#im sorry but her death was not that emotional. i feel like we weren’t given quite enough to be invested in at this point? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

opalesense · 3 years

Note

um um hiii! im like literally in l o v e with ur writing, especially the diluc and kaeya stories (im such a simp omg) and was wondering if you could do some more diluc x reader x kaeya nsfw—

ofc you can ignore this but ty if you consider it!! stay hydrated and safe ily <3

over the counter

diluc x f!reader x kaeya (NSFW)

6.5k words • ~40 min. read

summary: after a tense night at the tavern, kaeya accidentally forgets his belongings and comes back to see you and diluc having an intimate moment – or maybe it wasn’t an accident...

warnings: slight degradation, a lot of jealousy!! drama!!

notes: reader is in a relationship with diluc beforehand just to switch things up a little from my last fic! also this fic favors diluc a lot more so diluc simps come get your juice ;D thanks for waiting anon ily too <3 i’m so sorry this took so long T_T

SPENDING WEEKEND NIGHTS AT THE TAVERN was not uncommon for you. In fact, whether you were in the mood to drink or not, one of the main reasons you frequently visited the bar was to keep Diluc company, who greatly appreciated the effort you put into making sure he didn’t feel alone while he worked. Evenings with the two of you were often spent idly chatting while he served drinks, which surely kept his spirits up throughout the longer and busier nights. Customers usually commented about how Diluc always seemed to have a grin on his face when you were around, unlike some other nights where his deadpan expression often intimidated the people of Mondstadt and subsequently intimidated the customers themselves.

That didn’t stop business from booming, of course. As long as the alcohol was good and quickly served, customers couldn’t care less about how intimidating Diluc could be. Neither would they care about how he would sneak some free drinks to your seat across the bar if you asked for it, or how he would shyly rest his hand on top of yours if the night was slow and no one was paying attention.

In the end, on weekend nights when you were sitting in your favorite seat at the bar that was conveniently never taken no matter how busy the night was (or maybe not so convenient, since Diluc always made sure to secretly reserve it when the weekend rolled around), people knew never to bother the two of you. After all, on nights when Diluc was happy, he gave spectacular service to bargoers, who decidedly took advantage of this hospitality and thus visited Angels Share more often knowing the atmosphere was better if you were there.

But of course, as soon as a certain blue haired customer walked into the establishment to take his long awaited night off of the week, Diluc couldn’t help but shake his head at you and sarcastically remark, “Well, here comes trouble...”

“What, are you not happy to see me, brother?” After placing his belongings down, Kaeya took his seat next to you and shot you a friendly grin to briefly acknowledge your presence. “I’ve been coming here after work almost every night for so long – have you finally gotten tired of me already?”

Diluc rolled his eyes and began making a Death After Noon for his brother, already knowing the specific bittersweet flavor he likes without Kaeya needing to ask. “Come to think of it, it’s about time I take off that family discount of yours, I’ve been too nice to you these past months.”

Kaeya crossed his arms as he leaned forward on the counter with a scoff. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I need financial compensation for the headache that you induce whenever you’re in the same vicinity as me,” Diluc joked as he finished making the drink then set it in front of Kaeya, who took the glass with a pout and turned to face you.

“You hear this guy? Financial compensation... as if he needs it, being the richest jerk in all of Mondstadt to date.”

“Watch your tone, idiot,” Diluc snapped back as he turned to serve another awaiting customer.

There was no doubt that the two seemed to get along quite well as of late. At first it was almost as if they were both trying to impress you by showing you that they could be nice to each other as per your request, but as time passed, competition turned into a slow realization of having genuine concern for each other, and the brothers have been on the road to reconciliation ever since. Even when Diluc ended up being the one to completely sweep you off your feet and steal your heart, Kaeya never showed any opposition and even encouraged your relationship. “Despite everything, you truly deserve her, ‘Luc,” you overheard him reassure Diluc months ago after admitting defeat in their competition.

There was no doubt that you loved Diluc more than anything. He provided you with everything you could ever ask for, from emotional support and material things to overwhelming satisfaction in the bedroom. But at the back of your mind, especially on slightly tipsy nights such as this one, lies a certain lingering thought about that certain blue haired brother. Was it so bad to fantasize about being pressed between the two? Was it so bad to imagine the feeling of being fondled and manhandled by both of them at the same time? Was it so bad to be at least curious about being shared between the two?

You took a sip of your free drink as you stared blankly at the dents on the wooden counter.

Maybe it is bad, you thought.

After all, if Diluc mentioned that he wanted a threesome with someone else, you wouldn’t exactly be ecstatic about it.

That’s why you would never mention these fantasies to either of them, despite trusting them both with all of your secrets after being close with them for so long. You were scared of how Diluc would react to your curiosity. You were scared he would get the wrong impression and that your relationship would come tumbling down as a consequence of your little fantasy.

Maybe it is bad.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Kaeya snapping his fingers in front of your face. His head was tilted to the side as if he were trying to meet your downturned gaze. “Hey. Did I lose you? What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

“I was just lost in thought,” you ignored the subtle compliment and averted your eyes from the counter to look at Kaeya’s face, the shadows of the dimly lit tavern casting on him at the perfect angle to show off his features. You had to admit he was handsome - hell, all of Mondstadt surely thought so too. You glanced around nervously looking for Diluc to see a glimpse of his fiery hair heading up the stairs to the second floor, presumably to serve a table. He was understaffed today, you remember him saying.

“What were we talking about again?” you asked Kaeya, a little dazed and confused, overwhelmed by the reality of the moment. The clinking of glasses throughout the tavern, the bard playing the lyre in the corner, and the large group of rowdy men at a nearby table flooded your senses, leaving you a bit dizzy with no help at all from the alcohol. He simply laughed, gazing down as he swirled his own drink in his glass then met your eyes once more.

“I was asking how you and Diluc have been,” his sharp stare contrasted with his soft grin as the currently sober man turned his stool to completely face you. There was intention in his eyes, but you couldn’t exactly pinpoint what those intentions were. “I know he doesn’t like to catch up with small talk so I don’t like to bother asking him about what’s new.”

With the heel of your boot you decided to turn your stool to face him as well. Your knees were less than an inch away from touching his, which made you internally flustered given the fantasy you were just thinking about. You tried your best to keep your eyes on his face, ignoring his exposed skin just under his neck. He tilted his head back and took a sip of his drink then continued. “Besides, I enjoy talking to you more than him anyway.”

You could see right through him in this moment. Or at least, you thought you could. Maybe you were overthinking it, but you swore you could see his sapphire eyes slowly trail from your eyes down your body all the way to your grazing knees then dart back up again.

Maybe it was bad. Maybe it was the lighting.

“We’ve been doing good,” you nodded, studying his face more. “He’s been a lot happier recently since the two of you have been getting along more. Don’t tell him I told you that, though,” you leaned in slightly with a wink.

Kaeya let out a low chuckle at that and looked down at his glass again, taking a moment to form his next words. With a nod, he let out a sigh of relief. “That’s great. You’ve been looking a lot happier too, I can tell.”

“Oh? How exactly can you tell? We haven’t seen each other in a while,” you crossed your legs, feeling defensive, which accidentally brushed his in the process. You quietly apologized and he slightly lifted his hand up to excuse you.

“Oh, it’s nothing too crazy. It’s just the glow in your face and the pep in your step when I see you on the streets while I’m out patrolling. Seems like Diluc’s got one happy girl,” he tilted his head back for another sip, and for a moment, you saw his genial smile drop as he set his glass back down on the counter. But as quickly as he let go of his façade , he quickly masked his intentions again with a chuckle.

He seemed a little jealous, you thought. But before you could fully form a thought around that idea, Diluc came back with a tray in hand, empty glasses and mugs balancing on top of his palm. He carefully placed each of them into the sink and got to work on washing then drying them.

“How have you been, Kaeya?” he said with his back turned towards you both, “You weren’t flirting with my [Y/N] while I was gone, were you?”

“How could I do such a thing?” Kaeya huffed, seemingly offended. “Put some more faith in me, brother.”

Diluc turned around with a glass in hand, drying it with a rag and initially focusing his attention on Kaeya. You watched as the two stared at each other across the bar for a few moments, the air suddenly getting thicker as they both emanated a strange seriousness, almost as if they were arguing telepathically. Diluc’s intense stare burned into Kaeya’s cold expression, his arms tensing up so much that you thought he was going to break the glass in his hands. It was a little scary to witness how quickly the mood could change in only a few minutes, and feeling a little uncomfortable, you decided to stand up and make your way to the second floor balcony for some fresh air, away from the loud atmosphere of the main room and even further away from whatever random feud the brothers sparked up tonight.

The crisp air was meditative. It was soothing to stand on the balcony, leaning over the rail and staring into the night sky, letting your mind wander. Your days were often bustling with work and interacting with people so it was very rare to have a moment like this to yourself. At first, you figured it would be best to go back downstairs – after all, it had been a week since you’ve talked to Kaeya and it would be nice to catch up with your friend. But you weren’t sure why the mood was suddenly so tense, especially since nothing had really happened and as much as you knew how Diluc was protective over you, you felt like he was overreacting.

As you took slow sips of your drink, savoring the taste and gazing upon the night life of Mondstadt below, seconds turned into minutes, then minutes turned into an hours, and soon the moon had settled into the midnight sky and the tavern was nearing its closing time. You hadn’t realized that so much time had passed until Kaeya, who was usually the last customer to leave the tavern, whistled towards you from below as he was walking home, waving to get your attention then finally turning away and bidding farewell.

“Darling,” you heard a familiar voice behind you as you were waving back to Kaeya, “Did I do something to upset you?”

You turned to see a clearly apologetic Diluc standing in the balcony doorway, his arms crossed and hair messily thrown up into a ponytail. “Why didn’t you come back inside? We were waiting for you,” he quietly asked as he slowly approached you.

He placed his hands on your waist and pressed his forehead against yours while rubbing small circles into your sides with his thumbs. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips which he gladly returned with several more gentle kisses across your face, humming slowly and patiently waiting for your response.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Diluc. I really just needed some fresh air. I’ve felt a little overwhelmed all night and didn’t notice how much time passed,” you muttered.

You were telling half the truth.

You didn’t want to admit that you thought Diluc was being a little overdramatic, and you certainly didn’t want to tell him that you were overwhelmed with the thought of being touched by him and his brother at the same time. Some things are better left unsaid.

Maybe that was bad. Maybe white lies were okay, only for now.

He pressed one last kiss to your forehead before nodding as he processed your words. “Let’s get you warmed up back inside, you must have been freezing out here.”

“I didn’t think this is what you meant by getting warmed up,” you softly giggled in between passionate kisses as his bare, warm hands traveled up your top to eventually pull the entire damned thing off. He tossed it off to the side mindlessly before unbuttoning his own uniform top and letting it drape next to yours over the bar stool it landed on.

“I’ve had a long night,” he trailed the kisses down to your neck, gently biting enough to only leave subtle marks and murmuring against your skin. He lifted you up onto the counter to get better leverage over you, slowly spreading your legs apart then continuing the kisses down your collarbone. “And you look so beautiful tonight, I can’t help myself.”

“Just make it quick, okay?” you nervously looked at the window behind him which allowed the moonlight to illuminate the already darkened bar but also allowed anyone who felt like peering in to clearly see the two of you getting touchy in the tavern. You let him press up against you regardless, feeling his bulge grind against your clothed hips desperately. “What if someone sees?” you whispered, teasing him with the idea of getting interrupted and caught, which you knew annoyed him to the core.

“Good,” he paused for a moment to look up at you, his hungry eyes burning into your memory. “Let them see that you’re clearly mine.”

Your heart throbbed at this sudden possessiveness and with a naughty smirk, you decided to give up the innocent act. With a few swift movements, the rest of your clothes were ripped off until you were half naked, the only remaining bit of modesty you had being the underwear that clinged to your skin until Diluc eventually pulled that off too, exposing you fully to him.

“So beautiful,” he sighed as he kneeled down in front of you, pulling your hips towards him then pinning your knees to the counter as he lowered his head to your aroused cunt. “And all mine.”

You couldn’t help but let out quiet, staggered breaths as he immediately wrapped his lips around your clit, gently sucking and nibbling on the sensitive nub as his eyes remained glued to yours. “All y-yours,” you reaffirmed, which made him hum in appreciation.

He had never considered fucking you in the tavern before, especially since he rarely had the establishment all to himself for a shift, but just this once, he was happy he was understaffed tonight. All the frustrations he had endured this evening, from the annoying table on the main floor to bickering with Kaeya about things that didn’t seem to matter anymore led to this very moment where he hungrily licked your wet folds, burying himself into the sound of your hesitant moans and feeling himself harden by the second.

“P-Please fuck me already,” you breathlessly begged, “Please, Diluc, hurry…”

“Cum for me first,” his low voice muttered into your aching cunt, making your legs quiver, “Show me how much you really want it.”

The whine that escaped your throat was suddenly replaced with a gasp as Diluc pushed two fingers into you, immediately setting a quick pace and pressing into your sweet spot. “Cum for me, darling,” he let go of the grip on your leg to stand up and hover over your torso, leaning closer to your face and snaking his free hand up your back. “Be a good girl and cum on my fingers.”

“D-Diluc…!” you whimpered with a pout, which earned a hum of disapproval from him.

“Master Diluc,” he sternly reminded you, shifting his fingers into you quicker, causing your brain to malfunction as you began to tighten around him.

“M-Master…! I’m…!”

“Go on,” he ran his fingers through your scalp and grabbed a handful of hair, leaning down to kiss you and muffle your moans of pleasure as you finally reached your climax, gushing around his fingers and trembling at his touch. You whimpered in his mouth, muscles slightly spasming still as you started to calm down from your high and feel his fingers slowly pull out of you. While keeping his grip on your hair, he let go of the kiss and stuck out his tongue against his fingers, licking your fluids in front of you and smiling in satisfaction.

“Good girl,” he said as he revelled in his favorite taste. You watched as he lapped up all the fluids, the mixture of cum and saliva glimmering on his fingers under the light of the moon through the window.

Speaking of which, you weren’t sure if it was the way you were slightly tipsy or perhaps the heat of the moment deceiving you, but through Diluc’s messy locks and shiny fiingers, you swore you saw a glimpse of a familiar shade of blue through the window. It was unmoving, sure, but it was there nonetheless, and it wasn’t there the last time you looked through the glass.

Maybe it was bad.

Maybe it was Kaeya.

Horror sunk into your chest for a fleeting moment, but you blamed it on the alcohol, and the way you were thinking about Kaeya and Diluc so much within the past few hours. Besides, all the thoughts you were having about the strange color in the window were replaced by the way Diluc unbuttoned his pants with one hand, the other still intertwined in your hair, then freed his cock and let it rest on your stomach as he slowly laid you down across the counter. He pulled you towards him once more so your head could rest on the wood, his hair-tangled hand acting as a cushion while his elbow took its place beside you so he completely caged you in. “Be quiet for me, okay? We don’t want to wake all of Mondstadt this late at night…”

“I’ll be good,” you promised him, letting your hands travel down to feel his length resting on your skin. It had some weight to it as you lifted it, and as if you two were mentally in perfect sync, he pulled his hips back to let you position the tip at your entrance.

Excitement boiled in your stomach as he slowly inched his hips forward, pushing his cock into you little by little, stretching your walls apart by the seams. Your mouth went agape with the sheer stretch alone and fighting the urge to moan had never been more difficult. Instead, the only sounds that filled the silent room was Diluc’s heavy breath as he closed his eyes from the way you wrapped around him so well, the gentle gasps and whimpers from you as he bottomed out and nearly hit your cervix, then the sudden rhythmic slapping of skin as he began to pound into you with no warning.

Your eyes rolled back into your head at the rush of pleasure that came with the rolling of his hips into yours. It was so difficult to keep quiet, so hard not to at least whimper and give tiny moans here and there as he fucked you silly on that bar counter, but he couldn’t care less since he told you to be quiet and expected you to follow suit. You knew that. He instead opted to gently wrap his hand on your throat without applying pressure – simply as a warning.

You couldn’t control your orgasm even if you wanted to. The way he stared into your eyes so desperately while his cock kissed your cervix repeatedly made you lose control so easily, and he took advantage of the way you tightened around him by fucking into you harder. Faster. Deeper.

“You’re so fucking good, darling,” his hazy eyes glanced down to your lips with the intent to lean down for a kiss. “You’re–“

A loud knock on the door startled the two of you enough for Diluc to stop his thrusts and look up towards the source of the noise, a few red strands of hair draping over your face and tickling your cheek. He stared intensely at the door, pushing into you again at snail speed as he waited for an indicator of who was the culprit of the noise.

Another knock sent a jolt up your spine – or maybe it was the way Diluc snapped his hips into you once then slowly pulled back to drag out the pleasure. With a frustrated huff, he decided to tighten the pressure around your neck and pound into you at the relentless speed he set before, quietly shushing you when you initially gasped in surprise.

After one more knock, Diluc lost his patience. It was his greatest pet peeve of interruption becoming a reality. “We’re closed!” his voice boomed loudly so the person on the other side of the door would surely hear him, startling you at the sudden break of silence. Clearly frustrated, he pounded into you faster, chasing his pleasure, knowing that he would need to deal with whoever was bothering the two of you this late at night and wanting to quickly reach his release before then.

“It’s me,” both of your eyes widened at the familiar voice, “I forgot my stuff at my seat, could you let me in real quick?”

Diluc turned his gaze down past your head to see that, as a matter of fact, Kaeya’s belongings were still at his seat from earlier. His eyebrow twitched as he quickly pulled himself off of you, leaving you quietly gasping for air and clenching around nothing.

“Get under the counter,” he whispered so quietly that you just barely heard him, “Don’t move a muscle.”

Following his command, you made you way under the counter, nestling your naked body next to a cabinet of liquor as you watched Diluc button his pants and loosely put his shirt back on, buttoning it while he walked around the bar towards the door. At that point, all you could do was listen to a set of keys jingle as he unlocked the tavern door and a gust of cold air rushed through the entrance, strong enough that you shivered behind the counter and hugged your knees to retain warmth.

“Get your things then get out,” Diluc bluntly greeted Kaeya, who chuckled in response.

“Aw, why the sudden hostility again?” you heard slow footsteps approach the bar, sending your heart racing with anxiety, “And why the disheveled appearance? Oh, let me guess–“

“Get your things. Then get out,” Diluc said more sternly. You could recognize that tone from anywhere. He was furious.

“But let me guess first! Judging by the way the tavern is still a mess, I know you weren’t cleaning up the place just now. And by the way your clothes are so messily put together even though they were so neat and tidy earlier, as well as the sweat on your forehead… Oh, don’t tell me I interrupted something intimate, dear brother!”

You didn’t need to see him to know that Diluc’s jaw was tensed, unable to form a response out of pure annoyance and frustration. And still, Kaeya pressed his buttons.

“You were fucking her real good,” he teased after waiting for a response and getting nothing from Diluc, ”I could hear it from outside the door.”

“I fucking hate you,” was all Diluc could say in response. He didn’t actually mean it, you knew this, but he was beyond irritated.

Kaeya shuffled to grab his belongings by his seat and turned to face the door. But as if he weren’t being petty enough, he reached into his bag for something and suddenly tossed it behind him – his house keys, which landed behind the bar right next to your feet. Your eyes widened at this. You swore you stopped breathing even if you didn’t mean to.

“I think I might have left something behind the counter too, mind if I check?”

The silence that followed was unbearable, even if it only lasted a few seconds. All of the sudden, your heart began to pound out of your chest, not only because of sheer fear and anxiety, but also because of the possibility that Kaeya would see you so vulnerable behind that counter, naked and hugging your knees, waiting for someone to hold you and ‘warm you up.’ Maybe he already did see you through that window. Maybe it wasn’t just your mind playing tricks on you.

“Okay, I’m sorry, Diluc, maybe I’ve gone too far–“

“No,” Diluc interrupted him, “Go ahead. Go get your keys.”

What?

“Seriously?” Kaeya scoffed in disbelief.

What are you doing, Diluc?

“Go on.”

What’s happening?

“‘Luc, I know she’s there, I’m just messing with you–“

“No, Kaeya,” Diluc turned to close the tavern door and lock it, “I know you’ve been eyeing her since the very beginning, even before I came along. I’m not even mad, I just feel sorry for you. I feel sorry that I took away someone you wanted so badly and that you haven’t been able to move on since.”

Diluc took a few steps towards the speechless brother and lowered his voice, still maintaining the same intensity and dragging out his words. “So why don’t you go behind the counter and get your fucking keys? While you’re there, you might as well fuck my girlfriend with me too, since you want her attention so badly.”

The room froze in time, only for a moment. Thoughts began to flood your mind – why would Diluc say that, especially since he was usually very protective over you? Should you refuse to let Kaeya see you, or let it happen? After all, it’s not like you weren’t at least a little bit curious how this situation would unfold...

While you sat in the corner naked and trembling, you held back your breath and listened to Kaeya’s footsteps slowly drag across the wooden floor, the creaking getting closer and closer until he was in your peripheral vision. “Diluc,” he immediately turned away once he saw you sitting there, exposed and cold, then let out a disgruntled sigh.

“Come now, Kaeya,” Diluc stepped in front of him to enter the bar and suddenly grab your arm, lifting you up with no hesitation and making you gasp in embarassment. He pinned your arms behind your back and turned to make you face Kaeya, whose eyes were glued to the opposite wall out of a little bit of respect. “How about we make this a competition, since you seem to love competing so much?”

“Diluc,” you whimpered as you tried to struggle out of his grasp with no success, which you didn’t complain about because a part of you wanted to unravel this situation even further. “Please…”

“Please what, darling?” he muttered into your ear from behind, “Oh, don’t tell me you’ve been pining for him too.”

“N-No, of course not,” you whined, “I just…”

Maybe it was bad.

Maybe it was bad, but you were going to do it anyway.

You pressed yourself against his hips, gently grinding on his erection and letting out small whimpers. Just like Diluc, you hated being interrupted and couldn’t exactly think straight. All of this petty arguing didn’t matter to you, especially since you wanted them both from the beginning either way. In an attempt to admit your secret without explicitly saying it, you mustered up the courage to mutter, “Please, both of you, stop fighting and just… fuck me…”

Diluc tightened his grip around you with a grin, letting out a low scoff. “Slut. I knew you were a slut,” your eyes widened and stomach burned in excitement at the sudden degrading nickname he called you, “I bet you’ve been thinking about something like this for a while, haven’t you?”

You sheepishly nodded as he slowly pushed you back onto the counter, this time laying you on your stomach and bending you over. “I won’t deny that I’ve been thinking about the same thing lately,” he started to unbutton his top again as you raised an eyebrow at this new information. He huffed with annoyance as he unbuttoned his pants and turned his head to the dumbfounded brother across the bar. “Kaeya, either grab your keys and go or stay here and keep her mouth occupied. I’ll let you decide – just make it quick and quit standing there.”

With your head dangling off the counter, you watched as Kaeya slowly turned around to face the two of you, studying the scene for a moment before letting out a deep sigh. As if he finally made a decision, he put down his belongings again, took off his vest, and made his way across the counter, his hips only a foot away from your face. Meanwhile, Diluc had already freed his cock once more, keeping one hand on your restricted arms and using the other to prod your entrance with his tip. The excitement was overwhelming, coursing through your veins as you watched Kaeya slowly unbutton his pants as well with a bit of reluctance.

“Please hurry, Kaeya,” you softly begged, hoping to encourage him to quit holding back since it was obvious he was being overly shy, “Please, I want this so bad…”

“I’m sure you do, darling,” he adopted the pet name from Diluc, “But I like seeing you so needy for me when I’m moving slow like this.”

Letting out an impatient growl, Diluc grabbed onto your hips as he sheathed his cock with your cunt all at once, making you mewl and sigh at the feeling of being full again. He began rolling his hips deeply just as he did before he was so rudely interrupted, never failing to maintain his quick rhythm and making your brain short circuit.

With his slender fingers, Kaeya held your chin in his hand, lifting your face up to look at his and grinning once he saw how your mind was lost as you burned with pleasure. He stared at your flushed cheeks and panting mouth, comparing it to the usual calm and composed demeanor you always seemed to have. He smirked, rubbing a small circle into your chin with his thumb. “So this pretty, helpless face is what Diluc gets to see every single day? I’m very jealous, brother.”

That comment only made Diluc pound into you harder, his weight shifting into his arm to pin you down further. “Cry about it,” he mocked.

Ignoring the comment, Kaeya only pressed his lips together in a pout to tease you, slowly taking out his cock which made your mind boggle at the sheer size of it. He was just as deliciously large as Diluc was, and as he began to stroke it in front of your face, secretly admiring the sight of you being fucked senseless by his brother, you couldn’t help but feel like you were melting in the presence of such dominating forces hovering over you. Without second thought, you left your mouth agape, letting your tongue stick out in a wordless way of telling him you wanted to take him, to satiate your hungry desires that you hid for quite some time now.

“Eager, are we?” Kaeya didn’t seem to ever shut up his teasing, “I was just going to stand here and enjoy the show, but if you really want it that badly…”

One hand on your chin turned into one thumb in your mouth, which you received gratefully nonetheless. He let you suckle sweetly on his finger, cooing at how pathetic you looked drooling all over it when he hadn’t done anything yet. All the while Diluc let go of your folded arms and instead used both hands to firmly grip your ass and pound into you deeper, the sound of slapping skin filling up the room along with his shaky breaths now and then.

A whimper escaped your throat as you looked up at Kaeya’s face, He didn’t need to hear you say the words to know that you were quietly begging for a taste of him by looking at him so innocently, and as such, your wish was his command. He took a step forward to nestle the head of his cock into your mouth, his thumb still on your tongue to make you open up wider and let you salivate over the taste of his skin until he slowly began pushing himself deeper, watching your gag reflex just to find out you were taking him in quite nicely. His heart was aching with jealousy that Diluc was so lucky to have you all to himself, but nonetheless, once he fully bottomed out inside of your throat that he had to remove his finger to fit properly, he saw this as an opportunity to enjoy himself and sighed in pleasurable relief.

Kaeya’s hands found their place on both sides of your head as he slowly fucked your throat, wanting to relish in the feeling of you wrapped so tightly around him, holding back coughs and tears. It was a painfully delightful contrast to the way Diluc was relentlessly abusing your aching hole from the other side of the counter, letting out his pent up frustrations of the night in the form of deep thrusts and shameless pants. Kaeya couldn’t help but leave quiet moans here and there as well while he slowly pushed himself in and out of your mouth, filling your throat up with his entire length just to pull back with a sigh then do it again.

Eventually, Kaeya became more comfortable with picking up the pace, watching as Diluc’s slammed his hips into yours and yearning for a similar feeling. His hands traveled through your scalp, tangling through your hair messily as he leaned in to fuck into your mouth with more intent. You hummed sweetly as Kaeya finally stopped holding back, giving into the pleasure and matching Diluc’s rough pace. The feeling of the two of them ignoring their feud and instead taking out their frustrations on you made your insides twist and knot together knowing that after so long, your fantasies have come to light – or rather, they came to this dimly lit tavern in the middle of the night.

Diluc was the first to release himself in you, filling your drenched cunt with his seed and controlling his staggering breaths as he fucked you slowly to calm down from his high. It made you needy to hear his low groans in their fullest volume, but you knew that that had to be saved for different circumstances. His fingers that dug into your skin so intensely gently lifted off of you has he wiped the slight sweat off his forehead and simultaneously looked up to watch Kaeya fucking your throat. If he hadn’t been so exhausted from work tonight, he would’ve secretly loved to invite Kaeya for another round, knowing how tightly your cunt wrapped around him the second Kaeya started touching you.

Shortly after, Kaeya finally reached his own release too, letting your nose nestle in his trimmed blue hair as he dumped his cum into your throat unceremoniously. His chest slowly rose and fell with each deep breath he took, trying to control himself as he felt you attempt to swallow his seed while he was still inside you. The feeling drove him crazy and craving for more, but as he averted his gaze from you to look at Diluc on the other side, a wave of regret and jealousy washed over him knowing that this was probably going to leave him off on bad terms with his brother – again.

But much to his dismay, as he slowly pulled out of you, Diluc only laughed. He laughed wholeheartedly as he gently caressed your waist, soothing you while you gasped for air. Kaeya stood there confused on the sudden lightheartedness in the air, tucking himself back into his pants and getting ready to leave as soon as possible, slightly ashamed for indulging in such an impulsive moment of vulnerability for you and Diluc.

“Not so fast,” Diluc spoke the first words after the long period of silence once Kaeya started to pick up his belongings, “You’re forgetting your keys.”

With the help of Diluc, you slowly lifted yourself up to lay on your back, keeping your legs spread and incoherently mewling for more. Diluc only grinned at this, shushing you with a gentle look and caressing your thigh as he briefly saw his cum pooling on the counter. Kaeya nervously glanced at you before entering the bar and walking towards his keys next to Diluc’s foot, grabbing them, then standing back up with an averted gaze. The poor boy was so nervous, but you had to admit he tasted so good.

Diluc placed a reaffirming hand on Kaeya’s shoulder, making Kaeya lift his head and look into his eyes. The two shared a moment of eye contact, communicating a shared sense of apology to each other. Maybe it was bad at first, but regardless of how much they seemed to be at each others throats, they always seemed to make amends in the end.

“Okay, get out,” Diluc bluntly said, which followed with hurried footsteps towards the door and a quick, “Alright, alright, I’m leaving!” from Kaeya. The exchange made you laugh, but once Kaeya was finally gone and Diluc had locked the door behind him, you were beginning to get antsy.

“So,” Diluc trailed his eyes up and down your trembling body still splayed out on the counter, “would you, by chance, ever be interested in doing that again? Just the three of us?”

“I want to so badly,” you breathlessly admitted, replaying the past half hour in your head and letting the memory brand into your mind. “Please, Master?”

He thought about it for a moment then grinned.

“I’ll think about it. As long as you know you belong to me in the end, maybe another round with him wouldn’t be so bad.”

#diluc #diluc x reader #diluc smut #kaeya #kaeya x reader #kaeya smut #genshin impact #genshin impact smut #mine #bang #requested

1K notes · View notes

ventiskies · 3 years

Text

when he accidentally injures you | Xiao, Albedo, Bennett

a/n: hello anon!! im doing well, thank you!! hope you are too !! thank you for giving me the chance to add characters HHHH ive been DYING to write for Xiao, Albedo and Benny so i took the opportunity to! hope you like it !! also,,, this is probably my longest post !! i loved writing this <3

pairing: Xiao x gn! reader, Albedo x gn! reader Bennett x gn! reader

warnings: vague mentions of injury and blood

Xiao

★Xiao and you had been on a stroll, something you casually did together whenever Xiao was in a good mood. the adeptus wasn’t one to get out of the confines of Wangshuu Inn, so every time he does, you cherish it and spend it as if it was your last

★but this particular stroll didn’t go as planned, at all

★the two of you had left Wangshuu Inn in the morning, when the weather had seemed as if it would be sunny the whole morning, but it had betrayed you the moment you had set foot in Minlin, the skies had loomed with darkness and occasional rumbles of thunder

★Xiao could have easily teleported the two of you together, but a sudden attack with a ruin hunter had caused him to get distracted

★he could easily defeat the creation with a simple use of his elemental burst, but you were in the vicinity and he didn’t want you getting injured, despite the chances of hitting you were low, he wasn’t going to take the chance

★he had strictly told you to stay back and out of sight, making use of the terrain to jump and strike at the core with his polearm whenever the hunter was aiming to him, but he should have known you were stubborn

★the moment you had ran into the fight, arrow pointing to the ruin hunter, the said war machine had immediately turned towards you, all four of its arms aiming missiles towards you

★Xiao had been too slow, and when he had realized it was aiming towards you, you had already been sent back flying after the hit

★your name fell on his lips, his eyes widening in anger when he had seen what the creature had done, and without any hesitance Xiao summons his elemental burst and sends the creature falling to pieces

★“y/n,” Xiao mutters, worried that he would be met with the sight of you dead, “y/n, where are you?”

