dad."

"Yeah, but..." he trailed off. Honestly, he did not need much convincing. Jake had seen pictures of his dad in his early crimefighting days, but a thought stopped him. "I don't know, Mar'i..."

"Why not?"

"Well, Damian's Robin."

"And?"

"And I don't want to-- I don't know. I guess I don't want to send the wrong message," Jake answered. He sighed somberly. "Besides, it's not like I could ever be Robin anyway. I'm weird."

"What the heck?" Mar'i spluttered. "You think you can't be Robin because you have powers?"

"Robins don't have powers, Mar'i," he said, dejected. "They don't fly or shoot starbolts."

She snorted. She scooted closer to her twin, looking at him intently. "And? Anyone with a brave heart can be Robin, and as I can see, you have one."

"But-"

"No buts, Jaki," she cut him off. Mar'i was not going to allow her brother to put himself down. "I like you just the way you are. I think shooting starbolts and flying is super neat!"

"You're biased," he chuckled. Mar'i's words instantly made him feel better, though.

Her mouth blossomed into a silly grin. "Well, yeah, duh. I know if I'm awesome, you have to be. Now, put it on!"

"Okay, but turn around. I need privacy!"

"Yay!" she piped before spinning around. Her arms and legs tingled with excitement.

"Okay, I think I'm ready now," he told her, a bit apprehensive.

Mar'i whipped around, nearly knocking Jake down in the process. She almost burst out in awe when she saw him there, proudly donning their father's uniform. "Wow, Jaki! It looks so good on you!"

He flushed. His eyes, now concealed by a domino mask, peeked down at his body. It had been a bit awkward in some places; Jake did not care for his legs being so exposed, but otherwise, it fit like a glove. "Really?" he asked, swooshing his cape back and forth.

Her head bobbed up and down. "You look just like Dad when he was young!"

"What do you mean by that, Mar'i? I'm still young!"

Jake and Mar'i were startled by the voice. They spun around in the direction of the attic door and spotted their dad: the first-ever Boy Wonder and best pancake-maker-this-side-of-the-galaxy-- Dick Grayson.

"Dad!" the siblings exclaimed in perfect unison.

Dick chuckled. "And what are you two glowsticks doing in the attic? I thought we were playing hide and-"

He stopped mid-sentence when he noticed Jake. His eyes widened as they absorbed, his mouth agape.

Jake panicked, and shame surged through him. "I'm sorry, Dad!" he said hastily. "I-I was just hiding upstairs a-and I fell a-and I found your old costume!"

"Jake-"

"A-and I knew I shouldn't have, b-but Mar'i said I should-"

Jake paused when he felt his father's hand on his shoulders. He looked up and met his father's loving gaze. "Jake, calm down," Dick comforted. "It's okay."

Jake swallowed. "You're not mad?"

"No, of course not, son," he responded, genuine.

"Doesn't he look cool, Dad?" Mar'i piped up, a goofy grin on her face.

Dick smiled tenderly and moved his hand to caress Jake's face. He could not have predicted what seeing his son wear his old Robin uniform would do to him. His heart soared with love and pride.

"Yes, Mar'i, he looks pretty cool," he agreed.

Jake beamed and matched his sister's goofy grin. He thought his dad would be mad at him, but thankfully, he was the furthest from mad.

"But don't think this means you can go out crimefighting," Dick added quickly.

"Aww, Dad!" Jake whined.

Dick wagged his finger at him. "Don't 'aww, Dad' me! You may have the look, but you're not old enough."

Jake pouted. "I'm not a baby anymore, Dad!"

"Aww, but you're still my baby.” He gave Jake a quick kiss to the temple. “Now, come on, you two. Mom made dinner, and I can’t wait to see the look on her face when she sees you."

"Did she burn the food again?" Mar'i grimaced. She loved her mother dearly, but she was not the most adept in the kitchen.

"Yeah, I don't know if I can eat burnt lasagna again, Dad."

"Now, now, glowsticks. Mom spent all day working on this meal!" Dick assured them. He escorted them out of the attic. "It's a dish from Tamaran. I'm sure it'll be wonderful."

Mar'i whispered to her brother, "I like when Mom cooks. We always get McDonald's afterward."

"Or food poisoning."