★you gave a weak groan, unable to raise your head after hitting it on the sharp rocks. Xiao made his way towards you, and the rain started pouting

★Xiao knelt down and cradled your head gently, seeing the gash on your head. you were most likely suffering from a concussion as well from the way you were unable to look at him in the eye, and your hands grabbing your forehead as if it had exploded

★his eyes showing evident worry, and this was the first time he had felt so scared

★he knew he was powerful, and he was beginning to regret even taking you out of the safety of the Inn. this shouldn't have happened, he was with you because he wanted to protect you,

★and here he was being the cause of your injury

★“y/n, can you hear me?” he asked, and when you hissed the moment he placed a gentle hand on your head, he curses lightly, unable to keep himself calm as he always had anymore, “hold on,”

★Xiao had lived for years and had suffered watching deaths and injuries of the people he had been close with since he had became the adeptus of Liyue, but for once, he had felt a different type of hurt when you had been injured this time

★because this was his fault; what if it had happened again?

★he had teleported the two of you back to Wangshuu Inn, and had asked Verr Goldet to help you just because he was afraid of hurting you further

★and she knew more than to question what happened, especially after Xiao had told her with the weakest voice she has ever heard him use, and pleading eyes to take care of you.

★when you had healed completely, you noticed Xiao had distanced himself from you more than when you had both met the first time, and it had worried you to no end

★it had came to a point where he would disappear whenever you tried to search for him at the balcony, and you were getting upset that he was running away from you because of the accident that was caused by your stubbornness; and the fact that you knew Xiao blamed himself had only made you more guilty

★”Xiao,” you gently said, walking outside with a bowl of his favorite almond tofu, “I miss you,”

★he had to contain himself to avoid disappearing on you again after he heard the words. Xiao wasn’t much of an emotional person, but the memories from the accident had left him afraid of getting close to you again, in fear that he would hurt you once more

★but when he had met your glossy eyes and saw the pained expression you held, he knew that it was only going to be worse is he had avoided you

★”y/n-” Xiao started, but you had only dropped the almond tofu and ran into his arms, hugging him tight as if you were afraid to let him go

★and (with reluctance), Xiao had hugged you back, twice as hard

★it would take time for him to get back to his usual self and trust himself to go out and adventure with you again, but for him, you would wait your lifetime.

Albedo

★An experiment going wrong was a part of alchemy. It was something Albedo would expect to happen fifty percent of the time he conducts something for the first time

★He has gotten a handful of injuries from it that he had sometimes forgotten that people outside of the realm of alchemy wouldn't know what it would be like to expect a burn or scars after the first test

★So of course, sometimes even the smartest people could be careless

★Albedo had brought you to his lab in Dragonspine, claiming that he had found a rare plant and wanted to see if it was able to withstand heat

★Putting it in a flask, he had placed it on a test tube holder and your curious eyes had caught sight of the glowing pink tube

★“What’s this?” you stepped closer to inspect the glowing flask, and Albedo wordlessly looks at you with a fond smile. your curious gaze at his work had always made him feel happy; you truly were endearing

★Albedo turns on the burner, and the moment the fire had hit the flask, the substance had instantly exploded, causing you to recoil back and grab at your face when the substance had burned your face

★instantly, Albedo had abandoned his failed test and attended to you, trying to pry your hands away from your face

★“My love, I’m so sorry,” he says gently, trying to see the damage that the explosion has gave you, “please look at me,”

★you felt tears well in your eyes, the burns on your cheeks combining with the coldness of the snow stinging your face

★when Albedo had successfully pried your hands away , he grabbed them gently and looked at you, “we- we need to see the deaconess,” he mutters to himself, feeling his heart ache seeing you holding back tears, never in his life had he regretted conducting an experiment so badly;

★he had wished he was able to take the pain away from you, he absolutely despised seeing you so hurt

★after you had healed, Albedo would make a rule that you weren’t ever allowed in the premises of his laboratory ever again, and that you were banned from joining him whenever he was conducting experiments

★it had hurt you when Albedo had adamantly decided on it, but you knew that it would only hurt him more if you tried to fight him about it

★he was still blaming himself for the incident; despite him knowing that errors were completely common in alchemy

★his greatest fear was hurting you, and if he was given a choice, he would rather have you far away as possible from anything that could lead to potential harm

★(and that especially meant that when the time comes and he loses control and destroys Mond, he hopes you would be far away from him as possible, too)

Bennett

★Bennett knew he was bad luck, he knew that was mostly the reason there wasn't anyone on his team. no one wanted to get hurt and gain nothing on an adventure. no one wanted to bring a bunch of medical supplies for when an accident that was bound to happen, happens

★no one but you

★you were the only member in Bennett’s team; you were a duo. you didn’t wield a vision, but that didn't make Bennett think of you any less, in fact, he thought you were the bravest person ever for being just a feet away from him outside of Mond, and now you were a team member of his

★injuries were common for you. there would always be some sort of scratch or bleeding whenever you went out on an adventure with the pyro vision holder. if there wasn’t a monster encounter, the two of you would accidentally trip and fall into a lake

★but when the latter happens, Bennett would have a fire for the two of you, and settle in an empty (at least, you hope was) hilichurl camp nearby to warm up in

★it was the norm now, and despite Bennett wanting you to just choose another team because he couldn't handle seeing you in pain from his luck, you had always reassured him that the unexpected turns of events because of his luck was just what you had loved about adventure, and you always trusted him to take care of you whenever something like that happened

★but of course, it was only a matter of time until it was Bennett himself who had hurt you

★you were both fighting a cryo abyss mage, the bastard’s protective shield already broken by Bennett’s elemental skill, causing the creature to start crawling on the ground pathetically

★you were sure its health had already decreased a significant amount that one slice could kill it off instantly, and you had wanted to give the final blow

★but Benny seemed to have a different idea

★the moment Bennett had saw you coming, it had been too late for him to stop, because the same moment you had ran towards the abyss mage, he had raised his sword and sliced the creature hard to the point that his sword had accidentally sliced your stomach as well

★thankfully, your clothes were thick enough that the cut hadn’t been deep enough to get stitches, but it still hurt so badly that you had fallen to the floor, clutching your stomach

★“y/n, what happened?!” he asked, too worried to remember that it had been him who did it, “are you okay?!- wait, no, that was a stupid question, let me see,”

★Bennett was an excellent team leader, but sometimes, he could be a little oblivious

★he gently lays you on his lap, taking out supplies from his belt. he had saw a glimpse of red, so he takes out towels to wipe the blood

★he had gently asked if he could lift your shirt, and when you had weakly nodded, he assessed the damage

★and that was when he had saw the burns by your cut

★burns. the abyss mage was a cryo one, and there wasn't any source of fire where you were but him

★Bennett felt his breath hitch, hands holding the towel clenching in fear. what had he done?

★“no, no, no,” he says in slight panic; this was exactly what he was afraid would happen, “no, no, y/n I’m so sorry. I was supposed to protect you,” his voice broke, gently pressing the towel on your wound to soak up the blood, and when he heard you hiss in pain, he felt tears well in his eyes, “I’m so sorry...”

★he knew the cut wasn’t deep, and you were going to be okay, but the mere thought that the fact you couldn't move and were in pain was because of his doing had caused Bennett to be unable to focus

★you were taken to Barbara immediately, Bennett carrying you bridal style the whole way back (he had been silent, while you had tried to start a conversation with lighthearted banter with him, he had only given you a half hearted laugh before focusing on his journey back) and was healed with a simple swish of the deaconess’ hands

★but afterwards, Bennett had started to spend less time outside of Mondstadt, saying that he had preferred to read at the library with you, and that was extremely unlike of him

★you knew it was because he was blaming himself for what had happened, so you had to let him know that you were fine, and that you knew that it was bound to happen anyways

★It would take a lot of reassurance for Benny to agree to even step a foot outside again, but in the end, it would be worth it to see his adventurer spirit once more

2K notes · View notes

midnightsnace · 3 years

Text

A Thousand Worlds

Summary: Fix it fic of sorts after the trauma that was episode 6 of the Loki series. Loki is in pain after discovering Mobius doesn’t remember him. He’s been living in apocalypses to avoid capture by this new TVA until he formulates a plan to get his Mobius back.

Rating: T for later chapters

Emotional angst.

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

“And so that’s where I grew up, the ends of a thousand worlds.”

The ends of a thousand worlds. The words of his accomplice echoed through the god’s mind as he fiddled with the straps of his worn and tattered holster. The fluorescent above him flickered with every gust of wind that battled against the sides of the building that Loki was crouched down in. He slid his long legs out against the tiled floor in front of him and sat with his head propped against the wall. He sighed. Loki tapped his foot on the door of the space he was hiding in to close it, drowning out the cries of fear from the people outside in their final hours of life. There he sat waiting for the tempad to charge. Alone. Living in another world where every person he met would be dead by the end of the day. Another world where Mobius didn’t exist. His Mobius.

Was this what it was like? For her? To never be able to stay in one place for more than a day? To always see the same faces riddled with fear as they awaited their painful fate? To only know destruction, screaming, fires, earthquakes, the literal gates of hel? To be utterly alone with your only desire to live in the hope that one day your glorious purpose would be fulfilled?

Glorious purpose.

Loki scoffed. The god didn’t know what his purpose was anymore. Taking down the TVA was a complete failure. The chances for fixing the mess they started seemed impossible now as branches grew and new timelines erupted, with endless TVAs to monitor every universe. At least, that’s what Loki assumed. He knew next to nothing about what they had unleashed. It wasn’t the same TVA. Different hunters, different analysts, different ruler. Many he recognized, but they were still different people. They weren’t the same. She wasn’t the real B. He wasn’t his Mobius. And Loki was at a complete loss on how to find them again.

The first tempad he stole only brought him back to the place he snatched it from. The same Time Variance Authority where Mobius didn’t remember him and not a single file existed for Loki Laufeyson, God of Mischief, God of Outcasts, God of Lies. Even when he dragged the analyst through the timedoor into the roxxcart parking lot to access his memories, nothing existed of him. No laughter over silly metaphors, mischief at pompeii, not even the memory of their first encounter in the elevator. It was like they never met. This led to Loki wasting away their days hopping from one disaster to the next until his brain racked up a solution. The TVA never once did follow him. Why would they? No one remembered his brilliant discovery about the apocalypses. He could run free. But as the days whittled by, the hope Loki had began to fade into nothingness.

For awhile he kept track of the places he went and the time that had passed.

Day 1 - I finally stole a tempad and left that dreadful place. I came here first. Hoping I’d see you. But I guess that’s not how time travel works in apocalypses. No trace we were ever here. The storm reminded me of my brother. I hope to see him again one day. Now that I know we could have been friends. Everything was eventually going to be okay.

Day 24 - I’ve been sitting in a coffee shop awaiting the earthquake of 2098. Met a lovely redhead with the most peculiar of tattoos. But alas! Little does she know this friendship could never blossom in the wake of death!

Day 37 - I miss him. My brother. The pain that solitude brings makes me think of home more often. How ironic that the very place that caused me the most pain I miss. But anything is better than this. So today I visited home right before its destruction. I saw my brother. I saw Thor from afar. Oh how I wish I could have talked to him somehow and tell him i’m sorry for being such an ass.

Being there brought back memories of the silly metaphor he made using Mobius’ lunch. The corners of Loki’s mouth crept into a smile at the thought. But that smile faded away in the next second and was replaced with tears.

Day 56 - I went to Pompeii again. I stood in the shadows. I tried to picture your expressions of skepticism at my insane ideas. I tried to picture how your face lit up with pride and joy when you realized I was right. I wish I could have stayed longer but I never can anywhere I go.

He whistled like a bird before he exited through the time door.

By day 125 he had lost his will to live again. It was their fourth visit to Lamentis-1. Perhaps it was a mistake on his part to journey here once more and feel both the pains of betrayal and heartache at the prospect of never seeing Mobius again. The second time they had visited Lamentis, the god decided to stay until the very last second with the false hope that maybe him facing death would create a nexus event. His mobius would come find him and save him at the last second. But the time door never came. Maybe it was because he knew there was a chance to escape and he could take it. Or maybe it was because there were so many time branches no one would care to fix a world that was about to end.

“You were always meant to be alone.”

And so this time Loki threw the tempad to the ground and waited. He watched as the lethal disaster unfolded before his eyes once more, ready to die. Alone. Alone with no one to assure him everything will be alright in the face of death. Not a single soul would know he was gone. No one would care.

But at the last second they saw something on the tempad that made them change their mind. A glimmer of hope.

Any hope Loki had, a glorious purpose he had left to fulfill, it was in finding Mobius. It was the only desire left that fueled him to keep existing. He was all that mattered. His only friend. The only person left among the universes who trusted him and saw beyond his flaws. The only person left who hadn’t betrayed the fragile levels of trust the god could give. He was his hope that one day, he wouldn’t have to be alone.

And so he found himself walking the streets of New York in the summer of 2197, on the brink of some disaster he knew nothing about. Not a single idea when it would happen, where it would occur, and what he was doomed to witness. He saw something that could potentially lead him to his destination. The tempad had given him an alert for an aura match - two of the same people in one place. An oddity. Something that wasn’t supposed to exist.

They weren’t just any entity either. They were registered hunters in the TVA database. Which meant one had to be from another universe.

And he knew the TVA would be coming for them.

He had to get there first.

Loki speed walked down the sidewalk frantically scanning his surroundings for any clue as to what was happening. He couldn’t read any signs of fear or confusion on the faces of those who passed him. He didn’t know how much time he had.

Upon hearing shouts of anger, Loki broke out into a run across the street towards the source, dodging every dystopian vehicle that nearly collided with him in the process. It was coming from the roof of the parking tower. With a snap of his magic, Loki teleported himself to the top, hiding behind a parked vehicle to assess what he was working with.

There were two agents standing about 10 feet away who looked nearly identical, one waving her arms frantically while the other looked on stoically, possibly from shock, with a pruning stick in hand. Loki locked eyes on the tempad fastened to the belt of the frantic one. Then he glanced at the one in the other hunter’s hand.

Well shit.

Now he had to figure out which agent had jumped from the other timeline. He quickly flashed himself closer to the two, but not before one caught on that someone was there.

“I was given orders by a man to…what was that?” one of the hunters asked.

Loki crouched down farther on the other side of the wall. He reached for a dagger, ready to pounce once their suspicions subsided. They listened intently to the words from the first hunter for the first clue on who to attack.

“He sent me here to grab this,” the hunter pulled up someone on her tempad, “entity and leave. Those were the orders given to me. So if you’ll excuse me.”

The other hunter planted herself in front of her clone. “I can’t let you do that. Not until you’ve told me everything I want to know. How are you me? How is this possible?”

The first hunter was from an alternate timeline. Loki took that as his cue. But before he could sneak behind the hunter, he was shot backwards by a blast of energy from a ring of light.

Out from the ring stepped a peculiar man with graying hair who was wearing blue robes and an assymetrical cloak that sparked the curiosity of the confused hunter. Within a split second, the portal closed behind him. Loki laid very still on the concrete and held his breath in the hopes that the man would believe him to be dead.

“You know I can tell when someone is playing dead.”

Loki grimaced and winced as he heaved himself off the ground. He came face to face with the strange man, his hand lingering in the air where he placed the pocket for his dagger.

“You.” was all the man said.

“Am I supposed to know you?” the god questioned.

“You always manage to show up in New York again at the most in-opportune times.” The man raised his hands and Loki mimicked his movements, summoning his daggers in place.

“I’m gonna assume we’ve met before sir, perhaps in the future? I don’t know! And i’m terribly sorry about New York! Look let me explain…” they lowered their hands in their attempt to make peace with the angry man in front of him.

“Dr. Strange.” He kept his fist in the air, golden sparks flying from whatever spell he had in mind to attack the prince with. “And until you prove otherwise Im going to assume you are here for hostile reasons.”

Loki blinked. Well he’s kind of not wrong, they thought.

“Well I’m afraid I can’t prove anything else.” and with that the god blasted the sorcerer into the nearest column with their magic and teleported across the space.

Loki noticed that one of the hunters had disappeared. He assumed she had returned to the TVA. The other was charging towards him fast. He whipped out his daggers to face his attacker, but suddenly his feet were dragged out from under him and he hit the concrete hard. He was being dragged backwards, body scrapping against the concrete. So fast, that the god could barely think about what was happening to him.

When he came to his senses he cut the magic ropes with his powers and rolled across the ground. So he was dealing with another magic user, this “Dr. Strange.” Loki teleported again before he was up on his feet to where he was standing directly behind the hunter.

“D-11…” Dr. Strange said with a hint of caution in his tone.

So this was the man Hunter D-11 was working for. Before the hunter could turn around to face them, Loki snatched the tempad off her belt and snapped himself to the furthest side of the building. Dr. Strange reacted quickly and stood his ground in front of Loki, prepared to attack again.

“Loki, perhaps we can work out some type of deal. What is it that you want? Maybe I can help you. Maybe we can reach a compromise.”

Offer him a deal? Nah.

“I’m done trusting people I’ve just met. All they ever do is stab me in the back.” he conjured the time door behind him.

Strange titled his head. “You do realize we can follow you right straight back to the TVA?”

Loki turned to face him and D-11. “You’ll never find me. You won’t know the first place to look.” The time door closed with Loki inside of it, before the two even had a chance to reach their hands out to follow the god.

…….

And that’s how Loki had ended up here. At Roxxcart again, waiting for the new tempad to charge up before hopping through timelines again.

He breathed in deeply as he felt the bubble of excitement, relief, and happiness build in his chest for the first time in months at the prospect of achieving his goal. Being reunited with the only one who mattered: Mobius. His Mobius.

But as he released his breath in a sigh, his chest tightened again and worry clouded his mind. What if this didn’t work? What if this was just another dead end? What if this was just another one of the countless TVAs that might exist in the vast multiverse?

At first, all Loki felt was sadness and regret in the days following Sylvie’s betrayal. But now all he felt was anger boiling deep inside him. That same unwelcome feeling he experienced after discovering his father lied to him. The feeling that harbored in the abyss of Thanos’ chambers. The feeling that never left his soul until Mobius looked him in the eyes and assured him that he didn’t have to be the villain in his story.

She had taken everything from him and he was afraid he couldn’t wash away the resentment this time. He wanted desperately to feel anything besides the pain he had known for the past year.

He needed to feel love again.

“He cares about you.”

Loki couldn’t wait any longer. He picked up the tempad and tapped the time door request for the TVA home base. He drew in a shaky breath as he paused in front of the portal.

This was it.

He was either about to be reunited with his greatest source of happiness, or find himself hiding in apocalypses again for months as he searched for another plan.

And he would do it. He would search through a thousand worlds to find him.

39 notes · View notes

mobagehelllocal · 4 years

Text

“wendy?” “hello peter pan”

A/N: Hi everyone! I did say I was working on a personal piece, and I’m excited to finally share it with you! This features all seven dorm leaders (Im in awe that you voted for all of them together...). I don’t really want to say anything else. I want this piece to speak for itself.

Warning(?): angst, character death

Please enjoy! Er... or enjoy as much you can with it being angst.

One of the last things you had done together was visit a magical photo booth. It had drawn your curiosity because it allowed the person--with magic or not--to take a photo, and change the background to anything the person had seen before.

The way your expression grew tender as you saw it work its magic was a sight he’d never forget. When you had eagerly shown him the photo, he asked you what location you had chosen.

“It’s my favourite place.” you had said with such tenderness, it caught his breath. “I’d love to take you there sometime... if possible.”

“At least with this photo, I have proof...” you had clutched it to your heart, ‘that you were real. that this isn’t a dream’ went unsaid. He wanted to reach out to you--to comfort you, but then you had laughed. Nothing could keep you down for too long.

“Now enough with the sad stuff, let’s take another photo! Show me something from your homeland! Please?”

When you had left Twisted Wonderland, he had assumed you had taken the photo as a memento of your time together.

He was wrong.

You had left it with him.

You hadn’t given it to him per se. He had found it slipped amongst his belongings that you had originally borrowed.

For sure, you had left behind this photo for a reason.

As a way for him to find you again.

Though you both stood front and center in the photo, the background was incredibly detailed. It proved how important it must’ve been to you--that you were able to see it so clearly and create such a vivid image.

It should be enough.

It had to be enough so that he could--

‘I will find you’

He blinked rapidly as he felt his eyes burn, and he felt something slip out the corner of his eyes, and dripped down his cheek.

His fist clenched, before he flinched and frantically smoothened the photo as he gazed at your beautiful smiling visage.

“I will find you,” he swore to your photo. “And I’ll tell you how much I...”

He paused, unable to say it.

Still unable to say it despite--

And he cursed that he never had the strength to tell you how much he--

As the world pulled into focus, Riddle found himself standing in front of a sweets shop... The same sweets shop in the photo you had given him. He glanced down at the photo, and raised his hand to compare the image with the front of the store. He couldn’t stop the triumphant hum that escaped him when he reconfirmed what he already knew: the image and the place before him was identical.

He had succeeded in coming to your world.

“Bring the Prefect back, okay?” Ace had scowled. Behind him, Trey hid a smile, Deuce teared up and Cater was once--not on his phone.

“I will.” He said, with the same determination that had let him confront his mother--the same determination you had given to him.

Now he just had to find you.

He turned his head from side to side. Where would he begin? He was stunned--your world seemed so much bigger. He wondered, was this how you felt when you first came to Twisted Wonderland? Before he could spend any time reminiscing that faithful ceremony, he heard a familiar voice.

“Thanks Grandma Sayo! I’ll see you later!” his head quickly looked back to the shop, and he easily spotted your figure. You had your head turned down as you ruffled through your bag, and he instinctively called out.

“--[Name]?” Your head snapped upright at that, and that recognition in your actions made him draw closer. His heart pounded, he had been spent so many months waiting to see you--to stroke your hair, to look into your eyes, to finally declare his love for you--and perhaps... ask you to return to Twisted Wonderland with him.

Yet the elation fades when he takes a closer look at you.

It’s not you.

It’s the same figure--the same feeling--but the hair is a shade lighter, and the eyes don’t have that same gravity to them. The gravity that pulled him to you. But there’s still recognition there--in those eyes.

This wasn’t you. He didn’t know this person but--

This person knew him.

“You’re Riddle Rosehearts.” There’s awe in the young woman’s voice. “Part of me always assumed... you...didn’t...” she stopped abruptly, and seemed to be taking him in.

“You know me?”

“Of course.” the girl nodded her head rapidly. “She... used to tell us stories about you... and uh... Heartslavul?”

“Heartslabyul.” he corrected instantly, and the girl giggled. Sweet Queen of Hearts--she had your laugh, and something in his chest twisted at that.

“She said you were conscientious but...” The girl stared at him as if she saw a dream come to life.

“Wait,” he spoke slowly, and she tilted her head patiently. “she? Do you mean [Name]?” There’s a look of surprise, then a flash of realization, and sadness. He swallowed uneasily.

“Do you... know where I could...” his voice faltered.

“I’m... off to see her right now. Would you like to come with?” She studied him in a worried fashion, and he was originally offended--it’s not like he was going to hurt anyone but--he realized. She wasn’t worried about what he might do (like you, you had never been wary even when he had--), she was worried for him.

She was so much like you...

And Riddle wasn’t a top student for nothing.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe, he was clinging to that chance--that possibility--that this girl might be--just a sister or a cousin.

“Alright.” his voice is shaky and the girl shot him another look of concern.

He wished she didn’t.

He wished he couldn’t see how much of you was there in her.

“Grandma.” The girl who introduced herself as Rose--your granddaughter--called out. “There’s someone here to see you.”

Rose carefully placed a strawberry tart in his hands, before she nudged him forward. “It’s--”

“You don’t need to tell me Rose.” the scratchy voice from the big chair said. “I know who it is.” There’s a soft mewl, and a cat with brilliant golden eyes jumped from the side of the chair. “ Feed Ches, won’t you?”

“Sure Grandma.” Rose shot him a smile of encouragement, before she gestured for Ches to follow after her--which the cat did. She shut the door behind her. It’s just Riddle and you in the room now.

There’s a moment of silence as Riddle stared at the back of your chair, stunned. He doesn’t know what to do--he doesn’t know how to react.

“I’ve been waiting a while, young man. Are you really going to make a frail old lady get up?” Your voice was weak, and he’s glad you couldn’t see him because he flinched immediately at how different your voice was.

“Sorry, I’ll...” he took a couple of steps forward, and after a deep breath, he turned to look at you.

Face weathered with age, hair like spun silver--but the brilliance in those eyes (despite how dim they were), and the way you smiled (despite the way your lips trembled)--it was you. It was still you.

In turn you studied him.

He was just as you remembered him in your dreams. Vivid red hair, startlingly gray eyes--normally sharp--now soft, sad. His skin is pale, and smooth. Still so very small, and young. He hadn’t changed a bit.

To him, it had only been months.

For you, it has been years.

He doesn’t know why, but he started to cry.

“Why are you crying, child?” you croaked out softly as you raised a hand to reach for him. He slowly knelt down, and when he felt the way your fingers carded through his hair--his heavy breathing turned into ugly sobs. You had never been the type to respond with such gentleness--not like this anyways. Back then--when he had gotten extremely emotional to the point his face would turn red--you would desperately distract him with jokes. Now, all you could do was brush his hair.

You had grown up. You had married. You had a child. You have grandchildren.

He felt left behind.

For some reason, he felt alone.

He had yet to graduate. He had barely started his life...

and here you were--at the eve of yours.

He--- ‘no, we’ he corrected himself, ‘we could’ve had so... much...’

“I’m sorry,” he cried, “I’m sorry--I was too late.” he sobbed, against your skirts. He felt your hand lower, and you pressed your wrinkled fingers against his cheek.

“Oh no... no no.” you frowned. “You... aren’t late...”

“Hush... You are right on time...” You brush away the tears spilling out of his eyes as he looked up at you. Your smile trembled, you looked like you wanted to cry too--but you weren’t. His heart tightened at that. What had he missed in your life that you--who felt and expressed all your emotions so vividly--now felt like you had to restrain yourself? He felt like such a child, crying before you like this.

“Come look...Riddle...” he unsteadily got to his feet to look in the direction you pointed. There were roses--brilliant white, and vivid red in the backyard. The sun was setting right beyond the hedges. It was a familiar sight.

Your last tea party with Heartslabyul had started at sunset--your favourite time of the day--and it had lasted all evening--with no one wanting it to end.

“Beautiful... isn’t it?” you whispered, “I wanted to see this... sight... one more time.” He looked down at you, to see the way your eyes fluttered shut. “I wanted to eat... strawberry tarts with you... right here...”

“[Name], I--” he swallowed, “I love you.”

Because Riddle does love you, and he will continue to love you. He had always planned on loving you until you were old and gray. Perhaps he hadn’t planned on it being like this--but the way his heart beats in your presence is enough for him to know: He will love you--until he too is old and gray. How could he not?

You exhaled very deeply, and you met his gaze with a steadiness he’s never seen in your eyes before. ‘Another thing he missed out on.’

“And I love you, Riddle.” you said gently, your eyes glimmered with the depth of your love. “Stay with me?”

“I will.” Riddle’s shoulders shook as he reached to lace one of his hands with your own.

Your hands were frail and wrinkled--his was soft but still strong. He wanted so much to hold your hand as tight as he possibly could, but he worried about how much that might hurt you.

“Thank you.”

As the sun disappeared beyond the hedge, he heard you murmur one last thing.

“Riddle... let’s meet... at the rose garden... again... please?”

“Of course.” he choked out. “This time... I won’t let you go.” But your hand is limp in his, and he knows you’ve gone somewhere he can’t follow. The hand not holding yours clenched and the sweet treat in his palm crumbled.

Riddle cried again, for the time you could have had together.

When Leona breathed in the air of this new world, he instantly caught a whiff of your scent. His ears flickered, he sought out the familiar cadence of your voice, as he tucked the photograph into his pocket. His brow twitched, before he turned to his left, as he let his instincts lead him to the scent with a smirk on his lips.

“Be prepared...” he chuckled in a low tone to himself, already looking forward to your expression of shock, indignation and eventually... perhaps even...

“--let’s have a playdate again. Is next Saturday fine?”

The scent is coming from a woman who stood over what seemed to look like a basket... with a baby inside. She looked scarily like you. She had your hair, and your skin tone. While she did smell like you--she didn’t smell exactly like you.

So, after the woman she had spoken to left the park, she turned around, and immediately met his gaze. She tensed briefly, her grip on the baby basket tightened. She turned away, as she chose to focus on the child, but she looked up at him again as he drew closer.

He stumbled when he caught sight of her eyes.

Deep green.

For a moment he could see--

“Yes?” She smiled falsely, and he went a little breathless at how much it resembled your own. He can just feel the punch that normally comes straight after one of those smiles. “Can I help you, sir?” He hissed softly, before he pulled out the photo in his pocket and showed it to her.

“Do you know where she is?” When her eyes fell on the photo, she instantly paled, before her gaze darted back up to his face.

“You... you’re Leona?”

He quirked a brow at that.

“How do you know me?” She hesitated a moment longer than he’s willing to wait. “Well, herbivore?”

“My... My mother named me after you.”

Leona brought him over to their house.

“She’s been weakening these past few days.” Leona fretted, as she carried little Jackie (her own daughter) in her arms, “the doctor said she doesn’t have much time left... but she’s been holding out...”

They’re standing right outside the door to your bedroom.

“I had a feeling she was waiting for something.” Leona bit her lip the same way you did, and he could barely look at her. “I guess... it was a... someone all along.”

He made to grab the door knob, but he hesitated, and turned to look at the girl--your daughter. She tucked Jackie’s head into her shoulder, and nodded slowly.

“It’s alright, I’ve... I’ve had a moment with her.” She paused, “you should go in. Talk to her.” She purposely turned away, and he took this chance to duck into the room.

You’re sitting up, leaning against pillows, your gaze focused on something distant out the window. Your hair is gray in the light, your skin pale and wrinkled. Once he shut the door, you slowly moved your gaze to look at him and he could see the way your breath hitched at the sight of him.

“You could give... an old woman a heart...attack, looking...handsome as you... are... Leona.” the way you said his name was like a caress, it was filled with so much love, that he could barely breathe. “would you... come closer? Give this... old woman... another chance to... see your eyes?”

He shuffled closer, and after a moment of hesitation, took a seat on the bed, facing you. You raised a trembling hand. Noticing how slow and weak your movement was--he leaned down, allowing your hand to rest on his cheek, before rising to meet your gaze again, making sure to use his own hand to keep yours pressed against his face.

“There... they are.” you whisper very softly. “The eyes I dream... about... I always said... if I could see you again... I’ll spend it... memorizing... the color of... your eyes.” He feels your thumb brush the edge of his eyes, and the tips of his lashes.

“Leona has green eyes.” he murmured softly.

“What can... I say...” your eyes were going distant, your smile was just the slightest curl on your lips. “I have... a type.”

“Lazy men?”

“Ambitious,” she corrected halfheartedly, “with green eyes... Green eyes... must. I always... go back to your...eyes... Leona. I love... your eyes.” she paused, her eyes dimmed even further, tears slipped down her face. “Leona... I love you...” He raised his other hand to gently brush the tears away.

“... I love you too, [Name].” he said so gently, afraid that any louder will shatter this precious moment.

“This is... very good... dream.” you suddenly said, “I don’t... often... dream... of you telling me... you love me.”

And he gritted his teeth at that, cursing himself. If he had been more open with his heart--if he had been more willing to tell you how much you meant to him--how much he actually loved you--

Would you have stayed?

Could he have had all the moments he missed out on--could he have all of that back?

He leant forward, pressing his forehead against yours.

“I love you [Name]. I love you.” He whispered fervently, “I... I should’ve told you that long ago.”

“You... should’ve.” because of course, you’d always been blunt with him, hadn’t you? “Leona... should’ve been...yours.”

He exhaled sharply at that.

“I’ve always... thought that... you know?” your hands brush against his lashes once more. “she... should... have... your eyes.” He kept quiet for a moment, before he indulged himself in your daydreams.

“Ruggie would go insane if there were two of me.” he muttered, and you let out a shaky laugh.

“Ruggie...would teach... her better.” you commented instead.

“Does she like sports?”

“Mhm... She’s... taking a break... for Jackie...”

“Jack would’ve taught her to be an upstanding player.”

“Why... do you... think... she... named... her...Jackie...” your breathing slowed, and your eyes were fluttering gently. “You think... Cheka... would... be... a great... uncle..?”

“Better than me.” Your laugh this time was breathless, and in soft puffs.

“Sorry... Leona... Mhm... Sleepy.”

“It’s alright.” he tucks your silvery hair behind an ear. “I’ll let you sleep before me... just this once.” he shut his eyes, but he felt the way your feeble hand pressed against the edge of his closed lids.

“Leo...na...” He opened his eyes, to see your own--the most focused they were since he found you again. “There... we... go...” you murmured so softly, even he had to strain his ears to hear your words. “I want... to fall asleep... seeing... those eyes... please...”

“Of course. Anything for you.”

You go with your eyes heavy lidded, focused on him, with a heartbreaking smile.

When he shuts the door close, Leona is standing right outside. She looked up at him with sad green eyes--and if she noticed how swollen his eyes were, she didn’t say anything.

“So she...” Your daughter bit her lip, and her eyes watered.

He couldn’t help it. He pretended. Just for a minute. If he tilts his head just a little to the left, he’ll see the light hit Leona differently. Her deep green eyes sparkle, brightening them. They could’ve been his eyes.

She could’ve been his daughter.

He imagined that.

All the moments that could’ve been.

You at his side in Afterglow Savanna, and the way the morning sun would’ve warmed your delicate features as you laid in his bed. For once, he would wake up earlier, just to see that peaceful sight. The way you could’ve looked, dressed in the traditional wedding robes of his kingdom--with gold and bright gemstones decorating you as a princess. Your fingers, laced with his own, as he made love to you--giving you physically, what he always had such a hard time saying out loud. You, pregnant with his child. The nights he would spend, ear pressed against your round stomach--probably thanking whatever god there could be out there for rewarding an ungrateful bastard like him, with such bliss. Leona--as he wished she could’ve been--born with his green eyes, and lioness features. The joy you could’ve had, spending time together--lazy under the light of the sun as little Leona played in the gardens of the palace.

Yet, the sun of Afterglow Savanna will never reach you here. You aren’t dressed as the princess you should’ve been. There were no gods to thank--only gods to curse. Leona was fully human, and when the light fades, her eyes will lose the spark that can let him pretend.

His jaw clenched, his nails dug into his palms.

“Leona?” she tilted her head worriedly. He raised a hand, and when she did not flinch, he tucked a loose curl of hair (the color of your own) behind a very human ear. There must’ve been something in his expression, because she reached out, and wrapped him in a tight hug. He inhaled sharply, and he pretended just a little longer.

“Thank you,” Leona croaked into his ears. “for making mom so happy.”

‘Don’t thank me.’ he thought. ‘because I should’ve been able to make her happier.’ He doesn’t speak it out loud, and only holds on tighter.

The universe could give him minutes, couldn’t it? After all, it had already stolen a whole future from him.

When he arrived at the beach in the photo, Azul’s shoulders slackened with relief. He had studied the photo endlessly--so he knew without a doubt that this was the right place. But really, more than that--the ocean, in itself, will always be a place of comfort for him.

It is his home, after all.

‘Well... that was wrong, isn’t it?’ the merman mused to himself, as he spent a few more moments gazing at that thin line--where the sky and sea kissed.

If a home were to be defined as the one place he felt most welcome, the most loved--as himself--then--

‘It would’ve been by your side... My home would be you [Name].’ he thought, ‘and this time for sure--what I failed to tell you then--many months ago--I will tell you now.’

“Only one of us can go?” Floyd had pouted. “That’s sad, right Jade?”

“Yes, Floyd.” Jade nodded gracefully, but he glanced up at Azul from underneath dark lashes. Jade had always been difficult to read, and for once--Azul is able to catch the conflict in his eyes. “But Azul has a personal stake in this too.”

“I will bring her back.” he looked down at the photo, crumpled from the amount of times he opened and folded it back down. “I have to.”

Azul inhaled the salty scent of the sea, which filled him with a sense of strength--one that often escaped him when it mattered most. When he turned around, he is startled by the sight of you. You too had an expression of awe on your face, like you’d never expected to see him.

‘What made you think I’d never try to look for you?’ Azul couldn’t help but yell inwardly, but outside he quickly composed himself.

“There you are [Name].” he said as a familiar smirk crawled up his face. Your face immediately shifted--first awe, then one of incredible misery.

“Are you that unhappy to see me?” he snorted, “for your information--it took a lot out of us to finally prepare the way here and back. Why I oughta make you pay me back for that.”

“I’m...” His eyes narrowed in response.

If there was one voice that haunted him the most at night--it was yours. He knew the timbre of your voice--from when you were happy, when you were angry, when you were sad.

That wasn’t your voice.

“I’m not [Name].” the girl in front of him finally said.

“I can tell. I know her voice,” she flinched at that, “who are you? her sister? or a cousin?”

“That is...” she avoided his gaze briefly, her eyes flickered off for a split second, before she turned back to him. “I’m her daughter.”

Azul’s world crashed down upon him like the unforgivable waves of the ocean, like the unforgivable jeers that plagued him since his childhood. Any strength he thought the ocean gave him, dissipated quickly.

“What?” he exhaled, he felt short of breathe, he felt his eyes sting. “You... you can’t be... we made sure... the spell is perfect--there should be no errors--”

As Azul rapidly began to mutter the spell and the theories around it, the girl attempted to touch him.

“Azul--are you okay?”

“Don’t you dare touch me!” He pulled back violently.

“You have to be lying.” He practically yelled at her--this stranger who wore the face of one of the only people he treasured. “It was perfect! Everything was perfect! Nothing should’ve gone wrong--”

In the next second he finds himself facing to the side, a throbbing pain on his cheek.

“You--”

“Oh shut it!” the girl yelled desperately, “Stop it Azul! We don’t have time for this!”

“What do you mean!?”

“She’s dying!”

He froze in response.

“What?” his eyes burn even more, and he could feel the tears trail down his cheek. “What?”

The girl introduced herself as Ash.

(”I was named after you... your surname.” she had said, cautious of the temperemental merman. “My twin sister on the other hand--she’s named Azul.”)

Then she had explained why she had found him at the beach.

(”When mama began to worsen, she told us she wanted to come here as much as possible. We were hesitant--it’s not very close by... but...” she inhaled, “Anyways... we decided we would try to bring her as often as we can--especially when the doctor told us she didn’t have much time left.”)

Eventually, Ash stopped walking.

(”What made you change your mind?”

“Pardon?”

“You said you were hesitant.” Azul spoke softly, “that you weren’t thinking of bringing her here often...”

“It’s... well, it’s hard to say no when it was one of her last requests before...”

“What... are you not telling me?” Azul managed to say, after he struggled to calm himself down.

“She--mama can’t speak much anymore.”)

“There she is.” Ash pointed out to a girl identical to her own, standing right beside...

You.

You weren’t faced their way, rather you faced the distance--your eyes stared at that same line he was, just minutes ago. Azul, Ash’s twin, quickly caught sight of them. Though she looked at him in the same way Ash did, she managed to pull herself together, and bent her knees to talk to you.

“Mama, he’s here. Just like you told us.”

‘So you had been waiting... of course... but... even after all this time? You never... gave up? On us?’ He felt his eyes throb, and his heart twist. His fingers dug into his palms--and it was only thanks to his gloves that he didn’t start to bleed.

“Ah...zzz...uh..l?”

His heart stuttered to a stop at that.

“Mama can’t speak much anymore.”

“Yes Mama.” The female Azul said, “would you like to see him?”

“Ahz...ul... Ah...zuhl.” He flinched at the sudden hand on his shoulder, and when he looked to his side--Ash was staring up at him with a sad expression.

“You should go.” He took a deep breath, and he stepped forward. He and the female Azul switched places. With another deep breath, he knelt down before you, and looked up into your face.

You had lost all the smooth firmness of youth, your skin thinned, with age spots dotting your face. Your hair was pure white, and glowed brilliantly under the setting sun. But your eyes...

“Az...ul...” His jaw clenched as he stared into your eyes--misty as they were, they stared into his own--and acknowledged him. “Azul...” those eyes seemed to say, “Azul welcome home... I’ve been waiting.”

He hissed as he tried to hold back his tears, but he couldn’t. He was always a crybaby after all. A crybaby in his youth, a cry baby in college--and he was still a cry baby. He had yet to grow out of it.

Here he was, unchanged still. He had yet to conquer his youth and adulthood--which he had planned, prayed, hoped--you’d be at his side for. To see him grow into the best version of himself yet.

But now he’s faced with having to let you go--right as he thought he would be bringing you back with him--triumphant.

He reached forward, and pressed a kiss against the thin, veiny back of your hand.

“[Name]... I’m home...” he managed to choke out, “I’m... sorry... it took me so long... I... I’m sorry I kept you... waiting...” Your other hand moved slowly, but you reach up, thumb weakly pressing his tears away. The hand in his own tightened briefly.

“Oh Azul...” your eyes said, “what matters is that you’re home.”

He gritted his teeth in response, his nostrils flared, as the tears began to stream down his face rapidly. He tried to look down, but the feathery press of your hand against his face made him look up again.

“Az...ul...” you whispered, “Az... ul...” your eyes too were sad--and they glistened with tears, tears that dripped down your face. “I... soh...rry... so..so...rry...” you stuttered. There’s a startled gasp from somewhere behind her, but Azul’s heart picked up when he heard your voice from so close--the voice he’d been longing to hear out of his dreams.

It has long since changed--due to age--but it still possessed all your warmth in it. It was still your voice.

‘They said... you couldn’t... but... had you been waiting for this too?’

“You don’t need to... it’s okay...” he tried to say, but you gently shook your head.

“I... made... you... sah..d...” his eyes burned at what you were trying to say, and his heart felt like it was being squeezed tightly. “I... wah..nt... Ahz...ul... hah...p...py...” He struggled to put a smile on his face, but his lips refused to work with him, and he felt his lips twist downward. “Ahz...zu...l... ple...asz..e... be... hah...ppy...”

“Do--doh...n’t...” you brushed your thumb against his wet cheek again. “Let... me... sto...p... you... Chase... your... dreams... prove... ehv...ryone... hwrong...”

“Never.... you were never... I... my dream, you were my dream... I wanted you to see me...” Azul cried into your hands, his tears soaked the blanket over your knees. “I need you... you can’t go. Please... you can’t... I... love you... I love you so much... I--”

He had been so ready for your future together. He was ready for the victories with you and the twins by his side.

Without you--all victories would become hollow.

You not being there--don’t you see that he’s already lost?

Why hadn’t he tried harder to hold onto you?

“Sil...ly... child...” you said, “I... will never... leave you...” your hands slipped off his face easily, and you curl almost all your gnarly fingers--except one--back. “I’ll... be... there...” you pointed at his heart. “because... I... love... you too... Ahl...ways...”

His heart skipped a beat at that--that you loved him--that you held onto such a flame, cupped it in your hands, and protected it all throughout these years.

Through your youth, adulthood--up to your old age. You carried him, deep in your heart, always waiting--always loving--never losing hope or giving up on that love.

That’s why... to honor you... he’ll...

“A...zul...” you mumbled, “I.. can’t... see... you... ah...ny... more...”

“T-tell... twins... I... miss... them... o kay... Ja... Flo...”

He rubbed your hands.

“I will...” Azul whispered. “They... will be sad to...”

“No...proh...mise... you...all... happy... Az-ul...?” your eyes fluttered.

“I promise... [Name].”

“Smi...y... for... me...”

“I am... I am...” he tried for your sake, even if he knew you couldn’t see it.

And you--ever so trustworthy of a villain--your face smoothened out as you closed your eyes for a final time, the last of your tears dripped down your chin. His hands trembled as his hold on your hands let him feel the way your pulse slowed then ultimately stopped. When it did, he let out an anguished scream that he had been holding in. He had wanted to be strong in the face of your last moments.

He remained knelt before you for awhile, before he finally managed to calm down. He got up slowly.

“Even at the end... you were a splendid... and mature woman.” he choked out, before he leant forward and pressed a light kiss to your forehead.

‘I will always carry you in my heart... I will always love you [Name].’ he vowed, ‘and I’ll spend all of this life--and the following ones--finding the one where we can share a lifetime together... I swear this.’

When he glanced up, he saw the twins hold each other tight, and his heart throbbed again at what he’d need to explain to the twins... They, who had cared for you as much as he had...

He shakily took a breath, and tipped his hat to your grandchildren. He looked at you one more time, and he savored the serenity on your face.

Then he turned away from you--for the first and last time.

As he returned to Octavinelle’s dorms, Jade and Floyd were awaiting him.

“Azul! Where’s Shrimpy?” Floyd tilted his head, then bent forward to peek over his shoulder. “Did you mess up?” he frowned.

“Floyd.” Jade, ever so sensitive to the mood of the people around him, cautioned his brother--his eyes on Azul’s face. Jade leant forward to peer at the shorter man’s expression. “What happened Azul?”

He looked up, eyes bloodshot and he could only say one thing:

“She went somewhere we can’t follow.”

“Kalim you...” Jamil’s expression betrayed his real feelings--for once. “Prepare yourself?”

“What do you mean, Jamil?” Kalim smiled brilliantly. “What do I need to prepare for?”

“You...” Jamil’s brows furrowed. “I... I don’t wish... to see you get hurt.”

“Hahah! You worry too much, [Name] wouldn’t hurt me.” with that Kalim waved his hand. “I’ll be back Jamil! And [Name] will be with me.”

“...” Jamil stared at the mirror with a conflicted expression, before he lifted his gaze up to the sky. “She won’t hurt you... not intentionally at least.” He finally grimaced.

“Hey! Do you know who this is?”

“Excuse me, have you seen this woman?”

Kalim was a sight to see in the public park he was in. With the brightest grin ever, he walked up to people, asked them his question--and no matter how they would respond, he’d just shrug his shoulder and move on.

That is until his eyes land on--

“[Name]! I finally found you!” he said, joyfully, “Hah, Jamil thought I would get hurt or something--but I’m doing fine--” he paused, as he cocked his head to the side. “Wait... you’re not [Name].”

In turn the girl looked at him up and down.

“No... I’m not.” the girl shook her head, “I’m sorry.”

“No it’s fine.” his grin faltered briefly, and the girl felt genuinely bad for him. “I guess I’ll just keep looking for her.”

“Uh... well [Name] is a pretty common name.” the girl said awkwardly, “maybe you should mention her surname?”

“Oh, well it’s [Name] [Surname].” at his response, her eyes widened immediately. “Is something wrong?”

“That is... I know... someone with that name.” the girl chewed on her lip, and he’s struck by how identical she looked to you. He shook this off and instead focused on what she was saying.

“Really? You know someone?” Kalim grabbed her by the shoulders, and she yelped in surprise. “Where can I find her?”

“Before that... what’s your name?”

“Me? Oh I’m Kalim Al-Asim.” When her lips trembled at his response.

“Are... are you sure you want to see her?”

“Yes! Of course! I came here to take her back with me to Twisted Wonderland!” The girl shakily exhaled.

“That’s not possible Kalim.”

“What? Why? I have the spell, and I have a magic carpet!”

“My... my grandma is too old to travel.”

Al--as she introduced herself--let him into the house.

“Are you alright, Kalim?” Al shot him a concerned glance, and the longer he stared at her, the more he realized how much of her was you. It was in the concerned glance, the way she bit her lip and furrowed her brow too.

And for some inexplicable reason, he could no longer stare at her without his eyes feeling like they were burning.

He rubbed hastily at his eyes.

‘What is wrong with me?’

“Grandma, you have a guest.”

“Ah?” he heard your voice--hoarser now, and frailer. “Who is it?” Al glanced at him, before she tilted his head.

For some reason, he felt like he needed to brace himself--he took a deep breath, before he stepped through the door way. He blinked at the afternoon light that was streaming into the room, before he finally caught sight of you.

You were sat on a big couch, hair whiter than his, with a face weathered by age. Your wrinkled hands were laced together.

When he met your gaze, he found nothing but patience, and a sense of ‘finally’ in those eyes.

You chuckled gently.

“I’m sorry Kalim. I’m a bit too old to be a princess... and too old to go on adventures now.”

He hadn’t known what to do.

When Al had gently told him that time must’ve moved different between their worlds, he couldn’t believe it.

He had thought it might be some prank.

He didn’t believe in it.

He was ready to laugh it off.

He was ready to laugh with you.

And yet--

His lip wobbled, and as big fat tears slipped down his face--he did his best to smile.

Because you had always told him that his smiles made you happy.

‘And if what Al said was true... that you didn’t have much time left then he--’ Kalim inhaled sharply, trying to bit back his own sobs. ‘then I’ll do my best to give you something to smile about.’

“I think you’re still a princess, [Name].” and he laughed, “I also don’t think you’re too old for an adventure. Nobody is too old for one.”

Your expression warmed at that.

“Your smile is just as I remembered it.”

The dam broke, and he began to cry, as he crumpled straight into you lap.

“[Name]--!” he began to sob.

“Why are you crying, Kalim?”

“I--I’m late” he gasped, as he shook in your lap. “I should’ve... been here faster--I”

“Oh Kalim... it’s not your fault.”

“I wanted to have more adventures with you,” he wept, “I... wanted to show you a whole new world--I wanted to share Scarabia with you--I--” he swallowed, his breath short as he cried.

“Kalim...”

“I... I thought I could smile for you but--” he let out an airy laugh, “but I’m still such a child. Even now... I should be comforting you but--”

“I wanted to become a man you would want to spend your life with.” and you inhaled sharply at that.

“I knew I... I’m not the best.” he said, his hands fisted, “I’m not the smartest, I’m not exactly talented. I get distracted, I need help most of the time but I thought... if I brought you back I--I wanted to become a better person for you. I wanted to be someone you could trust, without a doubt.”

“Oh Kalim... listen to me.” you cupped his cheeks, and raised his head so that you could stare into his red eyes--normally dazzling with happiness, now just sad.

Your heart ache at the thought that this was because of you.

“Listen to me, you were always perfect. I would’ve always said yes.” you brushed your thumb across his cheek to wipe away the tears. “I would always trust you... don’t you remember?”

“I gave you my trust that time on the magic carpet.” you squeezed his other hand in your own. “I will always believe in you Kalim Al-Asim. You are already a great man.”

Then you smiled, and his heart skipped a bit, because against the light of the setting sun--he could imagine you, draped in the light of the Land of Hot Sand.

“Now won’t you smile for me, Kalim?” you murmured softly. “I’ve been waiting so long to see it again.”

With his shoulders trembling violently, he pulled back, and tried to grin--though his lips trembled, and the tears kept flowing--he smiled, for you.

It was the least he could.

“There it is, the smile I’ve been waiting to see.” you smiled in turn, and he had no idea why you thought his smile could give you so much strength--when clearly, yours could light up the world.

“Now... tell this old woman, how is everyone?”

When he goes back to the Scarabia dorm, he’s met by Jamil.

“Kalim. Welcome back.” Jamil’s eyes flickered around quickly. “Where is--?”

“--!”

“I’m sorry Jamil.” Kalim murmured, as he wrapped his arms around the only one he had left. “I know... I know... we aren’t friends... not yet because... but... please... can I pretend just a bit? I... I don’t know what to do.”

Jamil froze for a moment, ‘so I was right... she probably...’ Jamil gritted his teeth, before he reciprocated Kalim’s embrace.

“It’s alright Kalim. Just this once. I’ll let you.”

When Kalim began to cry in earnest, it began to rain in Scarabia.

Jamil only tightened his embrace, as his gaze shifted out the window, to see the rain only intensify as Kalim’s wails began to rise.

In the midst of a crowd of people in the museum, Vil naturally stood out. Impeccable blonde hair in a braided bun, glittering violet eyes, perfect skin, and his long dorm robes--he looked like a living, breathing artwork. Everyone stared, as this beautiful man gracefully crossed the room.

It wasn’t that Vil was unaware to everyone’s staring. In fact, he was more than aware of the number of people looking. It’s just that--

Well he didn’t really care about all of them. He was more interested in finding you, and taking you back with him.

“Ohoh! For Roi du Poison to be so determined...” Rook’s eyes glimmered in interest. “Isn’t this a truly beautiful sight, Epel?”

The young man blinked once before he turned back to Vil.

“You’ll really bring her back?”

“Yes,” Vil’s lips curled, “After all... I shine the best when she’s with me.”

‘So where are you now, sweet potato?’ Vil thought to himself, ‘this is the same location that was on your photo--but you are nowhere to be seen--’

“Excuse me.” a soft, incredibly familiar voice called out. It was a voice that sent Vil’s heartbeat into a craze. He whirled around quickly, “you looked like you were looking for something so--”

It was you--but it wasn’t--your baby hair didn’t curl the same way, your lashes weren’t that short and your lips weren’t that pouted.

“You--you’re not [Name].”

The girl froze mid question.

“How do you know my grandmother?”

Vil’s mouth dried immediately in response.

“What?” he asked, hoarse.

Evie, your granddaughter, hesitated briefly as she stopped in front of a door. Her eyes flickered up to meet his.

They were an ugly color.

To Vil at least.

They weren’t yours, so to him--it could just mean that they might’ve belonged to--

“She should be inside.”

He grabbed the door and was about to push it open when Evie stopped him. He shot a vicious glare at her and she flinched, but after a deep breath, she looked up and met his gaze evenly.

“She... she doesn’t have much time left so....” she then reached forward to open the door, “please...” she paused, unsure what to say, but Vil had already entered the room.

There’s a single figure sitting at a bench in the center of the room.

She was faced away, staring at the biggest picture frame in the room.

“Ah.” Her voice echoed in the wide room. “Vil... I’ve been wondering when you’d get here.”

“Not an if?” he asked, and he felt his face twist into a terrifying expression when he realized his voice trembled.

“No.” He could hear the smile in your voice--and Sweet Queen, it had been far too long since he’d heard that familiar tone... “I always believed you’d be here one day.” Your hand left your cane, and patted the space on the bench next to you.

“Come, sit.”

He crossed the room easily in a few steps, before he finally took the seat next to you. Paying little attention to the surroundings--eyes honed in on you. When you look at him, there’s that breathless little gasp that you always did whenever Vil would meet you for your dates.

It had always made him feel even more beautiful than before.

In fact, you had always made him feel all the more beautiful... all the more loved...

“You’re so beautiful Vil.” you said, with a beautiful smile on your lips.

He blushed.

Of course he did--who didn’t blush when the person you love the most--called you beautiful? Even he--who had long gotten used to the compliments--became much like a teenager gazing at his first love, in your presence.

‘That’s not wrong... you are my first love. You are the only person who has made Vil Schoenheit desperate to be called ‘beautiful.’ No one else’s opinion mattered in the face of your own.’ He thought, ‘do you know the full power you hold over me?’

“I must look like a terribly ugly sight to you.” you suddenly said, and his frown deepened at that.

Without a doubt--you’ve changed.

Your once thick, luscious hair has thinned, and became white, your skin was no longer as firm--and sagged around your jaw.

Your eyes were still the windows of your heart.

And right now, what your heart wanted the most--

‘Silly sweet potato, do you really think I could see you as anything but beautiful?’

“No.”

“Ah?”

“You are beautiful [Name].” Vil raised his hands, his slim fingers light against your brow, cheeks, and chapped lips. “You always will be.” There’s a glitter of surprise in your eyes, and Vil could barely stop himself as he gritted his teeth.

‘All women should be told of their beauty. Who was it, that forgot to remind you of this?’

“You will always be the most beautiful thing to me.” His voice was hoarse, “even now... you are beautiful.” Your eyes watered, and your cheeks flushed.

“Stop it Vil.” your voice shook, “I should be too old to be feeling like this.”

“Oh you foolish sweet potato,” Vil called out that familiar term of endearment, and your eyes met his beautiful lavender gaze. “you outshine everyone else in my eyes, you know? You are the most beautiful existence there is.”

You ducked your head, and he remembered the first time he had called you beautiful.

It had made your cheeks flush pink so prettily, that he resolved to tell you this only in private--so that your flush would be reserved for his sight alone.

There’s a bitterness in his heart, when he thought about the likely chance that this was no longer true--that there must’ve been another person who called you beautiful in this lifetime.

He was both jealous--of the one you shared your life with--and bitter, that it hadn’t been him, who saw you age so beautifully into the woman sitting before him right now.

“You’re just lying to make this old woman feel better.” you accused, gentle, but still disbelieving him.

“Nonsense.” he scoffed, as he took your cold hands into his own. He frowned momentarily at that, as he rubbed the thin skin, feeling the protruded veins across the back of your hand. “I know beauty when I see it [Name], and you aged beautifully. Never doubt that...” he trailed off, and you met his gaze.

“But?”

He inhaled, and exhaled slowly.

“But I wish... I wish I was there.” he confessed, “I wish I grew old with you.”

“You? Vil? Get wrinkles?” you chuckled, “I can’t imagine it.”

“Neither could I.” He said quietly, “but you know what I could?”

“What?” you looked into his eyes, curiously.

“I could dream of a future with you.”

You went still.

“You did?”

“Of course I did. I love you sweet potato--of course I--of course I thought of my future with you in it.”

You slowly turned his hand in your palm, your silver hair fell over your face, and he instinctively reached up a hand to tuck the strand behind your ear.

“Would... would you tell me what else you dreamed of?”

“Of course sweet one.” he leant forward to press a gentle kiss on your forehead as he began.

“We would get married after college,” he paused, “and we would’ve been the most beautiful bridegroom pair the whole of Twisted Wonderland would’ve seen.” At this you giggled lightly.

“We would both be insanely successful in our careers too, of course.” he studied your expression. “we would have children.”

“You want children?”

“Of course I did sweet one.” he murmured, “preferably with your eyes, my hair.”

“Not any of my children had my eyes.” you admitted, “but either way, I’d want them to have yours.” and his heart twisted even more violently at that.

“Then we’ll compromise. One can have yours, another could have mine.” he reached forward to press a finger to your lips, “I would’ve wanted them to have your lips though. I liked to dream of that.” He trailed off gently, his hand moved to lift your chin so that you could meet his gaze again.

“If I had the chance of all of that then... growing old would’ve been nothing. It would’ve been worth it--had it been by you.” he smiled mournfully, and you began to tear up at that.

“I... Vil... I dreamed about it too.” you said, as you began to hiccup. “I wanted to be with you too... I... I should’ve stayed... I...” your words become incomprehensible as you sobbed. “I was scared... that someone beautiful like you wouldn’t...”

“Don’t say that sweet one.” he tried to soothe, as he rapidly tried to blink his own tears away. “I should’ve... asked you to stay... I should’ve... told you how much I loved you then... how much I wanted to greet the future with you.”

Suddenly, you slackened against him and against his robes, you say the words that damned him further.

“I... Knowing this I... I’m so relieved... Vil... I... I think I’ve just been waiting... to know that... my dreams could be real.” Your tight hold on him loosened, and it’s his hands against yours that still keep your fingers twined.

“[Name]?”

“I’m... I’m suddenly... so exhausted... I...”

“It’s alright sweet one, I’ll stay with you.”

“Vil... I... I love... you...”

“and I love you, sweet one. Always.”

“...”

“Sweet one?”

“...”

Vil choked, and he let the ugly feeling wash over him, as a wail strangled its way out of his throat and he bawled against your still form.

Mascara, and the remains of his eye shadow smeared down his face, his lipstick ruined from the way he bit his lip.

Yet Vil couldn’t bring himself to care about how he looked--

‘Why would he? There was no one, who would ever speak of his beauty, and make him feel the way you did.’

Standing right outside Idia’s bedroom, Ortho gazed at the shut doors worriedly.

‘He hasn’t come out since...’

It had taken all of his courage to find a way to your world.

It had taken all of his strength not to run away at the sight of the strange world.

So when he had seen a figure so similar to yours, he had attached himself immediately.

“[Name] I--!”

“Let go of me! Who do you think you are? Grabbing someone like that?”

You pulled away, and you looked at him with a mix of confusion and disgust. Around the two of you, people began to mutter, and he paled even further.

He wanted to start crying.

He wanted his bedroom.

He wanted you.

“It’s me... I-idia.” his lips trembled, and your eyes widened in response. “Did you forget me?”

“That’s...” your eyes flickered away briefly. “I’m sorry Idia, but... [Name] isn’t my name.”

“So I-- I grabbed the wrong person?” he gaped, in surprise, this time he really wanted to start crying.

“You,” your expression grew clouded. “you didn’t.”

“Then--what do you mean?”

“I’m not [Name] but... she’s... she’s my mother.”

He stopped thinking.

‘What?’

Idia had been at his project for days.

He was building a robot. Much bigger than Ortho’s. Much more complex too.

“This goes here,” he said frantically, “and this goes here...”

He glanced briefly at the robot’s sleeping expression.

“I’ll wake you up... soon.” he muttered underneath his breath.

The stranger--no, your daughter--had easily defended him as someone she mistook for someone else, and dragged him off. (Just like every time he had felt overwhelmed by crowds of people--and you had rescued him.)

“Come on!”

“Wait-- where are we going?”

“You’re going to see mom--hey!”

He jerked his wrist out of her hands, and stepped away quickly.

“I--” his expression was conflicted. “Why would she want to see someone like me?”

Your daughter huffed in response. (Just like every time you grew exasperated when he got distracted.) (But it’s alright, you would kiss him on the cheek, and cheer him on, and he’d promptly combust and--)

“Why do you think? She’s been waiting for a long time Idia.” and her expression grew clouded, “she doesn’t have much time left, so we need to go.”

‘What?’

“Sorry, sorry” he muttered underneath his breath, as he fixed up the robot’s parts.

“Sorry,” he would apologize, when he thought he was doing something painful to the robot--like adjusting the twist of it’s arm.

“I’m sorry I took so long.” He’d apologize as he attached a piece that should’ve been there earlier, but even Idia wasn’t sure who he was apologizing too.

“[Name]--!”

His lower lip trembled as he sees the way your eyes flickered lightly.

You were too lifeless.

Idia didn’t want to look--he doesn’t want to think about you like this, he doesn’t want to remember you like this.

He wanted to remember the warm care of your hand.

He wanted to remember the genuine kindness that showed through your smile.

He wanted to remember the way your eyes glittered with understanding.

He wanted--

“Idia...” your hands shook as you reach for him, “Idia... don’t cry.”

No--he can’t accept this reality.

He brought the robot to life.

He had inputted all of his memories of you into it.

He had inputted all your traits into it.

He made sure that the hand could warm, so he could hold it the way you held his.

He made sure that it could smile, so that it could give him, another chance to see your smile.

He made sure that its eyes could glitter, the way yours did, when you would meet his gaze from across the room.

Your hand is cold in his, and he exhaled against it--as he tried desperately to warm it back to the way it was--when you held his hand so long ago.