#dick grayson #DickKory #mar’i grayson #fanfic #drabble #Headcanon #Teen Titans #starfire #koriand'r #fanfiction #jake grayson #jake and mar'i are twins

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nanamikentcs · 3 years

Text

SIREN’S SONG

word count: 1.7k

genre: fluff (??), reader meets diluc for the first time, mutual admiration

warnings: none (gn!reader, not proofread)

summary: god isn’t some bigshot in the sky. god is a redhead playing the violin against the setting sun, while you watch in complete admiration. inspired by that new official art where diluc plays the violin.

Of the tasks undertaken this particular week, this seemed the least burdensome and most straightforward to you. One of the employees of Dawn Winery—presumably Charles (whose name you only learned recently), since he was within the immediate vicinity of the Adventurer’s Guild—put forth a commission to deliver a set of documents to the Winery itself, somewhere along the city outskirts. For a myriad of reasons—most revolving around the relatively low appeal of the commission, given that adventurers were drawn to more thrilling tasks—none had yet accepted the job.

You wonder if, perhaps, another reason for the lack of interest in the request involved an unexpected run in with the Winery’s owner.

By no means was Diluc Ragnvindr an unpleasant man. The reputable former knight was known for his courteousness, his polite nature most likely spawned by the esteem upheld by families of old. His demeanor was, nonetheless, off-putting, to say the least. He often kept to himself, speaking rarely to others beyond business and smiling even less often. Shrouded by an aura of both invulnerability and power, the young Ragnvindr’s unapproachable nature served as an effective ward against not only those he explicitly opposed, but perhaps against those who longed to forge a connection with him as well.

But, you were here for matters relating to work. Even if he hadn’t been aware of the commission, the documents you carried in your pack must’ve been important enough for a commission to be issued in the first place. Of course, having only encountered the redhead a couple of times—and oftentimes with a mind half-buzzed thanks to an alcoholic spell—your image of him was less intimidating than that of the locals’.

The sweltering heat of the sun receded into gentler warmth. You kept your eyes trailed on the road ahead of you, watching how the path changed from pavements to rough roads as you neared your destination. Hailing leagues away from the City of Freedom, you appreciated Mondstadt for the little details that solidified the beauty intrinsic to the region. Fontaine—a place you once called home—was a city known for its artistry and innovation; but Mondstadt, in its simple yet unrestrained nature, called to your heart in ways you did not understand.

By the time you arrived at the Winery, the sky had settled into a yellow-orange hue, denoting the incoming arrival of sunset. A signpost indicating the Winery’s location seemed unnecessary, considering the visibility of the vineyard from miles away. This was the first time you’d step foot onto a property so large, so busy with the duty of sustaining an entire city’s economic stability. Still, your business lay ahead of you, and you would much rather be done with your tasks before nightfall.

“Are these from Charles?” A white-haired man questioned as he sifted through the papers you handed him, addressing you but not looking away from the documents.

“Ah, I didn’t get to check who posted the commission,” you admitted, slightly embarrassed to overlook such a detail. “But it was posted in the afternoon, so it must’ve been someone in the city.”

The man—his name was Elzer, if you caught it correctly—hummed at your response, staying silent for a few moments. You shifted awkwardly, half-wondering if this was your cue to leave, yet half-expecting a proper dismissal, as though you’d still been a student awaiting your teacher’s approval.

After a brief period (which frankly seemed like a lifetime to you), Elzer finally looked in your direction, promptly thanked you for your service, and assured you that your remuneration would be facilitated through the Guild.

As you turned to leave, however, he called after you. “Ah, wait,” the tone that laced his voice betrayed just the slightest hint of exhaustion. “Could you perchance hand these over to the young master himself? These documents should’ve been given to him directly anyway.”

You stopped in your tracks, wondering if you’d heard him right. Your only instructions were to deliver the documents to the Winery. You didn’t know that they had to be given to Master Diluc himself.

“He’s at his study at the moment. First door to the left, once you ascend the stairs.” Elzer added, and, despite not having accepted the sudden request, you moved forward to retrieve the documents you’d just handed over. Following the directions he gave, you made your way to Diluc’s study, knocking once, knocking again, knocking twice for a third time, and knocking thrice for a fifth. No answer. Frustrated at the delay and the impending approach of the dark, you turned to find Elzer once more. You’d done your job. They couldn’t hold this against you, right?

Then you heard it: music created by a bow against steel strings, and for a moment you recall the endless symphonies composed by one frustrated musician after another in your hometown. Each was beautiful in their own right, but never seemed to meet the standard of perfection that greatness demanded. This song, however, was not perfect nor was it especially great—but it was indubitably beautiful.

Your feet moved by their own accord, following the direction of the violin and the mystery musician—not at all considering who’d dwelt there and who were expecting to find in the first place. The melody drew you in by some invisible thread, and before you knew it, you stood openmouthed by a door left ajar.

This was the first time you saw Master Diluc without his typical bravado. You watched as he nestled the violin in the crook of his neck, his right hand moving with grace as he shepherded the bow upwards and down, and the fingers of his other hand gliding with deftness across the violin. The sight of him and the sun setting through the window behind him was enough to root you into place. You did not understand why your heart leapt, but perhaps it was because it had not witnessed anything more beautiful.

He stopped. You wish he hadn’t but he did. His senses were keen, and though you had been too silent to make a sound, he knew he was in the presence of another. Turning to face you, an intruder in his personal area, he regarded you with an expression that furthered your surprise: he did not seem the least bit annoyed, nor did he appear to be upset at your sudden arrival. The glint in his eyes betrayed some curiosity, but beyond that, his face remained neutral.

“Was there something you needed?” He asked, as though your presence was a natural occurrence.

“Oh, I...I was on a commission...and well,” You managed to stammer out, electing to present the documents in your hand instead of relying on your ability to form a coherent sentence. “Th-These are for you.”

Diluc glanced at the papers in your hands, noticing the slight tremble to them, and sighed before setting his instrument down. As he took the documents, you immediately pulled your hand away, eager to hide both the tremor and incoming clamminess. You knew you should’ve apologized for your intrusion, thanked him for his patience, and left at the soonest possible moment. Instead, the more irrational part of your brain decided to blurt out: “That was beautiful. The way you played, I mean. I’ve heard a lot of violinists back in Fontaine but you...I mean you could easily outclass them.”

The pair of you seemed shocked by your profuse compliment. Diluc gathered himself first (and fairly quickly), clearing his throat before offering a small yet gentle smile. Strange, you thought. I’ve never seen him smile before.

“Thank you. Do you recognize it?” He asked, a faintly amused lilt in his voice. You shook your head in response. He nodded, as though expecting it. “It’s a composition from the olden days of Mondstadt. Not many recognize it anymore, more so if one were from another place. You mentioned Fontaine, yes?”

You did not understand why you could not use your voice. You only nodded, hoping he charged your nervousness to introversion. He paused to consider your response, turning to the violin he’d set down earlier, then returning his attention to you.

You watched as he opened his mouth to say something, then abruptly close it as though he changed his mind midway. Shifting his eyes away for a brief moment, he turned his gaze back towards you, asking, “Do you play?”

“The violin?” You inquired, rather dumbly now that you’d said it. “Oh, no, I don’t. I mean, I played for a little while then stopped. Hardly learned past the basics.”

He hummed at your response, unexpectedly content to hear your voice.

“I play the piano a little bit better, though.” you added, after a moment’s quiet. Perhaps it was to impress the clearly impressive man in front of you, or perhaps it was your pride in your own abilities. Either way, you felt compelled to add that detail.

Diluc considered your words, scrutinizing you in a private silence he shared with you. To both your surprise and his, he raised the question: “Would you like to play together, then?”

The invitation was extended like a hand requesting one’s own before a dance. You wanted to take that plunge, accept the invitation and waltz a symphonic dance with the man before you. But, enrapt in allure and the desire to prepare for a more impressive showcase of your talents, you said instead: “I’m a bit out of practice, and it’s going to be night soon. But next time...I’d love to, next time.”

Had you not directed your gaze towards your shifting feet and the wooden floors, perhaps you would’ve noticed the flash of disappointment in his eyes.

“Next time, then.” Diluc said, again with a small smile that rarely graced his features. He thanked you for fulfilling the commission, and watched as you turned to leave, unable to understand how one interaction could ignite so many emotions within him. With a sigh, he returned to his abandoned violin, absentmindedly plucking at the strings.