(Yet even cold, he felt how much you care, in the tender way you squeezed his hand--even if weak.)

Your smile lacked it’s strength, and the way your cheeks trembled was telling of how hard you were trying to smile for him.

(Yet even if it wasn’t as brilliant, it was all your kindness--that let you smile at him, even if you were the one suffering)

Your eyes were dim now, you couldn’t see him completely--yet you faced his direction, and you tried to meet his gaze.

(Your eyes are dim--but they’re still so full with that desire of yours to understand him, despite how he always had such a difficult time meeting you halfway)

These were the things--

These were the things that he--

That he truly-

Loved about you.

“Idia” the robot held his hand.

“Idia” the robot smiled at him.

“Idia” the robot met his eyes.

Yet no matter how much he adjusted her specs, her functions--

He could not duplicate the way your hand felt in his. Warm, but full of care.

He could not duplicate the way you would smile at him. Selflessly kind, and so strong.

He could not duplicate the way your eyes glittered when you find him. This robot will never truly understand him.

No one could ever understand him the same way you did.

“[Name]! [Name]!” he howled at the side of your bed, clutching your hand, pretending it was warm, pretending there was still a pulse.

He already had such a difficult time facing the world.

You had pulled him out of his room, and showed him all that it could offer him.

But now that you’re gone--what was the point of acknowledging a world without you?

Malleus arrived long after sun down. He stood in place, as he studied the photo in his hand, before he slowly lifted his gaze to the house right in front of him. You had said to him once that it was your childhood home. It was still the same shape, but things had changed. For starters, it looked much older. The white concrete walls had dulled, into a much more dirty white. The flowers--deep violet flowers with thorns--climbed up the side of the house--farther than it had on the photo he had. There were lights inside the house, and very faint noise.

Malleus carefully folded the photo and tucked it carefully back into his coat, before he held his staff aloft, and used his magic to carefully unlock the gate. It swung, creaking loudly due to the rust it had accumulated over some time. As he stepped into the garden, the door to the house swung open.

He froze momentarily.

The girl held your face, and form. Completely identical, but the way this girl looked at him--it was nothing like the way you had always looked like him.

He doesn’t know how to feel--did you somehow change? Had you forgotten him?

Had he been a dream, that slipped from your memory?

He didn’t want to believe that this was you.

“Is there a reason you’re breaking and entering?” the girl who could not be you said. “Also, why are you dressed like it’s halloween? We don’t have time for this--”

‘This couldn’t be you. She had none of your countenance--your glow.’

“I’m here for [Name].” he interrupted, at which the girl narrowed her eyes in turn.

“What? What do you want with my grandmother? She’s exhausted, and has no time to see cosplaying men--��

“Grand... mother?” Malleus interrupted again, as he felt something cold clench at his heart.

“Yes.” the girl said, her irritation very obvious. “how do you not even know that if you’re looking for her?” His grip tightened on his staff.

“... Malleus... using the mirror to go to her world...” Lilia had hesitated, uncharacteristically solemn. “... you... you ought to prepare your heart for what you might find.”

“What do you mean, Lilia?” Malleus blinked apathetically at the older fae. “My magic will never fail.” The older fae studied him.

“That’s not what I’m afraid of.”

The lights in the home flickered, and the shadows grew around them.

“Let me see her.” he said, softly--and the girl heard the silent threat there, and refused to budge.

“Not until you tell me who you are.” her voice shook--she could sense there was something different about him, something otherworldly. It made her think of the time--when grandmother told her the story of her friend, the dark fae--

“Malleus Draconia.” he said, smoothly, and she paled in response.

The girl--Mal--stepped aside to let Malleus into the living room.

You were seated on a chair... with wheels. Upon their reentry, you hadn’t looked up.

“Who... was it Mal?” Your voice was calm, careful--with none of the bright cheer he used to associate with you. Before the girl could reply, Malleus interjected.

“It’s me.”

You didn’t seem surprised as you turned your head slowly.

“Tsunotaro...” you greeted, your pale lips twitched into a smile, and he inhaled sharply at that familiar nickname that no one would ever dare call him--except you. “Excellent... would you... take this... old woman... for one last... walk?”

And it dawned on Malleus why--the moment he introduced himself--your granddaughter had grown even more hesitant of letting him in. The one thing that really pushed her to let Malleus in was because he wasn’t being subtle about what he was willing to do to see you again and--probably because...

You had been waiting for him.

You were ready to go now.

You must’ve been for awhile.

The one last thing you had been holding out for--has finally arrived. He took a glance at the silent Mal, who frantically covered her expression to hide her watery eyes.

“I’m always willing to go on a walk with you, [Name].” he opted to say, gently.

Mal had directed them out to the backyard, before she hurried back inside the house.

This had left Malleus to push your wheel chair through the small garden. You two stopped right beside a bench, so he could sit beside you. As he turned his head to you--he’s struck by your mortality.

The white of your hair, the sagging of your skin, the age spots and wrinkles that bear the proof of your lengthy life. Once you held yourself upright as you declared yourself his friend. Now you were hunched over, with the galaxies in your eyes fading--leaving only the dark behind you.

Beside you--Malleus confronted the rest of his whole life.

He had always known he would eventually live past you. He wasn’t ready for that...

But he had thought to himself, that he would take a life lived with you at his side--rather than centuries musing on the possibilities.

It’s what truly, steeled himself to come to you now.

Yet he won’t have that.

“What... are you thinking... child?” your lips curled at the irony, and he let out a humorless chuckle.

“I’m still older than you.”

“But I’m... more mature.” you had laughed, and he could glimpse that your spark was still there, muted, but still shining.

“There might be some truth to that.” Malleus said quietly, “your shorter years just make it feel like you’ve experienced things I will never be able to comprehend.”

“Humans... and fae... we are very different.” you told him, and he nodded, graceful--accepting--this was the truth after all.

“Yet... I wanted to be selfish.” you looked up at him, your eyes taking all of him in--from the way his eyelashes tangled briefly with every blink, to the curve of his ears, and shape of his jaw. “I wanted to spend it with you Tsunotaro... of course... such a thing would never be.”

“...” he swallowed unsteadily, “I wanted to be with you too. I wanted to stay by your side... I wanted to see you live out all the days of your life in my kingdom.”

“What a beautiful dream.” You remarked softly. “I would’ve said yes.”

And he shut his eyes at that, because the idea of even dreaming about it--knowing of its impossibility now, was too much--it hurt too much.

Everyone around Malleus had always told him how strong he was.

That there was no spell he could not master, that there was no one who could ever hope to challenge him.

Surrounded by people who so fervently loved him... and feared him for his power--this became a constant truth to his life.

Yet you--no magic, and all mortal--made him realize that none of this was true.

At the end of the day--Malleus was powerless.

Powerless against you.

Powerless when faced with losing you.

He wasn’t prepared to watch a star blink out of existence.

He doesn’t know who he is.

He’s spent his lifetime being defined as an Heir, as a Magician--

You were that stranger who gave definition to the man known as Malleus.

He’s known what the world is like without you in it. He’s scared of being in that world that doesn’t have you in it.

He reached for your hand and laced his strong fingers through your much weaker ones.

“I loved you.” he paused, “no... I do love you. And I will continue to love you.” You looked back at him, and gave him such a heartbreaking smile, that he thought briefly a world without you should just be destroyed...

“I love you too Tsunotaro.... always.”

But the thing is. If the world should be destroyed--

Then that would mean an end to him.

And an end to him would mean--

That he wouldn’t be able to think of your smile anymore.

That he wouldn’t be able to think of the way your eyes glowed.

The way you laughed.

The way you greeted him.

The way you are now--solemn, peaceful, but still full of love.

He’d rather live, and be able to remember you in all your glory--rather than never be able to think of you again in that void of the end.

“Tell me... a story, Malmal.” you murmured. “Like all... those stories... you... once told me...”

“I’ll tell you of a new one.” he said, “of the girl... who thawed the heart of a dragon...”

“Thank you...”

“Human life is so ephemeral.” He murmured after you had gone, “and yet--”

“I love you, Malleus...”

He remembered that night--so many nights ago.

“Who are you?”

The way the stars in the night sky glittered in your eyes, holding a galaxy yet unknown to him. (A galaxy he had wished to explore further--yet will no longer be able to behold). The brilliance of your smile, as you greeted him every night after that. (Without it, the world dimmed and Malleus couldn’t find anything else that mattered--)

“Tsunotaro!”

There was no one--no human, nor fae who moved his heart the way you did. He’s certain no one ever will--not to the same extent as you did, oh so beautiful and incandescent as you were.

“--so beautiful.” When his eyes fall shut, he feels something drip down his cheek--and his hand raised instantly.

“Tears?” he whispered. “I’m crying?” He blinked rapidly, as more tears slipped down his pale cheeks. When he tilted his head back in an attempt to stop his tears, he finds himself staring up at the starry sky.

Unlike in Twisted Wonderland, the stars weren’t as bright. You had once told him how the pollution in the air had caused the stars to dim in this world. You had looked so sad.

His gaze slipped back down to you. You looked like you were sleeping peacefully--but he hated how he can see you pale, he can feel how your body lost it’s warmth.

‘You, light of my life, should never be anything but gloriously bright’ he thought, and he waved his staff once more.

The next night, the television played in the background as Mal stared into the skies with a cup of hot chocolate in her hands.

“This is unheard of,” the scientist on the news channel said. “but last night, stars that were never there suddenly appeared in the sky! It’s a new constellation--”

Mal smiled gently, as she found you there, in the skies, slumbering peacefully.

“--because of the positions of the stars, it seems like a sleeping woman.” the scientist had reported. “we’re planning on naming her--”

“Of course you’d become a star,” Mal whispered, “that’s just like you grandma... bright and shining.”

“Sleeping Beauty.”

#aiwrites #aiscenarios #ai wendy series #female reader #twisted wonderland #twst #twst scenarios #twst riddle #twst leona #twst azul #twst kalim #twst vil #twst idia #twst malleus #extra a/n: id really appreciate hearing what you all think!

673 notes · View notes

sunshinesukuna · 4 years

Text

lemon detergent

pairing: tsukishima x reader

tw: fighting, injuries (bruises), light swearing

wc: 1.7k

genre: angst to fluff

ayyy catch me plagiarizig my own work. eh, miya atsumu can rot anyways. im sorry if this is bad, i haven’t given you guys writing for over a week and my people-pleasing ass rushed to give you guys some content ahhhhh. éñÿwâÿś, enjoy <333

Three strikes and you’re out. For each of you, so technically that was six strikes, but the two of you never debated the technicalities of it. Not like you had time to, with a hectic schedule as third-year students and athletes. Him chucking volleyballs into the air, and you chucking yourself up in the air in the wondrous sport known as cheerleading.

He’s already waiting for you in your usual spot behind the gym. God forbid anyone see the two of you together unless it was a life-or-death situation. Hinata would grow at least a feet before that would ever happen. At least that was easy when you were dating someone like him. Being in different classes, different teams, houses on the opposite sides of town. You wondered when you would actually be close to him both emotionally, and physically.

Now that you’re closer, you can smell him for real. The tang of lemon detergent that his mom loves and clean sweat can only mean it’s Tsukishima. You stand in front of him wordlessly, eyes expectant for something. Well, something other than the forlorn look in his eyes that he’s giving you.

“I don’t think I can come to your house after school tomorrow,” he says. There it is. You were totally expecting that this would come at some point during the year, but you didn’t expect it to come this soon. You’re still disappointed anyways.

“It’s the third time you’ve bailed out on me this week alone, Kei,” you complain. He puts a finger to his lips at the sound of your quickly rising voice. “I barely see you at school outside of the gym!”

“And I told you, I’m practicing. It’s not like I’m cheating or anything.” Certainly feels like you are, you want to say. But it’s best if you keep those words in the back of your head.

“For what? Nationals aren’t for two more months!” He breaks eye contact with you, opting to stare at the tree at the edge of the road.

"Practice makes perfect.”

“But you shouldn’t overwork yourself this much! Even I take breaks from cheerleading every now and then to come to support you at your games!”

“(Y/N), I think you’re misjudging how important the Interhigh is to Karasuno. If we lose—”

“I know how important the match is, Kei. But there’s a difference between giving it your all and giving it too much.” You pause, taking a long breath. “Even cheerleaders don’t break our backs trying to reach new heights.”

Tsukishima sighs before putting his hands back into his pocket. He furrows his eyebrows.

“What would you know about it? Cheerleading isn’t a real sport anyway.”

Words cut deep like knives. Tsukishima’s don’t. They hit you like a bag of bricks all at once.

The pang in your chest isn’t just from his words, it’s from his indifference. His eyes giving you that blank stare as he brushes off everything important to you. His hands staying still in his pockets as he talks to you, like you’re not even worthy of his attention.

“What?”

And thus the standoff begins.

First is the lunch line. You think waiting for food while hungry is hard? Try waiting for food when you’re hungry and have Tsukishima Kei looming over behind you. You’re about to plant your feet down in the floor when you’re finished, waiting for him to finish up, but you remember that you have no one to wait for.

So you briskly pick up your tray and move to a table where you spot some of your friends from cheer sitting. His eyes twitch at your figure walking so easily away from him. But it’s not like you would notice.

Second is the hallway. Your heart clenches a bit when you spot Yamaguchi around the corner, because you know who’s going to be next to him. You can already smell the lemon detergent from here.

His eyes burn through his glasses when you walk by. The usual glance and smile is thrown out in exchange for… nothing. Your eyes look straight forward at the end of the hall, where your classroom is. Frustration rolls off of him in waves so intense you can practically smell them, like a disruption in his lemon detergent-scented aura.

No matter, that means it’s working, right? He’ll fess up sooner enough.

But what was it again? Three strikes and you’re out. The third strike comes later at practice.

You really should have thought this out even further. The damaged piping in the gym the cheerleading team usually used meant that they had to share with someone. And who else to share a gym with than the Karasuno Men’s Volleyball Team?

So here you are, stuck at one side of the gym while you can feel Tsukishima’s eyes on you from the other side. The routine starts off well. The first stunts all hit, with none of the same wobblings that was there in the first few weeks of learning it.

And there it was. The throw was already crooked from the beginning. If you couldn’t reach the other flyer’s hand, then you were done for. In a last attempt to save the pyramid, you flung out your legs, trying to land on your feet.

Bad move.

Your knee landed on something— but it wasn’t your teammates’ hands that were ready to catch you. A spike of pain shot up your foot. Suddenly the world was a blur as skin-coloured blobs that could only be your teammates rushed to help you. The lights above were reduced to sparkles that were just too bright.

The buzzing in your ears was enough to block out the sounds coming in, but you could hear snippets of conversation here and there.

“Was that (Y/N)?”

“She landed on her knee!”

“It looks bruised….”

On your knee, eh. So that was why the fire was all concentrated on your patella. The sweat on your hands wouldn’t let you regain your balance. You slump down with your back to the floor, hands over your face to block out what little pain you could, but the faucet of liquid fire trickled down your knee to no end.

“May I help?” someone asked in a low baritone voice. You assumed that your coach said yes because you felt yourself being lifted in the air off the mat. The nape of your neck was wet, either from your sweat or this person’s.

This person was strong too. They walked briskly and easily across the halls of Karasuno, even with a body in their hands. But their heart rate was abnormally fast. They probably had been exercising.

You dare to open your eyes. All you see are pools of purple and white, obscured by the residual tears in your eyes. It could be anyone. But as your senses focused, hints olive and green came into the image. Your sense of smell was also starting to refocus as well. Lemon detergent, deodorant, and rubber.

Lemon detergent…

You opened your eyes as widely as you could. It was Tsukishima. Face unmoving and eyes showing no sign of emotion, but anyone could feel a sense of emergency with his rushed steps and the way he clicked his tongue anytime anyone stood in his way.

The scent of sharp disinfectants replaced the lemon detergent as you were put down on a soft bed. You winced at the new position you were put in, your weight crashing down on your lower body yet again.

“It hurts...” you squeak out, every word another rope squeezing your chest flush out of air.

“It does. It hurts like a bitch, doesn’t it?”

That’s enough to set your heart at ease, if only a little. No sappy words to shoo away the pain by pretending it isn’t real, just a concise confirmation that what you’re feeling is real. And somehow, that’s just enough.

Tsukishima works quickly and quietly, adjusting the ice packs where needed. Whenever you wince or gasp in pain, he’s quick to rub a long, lanky finger over the purple parts of the bruise that doesn’t have ice covering it. It still hurts like a bitch, but at least the pain is only physical.

The emotional ones are just beginning to heal.

The 10 by 10 room is sealed — door locked, windows bolted — but it still feels like the two of you are in front of a gargantuan stage, packed to the brim with people watching you. Or is it just because the only audience you have are one another?

“I’m sorry for saying cheerleading wasn’t a sport,” he mutters. Your hearing has started to sharpen again by now.

“What?”

“I’m sorry for brushing off your advice, and belittling something you love,” he says again, Tsukishima’s tone much clearer now. His words ring like a gong in your head.

The throbbing in your knee seems to lessen with every word he says. The longer he talks, the more the fire in your feet seem to subside. Were those his words going to your head, or the gentle massages he was giving your knees as he talked?

“You don’t have to accept my apology. I can wait until you do. But… I know I did something wrong. And I intend to fix it.”

“I’ll accept your apology,” you say. On several conditions.”

His head perks up, eager to hear what you’ll have him do in order to restore things back to the way they were. Scratch that, in order to make things better. Like hell he’ll ignore you again if it leads to something like this.

“What are they?” Tsukishima.

“I know you’re practicing really hard and all that, but can you spend some more time with me?” you ask. “You don’t have to spend that much time, just… enough so it actually feels like we’re dating?”

“Weren’t we already?”

“You know what I mean.”

Tsukishima takes a long breath. He stays silent for a long time, the only noise in the room the sound of ice against ice as he moves to take another icepack for your knee.

“Alright. Anything else?”

The idea you have is silly. But it couldn’t hurt to give it a try. What’s the worse that could happen?

“Buy me some of the detergent you use.”

#tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima angst #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima kei x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuuwritersnet #haikyuu fluff #tsukishima oneshots #tsukishima scenarios #tsukki #silent treatment

193 notes · View notes

yukimoji · 4 years

Text

My World: Part 3 ( Tanjiro Kamado x Reader )

( a/n: hello! welcome to part 3 and the final part of the “my world” series! this became longer than i had initially expected, i apologize deeply for that. also, i'm sorry if it seemed like i shitted on kanao too much, im so sorry bby i still love u. take note there will be grammar errors and typos, bec im blind and i always seem to miss those errors rip. thank you all for following “my world”, and i hope you all enjoy! )

(also, how do u even write angst?? i tried my best and i hope ya’ll dont get too disappointed with my poor excuse of angst lololol)

Part 1 I 2 I 3

Total words: 6600+ words

Genre: Angst and Fluff

!!MAJOR, MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!

Warnings: Mentions of blood

With each passing day, it felt like you were getting closer towards the edge of the line.

In a dark tunnel, you stood there, wandering aimlessly towards the light that could not be even seen for miles and miles. An endless loop of nothingness, as the feeling of dread, terror, and fear consumes you from the hidden depths of your mind.

You hoped and wished that one day you could see even a tiny glimpse of what lies ahead of you. Wondering if there's more to it than the endless bloodshed and horrors you've seen hundreds of times now.

But then, suddenly, a warm entity started to walk alongside you. A feeling as warm as the bright rays of the morning sun, and an inexplicable feeling of something accompanying you on your endless journey.

Even when immersed in darkness, the underlying warmth seemed to radiate from that figure. There was a tinge of happiness in your harsh world that made the road to the unseen light seem less lonely than before.

However, with every step, the distant light gets dimmer and darker.

And the warm feeling beside you blazes into a raging, roaring, sea of fire.

The morning after you received the heartfelt letter from Tanjiro, word broke out that Tanjiro, Inosuke, and Zenitsu had defeated Lower Moon One.

You were rejoiced to hear that your comrades had defeated another member of the Twelve Demon Moons. When you heard the news for the first time, you promptly darted to find the nearest pen and paper to congratulate the trio. However, you stopped dead in your tracks when your Kasugai Crow screeched out the status of the Hashira that the trio had accompanied.

Rengoku Kyojuro, the Flame Hashira, has died after an encounter with Upper Moon Three.

Your eyes were as big as saucers, as you stood there in shock. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Upper Moon 3? Hashira? Dead?

You've never really had a proper conversation with the Flame Hashira, but you've had high respects for him. The way he would hold his sword with pride and his never-ending sense of justice would always bring hope to you and your fellow slayers. You could still remember the words of encouragement he would say every time he would have encountered the lower ranks like you.

"Always set your heart ablaze!"

Hearing about the death of such an important figure in the Demon Slayer Corps made you tighten your jaw. Your hand clenches at the thought of someone so kind and strong had died of such a painful death. You inhaled tiny and long breaths as you try to calm yourself down from the frustration rising in your veins.

He would've wanted his death to inspire the Demon Slayers to fight harder, and you will. His fate will not be in vain as long as the Demon Slayer Corps will continue fighting on.

If you feel angry, you could only imagine as to how Tanjiro felt. Knowing the boy, he would've befriended and had grown attached to the fallen Hashira. Your face contorted into one of sadness. He would be distraught, seeing the Flame Hashira die in front of his very eyes.

You glanced at the paper and the pen at the corner of your vision, and decided to write to the Hanafuda-clad slayer. You went to grab the items and sat down to start writing your letter.

You couldn't be there to physically comfort him, you were too far away. You prayed that this letter would suffice, as you could not do anything more to console the Burgundy-haired boy.

Tanjiro made his way back towards the Butterfly Estate, after visiting the Rengoku Estate to deliver Kyojuro-san's final wishes. He gazed at the katana guard that was given to him by Senjoru, Kyojuro-san's little brother. He sighs sadly at the thought of the Flame Hashira, his words echoing in his mind.

"Live on and set your heart ablaze!"

Breathing out softly, his Crimson-hues looks upwards to the sky, staring at the moving clouds high above.

"CAW! A MESSAGE! A MESSAGE FOR KAMADO TANJIRO!"

"Yaah!" Tanjiro yells out in surprise at his crow's loud screeching, but his expression brightened at the sight of a letter attached to it's legs. He then puts his arm out to let the crow land on it.

"Thank you!" He affectionately pats the head of the crow, and proceeds to take the letter placed delicately on it's legs. The crow screeches once more, and takes off.

Tanjiro looks at the crow flying away, and returns his gaze towards the letter in his hands. He reads the message written in it, and can't help a smile forming from his lips.

"What can be done, is for us to not let it define our days to come. We can choose to heal, whilst bearing the scars, whether alone or with someone precious.

For as long as you want me to, I will be here for you."

I read that somewhere, but I couldn't remember where, hehe.

I'm sorry for what happened. I can't imagine what you're feeling, but I will always be here for you. Rengoku-san will not be forgotten, and he will always live in our hearts and memories.

Be kind to yourself, Tanjiro. You mean the whole world to me.

- [ L / N ] [ Y / N ]

Tanjiro chuckles softly at the letter, and holds it close to his chest. He sniffles as he flutters his eyes close, the corners of his mouth turning up into a thankful grin.

"Thank you, [ Y / N.]"

Months pass, another mission comes by after the completion of another mission. As the weeks gone by, you could find yourself growing stronger each passing day.

During your time apart, you and Tanjiro would often exchange letters. Usually, it was him describing his missions in full detail and how Zenitsu and Inosuke were doing as they worked alongside with each other. Every now and then, little scratches and odd pen marks will decorate the surface of the paper, which you could only assume is Nezuko's doing.

You, on the other hand, would also write about your missions. Occasionally, you would tell him about random stuff, little things on your mind as you go about your day.

One thing remains constant, though. The two of you would always end a letter with a heartfelt sentence that became your little way of saying "I love you" for each other.

"You mean the whole world to me."

Today, me, Inosuke, and Zenitsu went to Yoshiwara with Uzui-san. He basically forced us to come with him, because he wouldn't stop harassing the poor girls back at the Butterfly Estate if we didn't go. He said he was looking for his three wives, as they stopped contacting him after going undercover to find a demon in the district. Can you believe it? Three wives?!

When we arrived, Uzui-san immediately dressed us up as girls and we were sent off to brothels where we could hopefully find the demon causing havoc in the area. Honestly, I'm kind of glad that you weren't here to see me. Not because I don't want you to be with me, no no no! I actually miss you so much and I just want see you again and I just-

It's because I looked absolutely ridiculous! Seriously, it was a miracle that I was able to pass up as a girl!

Anyway, it's my first night here, and so far, there's no sign of a demon. There's been rumors going around about young women suddenly committing suicide without explanation. There's something fishy going on around here, that's for sure.

I'm going to end my letter here. Tomorrow's another day, and we will do our best to make this mission a success.

Stay safe, [ Y / N ].

You mean the whole world to me.

- Kamado Tanjiro

Of course, there were moments where you were worried sick for the boy. When news broke out that the Sound Pillar and the trio defeated Upper Moon 6 in the Red Light District, you were absolutely ecstatic. Another Upper Moon had been slain, and you couldn't be more proud for the trio.

That is, until Tanjiro abruptly stopped sending letters.

During those moments, you could only send letters to the Butterfly Estate, asking about Tanjiro's health and condition. You tried not to get your emotions get the best you, but you couldn't help it. Not when Tanjiro was laying in a bed, unconscious, and out of your reach.

You found comfort of the letters that replied to you. Kanao, the Butterfly Pillar's Tsuguko, started writing back to you, and kept you up-to-date of Tanjiro's well-being that would soothe your anxious nerves. You were thankful for her, as she would always write back to you every night without fail.

Gradually, you began to get to know her, and eventually thought of her as a friend. Since she was a little shy, you gladly told her about your days and endless missions, and maybe a little bit of jokes and puns to lighten up her day.

It wasn't long too until she started talking about the things she liked, like how she enjoys blowing soap bubbles and considers it a hobby. She would also talk about how she likes sweets and accessories, squishing cat paws and helping with the cooking at the Butterfly Estate.

Who knew, that the girl who wrecked you mercilessly during your Rehabilitation training was actually such a lovely and adorable girl who enjoyed the little things in life?

When Tanjiro finally recovered, you never stopped sending letters to Kanao. She was a fun pen pal and a friend to have, because she would listen to each time you would either rant about your day or just say some dumb puns when you're too bored to function.

One day, Tanjiro told you that he was going to the Swordsmith Village to ask for a replacement for his sword. That night, he spoke of how the Love Pillar and the Mist Pillar were present in the village, and how he had the chance of speaking to Genya Shinazugawa, the Wind Pillar's younger brother.

For days on end, the Crimson-eyed slayer would tell you about a training doll that mimicked the strongest Demon Slayer who ever lived. He would rant endlessly, telling you about a swordsmith who trained him to the bone without food and water. He told you, one day, he accidentally smashed the doll into pieces, revealing a worn and old sword hidden inside of it.

You snickered, and you could already hear Tanjiro's voice, which was loaded with panic and anxiety, just by reading the contents of his letters.

You were pleasantly shocked the next day, when your Crow announced the news of the deaths of Upper Moon Five and Upper Moon Four.

Tanjiro was like a magnet for the Upper Moons, and you can't help but feel a heavy sensation in the depths of your stomach.

It felt like the calm before the storm, as after Tanjiro's experience in the Swordsmith Village, there was a rapid decline in Demon activity all across the country.

However, it seemed like the crow didn't exactly tell you everything regarding the Village's aftermath.

After what seemed like forever, you made your way back to the Butterfly Estate. Since demons have not been running all over the place, there weren't as much many missions as there was before. Your crow yelled at you to go back to the estate, but hey, you weren't complaining about that.

You couldn't contain the excitement, a giddy expression ever present on your face. Each step brought you closer to your destination, and as the Estate finally presented itself to your vision, you practically skipped your way in order to reach the area faster.

You heard shouting in the distance. There were cries of panic, seemingly asking someone to come back. You didn't stop your hurried pace, but your eyes widened in both joy and shock when you saw the familiar raven locks of your demon friend, who was now running towards you at full speed.

In broad daylight.

"[ Y/N ]! [ Y/N ]! [ Y/N ]!" Nezuko cries out in joy, jumping at you with all of her strength. You couldn't react on time as she lands on you, and the both of you tumbled to the ground. She was hugging you, a hand affixed on top of your head, patting it relentlessly.

"Oof! Hi, Nezuko!" You laughed at her antics, and hugged her back without hesitation.

You were confused, that's for sure. Even though you were absolutely overjoyed to see your friend, your mind was screaming confused thoughts on how on earth she was able to hug you underneath the blazing sun. Not only that, she was not wearing her usual bamboo muzzle and she spoke your name! She actually spoke! Her voice was absolutely adorable!

"Welcome back!" She cheered happily, and you already feel yourself melt into a puddle at how cute she was acting. She continued to nuzzle onto you, and you felt a sense of pride knowing that an incredibly cute and sweet girl was aggressively showering you with love and affection.

"EH?! [ Y / N ]'S BACK! SHE'S BACK!" You snapped your head to the source, and beamed at the sight of Zenitsu calling out to the residents of the estate, signalling your arrival.

"It's nice to see you again, Zenitsu!" You called out and waved at him, a bright smile present on your face. You couldn't really move, not when Nezuko wasn't done hugging you and spoiling you rotten with her affection.

Zenitsu's eyes widened for a second, until he began jumping around and screaming out a series of chants like the madman he is.

"REALLY? IT'S REALLY NICE TO SEE ME AGAIN?! AW! DON'T FLATTER ME, [ Y / N ]! YOU SHOULD'VE TOLD ME BEFORE THAT YOU HELD ME IN SUCH A HIGH REGARD! YOU KNOW, IT'S NOT TOO LATE TO ASK FOR MY HAND IN MARRIAGE!"

Your smile began to fade, and you could look at him with utter dismay as he proceeded to yell out nonsense.

But then, a familiar voice calls out. The voice that you've yearned to hear for months, as it makes your heart skip a beat as it gets louder and closer.

Tanjiro comes out from the estate, looking around frantically, a desperate expression evident in his gentle features. He looks at your direction and he goes stiff as a statue the moment he locks eyes with you. His eyes began to water, his lower lip quivering from the sight of you.

He races up to you, rivaling with the pace Nezuko had when she assaulted you. Instantaneously, he engulfs you in his loving embrace, and you couldn't hold back your giggles and laughter as he proceeded to wreak havoc on your face with little kisses.

Nezuko lets out a sound of pleasure and releases her hold on you. She watched her brother as he coddled you with so much attention, and she clapped happily at the sight.

After what seemed like ages, Tanjiro stopped attacking your face with kisses and raised a hand to softly caress your cheek. His crimson-hues looked at you with so much passion and adoration, and you gazed at him lovingly in reciprocation.

Slowly he leans in to you, his forehead brushing yours. The corners of his mouth are pulled up, a ridiculously goofy expression adoring his features. You could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks because of the close proximity to his face, but still, you gave him the biggest grin you could muster up.

He chuckles and closes his eyes, nuzzling on you as he holds you in his arms protectively.

"I missed you. So, so much." He breathes out, and you giggle as his warm breath fans your flushed face.

"I missed you too, you big baby." You fluttered your [ E / C ] close, holding him tight and not wanting to let go.

After months of hardship, stress, and pain, you find yourself once again welcomed by your home and your world.

You spent the next few days roaming around the estate, with Tanjiro beside you, holding your hand at every moment. Not just that, you've got to spend time in the garden with Nezuko again! Only this time, you were accompanied by the presence of Zenitsu, Inosuke, and even Kanao!

Each day was filled with laughter and joy. Even when the Hashiras decided to train every slayer in harsh training routines, your happiness never faded. Given the sweat and soreness of your muscles as you shift from one Hashira to another, you would always be rewarded with the sight of the bright stars shining brightly over all of you.