Diluc Ragnvindr, in all his acumen and knowledge of the workings of the world, could not pinpoint what it was about your exchange and what it was about you that stupefied him so much that he--only much later did he realize--had not asked for your name.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr #diluc ragnivindr x reader #diluc x y/n #diluc x you #**mine

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ahatintimepieces · 3 years

Text

Threading Moonlight

Here is the drabble I wrote for @smieska! It’s a prequel in which Luka makes a deal with a mysterious puppeteer in order to escape the frozen cellar his wife trapped him in, with the intent to freeze him solid, and to save their daughter from the encroaching cold. The puppeteer requires that Luka give up something important, but Luka is more than willing when that something seems broken beyond repair...

Content Warnings: Body horror, child neglect/abuse (check end of tags for more detail on both)

Total word count: 3,045

Something shifted inside the cardboard box and Luka jolted awake. The ice seeping into his wrists sharpened at his squirming and he let out a gasp that drifted from his lips in a frosted spiral. He settled back against the stone wall. He metered his breathing to keep it shallow and his movement scarce.

Glancing through the frosted tips of his chestnut curls, he peered up at his raised arms. If he tried to flex his fingers, they didn’t even twitch. But from what he could tell, they didn’t look frostbitten, but rather, it was like the chains of ice had melded with his wrists, turning flesh and bone into cold crystals. The edges of his palms seemed blue like lakes frozen from within as cold crept towards his pale fingers.

Vanessa had warned that she would make him stay. That she would keep him always. Was this how she would accomplish it, then? If he was a statue of snow and ice, would she be satisfied that he would never leave her?

Something wet dripped down his cheek and he flinched back, thinking there was a leak from the ceiling. But when he looked up, all he saw were dry stones and wooden beams. More droplets dripped down his chin and he glanced down as his breath hitched. Salt water pooled on the ground between his crossed legs.

He sniffed as the tears trickled. Each sudden gasp threatening to swell into sobs jostled his aching wrists. But the sharpness of the ice was minute compared to the heartbreak that cleaved through his chest.

How many more tears would he have to shed before he froze solid? How long until he was numb to even the feeling of his torn heart? He stared at the beam of pale moonlight that trailed through the window across from him in the cramped cellar, which was filled with storage boxes bulging with items he and Vanessa had collected over the years. Counting the particles of dust waltzing back and forth through the moonbeam, he nearly drifted back into his blank stupor when, again, something thumped inside the cardboard box.

Luka’s heart skipped a beat as his head snapped towards the box. With silent tears still streaming down his cheeks, he watched as the cardboard box tilted back and forth. The folded flaps suddenly burst open the same time that the box tilted too far and dropped to its side.

Hattie’s favorite toys—all the ones Luka had made for her—tumbled out in waves.

Pinning himself further against the wall, Luka eyed the mound of plushies and wooden figures with apprehension as he waited for a rat or something to appear. A bouncy ball shifted as a shadowy object emerged from within the cardboard. As the rubber ball plunked against the stone and skipped over before rolling against his shoe, the shadowy object stepped into the moonlight and waved its mitten hand.

Luka’s heart flew into his throat as he stared into the black button eyes of a doll that he had made to look like a prince in one of Hattie’s favorite picture books. The doll prince had hair made of chestnut colored yarn and wore a felt crown on his head. Two yarn strands stood out through the crown like a cowlick and his puffy striped sleeves and rounded purple boots added to his princely attire. His round nose and the rosy blush on his cheeks were his only other features, leaving him primarily expressionless as his head flopped down. His mitten hand kept waving.

While Luka stared at the prince plush, the air around it shimmered as spindly, blue fingers appeared around the doll, revealing the one making it stand tall and wave in the first place.

“Good morning, my weeping friend,” a hollow voice as faint as mist greeted from the forming apparition. “Or, good evening, I suppose. Whichever!” A crystalline giggle like the plinking of marbles came from behind a toothy grin painted onto a crescent mask.

Luka blinked through his tears, examining the floating creature who stretched out close to the ground, but hovered just inches above. He had no legs, but rather a ghostly tail the same color as the golden-orange harvest moon. It nearly looked like strings of the pale moonlight kept the humanoid creature suspended. When the creature shifted, the sound of clacking wood trickled through the cellar. His movements were rigid.