But one day, that happiness seemed to fade away. The devastation and cruelty that you had faced before came back from the ashes of the past, as each second escalated into the catastrophic hell that you were now forced to face.

One night, every Hashira unexpectedly went on a high alert. You couldn't understand what was going on, and you were even more perplexed when Tanjiro suddenly asked you to stay alert and left in a haste. You stood beside the campfire, confused, and you couldn't control the familiar feeling of dread swallowing you up again.

Your instinct was telling you that something terrible and unprecedented was about to happen. Your heart was thumping uncontrollably on your chest, as you started to sweat and tremble from the overwhelming feeling of uncertainty that made shivers run up to your spine.

Unfortunately, your fears were confirmed when a loud explosion was heard in the distance.

You gasped, as you felt the ground suddenly disappear. You couldn't respond quickly, your mind spinning out of control as you fell down to a fortress filled with demons that seemed to stretch out forever.

You breath hitched as you came back to your senses. You looked around, trying to find something or somewhere that could end your endless free fall. You felt a sense of hope as an area where you could land safely came into view. Your eyebrows were knit together, mouth clenching as you performed a breathing technique and landed swiftly at the edge of the structure.

The moment you landed, demons started to flock towards you. Your blood began to boil, rage rapidly overcoming you. You unsheathed out your sword, tightened your grip on the handle, and immediately slashed your way through the hordes of demons. It was then you realized, that it was the beginning of the end, and that it was going to be a long night.

In a blink of an eye, smiles turned into anger, laughter turned into screams, as what was once happiness was now destroyed and replaced by rage and anguish.

And whenever happiness is destroyed,

There's always the smell of blood.

Hours of endless bloodshed. Thousands upon thousands of casualties had rained upon the ranks of the Demon Slayer Corps. You had seen the brutal fighting with your very own eyes, and the rage only intensified with each life taken by the hands of those ruthless demons.

The Twelve Demon Moons had perished. But at the cost of their heads, were the lives of your mentors, comrades, and friends.

However, it finally seemed like their sacrifices were not in vain.

The sun had risen, and Muzan Kibutsuji howled out in pain as the sun's fiery rays started to burn him. He had taken the form of a large, hideous baby, as he desperately tries to hide away from the sun's burning gaze.

Almost everybody was severely injured; there were severed limbs, large gashes, and heavily bleeding wounds.

Despite the overwhelming pain, the remaining slayers continued to fight on, too high on adrenaline and determination in order to bring Muzan to his demise. Everybody held on, performing everything they could do to make the Demon King roast under the sunlight and suffer for his crimes.

Right now, you were driving a bus, speeding towards the crawling abomination. You slammed on the pedals, accelerating at full speed as you rammed into the enormous, yet horrific excuse of a baby.

"Stay down, you bastard!" You yelled out, a dangerous glint twinkling in your eyes as you couldn't help the sides lips tugging up into smug smirk.

You jumped out of the vehicle right before a big hand smashed the front portion, as a voice commands you and nearby Kakushi to push the back portion to block Muzan from moving further. You all gathered together and pushed with all your remaining strength, yells of determination echoing out to stop Muzan from going further.

Your eyes widen as a large hand rises, but before he could smash you all into pieces, the Wind Pillar successfully cut off it's hand on time. You all continued to push, but Muzan was starting to overpower you all and was slowly going over the vehicle.

Then, you heard the loud clank of chains, and saw the monster stumble back as a large chain had wrapped itself on the demon's neck, forcing him to stay in place. You all moved out, and went to the Stone Pillar, aiding him by holding him in place as he uses all his power to grip unto the chains in order to pin the beast down. Muzan hollered out, as he continued to burn under the sun.

Determined to find shade and escape death, the huge monstrosity resorted to dig himself into the earth. The Hashiras then took turns attacking the abomination, attempting to wear off its stamina. All hope seemed lost, as the chains, and all of your energy rapidly depleted as Muzan continued his struggle.

Then, against all odds, the demon throws his head back in a final, ear piercing scream. Gigantic tears fell down from it's hideous face, and after what seemed like eternity, it's body finally crumbled into nothingness.

There was a pause. You all held your breath, the heavy tension in the air suffocating you all. Disbelief was evident on your faces, as you could not properly process what had just gone down.

Then, you all erupted into loud yells of victory.

Muzan is dead. The Demon Slayers had won.

You all cried out in happiness. Centuries of battle, bloodshed, and death finally bearing its fruit. Everyone embraced each other, beaming smiles present in every slayer's face as the shouts of triumph echoed across the battlefield.

"It's not over yet!" A Kakushi yells out, "Stand up! Treat the wounded! Don't cry, you fools, stay focused! We can save them!" You all looked around, and saw the bodies of several Hashira and Demon Slayers slumped up all around. The celebration ceased as everybody started to scatter; newly found strength flooding them as they sought out to save the heavily injured.

In your peripheral vision, you saw Kanao hunched up and unconscious, and she was being tended by several Kakushi. You ran up to her, and your jaw clenched as you observed the injuries and blows she had taken. You kneeled down, and asked for one of them for bandages so you could help patch up your friend.

As you started to wrap up some of Kanao's injuries, lilac hues started to flutter open. She takes a moment to look at her surroundings, and when she sees you and a few Kakushi patching her up, her lips formed a small yet grateful smile.

"...Thank you."

Your eyes darted to look up to the voice, you gasped in relief and your expression brightened as Kanao weakly gives you a wry smile.

You stared at her, the corners of your mouth tugging up and your eyes flickering with gratitude. After wrapping her wounds, you gently took her hand and encased it with your own.

"We won, Kanao." You whispered. Shutting your eyes close, you recalled the memories of how hard she fought against Muzan, along with Zenitsu, Inosuke, and the Hashiras. The ravenette just paused, and her mouth falling open as she was reflecting on what you had just told to her. Then, she breathes out in delight, and slowly raised her other hand to caress your own. Kanao's whole face lit up, and she beams at you, nodding her head in appreciation.

But then, suddenly, in the corner of her vision, something captures Kanao's attention. She stiffened, and her hand started to tremble under your gentle hold. Her forehead furrowed and she struggled to find her voice.

" [ Y - Y / N ]-chan..!"

You opened your [ E / C ] eyes, and glanced at your friend's facial features. You grew concerned, trying to make sense as to why she was shaking and sweating so much. Then, loud shouts began to echo and you felt a heavy sensation start to enclose your chest. You started to tremble, the loud yells becoming more frantic by each second. The feeling of dread returned, seemingly to taunt you as goosebumps rapidly washed over you. The girl returned her attention to your bewildered expression, her lilac orbs filled with worry and regret.

You hesitantly turned around and looked to where Kanao had her gaze on to figure out the source of her behavior. Instantaneously, your eyebrows elevated, a hand immediately clasping your mouth. Your eyes welled up in tears and the cries of distress escaped away as you stomached in the scene before you.

You stared ahead to meet the figure of your beloved Tanjiro.

But he didn't look like your Tanjiro.

A beast roared out, screaming and assaulting any being that was attempting to get close to him. You saw a glimpse of Zenitsu and Inosuke trying to hold back your transformed lover, the Water Pillar frantically yelling orders not get close to the boy, but to no avail.

It felt like the whole world had shattered right before your very eyes. You struggled to swallow back the bile rising to your throat, your breathes becoming more erratic as the hot tears endlessly fall from your eyes. You become absolutely racked with sobs, the heavy feeling on your chest intensifying to the point of suffocating you.

"Stop crying!" You mentally scold yourself. "Now is not the time to cry! You have to help! You have to save him!"

But you couldn't move. You couldn't speak. You couldn't do anything but wail out in absolute heartbreak as Tanjiro further succumbed into hysteria.

No matter how hard you tried, your feet were glued to the ground. Your mind hurled insults, screaming at you to step forward, to run, and try to save your beloved. You could only look up to the heavens, reciting a silent prayer pleading to every Deity who was listening to stop this madness.

In the midst of your emotional turmoil, you have flashes of what once was. You recall how Tanjiro would hold you in moments of peace, how his eyes would fill up with tenderness and love whenever you locked eyes with him, and how his beaming smile seemed to brighten up even your darkest days.

Your heart continues to pound painfully in your chest as you gasp out endless incoherent breathes. You could hear his loving voice resonate in your head, your cries becoming more erratic at the thought that you could never hear his warmth-filled sound again.

"You mean the whole world to me, [ Y / N ]."

You could only look helplessly as the now human Nezuko began to cry out to her corrupted brother, holding him in place so that he could no longer hurt more people. Tanjiro continued to screech and thrash in the sister's grasp, his screams releasing powerful waves of energy that would blowed away anyone who had even dared to come near him.

Zenitsu and Inosuke were swept away by the strong shockwaves, but Nezuko never weakened her grasp, as she continues to hold on to her brother desperately. Tanjiro dropped down, the sound of the tearing cloth ringing around as massive and sharp tentacles exploded out of his back. Zenitsu cries out, terror overtaking his face as he desperately reaches out to save Nezuko.

But something still puzzles you. Your stomach still twisted at the sight of Nezuko bleeding, but what was perplexing was that Tanjiro declined to bite his sister. Even though he had a taste of his sister's blood, he resisted and refused to attack her.

Maybe, just maybe, your Tanjiro was still there, fighting to break free from his eternal prison.

"[ Y / N ]-chan." Kanao calls out. You snap out of you emotional daze and faced the girl. She looked at you with a hopeful expression, and she takes out a small box from her belt.

"We can still save him..." She starts, opening the box to reveal an injection. "My master gave this to me, and she said that this is medicine made out of Wisteria flowers that could turn demons back into humans."

Kanao coughs up blood, her face scrunching up as she groans out in discomfort. She stumbles forward because of the pain, and you instantly hold her to prevent her from falling to the ground. She looks up to you, and gives you a sad smile.

"Tanjiro turned into a demon just now. Even if I could evade his attacks with one eye, my injuries could get the best of me." She coughs again, placing a hand to her re-opened wound on her waist. She takes your hand and places the injection on it.

"There's still time, [ Y / N ]. Tanjiro loves you too much to even raise a hand at you."

You looked down at the injection, your eyes filled with renewed determination. You nodded in agreement, then took long breaths to calm yourself down. You knew what you needed to do, and now, you could save him.

You wiped the trails of dried tears on your face, eyebrows drewn together as your expression hardened. Tightening your grip on the object, you stood up and turned around to confront Tanjiro.

"Thank you." You breathed out, forever grateful to Kanao for giving you this oppurtunity.

You inhaled deeply, oxygen rapidly flooding your veins. You could feel your muscles become stronger each second, as adrenaline fills you once more. Bursts of energy traveled all across your body, giving you the courage and power you needed to pull this off. You focused your strength on your legs, and in a flash, you dashed towards your lover.

"Tanjiro.."

The demon takes notice of a presence rapidly approaching him. He growls and turns his attention towards you. Scowling, he screeches loudly, tentacles aggressively whipping around at all angles to attack you.

"When this is all over, let's make our own world,"

You looked up to meet his eyes, and you were with scarlet ones, which were filled with hatred and rage. Your breathe hitches momentarily as a shiver ran up to your spine.

"A world where no one could tears us apart."

Tanjiro had never looked at you with such hostility before. However, you didn't let that faze you as you continuously dodged his never ending assaults against you.

"Enough is enough, Tanjiro."

You jumped and evaded the whips his tentacles threw at you. Then, an opening presents itself, your eyes dilating and you bolted even closer until you came face to face with the demon.

"You musn't make Nezuko cry."

Tanjiro howls out loudly, and he raises a hand with the intent to smash you. You quickly caught the glimpse of his clenched fist, and you leapt, avoiding his arm as it plunged downwards with such speed and strength.

"Come back to us, and you won't be ever lost again,"

You swore everything looked like it was in slow motion. In that moment, a bright light engulfed your surroundings. Your body flew above the demon, and when his back came into full view, you immediately pushed the cure into him. Tears shone in your [ E / C ] orbs, as a love-filled smile appeared on your features.

You didn't even feel the pain when a rouge tentacle managed to successfully pierce itself into you. Your tender gaze never left the boy, and you finally breathed out in relief. You fluttered your eyes close, and you tumbled helplessly against the surface.

"You are the whole world to me."

"[ Y / N]!" Nezuko calls out to you, her face contorted into one of pure horror as she watches your body make harsh contact with the ground.

Suddenly, Tanjiro stops moving. His tentacles ceased it's assaults, and slowly, but surely, it retreats back into his body. The boy to started to shake uncontrollably, exhaling out heavy breathes as his eyes trembled wildly as he stares at the sight of your injured body.

With all the remaining strength you could muster up, you looked up to the demon. Instead of the hatred and rage you had saw moments ago, Tanjiro's Scarlet-hues were filled with regret. Tears ran down his cheeks, sadness clouding over his demonic features.

You inhaled softly, and with each passing moment, you saw his eyes slowly turn back into the Crimson colored orbs that you loved so much. As seconds pass by, your vision began to darken. Exhaling out in exhaustion, you felt thankful that you get to see a glimpse of your Tanjiro once more. You heard loud shouts resound through the field, feeling something tending to your wounds before your sight was further consumed by darkness as you fell into unconsciousness.

" -Ma..?"

" -Ma!"

"Mama!"

You jolt up in surprise, trying to catch your breath as cold sweat falls down from the side of your face.

You take a moment to observe your surroundings, and you could find yourself sitting in a bench that was located at an open lake. Sakura trees were abundant, and their beauty was obviously not overlooked as pink blossoms flew around with the cool spring breeze. Flora was flourishing all over, and the sounds of the little animals living in the lake was prominent.

A nightmare? You thought. Sighing deeply, you let yourself fall back in the bench where you were sitting on. A small hand shakes on your own frantically, as you turned your head and smiled softly as a gigantic pair of eyes, clearly filled with worry, gazed into your own.

"I'm sorry, Takeo. Did Mama scare you?" You chuckled, as the child in front of you pouts and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Stop dozing off like that! I was really worried when you started to cry in your sleep again!" Takeo exclaims out, puffing out his cheeks as he stomped on his foot in annoyance.

You laughed at his antics, your melodic voice echoing across the peaceful lake. You leaned forward and raised a hand to gently pat your son's head. The boy looked almost the same as you, seeing as he inherited your complexion, your facial features, and even your [H / C] hair.

There was one thing, though, that distinguished him from looking like a complete carbon copy of you.

He had Crimson colored eyes that he inherited from his father.

Takeo continues to huff out in annoyance, but he couldn't fight the flush rising up to his face from your act of affection towards him. Whether he was going to deny it or not, it was an irrefutable fact that he loved getting his head pats. As you observed Takeo's features, you felt warmth and tenderness embracing your chest. You pulled your hand away from his head and just chuckled at his failed attempts of trying to look angry at you.

"Papa asked me to fetch you, ya know.." Takeo mumbles, his Crimson-orbs looking away from you in embarrassment. "He says that Aunt Nezuko and Uncle Zenitsu are coming over today, along with Uncle Inosuke and Aunt Kanao. He figured that you would be glad to see them again."

"I see." You whispered. Your mouth slowly into a grin, and you nodded gratefully. You felt excitement and joy bubble up in you, as you beamed brightly to your son. "Thank you, Takeo. I'm absolutely delighted to hear that they're coming to visit today."

Slowly, you stood up from the bench, one hand holding on your son's arm for support and the other caressing your swollen belly. You looked up to the heavens, eyes sparkling with gratitude as a thankful sigh escaped from your lips. You shifted your attention away from the blue sky, and softly held your son's hand as you began your way back home.

"Let's go home, shall we?"

Once upon a dream, you never thought the possibility of true love coming to you all your life.

Growing up in a demon infested world, life seemed to be fond of throwing you into hardships and struggle. Despite the horrors of the world, you always persevered. For every challenge that has been hurled towards you, the tribulations have only made you grow stronger and better.

Your life may had started out roughly, but that doesn't mean that it did not change for the better. The endless bloodshed had become relics of the past, moments of time that helped shape the world as it is now.

Recalling those moments of uncertainty, the rays of sunlight peeking through what was once the dark and gloomy clouds had now completely engulfed your life with warmth and tenderness. What you once wanted to experience all those years ago, has now become your reality. The little bits of happiness that you yearned for, now held onto you, never wanting to leave any time soon.

As you get closer to your home, you could hear the voices of children laughing and playing. Soon, you saw a glimpse of your humble abode, and little kids that looked similarly to you and your husband came into view. Takeo releases his hold on you, and he excitedly makes his way towards his siblings. Your expression brightened, a permanent smile present on your face as you took in the sight of your children frolicking around with happiness evident in their faces.

Then, a warm hand snakes over your waist, pulling you towards a broad chest that belonged to your lover. You couldn't contain your giggles as your face was immediately assaulted by small pecks and kisses. His hanafuda earrings seemed to ring each time he moved his head, his long ponytail swaying alongside with the cool breeze. His crimson-eyes gleamed in adoration as he gazes into your own, an adorable grin affixed in his lips as he continued to lock you in his protective embrace.

Sakura petals flew all around, encasing your surroundings with a sense of peace and serenity. After years of struggle, you can finally wake up in the morning without the likelihood of a horrible and painful death looming over you, as your cruel and dark world was now behind you.

Those dark days were long over. Now that you had finally avenged your family and the numerous deaths Muzan Kibutsuji has inflicted upon humanity, you could finally spend the rest of your life in peace.

Now, you had finally found a place to call your home. With him, you had created a whole new world. A world that was overflowing with love and happiness. Now that he would always stay by your side, you won't have to be lost anymore.

Tanjiro lifts up a hand to softly caress your cheek, gazing at you with so much love and adoration. The corners of his mouth quirked up as he fluttered his eyes close and slowly leaned forward. Your expression softened, and you chuckled softly as you put your arms around his shoulders. Your eyelids close shut as you felt your chest swell up with so much emotion, as his lips finally captured yours into a love-filled kiss.

"You are the whole world to me, [ Y / N]."

( a/n: thank you, thank you, thank you so much for following “my world”! it means so much to me that some of you had taken a liking on this series :’D im sorry if there were mistakes and ooc-ness along the way;;;

thank you for reading, and stay safe! you all mean the whole world to me <3)

#tanjiro x reader #tanjirou x reader #tanjiro kamado x reader #tanjirou kamado x reader #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #demon slayer imagines #tanjiro kamado #tanjirou kamado #kamado tanjiro #kamado tanjirou #kny #kimetsu no yaiba tanjirou #reader insert #kimetsu no yaiba imagines

223 notes · View notes

wingsofkpop · 4 years

Text

Hiraeth - I.V: Rise of the Primes

pairing(s): Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre: Supernatual!AU, Dark Magic!AU, heavy Angst, eventual Smut

warnings: Mature language, mentions of death and murder, violence, blood and gore, very brief depiction of magical torture, mentions of child abuse and other traumatic experiences, etc.

word count: 8,1k

synopsis: How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?…

chapter directory

Mark remembers a time when he was much younger, much, much more naive, and completely oblivious to his magical roots.

And while he’s not usually one to look back into his past, nowadays, he can’t help but wonder about those clueless years where his sole care was passing dreaded calculus class and keeping his pot stash hidden from his mom. Sometimes Mark even misses those days—misses his mom.

Mark often wonders what would have happened if his mom wasn’t killed that night. He was only just beginning to learn the basics of witchcraft back then, barely able to keep his emotions in check without blasting a window to pieces. If his mom were still around, would he have done the stupid things he knew better than to do? Would he have sought for such ambitions he knew he could never achieve? Would he have been a better leader, witch, man…?

Yes. Mark knows that. He would be better.

It’s been years since Mark tried to talk to his mother, having given up trying to summon her spirit when he received a personal message from her telling him to stop—to let her go. Even so, he wishes that he can just have one minute. One short minute to see her face, to look into her eyes, and to ask her the same question that has been haunting his mind since he found her body in a pool of her own blood in their home:

‘What the fuck am I supposed to do now?’

As much as he plays the leader-card, and as much as he acts like he’s all-knowing—Mark has no clue what he’s doing. It’s as if he’s been inside a maze these past nine years, unable to find the right path that leads him to glory. Maybe if she was still here, holding his face in her wrinkled hands and speaking his name in her sweet voice, Mark would know what to do. He’d know how to get rid of the huntress and the witch without taking their lives. He’d know how to protect his people, and the rest of the town.

He’d know how to be better—to do better.

Mark shakes his mother’s face from his mind, attempting to focus on the passing scenery of the forest. He adjusts his grip on the steering wheel before reaching forward to turn his air conditioning on full blast, then adjusting his grip again.

It’s been months since he last traveled this way, yet all the sights are the same. The trees are the same trees. The shrubbery, the same shrubbery. Even the rocks haven’t changed save for a new crack or two. That thought actually spills anger through his veins. It’s as if the forest doesn’t realize something is missing—someone is missing.

‘And it’s your fault.’

Mark shakes the intrusive thought away, peering at his companion through the corner of his eye. Jinyoung, like Mark, is merely staring at their surroundings, dark eyes flitting around in every direction. Before everything happened, Mark would have never predicted that one of the Primes would be riding in his passenger’s seat with no care in the world. To be honest, he’s still having a hard time believing him and Jinyoung are on decent terms at all.

“My sisters and I used to play in these woods.” Mark is taken aback by the sudden, albeit casual comment from the vampire, nearly losing his footing on the gas pedal. He looks to the side once again, discovering Jinyoung’s gaze still fixated outside the window.

Mark clears his throat. “I… didn’t know you had siblings.”

“It was a long, long time ago.” Jinyoung shrugs, “Besides, we weren’t close anyway.”

“Why do you say that?”

His question is answered with silence, and when he turns to the passenger, Jinyoung’s expression is blank, almost cold. Mark decides not to press and focuses back on the road.

The cabin has not changed either, Mark notices as the structure comes into sight. A heaviness begins to settle within his chest as he parks in the gravel driveway, one that has his heart beating twice its normal speed and palms beginning to sweat. Trying not to dwell on it too much, Mark cuts out the engine and wipes his hands against his jeans. He’s prepared to exit the vehicle when a sudden realization enters his brain.

Mark turns to Jinyoung and sighs, “I think it might be best for you to stay in the car.”

“I was thinking the same thing.” Jinyoung agrees, granting the witch a rigid nod.

“Just don’t steal my truck, okay?”

“This piece of junk?” Jinyoung chortles, “It’s practically falling apart.”

“Don’t piss her off. She still has to get us home.” Mark finds his chest a little lighter as a result of their banter, something he would never admit aloud to the vampire. With a silent farewell, Mark shoves open his door and steps into the bright sunlight, cursing himself for forgetting his sunglasses back at the mausoleum.

The log cabin casts a drowning shadow over Mark as he makes his way toward the figure waiting on the steps that lead up to a redwood porch. Overgrown vines and moss seem to inhabit every available spot of the cabin, winding around wooden supports and spilling down each roof tile. If it hadn’t been for the catch of the sunlight, Mark wouldn’t have been able to notice one of the grimey windows on the second floor had been cracked.

“Long time no see, hyung.” Mark finds his chest tightening at the tired tone of the figure’s voice.

He paints what he hopes to be a smile across his lips and nods. “It’s nice to see you, Gyeom.”

Like the cabin, it has also been months since Mark has seen his younger friend. Yugyeom has always been a giant, towering over him and basically everyone else in town since he hit puberty, but if Mark didn’t know any better, he’d say the wolf had grown even more. His shoulders are broader, dark hair longer, hands calloused and slightly marred with the throes of hard work. He must still be working for the town’s lumber service.

Yet another something that hasn’t changed.

“How… How are things?”

Yugyeom shrugs. “You know how it is out here. Not much excitement.”

“Right.” The silence between them grows heavier and heavier with each passing second. Mark searches his brain for something to expel the awkwardness, but can’t seem to see past the guilt and suffocating self-loathing swirling through his gut.

He thanks the universe when Yugyeom breaks the quiet himself.

“I know you didn’t come just to check in, hyung.” His gut sinks at the younger’s painfully true observation. “What’s going on? And why can I smell a Prime in your passenger seat?”

“I don’t if you’ve heard, but Nayeon was killed last week.”

Yugyeom’s eyes soften. “I saw it on TV. I’m really sorry, hyung,”

“The people who killed her—a witch and supernatural huntress—they’re after the rest of the coven.” Mark ignores Yugyeom’s sympathy, fiddling with a loose thread inside the pocket of his jeans. “Jinyoung has been helping us track them down. He’s gonna help us fight but…”

“But you’re not sure if it will be enough.”

“I know I have no right to show up here and ask for your help, Gyeom.” With a gulp, Mark dares to step closer to the small staircase. Even as far as scaling the first two steps to move closer to his younger companion. Mark shakes his head, “But—I’m desperate. My people are in danger and… and I don’t want anyone else to die.”

Another moment of silence passes, save for the violent beating of Mark’s pulse. Yugyeom stares at Mark, his gaze a cross between pained and hopeful. Just when the latter feels like his lungs are going to explode, Yugyeom releases a helpless sigh and shakes his head.

“I want to help you, hyung. I really do… but I can’t risk anyone in the pack. Especially against a hunter.”

Mark’s heart drops to his stomach.

Yugyeom sends him a sad expression. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

“It’s okay. I get it.” Mark nods, taking a rather clumsy step backward off the porch steps. He manages to save himself from the embarrassment of collapsing into the gravel before offering Yugyeom a weak smile. “I… I would do the same thing. If it were my people.”

“Hyung—” Yugyeom moves to follow Mark, descending a single stair just as the front door swings open. The embers of Mark’s self-loathing grow to flames at the sight of various familiar faces crowded in the doorway, and he wishes nothing more than to cast a spell that makes him completely disappear.

“What’s going on?... Mark?” Chan emerges behind Yugyeom, his features a mixture of confusion and surprise. Another few bodies join the younger man, each set of eyes reopening a mess of old scars in Mark’s soul.

“Mark-oppa!” He barely has time to prepare when a smaller figure dashes down the staircase and collides with his body. His arms catch the figure’s waist before her form falls to the ground, supporting her weight against his own form.

He releases a heavy, yet silent breath. “Dahyun.”

“Where the hell have you been!?” Dahyun pulls from the embrace with a fierce, yet playful spark within her dark eyes. “It’s been months, Mark! Months!”

“I know… It’s just been kind of… weird lately.”

“We’ve missed you… I’ve missed you.”

He winces. “Yeah. Me too.”

“What the hell is he doing here?” Mark recognizes the familiar gritty tone, turning his eyes from Dahyun to a seething Changbin. The animosity in his glare deepens Mark’s wounds.

“Changbin. Don’t.”

“He has no fucking right to be here.” Changbin ignores Chan’s warning, narrowing his eyes to poisonous slits.

“Changbin! You asshole—”

“It’s okay. I was… just leaving.” Mark interrupts Dahyun’s scold, peeling himself away from her arm like a bloodied bandage. He spares a glance and a nod to a pained Yugyeom, “Thanks, Gyeom. I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Yeah.”

Dahyun reaches for Mark again. “But you just got here. You can’t just—”

“Dubu…” Dahyun turns at Yugyeom’s call, watching the sad shake of his head with glittering eyes. “Let him go…”

Mark’s heart practically cries out at the pure devastation written across the younger woman’s face as she helplessly drops her arms to her sides. He chooses not to linger on her expression, nor Chan’s, nor Yugyeom’s, and with a final nod of his head, makes a break back to his beat-up, rusted truck.

In mere seconds, Mark is driving away from the cabin—driving away from the pain. It’s not until the cabin is completely gone from his rear-view mirror is he able to inhale a full breath without his lungs screaming out.

“No one else is going to die.”

Jinyoung hadn’t said anything at his frantic entrance, nor that he hadn’t paused to throw on his seatbelt. In fact, Mark had almost forgotten the vampire was in the vehicle at all. He turns to find Jinyoung staring out the window, just as before. And if he hadn’t spoken again, Mark would have thought he imagined the voice himself.

Jinyoung turns, sending chills down Mark’s spine at the intensity of his gaze.

“You have my word.”

Mark can’t find it in himself to respond, stuck between unwanted memories and the nostalgia of uncured heartbreak. He instead swallows the bile at the back of his throat, carefully throws on his seatbelt, and turns up the radio.

The music does nothing to drown out the cruel thoughts raging through his mind.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

The scenery outside the car window passes by in verdant blurs, settling a slight wave of nausea in your gut. Not desiring to vomit up the Chinese you ate beforehand, you turn your attention to the young driver instead, meeting her starry-eyed gaze in the rearview mirror.

“How much longer?”

“The estate is just up this hill, miss.” The driver assures. “It should be no more than a couple minutes.”

You nod your thanks, peering out the window before remembering your sickness in the first place. With a silent sigh, you abandon the prospect of any sight at all and close your eyes, leaning into the comfort of the headrest. The slight pressure actually somewhat relieves the throb in the back of your brain. The headache that has been present ever since you stormed out on Mark and Jinyoung.

It’s been almost three days since you learned the truth about Moon Dye Bay and all its supernatural offerings. You’d think by now you’d be able to process the fact that your best friend is a witch, and the charming man that saved you from likely death is a vampire—one of the oldest vampires in existence at that. But alas, you’re still having a hard time believing any of this is possible. Even with all the evidence, and proof, and general rules of logic.

Then again, vampires and witches and werewolves and hunters and whatever other creatures aren’t exactly logical… considering they go against everything that is the basis of nature.

Anywho, neither Mark nor Jinyoung has even tried to reach out since that afternoon. In fact, Mark hasn’t returned any of your calls or texts. Though you’re not exactly surprised as both he and Jinyoung made it very clear of your position on the sidelines.

Too bad you’ve never been much of a player who likes to miss the action.

“We’ve arrived, miss.” Your eyelids snap open at the sound of the driver’s lilted voice, jaw almost dropping at the sight that awaits. You shimmy forward, greedily taking in the expanse outside the car window as the driver maneuvers the vehicle up the cobblestone-paved driveway.

If you had to use one word to describe The Project Estate, it would be massive. Completely fucking massive. With a single glance, you can only imagine how many acres of land make up the entire lot. The mansion itself is bigger than any building you’ve set foot inside, resembling that of a miniature castle without the turrets, walls and moat. You’re pretty sure it’s at least four times the size of your apartment building.

“Beautiful place, isn’t it?” The driver marvels, craning her own head over the steering wheel to take in the view. “The Project Brothers are crazy loaded to be able to afford anything like this… What do you think they do?”

Rob banks with their vampire super strength? Steal artifacts and masterpieces with their vampire super speed? Accumulate millions and millions of dollars in wealth after being alive for centuries?

You shrug. “They probably own real estate or something.”

Once the driver stops in front of what you hope to be the front door, you quickly bid her farewell with a generous tip and exit out onto the stone pathway. The purr of the engine grows fainter and fainter as the vehicle turns back the way you came in, leaving you stranded in the shadow of the towering mansion. You can only hope Jinyoung is home.

An old fashioned, golden door knocker rests on the door, fashioned into the shape of a growling lion. You ignore the goosebumps forming across the skin underneath your jacket and pick up the knocker. It’s heavy in your palm, striking the door with such powerful strikes, it must be impossible for anyone inside not to hear.

You visited the cemetery earlier, prepared to convince Mark of your resourceful and beneficial addition to whatever little team he’s gathering, but you only found an empty mausoleum, and an even emptier feeling inside your gut. So you figured you would pay Park Jinyoung a visit at his personal place of residence instead—the same residence him and his brother have resided since 1770.

Your mind races as you wait, thinking over the long speech you prepared to argue your competence and readiness. You don’t know how long it will take, but you do know that you are not leaving until Jinyoung accepts your help, or at the very least, acknowledges your newfound importance in the situation.