“What’s the matter?” he wondered, dropping the plush prince and letting it fall limp against the pile of toys before gliding over to Luka and causing him to jolt. “Your mouth isn’t frozen, is it?”

Stiff fingers pinched Luka’s cheeks and he winced back with a gasp. Fresh tears continued to spill out and dribbled onto the creature’s joints, which creaked.

“Wh-who are you?” Luka stuttered out as he shivered. His breath turned milky white, and the creature tilted his head back to watch the wisps trail upward.

“Call me Moonjumper.” The creature jumped away. His chest jerked back, and an arm folded in front of his chest while the other remained at his side. As he swayed, his jointed body, not unlike that of a puppet, clacked quietly. “And you, my weeping friend?” His voice was airy with laughter, though it was unnerving how the painted, patterned eyes and wide grin on his mask did not move with his bouncing cadence.

“Luka.” He leaned back against the stone with a sigh. A sharpness pressed deeper into his wrist and palm. The ice spread and his tears streamed down his cheeks, staining the collar of his pale dress shirt that was already soiled with sweat and dirt.

“You seem to be in quite the predicament, Luka friend,” Moonjumper made a sound similar to a tongue clicking against the roof of a mouth. “And that won’t do. I can’t play with you if you’re frozen. So, I’m here to make a deal.” He waved his hand and yellowed parchment appeared with a flash of moonlight.

Luka’s eyes narrowed at the parchment as it was flown over to him. He briefly scanned it but didn’t register anything beyond words and phrases about a kingdom and magic. Something about the horizon. And an invitation. While Moonjumper hovered over him, Luka vaguely wondered if he had finally perished in the cellar.

But he didn’t think ghosts could cry or see their breath.

“I’m sure you’d like to be released, would you not?” Moonjumper offered, tilting his head to the side. “Would like to walk free, unburdened by chains.”

If he wasn’t dead, perhaps he was hallucinating. Luka glanced away from Moonjumper and stared at the tumbled box of Hattie’s things. His chest tightened as he thought about Hattie. His breath hitched. He forgot himself for a moment and tried to bring his hand to his cheek to wipe at the swell of tears, but he only managed to cut the ice deeper into his skin. He winced with a gasp, but he did not take his eyes off of the box.

Moonjumper turned his head to follow Luka’s gaze. There was a pause before Moonjumper shifted stiffly between Luka and the box. He bent down, leaning his grinning mask towards Luka’s sniffling features. Luka edged back, avoiding the apparition’s gaze.

“Or perhaps you simply wish to be reunited with your daughter again?” Moonjumper asked.

Luka snapped his head up and looked into Moonjumper’s painted red eyes. A chuckle came from behind the mask as his whole body jostled as awkwardly as a puppet suspended from strings.

“There we go,” Moonjumper twittered before straightening and motioning the contract over. “Of course, when you’re free, you can rescue the little one and leave together. She cried you know, when you weren’t there to tuck her in.”

“Hattie.” Luka scrambled to shift his legs underneath himself. He ignored the burning in his wrists and pleaded as tears blurred his vision, “is she safe? Pl-please tell me she’s safe.” His voice cracked with desperation.

“Safer than you, at the moment,” Moonjumper shrugged his shoulders and caused his lithe arms to clack. “But if you make a deal with me, I can give you magic that can melt your chains and allow you and your little one to go free.”

“I’ll do anything,” Luka swore, leaning forward and towards the contract. Whether this creature was a hallucination or not, he’d make any bargain to ensure his daughter was safe.

“My price is steep, I’ll admit.” Moonjumper’s voice softened. “After ten years, I’ll come to collect you and so many of my toys forget that. Oh, and you’ll have to give up your heart.”

“Take it,” Luka said quickly as tears spilled out. He coughed out a ragged gasp before continuing in a voice as broken as his chest. “Take it, please. I don’t—” he sniffed as sobs structured his voice, “—I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

“Really?” Moonjumper’s head tilted. “Usually that’s considered too high a price to pay.”

“Are you going to let me help Hattie or not?” Luka tried to scowl but his features crumbled as another sob bled from his chest. “Please,” he choked out. “Please take it away.”