The killers are your roommate’s friends after all.

After what seems like minutes, but is probably only a couple seconds, the large, mahogany door swings open. Although, the face that appears in the doorway is not the one you were hoping to see.

A young woman appears behind the door, her babyish features practically exuding the forefronts of her age. She couldn’t be older than twenty, you find, at least, definitely not with a face like that. Her eyes are rather bleary when they meet your own, borderline crimson red. You wonder if she just woke up from a deep sleep after a long night of drinking…

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’m looking for Jinyoung?”

“Jinyoung is not home right now.” The woman’s voice is blank, monotone like your boss whenever he’s giving out a lecture. It deepens your concern. You’ve seen your fair share of hangovers between Jihyo and Sana’s party-animal habits, but never one that renders your body so… zombie-like.

“Do you know where he went? Or maybe when he’ll be home?”

The woman doesn’t blink. “No.”

“Okay, um…” You gnaw at your bottom lip, carefully thinking over the next plan of action. Due to the woman’s state, it’s pretty obvious you are not going to be able to get much out of her. Maybe you can try Youngjae’s cell, and eventually badger an answer out of him—

“What’s taking so long? Who’s at the door?” The woman steps aside to reveal a familiar face—one that sends gooseflesh budding across your skin.

Jaebeom’s eyes widen in surprise. “You…? What are you doing here…? ” His expression reminds you of your previous encounter outside the town hall, where he confirmed his and his brother’s vampiric nature. Beneath the surprise in his gaze, you can still make out what seems to be apprehension… almost fear.

“Is Jinyoung here? I need to talk to him.”

“He’s not here.” Jaebeom crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the doorway. “He went on some field trip with that Tuan kid. I have no clue where they went.”

“Well… do you at least know when he’ll be back?”

He narrows his eyes. “Why do you need to see my brother anyway?”

“I told you. I need to speak with him.”

“Are you sure he even wants to talk to you?”

The agitation spreading through your veins grows at Jaebeom’s obvious indifference. You swallow down the frustration before sparing a glance back toward the silent woman. She’s staring in your direction, but her eyes don’t seem to be looking at you. Instead, they seem to be looking through you.

“Is she… okay?” You ask softly, earning another wave of surprise from the Prime.

Jaebeom leans down to murmur something into the woman’s ear, before she turns on her heel and disappears back inside the house. It might have only been a trick of your mind, but hidden beneath the collar of her shirt may be a wound—a wound that looks strangely like a bite mark.

Your stomach violently turns as you’re reminded of the other night. Jaebeom was going to feed on you, possibly kill you… but he didn’t.

You murmur aloud before you can think, “Why?...”

“What?”

“Why did you stop?” Jaebeom’s face pales at your questions, indicating he knows exactly what you’re talking about. His throat visibly gulps before he uncrosses his arms and steadies himself back on his own feet.

“So you know…”

“Know you almost killed me?... Yeah. Kind of hard to forget something like that.”

Jaebeom shrugs. “You’d be surprised what people can forget under mind compulsion.”

“Mind compulsion?” Your eyebrows furrow as your head tilts in curiosity. “Don't tell me vampires can control minds?”

Jaebeom raises his eyebrows, his surrounding features contorting to a mixture of shock and amazement. His eyes shine, lingering over the planes of your face. As if you activated a switch, a sly smirk pulls across his lips. Perfectly complimenting the dangerous mischief swirling inside his dark brown irises.

“So you know what I am then…” Jaebeom chuckles. You don’t like the way his eyes seem to deviously flicker in the sunlight. “Your witch boyfriend must have you on vervain. That explains why my compulsion didn’t work.”

You ignore his mention of Mark. “Vervain? What’s that?”

“An herb. It’s poisonous to vampires.” He explains so casually. “It dulls our abilities, makes humans immune to compulsion, and burns like a fucking bitch.”

“How do you stand in the sun? Shouldn’t you erupt into flames or something?”

Jaebeom’s smirk seems to widen. “You ask a lot of questions, little dove. That can get you in trouble.”

“You won’t hurt me.”

“And what makes you think that?” In a flash, Jaebeom is standing right in front of you, his hands threateningly cradling the sides of your head. His eyes bleed pure sadism and malice as he speaks, “I could break your sweet, fragile neck right here, and no one would even know…”

Any other person would be scared to death. But you know better.

“If you wanted to kill me, you would have in the alley.” You shake your head, reaching up to grab his wrists and tug his hands from your face. Prowess spills into your chest as his gaze grows surprised once again.

You nod. “Now, since Jinyoung isn’t here and I really don’t want to pay another hundred dollars to haul my ass back to town, you’re gonna help me understand how this whole vampire thing works.”

“I’m going to… what now?”

“You heard me.” You step past Jaebeom and enter the mansion, following the same pathway the previous woman took. You’re barely able to hold back a gasp at the regal interior that greets your entrance. Swallowing your awe, you peer over your shoulder at a rather confused Im Jaebeom and hum delicately, “You don’t happen to drink coffee? Do you?”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“I finished the boundary spell, Mark-hyung. No one can get step foot into the cemetery without us knowing.” Jinyoung watches Jisung step outside of his ritual circle, crafted from salt and the burning essence of various herbs. From across the way, Mark provides the younger witch a nod of encouragement before turning to face the Choi duo.

“You stocked up on enough energy, Youngjae?”

Youngjae disentangles his hand from Lia’s grasp, his skin ceasing the magical glow Jinyoung has seen many times in siphoners long before anyone in this particular coven was born. The witch hums, “Yes, hyung. I should have plenty to last.”

“Don’t count on it.” Mark shakes his head, tossing another smoldering herb into the center of the salt boundary. “We have no idea what we’re up against. Everyone needs to keep on their toes, and stay together.”

“Have you… fought something like this before?...” It takes a whole moment of silence for Jinyoung to realize Jisung had directed the question at him. Peering at the youngest witch with his usual blank expression, Jinyoung inhales a deep breath, attempting to push away the whiplash of memories that rage through his head.

Jinyoung answers, “I have faced many hunters and witches… but never as a pair.”

“So you’ve fought dark witches?...”

The inquiry surprises Jinyoung, but for what reason—he doesn’t know.

“It is not the witches who are dark—it is the magic.” He finally sighs after a long period of silence. “Dark magic plagues the mind like a parasite, laying its eggs in the user’s morals and logicalities until it builds into an infestation, and completely takes over the witch’s sanity.”

Jisung’s face visibly pales. “Does it… kill the witch?”

“In more ways than one.” Jinyoung catches Mark’s eyes. Inside them is an emotion he knows too well—guilt.

“Don’t worry, Sung.” Lia sidles beside the youngest witch, weaving her fingers with his own to provide a comforting squeeze. “Everything’s gonna be fine… right, Mark?”

Everyone’s eyes immediately trail to the head witch, and though he doubts anyone else could see, Jinyoung notices the aura of fear and apprehension oozing from Mark’s tense body. He can only imagine how Mark feels—terrified for the lives and wellbeing of the people he calls his family… Jinyoung hasn’t felt that pain in centuries, but it’s impossible to forget.

Especially when it comes to those you love.

With eyes of pure, determined fire, Mark nods.

“We do this for Nayeon.” He gathers the witches close, reaching across to take Lia and Jisung’s joint limbs in one hand while the other goes for Youngjae. Something inside Jinyoung’s chest seizes at the heartwarming sight… A memory of both him and Jaebeom suddenly rushes into his thoughts where their hands are tightly clasped between their bodies. Where they stand as brother’s united against the world.

Where did those times go…?

“—For Nayeon!” Jinyoung returns just in time to see the group disband from their minimal embrace. Lia and Jisung head back toward the mausoleum, probably to fetch more supplies for the battle just waiting over the horizon, while the remaining two witches approach Jinyoung. Each with a sullen expression along their features.

Jinyoung clears his throat. “You’re certain they’ll attack tonight?”

“It’s a new moon. Mina’s power will be it’s strongest.” Mark says, providing Jinyoung a grim frown. “Which is why all of us need to be careful. Like I said, we have no clue what to expect.”

The corners of Jinyoung’s lips slightly turn. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were actually concerned for me.”

Mark shakes his head, completely ignoring Jinyoung’s attempt at humor before shifting his focus to Youngjae. “Anything from Minho?”

“No, hyung. But Jisung left him a message to tell him to stay far away from the cemetery tonight.”

Mark releases a heavy breath and drags a hand down his face. “That douchebag is gonna get himself killed, goddamn it…”

“They will be looking for the entire coven, not a lone witch.” Jinyoung assures, feeling the need to expel the head witch’s anxiety. “Minho will be safe. Wherever he is.”

Mark meets Jinyoung’s gaze. “I hope you’re right.”

“We should go over the plan of action again.” Abandoning the intensity of Mark’s stare, Jinyoung turns at Youngjae’s offer, discovering the siphoner to already be looking in his direction.

There’s a subtle waver in Youngjae’s tone as he asks, “You remember what you have to do?”

Jinyoung nods cooly. “Once you immobilize the witch, I go for the huntress.”

“And you’re sure you can take her by yourself?”

“I’ve encountered and destroyed dozens of supernatural hunters over the years.” Jinyoung replies to Youngjae, earning a silent, but visible eye roll from the other witch. He ignores Mark’s annoyance, nodding again at the younger siphoner. “I’m strong enough.”

Jinyoung only hopes that will be true.

“Good.” Youngjae turns to Mark. “Once Mina steps foot onto our grounds, the spell will immediately take effect… She’ll be in pain. Immense, torturous pain.”

Jinyoung notices how Mark’s shoulders shiver at the description.

He gulps. “This will work. It has to.”

“It will.” Jinyoung offers again, placing a gentle hand against Mark’s elbow. The latter grows surprised for a moment, before a weak upturn of his lips signifies his gratitude.

Jinyoung immediately pulls away from Mark as a loud shriek erupts through the graveyard. The first to wake out of the alarmed stupor is Mark, who immediately shifts on his heel and dashes for the entrance of the cemetery, where the noise had previously erupted. Youngjae runs after him, followed closely behind by Jinyoung.

“Mark-hyung! Wait, don’t—”

“There’s someone here! Get Lia and Jisung out here!” Jinyoung provides Youngjae a nod, assuring the witch to follow his leader’s demand. The siphoner makes a break for the mausoleum while Jinyoung scales the rest of the distance toward the head witch, who’s standing mere feet from the iron gate that acts as the only access point into Eclipse Cemetery—where a shadowy figure is helplessly squirming on the graveled-earth.

Jinyoung grabs Mark’s wrist before he can lunge at the figure, frantically shaking his head. “Are you trying to get yourself killed!?”

“That son of a bitch murdered my friend—” Mark hisses, wrenching his limb away from Jinyoung’s grasp and pushing his body away with a hefty shove. “You don’t want to test the reliability of my self-control right now… so I suggest you back off and do your own damn job!”

“Wait for the others, at least!” Jinyoung urges, “Be smart about this, Mark! Trust me—!”

“Don’t tell me what to fucking—”

“Mark-hyung!” Surprise mirrors itself along both Jinyoung and Mark’s features. The head witch quickly leaves Jinyoung to kneel beside the figure hidden beneath the darkness of the moonless night. Jinyoung hurries to Mark’s side, his eyes widening to saucers at the familiar features he can barely make out in the obscurity.

Mark gapes. “Minho…?”

“Wh-What is—ha!.. Hap-happening?...” Minho manages to spill through gritted teeth with much struggle. Jinyoung recognizes the writhing and twitching of his limbs, as well as the wild nature of his gaze—Youngjae wasn’t lying about the pain.

“Shit, Minho—” Mark hurriedly mutters a counter-incantation beneath his breath, pulling the younger witch to lean against his chest. Even with the spell lifted, Minho continues to spasm and moan at the phantom waves that send pain through his form.

Mark shakes his head. “What in the actual hell are you doing here!?”

“What… What the fuck are you talking about?” Minho gasps, clutching onto the sleeves of Mark’s shirt as another wave passes through his veins. “You… called me, asshole!”

“What the fu—? I never called you! Jisung told you to stay home!”

“I-I… talked to you earlier.” Minho inhales something close to a wheeze before lightly poking Mark’s chest. “You told me to… to come to the ‘maus’ at mid-midnight…”

Jinyoung feels his blood run cold, but his tone is even colder:

“They knew it was a trap…”

Mark’s eyes are wild with desperation and fright as he meets Jinyoung’s gaze. “The others—” A loud, high-pitched wail cuts off Mark’s speech. Neither him nor Jinyoung waste any time and make a mad dash for the mausoleum, Jinyoung’s heart racing in his throat. The first thing he notices is the door of the structure—wide open and practically torn off its hinges.

“Youngjae! Lia! Jisung!” Mark screams, sprinting inside the mausoleum with no hesitation. Jinyoung pauses in the doorway, watching as the head witch frantically surveys the place, only to find it completely empty save for himself. Tears are glistening in his eyes as he shakes his head, “Where the fuck are they!? Oh my fucking god—”

“If the boundary spell caught Minho, then they could have gotten in anywhere!” Jinyoung steps aside just in time for Mark to race outside again. “We need to be careful! Especially if they have—!”

“Mark-hyung!” Youngjae’s call carries through the nightly breeze, brewing even more uncontrolled fear in Jinyoung’s chest.

“Youngjae!” Jinyoung can barely keep up with Mark’s frantic pace as he tears deeper into the graveyard, skipping over headstones and rounding tall statues with the skill of a professional athlete. He somehow manages to keep up. Just in arms reach of the head witch.

“Youngjae!? Youngjae!?” Mark sobs, pausing to peer through the continuous hills of graves and monuments for the forgotten. “Jisung!? Lia!? Where are you!?”

Through the very corner of his eye, Jinyoung notices a speck of movement emerge from behind a nearby tree. Time seems to slow as he focuses closer on that tree, immediately noticing a human-like shadow holding something between stoic hands—holding a loaded crossbow pointed directly at Mark.

Using every bout of vampiric strength in his possession, Jinyoung sprints toward the head witch just as the bolt leaves the barrel of the crossbow.

“Mark! Get down!”

“Jinyoung—!?”

Jinyoung can hear nothing but screams and the ringing of his own ears as he shields Mark’s body with his own. Somewhere deep inside, as the crossbow bolt pierces his flesh, he can hear something that fills his soul with immense warmth…

It’s your voice—telling him to go to hell, as he immediately succumbs to a violent wave of darkness.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“So you’re… a werewolf and a vampire?” Jaebeom watches your eyebrows raise to the heavens over the rim of his glass, swallowing the sweeter-than-sweet liquid before licking the remnants from his lips. He can’t remember the last time he sat down and had a cup of coffee, much less drank something that wasn’t straight from the vein.

To be honest, he’d much rather be feeding from the blonde woman waiting in his bedroom. But something about being with you is too addicting to pass up… and that scares him.

You shake your head. “Isn’t that like… ironic? Considering vampires and werewolves are sworn enemies?”

An amused chuckle spills from his lips as you fumble with your own teacup, barely managing to save its matching saucer before it clatters to the floor. Your annoyed glare pulls more laughter out of him, and it takes a good portion of his self-control not to smile.

After taking another sip of his coffee, Jaebeom shrugs. “I was born a werewolf, and it carried over when Jinyoung and I became vampires.”

“How did that happen anyway?” You lean back in your seat, crossing your legs at the ankle with a tilt of your head. “I mean, did you and Jinyoung choose to become…what you are?”

“Yes and no,” He hums.

“So you chose to become monsters?”

“You consider my brother and I monsters…?”

Jaebeom doesn’t like the serious expression that pulls across your features. “I know you’ve killed a lot of people… and have done some pretty fucked up things.”

“A millennium is a long time to be alive, little dove.” Your obvious distaste at the nickname fills his chest with comedic pleasure. He smirks, “You get a little bored after a while.”

“Normal people read books when they’re bored, or find a new hobby.”

“Killing isn’t a hobby then…?”

Your response is a look of pure disgust.

Jaebeom howls in laughter before inhaling the remainder of his coffee in one gulp. He heaves a sigh, peering out the large, stained-glass window. Partly to recollect his thoughts. Partly to allow the obvious tension to dissipate between his and your forms.

Now inside his own head, Jaebeom wonders whether or not he should have said such a barbaric statement in the first place. If it were anyone else, Jaebeom would care less about protecting his image—but it’s you. And something inside him warns him to be careful around you… Very, very careful.

“Jinyoung and I were children when we found each other.” Jaebeom sighs, feeling the weight of your surprised gaze on the side of his face. “After my own caregivers abandoned me, he convinced his parents to take me in… It wasn’t until I lived inside their home did I realize how cruel they were.”

“Cruel…?”

“Jinyoung was a bastard child.” He explains, “His mother had an affair with a village merchant. After his father found out, he murdered his wife’s lover and made Jinyoung’s life a living hell.”

Jaebeom rises from his armchair and grabs his empty cup before heading for the liquor tray in front of the same window he was previously staring out. While pouring himself a drink, Jaebeom makes sure to raise his voice so you can still hear:

“For years, I watched that asshole beat the shit out of Jinyoung while his mother and sisters sat back and didn’t do a goddamn thing.” He downs the brandy in one sweet gulp before selecting a stronger bottle of scotch. Not bothering with his cup, Jaebeom unscrews the cap and takes a long, drawn-out swig from the container. Fire erupts through his belly, sending the beginning of a pleasurable buzz through his veins.

“One day I got fed up with it all, and when the fucker tried to lash Jinyoung for refusing to shoot a fawn, I took that belt right out of his hands, wrapped it around his neck, and squeezed and squeezed until the light left his eyes…”

Through the corner of his eye, Jaebeom notices how your body grows tense at his confession.

He whirls around to meet your gaze, pushing away the pestering emotions without so much as a blink before continuing, “We were banished by his family and the other villagers, but we didn’t care—we had each other, and we needed no one else.

“We encountered a witch one day, as we were walking through the forest.” Jaebeom says after another sip, “She told us she could give us a gift like no other: Eternal life. We only had to take part in a ritual, and death would never come for us.”

You shake your head. “Why? Why would you want to live forever?”

“If you were given the chance to be invincible against everything, even time, wouldn’t a small part of you be somewhat interested?”

He allows you a moment to ponder his question. After maybe a minute or so, you release a silent huff and gesture for him to continue.

“The witch tricked us though, and in trade for immortality, we were forced to sacrifice our humanity.”

Your eyes widen. “So you didn’t… choose to become vampires?”

“No.” Jaebeom sets down his bottle with one hand while carding his fingers through his hair with the other. “Anyway, Jinyoung and I spent decades learning how to manage our newfound abilities, and even longer on how to handle the lifestyle.”

“If you and Jinyoung were the first—the Prime Two—did you create more vampires?”

He chuckles with a sigh, “Yes. Though it was by accident how we found out.

“Fledgling vampires branched off from our bloodline are different. They’re not as fast, nor as strong, nor as powerful as us.” Jaebeom explains, “Jinyoung and I can compel humans and other vampires, but vampires can only compel humans.”

“Are fledglings immortal too?”

“To some extent.” Crossing back across the room, Jaebeom lowers into the armchair beside your own. Now close enough to see the curious spark of wonder in your irises. “It is possible for a fledgling to live forever, but unlike Jinyoung and I, fledglings can be killed with a wooden stake through the heart.”

“Nice to know that much is true.” Jaebeom relishes the borderline amused chuckle that leaves your lips, playing the odd elation off as the effects of the alcohol. “Is it also true that a bite from a vampire turns you into a vampire?”

He snorts, “Let me guess… Got that from Twilight?

“Just answer the question.”

“The only way to become a vampire is if you die with vampire blood in your system.” He hums, “After you die, you’ll wake up in transition, and will need to drink human blood to complete the transformation.”

“And if you choose not to complete it?”

“Then you die for real.”

You shift at his answer, finding interest in the chipped edge of your cup. Jaebeom wonders whether he should change the topic of interest, but before he can think up some possible options, you steer the conversation yourself:

“You never told me why.”

His eyebrows raise in confusion. “What?”

“Why you left me in that alleyway.”

For the first time, Jaebeom feels vulnerable underneath the scrutiny of your eyes. He fidgets uncomfortably, and like you, searches the room for another object to hold his attention. However, whether it’s because of the whiskey, or something else, his gaze returns to and remains rooted on your own.

What is it about you? The thought spirals through his thoughts like a 2-seater plane with broken wings. Maybe he should have listened to Jinyoung, and stayed away from you in the first place. Because whatever game you’re playing, whatever spell you have him under… it’s messing with his head.

And he doesn’t like to be fucked around with.

Finally, after what seems like hours, Jaebeom shakes his head. “I don’t kn—”

A sudden crash emerges from the foyer, effectively interrupting his explanation. Jaebeom leaps from his seat and speeds in front of where you’re sitting, shielding your form from the entryway where the noise sounded. His protective stance vanishes, however, at the figure that appears in the doorway.

Jaebeom tsks. “Oh. Look who finally decided to show up.”

“Jinyoung…?” Jaebeom steps aside to allow you to step forward, rolling his eyes in annoyance. He moves to fetch himself another drink when your exclaim stops him, “Holy shit! What the hell happened to you!?”

Upon taking care to really look at his brother, Jaebeom understands the reason for your concern. Jinyoung’s usual clean-cut and formal appearance is nonexistent. From head to toe, he’s covered in dirt, and his dark hair is far past disheveled. His clothes are badly torn and wrinkled, and practically soaked in fresh blood. Jaebeom quickly realizes the blood does belong to Jinyoung, noticing the large, thick bolt protruding from his chest.

Jinyoung winces, “It’s a long story… but if you don’t mind, I’d like to sit down first.”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

The gleam of the awakening sun rising over the horizon sears Yugyeom’s eyes, but he keeps his gaze fixated on the entryway of the cemetery. No matter how much the newfound sunlight burns his eyes, he continues to watch the shadows of the night disperse in fear of the approaching morning. He knows pain all too well.

“Gyeom?”

Yugyeom greets Chan silently, with a curt nod. His stare remains frozen on the gate.

Chan sidles up beside him until they are shoulder to shoulder. His own gaze glances at Yugyeom’s point of interest for a moment before he turns to look at his companion in the early morning glow. Through his peripheral vision, Yugyeom can spot Chan’s grim expression.

“How’s the coven?” Yugyeom asks after a long bout of silence.

Chan shrugs, “Minho, Jisung and Lia were all sleeping when I left. And Youngjae, he’s…” When his voice trails off, Yugyeom doesn’t urge Chan to finish his sentence. He knows exactly how Youngjae is right now.

Terrified.

“What should we do with the body?”

Yugyeom barely blinks. “Probably best to burn it. Can’t leave anything up to chance.”

Chan hums in agreement, seemingly ready to return to the mausoleum, but to Yugyeom’s surprise, Chan remains in place. Another long, tense round of silence carries between them, filling Yugyeom’s head with even more heart wrenching memories. After another mind-spiralling hurricane or two, Chan breaks the silence again:

“We made the right decision. If we got here any later, that huntress would have killed everyone.”

Yugyeom shakes his head, “The huntress was working with a witch, and we only found the one… We should have gotten here sooner.”

“Youngjae thinks the huntress was working alone tonight.” Chan says, lifting his palm to shield his eyes from the blinding sunrise. “There were no traces of unfamiliar magic… nor did we catch anyone else’s scent in the cemetery.”

“Then where is the witch?” Yugyeom moves his attention away from the graveyard entrance, and with aching eyes, turns to meet his Alpha’s downcast gaze, “And more importantly, where the hell is Mark-hyung…?”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ �� ☾

You hold back a wince as Jaebeom literally tears the bolt from Jinyoung’s chest, earning a pained grunt from said victim. Dark blood splatters from the now open wound, painting across Jaebeom’s skin and adding even more stains to Jinyoung’s unsalvageable shirt. Disgust fills your gut as Jaebeom offers Jinyoung what seems to be a glass of blood—probably from that blonde woman you encountered at the door.

Jinyoung shakes his head and pushes the drink away. “No. I’m alright.”

“You would have healed by now if you were.” Jaebeom tries again, “Just take a sip.”

“No.”

“Suit yourself.” Your eyes widen in both surprise and revulsion, watching Jaebeom knock back the glass and down the blood in one large gulp. Fighting back a wave of nausea, you carefully approach the wounded vampire, holding forth a clean towel.

Jinyoung takes the garment and sends a grateful smile in return. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

You nod, “Sure.”

Jinyoung presses the bunched fabric to his gaping wound, hissing through gritted teeth at the sudden pressure. You wonder whether or not you should grab the emergency Tylenol from your bag… Does pain medication even work on vampires? Aren’t they technically dead?

“We were ambushed at the cemetery.” Jinyoung explains, pulling you from your foolish thoughts. “After the huntress shot me, I must have hit my head and knocked myself out.”

“Sounds like a pretty unfortunate story.”

Jinyoung chuckles at your joke before continuing, “When I came to, the wolf pack had killed her and Mark was gone.”

Panic immediately spreads through your veins like flames to dry wood. “Mark? What do you mean he’s gone?”

“I’m not sure. We searched the entire graveyard, but there was no sign of him.”

You open your mouth to inquire further, but Jaebeom’s loud exhale cuts you off. Both you and Jinyoung turn to peer at the hybrid, finding him staring out the large window while drumming his fingertips against the red- and blue-stained glass. After a quiet moment filled with the rhythm of his fingers and Jinyoung’s marred breathing, Jaebeom peers over his shoulder—his eyes glaring daggers straight at his brother.

Jinyoung shakes his head. “Hyung—”

“I told you not to get involved with Tuan.” The dark, bitter tone that leaves Jaebeom’s lips sends a harsh shiver down your spine, more so since the comment included mention of your best friend.

“And I told you I’m taking care of it.”

“Can you not just do what you’re fucking told just once? Just one goddamn time—?”

To both your and Jaebeom’s surprise, Jinyoung suddenly leans forward in his seat and retches violently. You rush forward, splaying your hands across his back while asking about his condition. Your response is another retching noise, and in just the nick of time, you manage to step out of the way before Jinyoung vomits red across the carpet.

“Fucking god, Jinyoung! What the hell is wrong with him!?” You call out to Jaebeom, squeezing Jinyoung’s shoulders as he heaves again. After another gag or two, you help Jinyoung to lean back into the armchair, wiping the bloody remnants from his lip with a towelette. Your knuckles brush the arch of his cheekbone—his skin is hot to the touch.

“He’s burning up! What do we do!?”

“It’s… werewolf venom.” Jinyoung gasps, weakly pulling your wrist away from his face.

You shake your head, “W-Werewolf venom?”

“A werewolf’s bite is deadly to vampires.” Jaebeom explains, barely batting an eyelash as Jinyoung lurches forward with another gag.

“But he wasn’t bitten? How the hell—?”

“The crossbow bolts must have been poisoned.” Your anxiety skyrockets, worriedly staring as Jinyoung begins to choke on his own blood. Jaebeom glances outside the window again, murmuring, “He won’t die… The effects will pass in a day or so.”

“But can’t you heal him!?” You jump to your feet, narrowly avoiding a puddle of dark blood before dashing over to Jaebeom. Your fingers desperately latch onto the lapels of his leather jackets, tugging him down to meet your eyes. “You’re a hybrid, so your blood should technically flush the venom out of his system? Right?”

Jaebeom’s lips twitch. “You’re smart, little dove. I’ll give you that.”

“So you’ll heal him?”

You wait in utter agony as the hybrid considers your request, staring blankly at the features of your face. You can only imagine how much you resemble a crazed, mad woman, but you can care less. Right now, your sole focus is on Jinyoung and ending whatever horrible fate awaits. Jaebeom wouldn’t let his best friend—the man he calls his brother—suffer in absolute anguish…

Not when he killed Jinyoung’s own father to protect him.

After a miserable moment of silence, Jaebeom releases a heavy exhale through his nose before meeting your gaze. The bubble of hope expands inside your chest when the hybrid offers a weak smile, lifting a hand to brush a stray hair from your forehead. You shiver as that same hand lightly grasps your chin, guiding your face closer until you can taste the alcohol on Jaebeom’s breath.

All in a matter of seconds, that bubble of hope pops at Jaebeom’s curt answer:

“No.”

You watch in horror as Jaebeom releases your chin, turns on his heel, and leaves you by your lonesome with a wounded Jinyoung, and even more wounded soul.

59 notes · View notes

docholligay · 4 years

Text

DEFINITELY AU TO MY UNIVERSE

This is based on the idea @rhiorhino came up with in her ask of having Pharah and Tracer live together after something happens to Emily and Mercy. I worked on this A LOT A LOT, so I hope you enjoy! its not at all perfect but I think it’s good! 3,300 words.

Tracer and Pharah had been opposites from the first day they had met, and while they had grown warm to each other, they certainly had not grown any more like each other. Tracer was impulsive and quick, going in with her whole self, a tiny firework of a human being, exploding and lighting the entire sky in one moment. Pharah was thoughtful and measured, tracing out the steps in her mind, a clear line from one to the other, carefully lighting each corner like a candle.

So it made a certain amount of sense that when Emily MacNair, who would have been Oxton, was murdered, Tracer immediately and quickly lost her mind. Emily had not even been laid to rest when Tracer skipped the country in pursuit of her murderer, and anyone who got in the way discovered that Tracer was sunshine, and the sun is more than capable of killing without mercy. They said she beat Widowmaker to death with the butt of her rifle. Tracer would only say that probably did happen, but truthfully she didn’t remember a thing. It was hard to argue against that point, when she returned to London and descended into what a physician had called “brief reactive psychosis.” It was difficult to charge her for the death of someone wanted dead or alive by several countries, in any case. Born under a lucky star.

It was four months after that, with Tracer finally more or less in touch with reality and functional, that Overwatch continued its disastrous year.

Perhaps it had been that there was no one to blame, no villain to pursue, that it was just one terrible moment. An accident. There had been the terrible accident, and Pharah had held Mercy, and Mercy had died, and that was all there was to it. Who could she hate? And so, perhaps it was these things, but perhaps it was that different quality to Pharah herself, that she did not explode into loud and keening grief.

She buried her wife, exactly according to her religious wishes, and calmly laid a hand on her coffin before it was laid into the grave. She went back home, and cleaned and folded and scrubbed the floor, lined up the shoes at the front door in a neat line, and went to bed. She went to work, and redid the filing cabinet, and wrote a detailed schedule on the board, and shined her shoes. She carefully settled Mercy’s affairs, and mostly remembered not to bring up a cup of coffee in the morning. And, repeat. Fareeha Amari was doing very well, by most standards.

Even Tracer, in that first month, as people told her how unwavering Pharah had been in all this, had grumbled “Right, because Fareeha’s bloody fucking perfect and don’t I know it.”

People had mostly stopped asking questions with concerned faces, three months later. Anyone looking at her would have seen how stable and steady she was.

“Bit worried about Fareeha.” Tracer had said, leaning against Winston as they watched TV in his living room.

Tracer had given up on living alone, sold her house to her cousin, and decided, simply, that she was going to live with Winston for the rest of her life. It was more than big enough for three, if it came to it, hope never leaving her even as she grieved, and it made the most sense to have herself there. She loved Winston, and he loved her, and Tracer was a bit frightened of her own recently-discovered fragility. He’d welcomed her happily.

“Did she say something?” He snuggled her in a little closer.

“No, and that’s part of it,” She sat up, gazing over the top of the TV back into her own mind, “she hasn’t snapped at me, or teased at me, in months. I spent all morning doing things I know drive her absolutely mad. It’s like she’s not even there, Win.”

Winston shifted uncomfortably. “She knows you’re--well--she’s trying to--”

Tracer sighed aggressively. “Win, it’s been months now. Not even on medication now, Doc’s really quite happy with me, and no one sniping at me did it in the first place. Don’t treat me like--”

“I’m sorry,” he touched her back softly, “I’m just,” he gave a sheepish laugh, “Myself, all the time.”