“Very well!” Moonjumper said lightly as the contract drifted underneath Luka’s chin. Tears dribbled onto the dotted line and that must have been enough to count as his signature because shortly after, the contract glowed.

Strands of moonlight laced around the contract like chains and then disappeared in a curtain of light. Before Luka could react, Moonjumper tore through the curtain and pressed his hand against his chest.

Luka gasped, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt a pressure over his ribs. A brief flicker of regret caused him to press against the stone wall, to recoil from Moonjumper’s touch.

Was he truly alright with this? With losing his heart?

Fingers as stiff as wood sunk into his chest and wrapped around his splintered heart. A surge of the despair he’d been feeling since Vanessa first threw him into the wretched cellar drowned him and he whimpered as he struggled to breathe.

“Take it, please,” he begged. He felt a tug on his heartstrings and a whine pulled from his lips as a wave of tears pushed out.

“Almost done, Luka friend,” Moonjumper muttered. “Brace yourself.”

A snap resounded through the cellar and Luka slumped like a puppet with snipped strings. The pressure was extracted from his chest, and he exhaled as Moonjumper backed away.

Luka’s tears ceased.

A burning kindled in the cavity left behind in his ribs and he began to hyperventilate. Suddenly desperate for oxygen, the crackling flames pushed out and heat spread through his body with each gasped breath.

Water dripped from his frosted hair tips and his chestnut curls flared liquid hot until they grew. His locks faded into cinders with a dark violet sheen that spiked out below his shoulders. Heat licked his teeth and he hissed before opening his mouth as his top canines lengthened into sharp, polished points.

Squirming against his restraints, Luka panted as whistling steam emanated from his wrists. His previously unresponsive fingers twitched into elongated claws. He gritted his teeth, piercing his lip with his fangs as a final pulse of flame pushed to his palms. Blue embers burned in his hands and the ice clinging to his wrists shattered before evaporating into steam.

His hands dropped and the embers flickered out as Luka slouched against the wall. His chest rose and fell rapidly with the flame still crackling in his chest. His heated exhales no longer turned to mist.

“There you go!” Moonjumper twittered as he cupped a pulsing, torn lump in one hand and scooped down to retrieve the prince doll in the other.

“What happened to me?” Luka held out his trembling hands before himself, flexing pale fingers that ended in claws.

“You gave up your heart,” Moonjumper answered simply. While floating in the air, he drifted into a sitting position and set the prince doll into his lap. He unbuttoned the prince’s tunic and placed the torn lump onto the doll’s chest.

A strand of moonlight drifted over to Moonjumper’s fingers. He snapped the graceful thread and the cut end bled scarlet. The red crept across the length of the thread as Moonjumper summoned a sewing needle. The string thrust through its eye and the needle dove towards the lump.

Luka jolted when the needle pierced the lump and then the doll. His heart, severed into two, was methodically embroidered into the doll’s chest. Though the scarlet string strung the two pieces into one, the stitches holding the heart together only highlight how terribly broken it was.

Once Luka’s heart was embedded into the doll, Moonjumper knotted the ends of the thread and buttoned the tunic closed, concealing the heart. Without warning, he tossed the prince doll towards Luka, who fumbled to catch it.

“I thought you wanted to keep it.” Luka wrinkled his nose, holding out the toy like it was some mangled catch a cat brought in.

“I just said you had to live without it,” Moonjumper corrected. “What you do with it is up to you. I thought that would be an easy way to carry it.”

“Why would I carry around a doll?” Luka furrowed his brows.

“It’s your daughter’s favorite toy, yes?” Moonjumper tilted his head, his painted smile unwavering.

“Hattie!” Luka bolted to his feet. He clutched the doll in his hand. A faint pulse against his palm urged him forward.

“And with that, I’ll take my leave. But don’t forget, Luka friend,” Moonjumper chuckled as his form began to waver and fade into moonlight, “I’ll come back in ten years’ time to collect my toy!” His laughter drifted on the shimmer he left behind. Strands of gentle light flittered back to the beam streaming from the window.

Luka scowled at the moonlight. He didn’t understand what Moonjumper meant about collecting his toy ten years later, but he didn’t care.

He had to leave. He had to leave with Hattie and escape.

Luka flew towards the stairs leading out of the cellar, but his gangly legs tripped on the box of toys, and he skidded against the ground. Grunting, his hand clenched around the doll as he scrambled back to his feet.