Tracer shook her head. “She comes in, same time every day, she puts away her papers, she cleans something, always, she tidies up my desk, as well, without a word, ‘ardly. She does her work, ‘as a three pound meal deal for lunch, same time every day,, works out, and I ‘appen to know she goes to the Tesco every night, same time every day, gets a ready meal, goes ‘ome, cleans and organizes something, again, eats it, and goes to bed.”

“Lena, how do you know that?”

She tossed her hands in the air. “I followed ‘er, obviously! Multiple times!”

“We have to get you a constructive hobby.”

“And she didn’t even notice I was bloody fucking following her. Fareeha.” Tracer gave a little frown and flopped back against Winston. ‘She’s ‘orribly depressed, Win. I know it.” she closed her eyes,

“I don’t want ‘er to live this way. Or not live, right? Or worse, I don’t want to wake up one morning and find,” her eyes popped back open, gesturing wildly, “Commander Fareeha Amari, precise and disciplined in every way, ‘as done a very precise and disciplined job of offing ‘erself.”

“You don’t think--”

“I do think!” She jumped back up again, a creature in constant emotion. “She’s so bloody logical, to the point of being stupid, and she’ll, “ Tracer drew her hand widely across the air, slipping into a terrible Egyptian accent, “find it most reasonable that I will never find happiness again, and my lack of passion makes me a liability, and so, I will make sure not to leave a mess.” She snapped her fingers and jumped toward Winston, eyes locked. “That COULD happen, Win, I can bloody well see it in me mind’s eye!”

“Lena--”

“Know what she bought at Tesco, Win? Bangers and mash, a ready meal from Tesco for one. Of bangers and mash.”

Winston put his hand on her back, and drew her into his shoulder. He said nothing. What was there to say? Tracer was right, of course, and he felt terrible not having noticed. But Pharah was so good at being stoic, at keeping herself straight, at convincing the world that she had always simply been this way, and he had forgotten how her speech had lost some of its formality, how she had laughed easier, how she had teased. How she had been happy.

It was easy to ignore Pharah’s coping, because it was not drinking too much, or getting into fights, or hallucinating, but her absolute sense of control and order that guided her through difficulty.

“Also, she isn’t eating enough,” Tracer shook her head, “She’s lost ‘alf stone, at least. Maybe more like a stone, really.”

“What should we do?” He said softly.

“Well,” she rocked back to sit on her heels, running a hand through her hair, “We ‘ave to ‘ave her come live ‘ere, with us. Break her out of it all, right?” She grinned. “Bunch of the sadsack bachelor types, that’s us. We can ‘elp ‘er, Win, I know we can.”

Winston had no idea how Tracer was going to get Pharah to agree to this. He wasn’t sure if she knew how she was going to. But Tracer believed she would, and she could, and that it itself made him believe.

____

It wasn’t nearly so hard as Tracer had thought it was going to be. It took only two weeks of wheedling and begging and claiming that she and Win couldn’t possibly afford the place without her, being everything that had happened. It would be a proper favor to them, if Pharah would come and live with them. Besides, wasn’t Pharah so good at all the things she wasn’t? She’d be so much more help to running the house than Tracer was, after all.

Pharah was scrubbing the office floor, as she did every single Thursday, when she finally broke. A person could only avoid Tracer’s attempts at something she truly wanted for so long.

“If you and Winston need money, I will give you money.” She did not look up at Tracer. Back and forth across the boards. Check carefully for a scratch the needs filling. RInse the brush. Repeat. “I have little need for extra income.”

Tracer sighed heavily. She kept trying to give Pharah a graceful way to accept, and Pharah kept throwing it back in her face. It was aggravating to keep inventing new disasters for her and Winston to be having, particularly given that they were doing quite well, all told.

She thought of the solution, and hated it just as quickly. Tracer had worked hard. The odds of any sort of relapse were exceedingly rare. She had just now gotten to the point where it seemed like people weren’t whispering about it behind her back at the greengrocers, that her reputation was beginning to shine up near to normal again. Life was full of bloody fucking sacrifice, wasn’t it?

She knelt in front of Pharah. “Fareeha.”

“What?” Rinse out the brush.

“Win’s taken care of me, so much, over and over and--” It stuck in her throat, and she hated every inch of it, “I worry I might be too much for ‘im, if it ‘appens again, and ‘e’ll try to do it ‘imself, all over again. You know how Win is, about these things, and I thought, if you were there, you could reason with ‘im. Day by day. Might be best to send me off, but ‘e won’t, but, you know ‘e trusts your judgment.”

Pharah looked up at Tracer. “I doubt I could convince Winston of this.”

Tracer’s fists balled at her side. Pharah had always said Tracer had a way of working a person’s last nerve, but she wasn’t giving herself enough credit.

“But,” Pharah continued, putting the brush in the bucket, “he is also unlikely to see an early sign. I would notice.”

Tracer smiled and nodded.

Sure you would, Fareeha, as my general early signs are jot off to Paris and kill someone, which I think Win might also pick up on, but all right.

She sighed. “I will rent the apartment, until you feel secure. I will also pay rent at Winston’s, to assist.”

On some other day, Tracer might have tried to tell Pharah that she could always buy another apartment, and it might be better for her to do that. But it was enough to know that Pharah would move out her things, even if every single box of Mercy’s scattered notes was going to the wide expanse of leftover warehouse they used as a storage unit in the back of Winston’s place. She had Emily’s things there as well, and was only beginning to realize she needed to begin to sort through them, so what could she possibly say?

“Thank you.” was what she chose.

_____

A new living arrangement is always difficult, even without the added difficulty of a person not realizing the are going through a certain amount of emotional trauma. Pharah had been living with she and Winston for six weeks now, and while they had managed to put her weight back on, and she had even managed a smile or two, Pharah still lived her life within the lines of her planner with rigidity and focus. She never looked up.

She never spoke Angela’s name.

Tracer began to spend the night in Pharah’s room, chatting to her about her day, asking questions that would almost certainly go unanswered. She had liked it, when she was struggling, and people had talked to her. Parvati had once recounted an entire night at the pub as a one woman play, and Tracer had managed to laugh, and so she knew there was some medicine in it. Whatever Pharah might think.

So Tracer threw herself against Pharah’s brick wall, and she fell down, and she got up again.

Until a Friday night on the sixth week. It was Shabbat, and Pharah had remembered it was Shabbat, because someone had greeted someone else in the grocery store as she got her three pound lunch. Tracer had noticed her quiet sternness, even more pronounced than usual, as they went through the store together, as they stopped for flowers, as someone had asked Tracer if she was planning to pop by the pub this week.

Pharah said nothing, but Tracer was undeterred.

“I do not entirely understand why you are in my room.” Pharah turned onto her side and shut her eyes. “Again.”

“I slept with me dad for something like two years after Mum died,” she scoffed and shook her head, “I know that sounds all sort of funny, least, the looks people ‘ave given me make me think so.

But it wasn’t--just ‘aving each other, right there, as we were scared to lose each other, and--and well, it felt a bit lonely, and a bit cold. ‘Ard to explain, but there was something very comforting in it.”

She laughed a little, chewing at the end of her nail. “Truth is, I only needed for so long, but somehow I knew ‘e needed it longer. To ‘ave me at ‘and, right? To know I’s safe? So I stayed there, a while longer.”

Tracer looked over to Pharah, whose back remained turned to her, silent and still in the dim glow of moonlight, outlining her shoulder like a headstone.

“We did mend, Dad and me.” Tracer shifted under her blanket. “Took time, but we did mend.”

Pharah lay staring at the wall, jaw set in a hard line, arm tucked firmly under the single pillow she used. She said nothing. There was nothing to say, just more of Tracer’s rambling in the darkness.

“There’s nothing in you that’s broken, Fareeha,” she said it with such confidence that for a moment, Pharah nearly believed it to be true, “rather, not forever. I know because there’s nothing that can be mended in me. There’ll be scars, of course, but,” she giggle and shrugged at the ceiling, “Isn’t as if you and don’t ‘ave plenty as it stands.”

“You do not understand.” Pharah’s voice came like a command in the night.

Tracer swallowed hard as the anger built up in her. Pharah was hurting and Pharah had a hard time with things, and Pharah did not mean to make it sound like the way she’d loved Emily wasn’t as strong, and she was going to pop Fareeha Amari in the face right FUCKING now.

And she sat up to do it.

But before she could, Pharah pushed herself up to her side. “You, maybe, will mend. You do not understand,” she turned to face Tracer, taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out, steam rising from a kettle, “because you are the sort of person people love. They remember you, they--they cherish seeing you, you make them laugh. You are the sort of person who has romances, a woman talks about you at brunch with her friends, and everyone says,” she began a very poor imitation of the East End, “well isn’t that Lena so very cheerful and what, right?”

There is--” They were nearly nose to nose to now, but Pharah had the floor, and Tracer sat quietly even as her brown eyes glowed with fire. “There is nothing of that, for me. That is for people like you!” She slapped the bed in frustration. “And you will never, ever understand me, because you are some...Turkish rug, or a carved chair, and people notice you in a room, and they love you! Plenty want you in their homes.”

Tracer moved to say something, but found the anger had left her, and she was filled instead with a deep and unyielding sorrow for all they had both lost, and all Pharah had learned she could lose. Tears slipped down her face, only to find Pharah’s had matched them.

Pharah tapped her chest.”I am--a broom. A filing cabinet. I am useful, and needed, and diligent. I am necessary, and valued. But I am not loved. Except by her.”

They sat in the terrible London quiet, the one that shouldn’t be real but had made itself known in the long, cold, sharp blades of that night. Both them looked down at the small expanse of cotton between them.

“I love you. Course I do.” Lena’s voice was soft, but it did not waver. Then, quick firework that she was, her head popped up and she grinned, “Fuck’s sake Fareeha, why do you think I lay in here next to you every night and tell you stories, me own ‘ealth?”

It was her sunshine, always her sunshine, that broke the darkness, and even Pharah had to offer a weak huff of what had to pass for laughter now.

“I’m scared, as well. I miss Em every single day. I wonder what might become of me, sounds a bit dramatic, but that’s how I think of it.” She rested a hand on Pharah’s knee, “You ain’t the only one with plenty to take on. We’re soldiers, right? It’s ‘ard. And me ‘aving me,” she touched the place where her CA rested, “and Ang, well, she did know me best, ‘ard to say if this friend of ‘ers will ‘ave a mind for it. Just--a bit of an ask, innit? For me, as well.”

Pharah put her hand on Tracer’s. “You will find love again. It is very hard to know you, and not love you a little.”

“Fareeha,” she waggled her eyebrows, “is this you proposing? Flattered I am, but--”

In one smooth movement, Pharah swept up the pillow and batted Tracer in the face with it. She fell to the mattress in a flurry of bubbling laughter, and Pharah was forced into a smile.

“Well,” Tracer’s voice was peppy as she folded her hands and grinned up at Pharah, “I think, that when you’re ready, there’ll be someone wonderful, you know Fareeha there are women who go just mad for closet organizational systems and all that, proper filing, I don’t think you’re ‘ard to match at all, and besides all that, Ang was never any of that, but she saw, well she saw what I see, in you.”

Pharah shook her head a moment, and waved it off almost out of habit.

Tracer caught her eye, made sure she saw the genuine truth and belief in it. “You ‘ave a good heart, and a more tender spirit than you let on. Ang always said so, even when I didn’t believe it, that everything you do is a kind of love. That you’re terribly loving. She saw that, in you. She--”

Pharah turned away and pinched the bridge of her nose, tripping over her words. “Let’s please not speak of her more. Tonight.”

“Course,” Tracer nodded, “Sometimes I can’t talk about Em, neither.” Tracer reached gently, carefully, and rubbed at Pharah’s shoulder. “You always ‘ave an ‘ome with me, and Win, ‘ere, if you want it. We love you, Fareeha. We love you ever so much.”

Knowing it was true, and knowing that it could not possibly repair the deep chasm in her heart, the one that cried her name when the wind blew, Fareeha Amari forgot herself, unmade, in an instant, every lesson she had taught herself about how to be in this world. She began to cry. No, to sob, choked breaths flashing the memory of Mercy’s broken body, her smile under their wedding chuppah, a thousand small touches and loving words falling on her like rain.

Tracer held her. Tracer held her, and whispered that it was all right, and that she wasn’t a filing cabinet, until they both fell asleep.

#april showers writing

41 notes · View notes

darkblueboxs · 4 years

Note

howdy i love your aftg writing!! here’s a concept: i feel like once neil’s past is out, he has no reason to hesitate absolutely sucker punching someone. like we know he made neil a pushover because it raises less questions, but now that everyone knows who he is im SURE he’s just bitch slapped someone mid-game. no holding back, like if u say something fucked up he’s just gonna try to kill you!! do you know who this man is?? there’s no doubt in my mind that he knows some quick and lethal punches!

Oh yes, anon. Bruiser!Neil I can DEFO get behind.

Here’s 3k of Neil punching stuff, and Andrew being wildly turned on by it. Read here or on AO3 (Check AO3 notes for content warnings, etc.)

*Edit* : In the original version of this fic, Nicky faces racist abuse in addition to homophobic abuse, and quotes the offensive language and slurs used against him. After concerns were raised regarding how I handled this abuse (specifically, the language used, the context in which the abuse takes place, and my position as a non-latine) I censored and subsequently removed the relevant dialogue. I sincerely apologise and promise to do better in the future. Please don't hesitate to contact me with any questions and concerns regarding this subject.

[01/06/2020]

All the Guys Love a Bruiser

Neil’s mother taught him how to throw a punch, of course she did. Their lessons took place anywhere spacious enough to swing a fist, in empty parking lots behind greasy gas stations or in dingy motel rooms if she thought the walls were thick enough to cover up the noises they made.

Mary had always been more flight than fight, an instinct she had forced into Neil over years of running. Even she had to admit, however, that sooner or later they would hit a dead end, and while that would spell certain death for both of them, it would be better to go down fighting than it would on their knees.

If their lessons ended with Neil aching black and blue, it was his own fault. He needed to be quicker, smarter, crueller. More like his mother.

Matt’s teaching style is different from Mary’s, as is his fighting style. It bears the hallmarks of professional athleticism, all stances and positioning and strategy. While his mother’s idea of a lesson in self-defence was to hit Neil until he figured out how to dodge her blows or hit back, Matt talks him through how to angle his body, how to make a fist in a way that won’t break his fingers. At the end of their first boxing lesson, the only bruises on Neil’s body are the light purple spreading across his knuckles.

That evening, he and Andrew take over the beanbags, TV muted in the background while they dig into ice-cream. The tub is pleasantly cool in Neil’s hands, and he rubs his knuckles against the sides like an improvised icepack. When the residual cold has melted away, Neil flexes his fingers, enjoying the faint tingle dancing across them. These marks are different from those his mother gave him; they weren’t inflicted on him unwillingly but earned with sweat and exertion. When Matt had let go of the punching bag and told him they were done for the day, Neil had been surprised by his own disappointment. He had never been sorry see the end of his mother’s lessons.

Andrew takes his hand suddenly, startling Neil from his thoughts. It’s a purely analytical touch; he turns Neil’s hand over and runs a finger across the blossoming bruises of his knuckles.

Neil bites back the I’m fine, knowing the look it would earn him. Instead he says, “I had fun. We’re meeting again next week.”

Andrew nods. It’s a few moments more before he relinquishes Neil’s hand, however. The heat of Andrew’s skin mingles with the singing twinge of Neil’s bruises like an after-print.

Next week, Andrew slouches into the gym after Neil. He ignores Matt’s invitation to join them, flopping onto a rowing machine and leaning back against the machinery so he can kick his feet up on the seat rail. They’re lucky that they chose unsociable hours for their workout, or a line of athletes would be forming to glare at him.

Andrew watches them train from across the room with apparent disinterest. He can feign boredom all he likes; Neil knows he wouldn’t have bothered following him to the gym without reason.

Matt, if anything, seems amused by Andrew’s presence. “Dan comes to watch me practice sometimes, too.” He pauses to correct the angles of Neil’s feet before nudging his arms into blocking positions. “She did it even before we started dating. She used to sit on an exercise bike and pretend she was cycling so I wouldn’t know she was there to watch me. It was never very convincing.”

“Why did she want to watch you?” Neil shifts his weight, trying to copy Matt’s position.

Matt’s face crinkles up with laughter. “That’s the most Neil thing you’ve ever said.”

“Everything I say is a Neil thing.”

“She liked it when I took my shirt off. C’mon, man, join the dots.”

“You don’t take your shirt off to box.”

“Yeah,” says Matt. “Don’t tell her that.”

Neil rolls his eyes. “Can I hit you now?”

Matt barks out a laugh, and training resumes.

“Enjoying the show?” Neil asks Andrew an hour later, dropping down on the gym mat next to him. Andrew hands Neil his water bottle with an unimpressed look.

“You’re awful.” Andrew flicks a look over to Matt, who is using their break to chat with the only other gym regular insane enough to be working out at the crack of dawn on a Sunday. “He could knock you on your ass with one right hook.”

“I know I’m awful. That’s what training is for.” Neil pauses to gulp down most of the bottle. A droplet escapes his lips and tracks down his jugular before falling into the dip of his clavicle. Andrew’s eyes track its path. “Matt isn’t going to hurt me. Is that what you’re worried about?”

“I’m not here to babysit you.”

“Huh.” Neil drains the last of the water before shaking the residual droplets over his head. The beads glint in the corners of his vision as they catch in his bangs and fleck his cheeks, mercifully cooling against his skin. Andrew is still watching him intently. His eyes flick to Matt once more, checking that he is still absorbed in his conversation.

“Yes or no?”

“Yes,” Neil replies, and he watches as Andrew takes Neil’s hand in his. The skin is flushed from strike after strike, not yet coloured in bruising patches but soon to be. Neil’s hands feel softer for it, sensitive to Andrew’s touch.

“I know my limits.” Neil isn’t sure why the gym suddenly feels three degrees warmer. “Really, it doesn’t hurt.”

“I know. I trust you.” Andrew sends one more look over Neil’s shoulder like he’s checking the coast is clear before pressing Neil’s knuckles to his lips.

The breath Neil was in the process of catching slips from his grasp entirely. “Oh.”

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“You like watching me fight.”

“It’s more interesting than watching you run.”

Neil leans in until he can see each individual freckle on Andrew’s cheeks. “Interesting?”

Andrew’s cool look is betrayed by the twitch of his jaw. “Something like that.”

If Matt notices Neil’s new vigour when they return to practice, he doesn’t comment on it. When he catches Neil’s eye, however, he grins knowingly. Perhaps Matt’s conversation had not been as absorbing as he made it out to be. Soon, however, the rhythm of the exercise draws Neil’s attention back to the task at hand.

Neil first learned to throw a punch because his mother believed that one day his life could depend on it. That isn’t the reason that he has resumed his training with Matt; it turns out that a good instructor and fewer death threats make the activity far more pleasant than Neil remembers. It may be a useful skill, but he values the challenge more than he does the practicality. The physicality, too – in fact, he likes boxing for the same reasons that he loves Exy. Quick, brutal, thrilling. He finally understands, too, why Andrew likes to spar with Renee whenever his emotions get on top of him. There’s a certain a sense of control that comes from putting his fist through a break-board. Not that he needs the empowerment as much as he once might have – most of Neil’s tormentors were killed long ago, his fears with them. Given his new life of safety and security, it’s likely that he’ll never really need to know how to throw a good punch.

It takes all of one week for Neil to be proven wildly, wildly wrong.

Opposition strikers – with one glaring, now very dead exception – are not typically Neil’s problem. Generally, if they end up playing on the same side of the court as him, something has gone wrong in the team’s strategies.

He can tell even from a distance, however, that one of the Terrapin strikers is causing difficulties. Not in terms of ability – of which Terrapin’s #13 has little – but in attitude. Thirteen is a vocal player, and Neil can hear snatches of his voice echoing across the court. No fists have been swung, which is an impressive feat for the Fox defenders, but perhaps only because the luck of substitutions has put Thirteen against Nicky more than anyone else, and Nicky is more likely to react to insults with mirth than anger.

Shortly before the end of the first half, Nicky is subbed off at the same time as Thirteen. Nicky passes Neil on the way to the court doors, clacking their racquets together with half a smile. “Give them hell, Neil.”

Thirteen passes them at the same moment, slamming Nicky’s shoulder as he passes. Nicky mutters a word under his breath that would have earned him a month of washing-up duty at Abby’s house before heading for the Foxes’ bench. Neil watches him go, eyebrows creasing together. Nicky isn’t easily upset by the cruelty of strangers; it’s the cruelty that comes from within his own family that is most likely to shake him from his good humour. The barbed insults of nameless players on the court, on the other hand, are usually brushed off with a rude gesture and no more.

Swept up in the rush of the match, Neil forgets about Nicky’s discomfort until half-time. The team pours from the court in high spirits; they have a decent lead over the Terrapins which should carry them through the second half when exhaustion starts to kick in. Nicky, despite having blocked more shots on goal than anyone, reacts to the arrival of the rest of the team with only a pallid grin. His grip on his water bottle is tight, and the cheap plastic crackles and caves in his hands.

Nicky is an easy read, and it doesn’t take long for the other Foxes to notice. After he brushes Renee’s concerned enquiry off, however, the team leaves him be.

When Neil returns to the court for the start of the third quarter, he breathes a sigh of relief to see that Thirteen is nowhere near Nicky. He’s standing closer to goal than Neil is happy with, but Andrew is more or less impervious to verbal abuse and Thirteen has yet to show signs of physical violence. As much as he wants to keep a closer eye on the situation, Kevin’s barked commands draw his attention to the match at hand. The best thing Neil can do for the Foxes’ defence is to spend as much time lobbing the ball at the Terrapin’s goal as possible.

Neil and Nicky are substituted at the same time; they collapse onto the bench and drown their exhaustion in Gatorade. Thirteen crushed Nicky against the wall moments before the substitution, and Nicky is uncharacteristically quiet as Abby examines the cut over his eye.

“You’re not whining about cramping your style,” she says as she presses a plaster in place. “Should I be worried?”

“Nah, this is great for my style. All the guys love a bruiser.” Nicky winks despite the blood crusting in his eyelashes. “Neil knows what I’m talking about, don’tcha, Neil?”

Abby makes a noise that isn’t convinced, but doesn’t press the issue. Neil waits until she’s out of earshot before saying casually, “I still have a few contacts in the mafia.”

“Your sense of humour is dire,” says Nicky, but he’s grinning, so Neil counts it as a win. “Don’t worry about it. I think Andrew’s drawing his fire now. Andrew handles that kind of thing a lot better than me.”

“What kind of thing?”

Nicky winced. “Don’t ask.”

“Tell me.”

“Let's just say he isn't exactly lining up to lead a Pride march.” Nicky snorts humorlessly.

The joke doesn’t land, and not because of Neil’s non-existent sense of humour. He may not be as obvious as Nicky in his preferences nor as dark-skinned, but he has still been on the receiving end of enough of that brand of bullshit to know how it scratches at one’s insides.

“I wasn’t joking about those contacts.”

Nicky sighs. “I was worried you would say that.”

Neil’s attention keeps slipping from the game and over to Andrew, who is standing in goal and ignoring the tirade of insults being thrown his way like a statue facing down a breeze. His non-reaction only seems to stoke Thirteen’s fury, spittle catching in the mesh of his helmet as he watches Andrew knock yet another attempt away from the Foxes’ end.

Andrew spares Thirteen no more than a second of blank indifference in the face of his tirade. Then he drops his stance, shoulders setting into a silent challenge that sends a hot bolt of excitement straight Neil’s to gut. Andrew is locking down the goal.

The Terrapins don’t score again for the rest of the match.

Neil is through the doors before the final buzzer has died, charging into the crush of Foxes at centre-court to join in their celebrations. Andrew, as usual, hovers at the edge of the throng, but he accepts the clack of Neil’s racquet against his. A light sheen of sweat dances across Andrew’s forehead and his lips are parted as he regains his breath after the exertion of locking the Terrapins out.

“Did Thirteen give you trouble?”

Andrew snorts derisively despite his breathlessness. “He tried.”

Neil gets to see Thirteen up close during the handshakes. He barely grazes the tips of each Foxes’ fingers as he passes one by one, but he stops when he gets to Neil. “I remember you. You were all over the news, weren’t you? The runaway Wesninski.” His expression speaks to his delight at the revelation. To no-one’s surprise, Thirteen is a sore loser.

Andrew barely moves, just a slight adjustment to his footing so that he presses a little closer into Neil’s shoulder.

Neil smiles. It is the kind of smile he has not had use for in some time. “Looking for an autograph?”

Thirteen snorts. “Bet you think you’re real bad. Bet you think those scars make you look tough. Too bad you’re still a puny little bitch.”

Neil flexes his hand before clenching it into a fist. “I do think I’m real bad, actually. Want to find out why?”

The striker waits for the hit to come. Neil doesn’t give him the satisfaction; the guy is a piece of shit, but he isn’t worth the trouble he’s clearly looking for. Neil drops his hands, meets his gaze, and waits for him to give up on getting his reaction and leave.

Most of the other players are moving off to their own respective sides, and their stand-off is beginning to attract attention. Kevin squints over at them, and at his side, Aaron pulls off his helmet.

“Oh shit. Twins.” Thirteen’s gaze swings from Aaron to Andrew, flashing with sudden recognition. “I remember you too.” His expression turns sharkish. “Now that was a story. So, which one is the murderer, and which is the brother-fucker?”

Andrew barely twitches. Neil’s reaction is less restrained.

It’s almost a play-by-play of decking Riko at the Winter Banquet. The key difference between that punch and this one is hours of training with a borderline-professional boxer.

Neil squares his stance, draws back his fist, and puts his whole body behind the punch. He’s rewarded with the sickening crack of a nose breaking and a hot spurt of blood splattering his knuckles.

Thirteen staggers back, shock registering for a second before he spits blood at the floor. He’s swaying on his feet, but there’s still fight in his eyes.

Andrew’s hands go to his sheaths, but Neil waves him back. He wipes the hand bloodied by Thirteen’s face across his jaw unthinkingly, feels the wet, red heat clinging to his skin. “Hey. This one’s mine.” The smile he tacks onto the words is toothier than he means it to be. With blood still smeared across his chin, he can only imagine how he looks.

Andrew’s hand judders to a halt at the hems of his armbands. His jaw is clenched tight but roaring over the current of concern is something far darker. It creeps into his eyes, a weight to his gaze normally only visible in the privacy of their bedroom. Andrew’s gaze runs the length of Neil’s body before coming to rest on Neil’s mouth. His bottom lip catches momentarily in his teeth as he nods.

Thirteen’s first swing hits, and a burst of blood dances across Neil’s tongue as his lip is split open. Thirteen’s luck ends there; Neil blocks his second punch with a move Matt taught him the day before. He drives his free hand into Thirteen’s solar plexus, knocking the air from him.

Neil doesn’t get much time to appreciate how the striker falls on his ass as they’re rushed by teammates and officials who break them apart.

Neil stands placidly before Wymack and bears his row with the bare minimum of decorum. The lecture is undercut by Nicky, who’s expression alternates between elation, amusement and mock disapproval from moment to moment. Matt, at least, waits until Wymack is finished before applauding.

“I’ll give you some notes later, but all things considered it was a solid right hook.”

Neil brushes the team’s reactions off as best he can; he certainly didn’t do it for their recognition.

He takes his time showering, watching with a strange, sick pleasure as he rinses the striker’s blood away. It turns pink in the shower basin before swirling at last down the drain. Beneath the blood, Neil’s knuckles have begun to bruise, satisfaction burning them blue.

It’s at these times that Neil worries that he may have inherited too much from his father; the temper, the violence, the bloodlust. Then again, they all served as tools to his survival at one point or another. The key difference between Neil and his father is who they choose to turn their anger on. Neil’s father always set his sights on the underdog. Neil prefers to punch up.

No; if there’s one thing Nathan gave him, it was a distaste for bullies.

There’s a familiar tap at the door to Neil’s stall. The rest of the Foxes cleared out some time ago, still rowdy from the post-match high. Tonight was a home game; most of the team will be halfway back to Fox tower already, thinking only of booze and the weekend stretching ahead of them. There’s only one player who would have any reason to linger.

Andrew steps under the spray, his hair is plastered to his head by the steamy drizzle. He holds his hand out, and Neil offers his without question for Andrew’s inspection.

Andrew’s voice is dispassionate as he inspects the damage. “I don’t need a knight in shining armour. Nor for you to fight my battles for me.”

“The fight was for my own satisfaction. But I’ll stop if you want me to.”

Once again, Andrew presses his lips to Neil’s raw knuckles. The contact stings, sweet and savoury, pleasure and pain. “Would it kill you to make life easy for once?” The words tingle against the tender skin.

“I thought you liked to watch me fight.”

“Just because I find your stupidity entertaining doesn’t mean I encourage it.”

“It’s my stupidity you like, is it?”

“What else do you have?” Andrew’s eyes track the rivulets of water snaking down Neil’s neck.

“I’m sure I can think of a few things.” Neil says. Then, for clarity, “Yes or no?”

“Yes.” Andrew doesn’t let go of Neil’s hand, thumb running across the reddening knuckles once more before leading it to his chest. Neil leaves it resting there, marvelling at the colours bleeding between them under the shower’s onslaught, pink and brown and red and blue. Andrew soon tires of Neil’s staring, and is the first to bridge the gap between them.

Neil once compared Andrew’s kisses to a fight with their lives on the line. Countless kisses later, this fact has not changed in the slightest. Andrew leaves a bruising trail of kisses across Neil’s neck until he can’t remember which marks are from Exy and which are from Andrew. They all sting the same, sweet way.

Each kiss pressed to his mouth carries a metallic tang from Neil’s burst lip. He can tell from the fierce pressure of Andrew’s mouth against his that Andrew can taste it too, is feeding off the adrenaline rush just as Neil is. He catches Neil’s bottom lip between his teeth and with it sucks a groan from deep in Neil’s chest.

Andrew draws back to level him with an unimpressed look. “You’re far too into this.”

“You’re one to talk.” Neil raises his hand to Andrew’s eyeline, wiggling his fingers. Andrew’s eyes catch on the blooming violet patches. “You like this. Admit it.”

Andrew steps forward until his cheek brushes Neil’s fingers. Neil turns his hand automatically, cupping Andrew’s face.

“Yes,” says Andrew. His eyes stay on Neil’s, even as Neil’s hand drops lower.

It’s a small miracle, Neil thinks, that Andrew can trust Neil’s hands on him, after all he knows they are capable of. Maybe that’s part of the appeal, the evidence painted into Neil’s knuckles that Neil’s gentler touches are reserved for Andrew and Andrew alone. It’s strange that Andrew should love Neil’s fighting spirit as much as he does. After all, it was Andrew who taught Neil how to stand and fight in the first place.

It’s a fact that neither will ever let the other forget.

Neil leaves the shower sporting several more bruises than he entered with. Some are from Exy, some are from fighting, and some are from Andrew’s mouth.

He loves them all just the same.

* Thanks for reading, let me know what you think! Still open to prompts etc.

#tfc #aftg #andreil #the foxhole court #all for the game #my fic #asks #anon #WHY IS TUMBLR FUCKING WITH THE POST FORMAT ASKDHSKDFGGGG

16 notes · View notes

narukouzumakinamikaze · 4 years

Text

The problem with the Golden Deer route

Disclaimer: this is only based off of the Golden Deer Route. I did not play the Blue Lions Route or the Black Eagles Route.