The manor was silent with Vanessa in bed. He easily crept around the squeaky floorboards and hurried to the nursery.

The flame in his chest flared when he saw the icicles jutting around the door to the nursery, sealing it off while emitting a frosty mist. Blue embers flared from his palms and though they licked the doll and the heart trembled, it did not catch fire.

But the ice did hiss as it melted from Luka’s touch.

Forgetting to be quiet in his ire, Luka shoved open the door with a grunt before seeing that the room was ice free. But his misted breath told him how cold it was.

“Kid!” Luka hurried over to the crib.

Hattie lay inside, shivering under her blanket with flushed, chubby cheeks and eyelids puffy from crying. Her features were scrunched with discomfort in her sleep.

“No, no, no.” Luka reached into the crib.

His embers flickered softly. In her sleep, she leaned towards the source of heat, but when her eyes popped open, she shrunk back in fear. She let out an ear-piercing screech and Luka jolted.

“Hattie, Hattie, it’s me,” Luka whispered, leaning over. His violet-black hair slipped from his shoulder and caught his eye. He ran his tongue across his fangs and remembered how much he had changed. Immediately he held out the prince doll to Hattie and danced it around to distract her from her tears.

“Papa looks different, but it’s still me,” he promised urgently as he listened for any sign of Vanessa.

Hattie continued wailing until a shriek came from his and Vanessa’s bedroom.

“Shut up already!” Vanessa’s muffled voice screamed. Ice jutted from the underneath the door and a brisk puff of air pushed into the room. Luka froze as fear spiked with the doll trembling in his hand.

Hattie whimpered and snatched the prince doll from Luka, startling him out of his petrified state. She hugged the doll and buried her face into the plush, hiccupping as she hushed her crying.

“That’s better!” Vanessa snapped from the other side of the door.

Luka’s flames burned as he sneered at the fresh ice. But all manner of threats and ire he wanted to lob at her perished when he remembered just how powerful she was and how his priority was keeping Hattie safe.

“Hattie,” he whispered in an even quieter voice after a stretch of silence. “Please, kiddo, it’s me.”

He stifled the cerulean flames in his hands, but his palms still radiated heat as he reached for Hattie’s cheek. She peeked at him from behind the prince doll. While she initially recoiled from his clawed hands, he slowly pressed his soft palm to her cheek. She relaxed.

“P-papa?” Her lip trembled.

“That’s right,” Luka managed a smile for her, unintentionally baring his fangs. “Papa’s here.”

She sniffled and he shushed her as softly as he could.

“It’s okay,” he whispered as he scooped her up. “We have to be silent, okay?”

Pressing into his chest, her eyelids grew heavy as his warmth lulled her. She still clutched the prince doll in one tiny fist and her other grabbed onto a strand of his dark violet hair. He winced when she tugged on his scalp.

“There we go, see?” he muttered as he rocked her in his arms. “It’s just me.”

The prince doll pulsed between them, urging him to be warm with more than just the flame in his chest.

With Vanessa back asleep, Luka hurried to pack a bag with supplies and money while Hattie slept in his arms, toasty and safe as she held the prince doll. When everything was packed and Hattie was bundled up in an extra blanket, they fled the manor and Luka never looked back.

But the prince doll, while Hattie slept and Luka ran with his eyes forward, waved goodbye to the manor without the assistance of any apparition. The stitches in its chest tightened.

#a hat in time #ahit prince #ahit snatcher #ahit moonjumper #smieska #my writing #build-a-bear au #and that tag will continue to look not right with this content but don't worry about it #how many times can i write a) the prince escaping Vanessa with Hat Kid and b) this man crying?#the world may never know......#alright now i shall expand on content warnings #okay SO body horror warning is for slightly painful transformation and someone has his heart ripped out of his chest #child neglect/abuse/endangerment is for baby hat being locked in a cold room (getting colder) and getting screamed at for crying #nothing graphic and Luka gets her out of there quickly and while hat remains pretty frightened for the most part she is primarily safe #this is a bleaker start i usually do for them so fair warning #let me know if i need to touch on anything else?#anyway time to stop fussing with details #THANK YOU FOR READING!!!!!#let me know what you think and i hope you're having a good day!!!!

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