So how do I start... the Golden Deer route was presented as a route that was going to be more Lore focused. It’s easy to pick up on with claudes character being heavily interested in fodlans history as well as his questioning of Rhea and the church. I have no problem with Lore being the main focus of this route... when I think more about the problems of this route, it all stems from a lack of relevancy. None of the characters are relevant to anything going on in this route.. Claude himself has many different aspects that have nothing to do with one another or the main focus that the route is about.

Problem One: The Alliance

The Alliance is there just to have a third house and legitimately nothing more. The idea is that the golden deer route is about lore, but the alliance is new and has nothing to do with the history of Fódlan at all. It’s not used for history and it’s not there because of history. Not only that, but during part 2, the most that Edelgard’s war did to the alliance, was cause infighting that hasn’t been shown or indicated to have affected anything going on in alliance territory. There’s no indication that the in fighting is affecting Leonie, Ignatz, or Raphaels villages. Hell, the only person who is affected is Lorenz, and he’s only slightly affected but it’s not given any focus and is solved extremely quick. There’s no focus on it, and it’s not important to anything going on

Problem Two: The Students

Much like the Alliance, the students are just there because they were part of the Golden Deer house and legitimately nothing more. Lysithea and Lorenz are given a small tidbit of being relevant, but it’s never expanded upon or is solved immediately. I don’t know why they’re all fighting this war, and None of the characters care about fodlans history or Lore or were affected by it for them knowing it to matter. They are just there to have units, but they don’t have any place in the story, because they don’t have anything to do with whatever is going on. Even if the idea is that they’re there for the generic reason that it’s not going to stop unless someone stops it, it just means that they can be replaced by legitimately anyone, and nothing will change because their motivation is just that bland.

Problem Three: Claude

There is so much about Claude that i like. But nothing about him is ever expanded upon or relevant to anything. His entire character is mixed up of different things that don’t matter to one another, so he comes off as disjointed.

He wants to know fodlans history, but his goal is to open fodlans borders because people are ignorant of other people which has nothing to do with the Lore or history of Fódlan as suggested when hildas brother and Nader had drinks and didn’t have to speak on the history between them to reconcile.

But then he doesn’t know anything about Almyra or it’s history besides they don’t like people from Fódlan so his talk with Cyril makes him come off as ignorant to what’s actually happening in his own country and it’s past and it’s never given any attention to his actual goals. He never talks about making Almyra a better place, or even making Fódlan a better place. All he talks about is opening boarders and nothing else as if that alone makes Fódlan and Almyra a better place. He has talk about peace but it’s never expanded upon at all besides, peace is good.

Almyra has no importance to the story whatsoever besides being where Claude is from and being his secret

He forgets about those that slither In the dark for some reason despite his character being curious, and his entire character in part two isn’t about wanting to know more about them or being curious about things that have been presented to him before like those who slither

He’s suspicious of the church for no real reason other than people worship the gods which has nothing to do with opening up borders. It’s one thing to challenge them for this, but it’s another to be suspicious of them when your suspicions is based on opening up borders. And then it never matters to his character after the first part

and then he leaves the country to someone who doesn’t know how to run a country, with the hopes that because they’re friends everything will work out in his favor, which is based on the fact that Byleth is a blank slate and has no opinion of their own.

There is so much to Claude, but none of these things matter at all to anything and they don’t work in the story even though they should work. It’s all disjointed and his thoughts are never expanded upon. His character boils down to, Im using you for my very generic goal that isn’t important to anything going on and I’m never going to expand on how I’m going to do it by knowing fodlans history or at all, but it’s a very noble goal and I’m fighting Edelgard because she’s in the way a bit. His goal is incredibly generic and it’s never given any attention in the story so it comes off as cheap.

His character is also underdeveloped. We don’t know anything about Claude besides the basics. He was othered in Almyra so he doesn’t like racism so he leaves Almyra to lead the alliance and wants to learn this history of Fódlan to open its borders so everyone can accept everyone. we don’t get anything else about Claude. We don’t know why he cares about fodlan, why he decided to lead the alliance, We aren’t told How he’s going to do it, how he was going to use blyeth, his relationship with his grandfather, his relationship with the alliance as a whole, his year in Fódlan after being accepted as his grandfathers heir, His thoughts on Almyra and them invading Fódlan. Everything about him is just generic and never expanded upon. It makes him come off as incredibly bland and generic because he’s never challenged as a character or goes through any character development. He’s simply a character that doesn’t have any actual flaws that affects anything or challenges the story.

His relationship with the other characters also comes off as impersonal. I never felt like any of his supports brought him closer to anyone. The only supoort that felt like Claude actually bonded with anyone, was Petra, and she wasn’t even part of his house

His ending is also a slap in the face. So after all this he just leaves Fodlan to go back to Almyra. for what? How did his time in Fodlan help him with whatever he wanted to do in Almyra? Did he become a better leader? I don’t know, they don’t show us or tell us anything about claudes plans in Almyra. Why didn’t he go back to Almyra when the war started when he knew he wasn’t going to stay?if he didn’t have plans of ruling fodlan, what problem did he have with Edelgard? How does Edelgard’s rule stop him from opening fodlans borders?(even looking up The black eagles route, Edelgard didn’t have any problem with opening up borders so others can come in, and when she beats him he just goes back to Almyra anyway)

Problem Four: Edelgard and Dimitri

For a story being told in three different parts, these two characters matter nothing to the golden deer route or Claude. And okay, people have told me that the characters aren’t supposed to matter to one another’s routes. so why should I care about them... Although Edelgard starts that war, we know nothing of her goals or her character, which puts the scene when you end up killing her as awkward. the scene feels out of place because why would she have wanted me to walk with her? Because I have the sword of creation? Why is it framed as it’s supposed to be personal, when I know nothing about this character at all. It doesn’t help that her ideals and goals are never set up in this route, so her entire character just comes off as an afterthought because the golden deer route has nothing to do with her.

It’s the same with Dimitri. His death was the most pointless thing in the entire route after your fathers. Why did Dimitri come back? People say he’s lost his mind, but there’s zero focus on Dimitri at all in this route for me to know this. How would I know he lost his mind? Because he showed up at gronder saying kill everyone when we’re in the way of his real target? We weren’t friends so him wanting to kill us as we are in the way of his real target doesn’t come off as out of his mind. There was zero narrative reason why Dimitri had to show up in this route, because he doesn’t serve a purpose. His death get no recognition at all, and just as soon a hilda says something, nobody reacts and nobody cares. Why have him pop up for absolutely no reason at all. This part pissed me off so much. Because as much as I didn’t care for Dimitri, he was presented as part of the main character lords. Why was he thrown away as if he was a side character

Problem Five: Irrelevant plot threads

What was up with the Death Knight? Why was he presented as this extremely strong threat when he wasn’t? Why was it presented as he had some vendetta against Byleth when there was nothing between these two characters? What was the point of this character, when he didn’t add anything to the story? He’s Mercedes brother, but unless you recruited her into your house, you wouldn’t have known. And even learning this, nothing is done with it.

Jeralt’s death... I’m sorry, but his death was pointless..... there was no reason for his death other than... Byleth needed to show emotion I guess and parents have to die.. was it so that Byleth would go after Kronya and then be trapped in that dimension and fuse with Sothis? Because there were infinite ways in which that could have happened without Jeralts death and the impact would be the exact same. his death didn’t actually need to happen for those events to transpire.

Sothis. So we know who she is, and how she came to Byleth and whatnot.. but what was the point of having her be awake inside Byleth? What purpose was that for? She didn’t reveal anything or have us question anything or do anything. So why did she have to be awake when her being awake didn’t serve an actual purpose. She didn’t know who she was, but why didn’t she have her memory? Maybe I missed something but I don’t remember that being explained.

Devine pulse.. what was the point of this mechanic when it only served in two cutscenes and nothing else... we don’t see blyeth abuse it, we don’t see any consequence of using it, It’s never brought up after that one time... it’s never explained, when Thales was able to intercept it it’s glossed over... it’s just there for no reason.

Rheas kidnapping. What was the purpose of Edelgard kidnapping Rhea? She waged war on the church so why didn’t she kill Rhea when she had the chance? She worked with those who slither, did they know that Edelgard had Rhea? If they didn’t, why didn’t Edelgard tell them? If so, why didn’t the kill her or use her blood for their experiments? What was the point of Edelgard kidnapping Rhea, if it served no purpose. You can say it made blyeth join the war, but blyeth didn’t know that Edelgard had Rhea at this point and it was a speculation. It didn’t need to actually be a thing.

Lysithea being experimented on. Its important to her supports and brought up once in the actual games, but it ultimately doesnt matter. We never dwell on it, we dont address it, it's not a story beat. Its just a random fact about Lysithea that serves no purpose or goes anywhere

Problem Six: Purpose of the Story

When I say purpose of the story, I mean the purpose of the events that led to endgame nemesis. The game spent more time on Edelgard and her war, than it did setting up Those who slither and Nemesis, who are the real enemy of the game. And it’s not like the game couldn’t do that. In the first part, they show up a couple of times to do things.

Flayn was kidnapped for her blood, but it went nowhere..... Tomas gives Claude books that weren’t in the library, but that went nowhere.... Thales was able to interject when Blythe used divine pulse to save her dad, that went nowhere... Thales said they still needed Kronya alive, but that went nowhere... Tomas was able to trap you in another dimenssion with no escape, but that went nowhere... in the second part they drop javelins of light on the fort... that was pointless and also went nowhere...

What I’m getting at, is that when there was something regarding those that slither, nothing happened and nothing mattered. So what was the purpose of all these threads, when they ended up not mattering to the endgame goal of Nemesis?

On top of that, we spend so much time on Edelgard’s war, only for it to mean nothing. The real story was given to us by Rhea. the real enemies were those that slither, who wants to kill Rhea because she’s the last child of Sothis, who killed everyone except those who slither, because those who slither killed her children and turned their bones into weapons and their hearts into crests.. this has nothing to do with Edelgard’s war at all.

So how come nothing built up to this? Why did we spend so much time with Edelgard war instead of building up those who slither if they were going to be the real enemy of this route. Edelgard’s war served no real purpose to this route and spending so much time on it hindered the story that should have been told.

Problem Seven: Byleth

This one is hard to put into words because I know why Blyeth has a blank personality. I get it and I understand it, but it doesn’t work because blyeth comes off as having zero agency. All the relationships feels superficial and her being a teacher is contrived.

Blyeth as a teacher made no sense. Is this a nitpick? Probably. Should I accept that it’s a plot device? Yeah sure. but that doesn’t mean I can’t criticize that it was nonsensical.. I mean, you’re telling me that the only position that Rhea could think of to give blyeth was a teaching job without any credentials. I know Rhea wanted to keep blyeth close, but she couldn’t have been an assistant, or a guardian on missions or something. And not only is it contrived, but the fact that being a teacher is only relevant to the class she chooses instead of being an actual teacher to everyone else evaluate to point of blyeth being a teacher.

On top of that, I found it hard to really care about blyeth as a character, because they were a blank slate. When she wanted to find Rhea, it was Claude who had to tell us that we want to find her to know more about us. Why does Claude have to tell us something that we should have already known? I never got the impression that blyeth wanted to ask questions about herself, because blyeth herself is never presented as wanting to do something for herself. Everyone else is asking questions about blyeth, but blyeth herself is never the one asking relevant questions.

And that’s something I noticed. Blyeth never does anything for themselves, they always go along with others want of them. Why would blyeth accept being archbishop and ruling over Fódlan? That doesn’t seem like something that blyeth would want, but Claude just ups and leaves and she has no choice but to take it because reasons. If I’m just being forced to go along with what others makes me, I lose all agency as a character in the game. Because I never have a choice in the matter

Problem Eight: One note characters

Every character is one note. All the characters are based around one thing.. Ignatz and his painting, Raphael and his sister, Lorenz and being a noble, Marianne and her self pity, Hilda and her brother, Lysithea and her attitude, leonie and Jeralt, Claude and his secrets.

They try to give theses characters some variety to their one note features, like Ignatz in being a knight over being a painter. But all of Ignatz supports revolve around painting and the goddess, so it seems like all Ignatz have to his character is just painting and wanting to paint the goddess. Is there nothing else? And I like Ignatz character, and I would have liked to see more of it outside of his love to paint. Even when they try to do something other than the one note aspects of the characters like lysithea and her sweets, they overplay it so much that it nds up becoming just another one note trait about the characters.

(And this isn’t a bad thing because Felix is the best character in the game. All his supports are fundamentally different from one another despite the fact that he brings it all back to training.. his support with lysithea is about how he doesn’t like sweets. His support with Annette is sweet and how he likes her singing. His support with Bernadetta was hilarious. His support with Sylvain was cute. His support with Mercedes was sweet and talked about their brothers. His supoort eith Ashe is about how he is as a knight and also talked about his brother. Like despite his character being one note, they give us different aspects to Felix as a character, that I feel the golden deer characters lacked. Even Sylvain had something more even though it revolves around girls and his hatred of crests. Because that all boils down to a bigger problem.)

Problem Nine: Set Up

So part one was a set up to Edelgard’s war, but Edelgard’s war wasn’t a set up to those that slither. I already explained in purpose of the story that what was presented in part one of those who slither, amounted to absolutely nothing to the golden deer route. And this is a problem I have.

The set up in this game was terrible. Because the big bad are those who slither for this route, it should have set them up as the big bad. Yes we get a glimpse of them in part one, but nothing comes out of those glimps’s of them. Instead, we waste our time dealing with Edelgard, instead of focusing on those in the background.. how am I supposed to feel, when those who slither are announced through a random letter from Hubert? That it was built up and earned? Because we were presented with these people in part one. The fact that Claude never factored the idea that Edelgard was working with peoooe in the background makes no sense as someone who is a schemer and curious about fodlans history.

for a route that’s presented as the Lore Route, there’s hardly any Lore being told. Instead of us learning things through the story, we have to go through a war that doesn’t matter, and then be told these things once Rhea comes back. Someone said this game suffers from tell don’t show. And the set up for the slithers are ruined because the game would rather tell us through Rhea exposition, than show us throughout the game.

Problem Ten: World Building

This world feels incredibly small. For a game that has one of its characters main motivation be another country, that country feels insignificant in the way that it didn’t need to be included because there was zero focus on it in the story. Why should I care about Almyra, when I know nothing about Almyra. Why should I care that Claude wants to unite fodlan and Almyra, when we’re not shown that people from fodlan have a hatred against those from Almyra. (Maybe I wasn’t paying attention to the NPC’S because I remember one of them talking about staying away from people like Dedue). What is the point of focusing on this country, when said country doesn’t serve the plot in any way. Hell even though Edelgard is threatening petra, because we don’t see anything being affected except for fodlan, the story feels contained.

I recruited petra on my team, and her paralogue was about getting her countries backing. But getting that supoort doesn’t add to the story in any way. We don’t see those soldiers at the monestary. Claude doesn’t mention their support. It’s like there was no point of doing the paralougue because it doesn’t add or change anything. Why have petra be from another country, but have said country not matter to fodlan?

If the game wanted to focus predominantly on fodlan, then it shouldn’t have tried to incorporate other countries that weren’t going to get any type of relevance to the plot. Fodlan is the focus and Edelgard war only affects fodlan and those who slither only affects fodlan. So why try to branch out and then do nothing with it for the story.

Anyway, these are my ten problems that I found within the golden deer route. Of course these we just mere opinions of how I took the game so I’m not presenting this as a fact. I don’t think I’m going to play the other routes because I don’t care about Dimitri or Edelgard and I don’t feel like I’m missing anything regarding the story for me to feel like I need to know their sides.

#fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fe3h

10 notes · View notes

greennct · 5 years

Text

valentines day | jaehyun

okay i tried something different again!! its in four parts but im quite happy w how it turned out so enjoy i guess! i lov jung jaehyun w all my heart so here u go hee hee 💞💖💘

(3.8k words, big oops, fluff with a tiny big of angst but y’all know it’s basically just fluff lol)

song rec: the luckiest by ben folds / samson by regina spektor (i couldn’t choose)

The first Valentine’s Day you spent with Jaehyun, you had never seen him before. You were depressed, single, and being reluctantly dragged to a party full of other partnerless people desperate to shit on the holiday by your coworker Yuta. Despite your furious protesting-quickly-turned-begging, Yuta was relentlessly adamant in his desire to bring you along to his friend’s flat.

The evening went exactly as you thought it would. The apartment was tiny, and after about an hour, half the people there were either hooking up with whoever they could find, or moping over their singleness with the cheap wine. To his credit, Yuta had stayed by for side for about ten minutes, before promptly abandoning you after catching sight of a young boy he told you was called Sicheng. You hadn’t seen him since.

Sighing, you decided that you had given up on having a remotely nice time, and after swiping a bottle of the red, climbed out of the window onto the fire escape. You settled down, leaning against the brick wall, resigned to waiting out here until Yuta eventually turned up to take you home.

“Care to share?” A voice came out of the darkness.

You jumped out of your skin. Hand on heart in a feeble attempt to slow it’s erratic beating, you turned to discover your rooftop recluse was not as private as you had previously thought. A boy sat opposite you, a little to your right, leaning against the railings preventing drunk partygoers from falling off of the building.

You immediately retracted your thoughts about the evening being a waste of time, because damn, he was gorgeous. Light brown hair spilling onto his forehead, huge, sparkling eyes, ridiculously well-proportioned bone structure, quiet smirk as he looked you up and down the way he knew you were looking at him.

“You scared me half to death!”

He chuckled at your exclamation, and you felt yourself melt a little.

“Not my fault if you don't see what’s right in front of you. I’m Jaehyun.” He outstretched his hand in order to shake yours.

You placed the wine bottle in his empty palm instead of your own hand, and told him your name. "This party sucks.”

He laughed. “Sorry about that.”

“Its your party?” Of course you had managed to completely fuck up any chance with the cute boy practically seconds after meeting him. “Oh shit, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Nah, it’s fine.” He brushed off your faux pas with a good-natured grin. “I thought it would be a good idea to invite everyone over on my birthday, but it looks like people are more worried about their love lives to really care about all that.”

“It’s your birthday?!” Shitshitshitshitshit. “Oh God, I’m definitely going to Hell.”

You could see that whilst he was still smiling at your attempt at a joke, there was a trace of hurt behind his eyes. You decided to do something you’d never done before.

“Well, look. We can’t have the birthday boy alone on his special day! You got a car?”

He nodded, confused. “Why would we need my car?”

“Cause we’re gonna ditch this place. C’mon,” you said, standing up and brushing off your jeans. “Any fast food places around here?”

Inviting Jaehyun to go get food at around eleven at night was not one of the most thought-out decisions you had ever made, probably prompted by the half-bottle of wine you had drunk, and your giddiness at his appearance, but it was unequivocally one of the best. The first Valentine’s Day you spent with him consisted of the two of you progressively getting more and more tipsy parked in the McDonald’s driving lot. Sure, you guys didn’t have the most meaningful of conversations, and at times it was practically incoherent, with the two of you yelling over one another, or laughing so hard your stomachs hurt. But looking back, you know your friendship wouldn’t have been the same without that drunken evening of pure mirth and hope.

The second Valentine’s Day you spent with Jaehyun, you were substantially more nervous than you had been the previous year. He had invited you over to marathon what he described as “Some of the best worst romance films of all time,” to celebrate both his birthday, and the holiday at the same time.

Usually, you wouldn’t bat an eyelid at Jaehyun inviting you to his place. Over the past year, you two had grown close with each other, easily finding common ground with him, since you shared the same taste in music and sense of humour, and it wasn’t long before he became one of your best friends.

However, there was one tiny problem. The faint fluttering feeling you had felt in your stomach that first Valentine’s Day with Jaehyun, had never really gone away. In fact, with each day you learnt more about the boy, it pretty much doubled in size, until you found yourself unable to look him directly in the eyes when he smiled, scared you would blurt out a messy confession.

Because that was the other thing. The main reason you liked Jaehyun so much, was how well the two of you fit together. He was the person you went to first when anything happened in your life, texted first when you woke up, sent all your best memes to, called up at three in the morning to talk about nothing and everything with. If you told him how you really felt, and instead of pulling you into his arms as you often fantasied, Jaehyun instead turned his back on you, you weren’t sure what you would do. You could barely remember what your life had been like without Jaehyun in it, and you knew you would do anything to avoid the circumstance.

So when Jaehyun asked you to watch romantic movies with him on Valentine’s Day, you were hesitant to agree. You knew he didn’t think anything of the invitation, simply wanting to spend time with his best friend on his birthday. So even though it hurt a little, you agreed to join him, convincing yourself that you just needed to be supportive, since the 14th of February was all about him, and stop focusing so much on your stupid emotions.

So that Valentine’s Day, you turned up at Jaehyun’s door, armed with a crate of beer, a wrapped present, and about a kilo of assorted snacks, absolutely prepared to shove your feelings underneath a truck, and completely focus on making your best friend’s day as special as possible. Unfortunately, Jaehyun had other ideas. For some reason, that evening, he was behaving weirdly.

Firstly, there was his reaction to your present. His entire face lit up when he ripped open the packaging to see what you had given him. In order to keep your gift affectionate but platonic, you had opted for a bright yellow hoodie you knew he had been eyeing for the past few months, and a framed photo of the two of you taken the previous month. He scooped you up in a bone crushing hug, immediately tugging off his jumper to don the hoodie, and placing the frame in the centre of his tiny mantlepiece. You tried not to blush too heavily.

Strangest of all, though, was the way he started inching across the sofa towards you during the first movie. Throughout your entire friendship, the both of you had always kept an awkward, but pointed physical distance between yourselves. Jaehyun never threw his arm around your shoulder, or hugged you when the two of you met, like some of your other guy friends did, instead opting for light shoulder punches and hair ruffles. However, that Valentine’s Day, Jaehyun subtly rested his head on your shoulder. As the evening progressed, he got closer and closer to you. By the time the third film had ended, Jaehyun’s head was in your lap, as you nervously played with his hair, too infatuated to deny him from being close to you. The television screen abandoned, you simply listened to Jaehyun rambling aloud.

“He should have kissed her! I'm telling you, they could’ve had an entire relationship if he’d just taken that chance! Now she’s stuck married to some random old rich guy and he’s mad about it when it’s his own fault!”

You chuckled. “Maybe some things just aren’t meant to be.”

“No!” He was adamant, animating his behaviour in order to make you grin. “Some people are destined for each other! Jack and Rose, Romeo and Juliet-”

“Yeah, and both of those relationships ended really happily didn’t they.” You teased sarcastically.

“I don’t care what you think, I believe in true love.”

“Really?” You were surprised. Jaehyun and you had never really talked about your love lives with each other, so when he suddenly changed the topic, it shocked you slightly. “Like, soulmate shit?”

“One hundred percent.”

“Wait, so you think there’s someone out there perfect for you? Isn't that a little depressing? What if you never find them?”

Jaehyun giggled a little. He sat up on the couch. He took your chin in his hand and pressed his lips to yours, slowly, gently, tentatively.

“I already have.”

The second Valentine’s Day you spent with Jaehyun was an eye-opener to say the least. The evening spilled into morning, you and him sprawled on the couch, gushing out your confessions, laughing at your reluctance to ever say anything to each other about your feelings, and of course, kissing. Lots of kissing. Looking back at the day as the start of your relationship, you always felt you had lucked out with the confession.

Sure, Jaehyun hadn’t filled your apartment with roses, or serenaded you with his guitar in some public place, however, you always felt that the way he had asked you out, when he knew he was ready, in the most casual, honest and vulnerable way possible, that it was infinitely more perfect than any grand, materialistic gesture he could’ve made. He simply told you he was yours, and everything fell into place.

The third Valentine’s Day with Jaehyun, you dreaded like none you had before. Because you knew that this Valentine’s Day, was going to be the last one you ever spent with him.

The past year had been nothing but bliss. Jaehyun was everything you could have asked for in a boyfriend; sweet, selfless, generous. However, there was one thing that you could never let go of. One tiny detail that wormed its way into your mind lying next to him at night, that twisted your stomach slightly every time he kissed you.

Jaehyun had never told you he loved you.

As the first few months of your relationship progressed, you had tried to put the point out of your mind. You reasoned that he was still a such a relaxed person, he had honestly probably forgot all about the milestone. You only really started to worry when the six month mark hit, and as each day passed, your anxiety about the fact grew stronger and stronger. You knew you loved Jaehyun, you had from pretty much day one of your relationship, however, you simply couldn’t bring yourself to tell him, afraid he might rebuff your declaration, claiming the two of you to simply be casual, an impermanent tryst, until he found the someone he actually wanted to get serious with.

So this Valentine’s Day, you had had enough. You invited him to your flat, ordered his favourite comfort food, and steeled yourself for the decision you were about to make. Yes, you knew it was a dick move to break up with Jaehyun on his birthday, especially since it fell on such a significant holiday for couples, however, you were going away for the next month on a trip with your friends, and knew you couldn’t keep him hanging on a string for too long. The sooner you ended the relationship, the sooner he would get over it, the better it would be for the both of you.

A knock on your door. Three raps, then a fourth a half-second later than the rest: Jaehyun’s signature. You took a deep breath, running your hand through your hair, and plastering a smile onto your empty features before opening the door.

“Hi, Jaehyun.”

“Hey, babe! Happy Valentine’s Day!”

“Happy Birthday!” You tried to match his bouncy energy, however the weight pressing down on your shoulders with the knowledge of what you were about to do, put a significant damper on your mood.

The two of you sat down at your kitchen table. You chose to sit opposite Jaehyun, instead of cuddled to the side the way you usually did, shrugging away his confused expression with an awkward smile.

You gave him your present, feeling it would be rude not to at least acknowledge the fact that it was his birthday, after all.

“Socks?! Er... thanks, doll.”

You avoided Jaehyun’s surprised gaze. You had tried to find something as impersonal as possible, figuring it was best to leave him with a parting gift that he wouldn’t need to associate with an ex-lover.

“No problem, Jaehyun.”

The two of you ate your meal with dwindling conversation. Jaehyun had started your conversation animatedly, asking you endless questions about the details of your week. As your answers became more and more monosyllabic, he eventually gave up, leaving the silence to hang over the both of you as you finished your meal. You almost choked on one of your fries. Everything tasted of sandpaper.

It didn’t take long before Jaehyun started to question your new demeanour. “Baby, can I ask...” He paused, frowning slightly. “Is everything okay?”

“Okay?!” You practically squeaked. “Y-yeah, of course! Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know, I just...” Another gap. “You seem different.”

You sighed heavily. The jig was up. If you were going to break up with him, you figured now was as good a time as any.

“Jae, we need to talk.”

To your surprise, he immediately agreed with you. “We do. I need to tell you something. I’ve been meaning to for a while.”

“Oh.” You blinked, suddenly unsure of yourself. In all the possible outcomes of the evening you had imagined, Jaehyun turning the tables, and actually breaking up with you himself, was not one you had anticipated. “Well, you first then.”

“No, no, you.” Polite as ever, he looked at you attentively.

“I really don’t mind if you go first, I...” You trailed off. There was a few seconds of silence before both of you blurted out your sentences at the exact same time.

“I think we should break up.”

“I love you.”

Another pause as you two stared each other down in disbelief. Then you both similtaneously shouted; “What?!”

“You’re breaking up with me?” Jaehyun’s voice cracked, forehead furrowed as he searched your face desperately for a sign you weren't serious.

“You love me?” You whispered, almost to yourself. “You love me.” You repeated, finally looking up at him. “You love me!” You practically launched yourself across the table, leaping into his chest.

For the first time in your life, Jaehyun held you at arms length.

“What’s going on? Is this why you’ve been so weird this evening? You’re- You want to-”

“No, no!” You gushed, euphoric over your new discovery. “I thought you didn’t love me, so I knew we had to break up, because I love you so much, but now it turns out you love me too, so now we don’t ever have to be apart!”

Jaehyun scoffed, eyes wide, incredulous expression betraying his disbelief at your irrational logic.

“You were going to break up with me because you thought I didn’t love you! After this whole year of me dropping everything to go see you, bringing you your favourite foods at all hours of the night, literally driving two hours at three in the morning that one time when you lost your keys to go pick you up, and you didn’t think I loved you?”

“Well, you never said it!” You protested. “Most couples would’ve told each other they were in love months ago!”

“Babe, I knew I loved you from pretty much week three! I just wanted to tell you on our anniversary, so that it was special!”

“Why would you wait so long?! You’ve had me so worried for half the damn year!”

“This is the stupidest thing we’ve ever fought about, I think.” Jaehyun chuckled, eyes full of mirth, and you felt your insides unfreeze for the first time in months, realising that all was forgiven as he pulled you into his chest.

The third Valentine’s Day you spent with Jaehyun was on your kitchen floor, waiting for the cookies the two of you had made to celebrate the continuation of your relationship to finish baking in your oven, whilst he wiped the tears of relief off of your cheeks.

“I can’t believe you were going to break up with me on my birthday.” He teased.

“I’m going away tomorrow! I couldn’t’ve had it hanging over me.” You argued.

“And socks? Really? You thought it was a good idea to buy me socks for my present?”

“Shut up!” You retaliated, though you were laughing with him. “I thought it was... impersonal, okay?”

“Impersonal? Impersonal?!” He repeated, swinging you from side to side slightly, wrapped securely into his torso. “Impersonal suggests I actually have a personality, and since you hate me so much, that goes against your argument, does it not?”

“I love you.” You said, leaning your head backwards to place a kiss onto his smirk.

“I love you, too.”

The third Valentine’s Day you spent with Jaehyun was certainly the most dramatic, but most importantly, it wasn't the last, and that meant more to you than any of your other Valentine’s Days combined.

The fourth Valentine’s Day you spent with Jaehyun, you almost forgot about how important the day was. Your three-year anniversary, not to mention your boyfriend’s birthday ended up coinciding with the day the two of you moved in together, so most of the time you spent with Jaehyun consisted of the two of you directing movers with your furniture, and feverishly unpacking all your kitchenware, terrified to find a chip on one of the plates.

By the time the two of you could finally take a break, you found it was already evening. You had ordered his favourite takeaway, and shoved a candle into the middle of a cupcake, before carrying it out to your new bedroom, where he lay on your mattress, looking up from his phone when he heard you singing softly.

“Happy birthday to you~”

He smiled brightly, eyes crinkling as he looked up at you in delight.

“Quick, make a wish!” You told him, bending down to hold the cupcake at his lips in order for him to blow the candle out.

He closed his eyes tightly, and complied with your instructions. You brought out the rest of the food, laying it out on the duvet, as you settled down next to him. Your bed-frame hadn’t arrived yet, so the two of you were left sleeping on a mattress on the floor until next week. Leaning against the wall, you looked out of the huge window opposite your bed, admiring the view of the city from up so high.

“You know, I still can’t really believe this.” You remarked softly, once you and Jaehyun were just cuddling, empty takeaway boxes abandoned on your floor.

“Believe what?” He replied.

“I don’t know, everything. I’m yours, and you’re mine. The fact we get to live here. How I managed to find someone as amazing as you.”

You could feel Jaehyun beaming. “God, I love you. You know that, right?”

It was your turn to grin. “I love you, too, dork.”

The two of you were silent for a while, content in listening to the sounds of the nightlife below you and each others breathing.

“Marry me.” Jaehyun said.

“What?” You sat up, turning around sharply, furiously searching for the twinkle in his eye that singled he was playing a joke on you.

He was unnervingly calm, staring at you with a steady gaze.

“I said, marry me.” He repeated.

“This is a joke. You’re trying to get me all excited and then tell me you're kidding.”

“I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.” You could feel joy bubbling up through your stomach, threatening to spill at any moment.

Jaehyun leaned over the side of the mattress, searching through his coat until he pulled out a small box. Handing it over to you, unceremoniously, he scratched the back of his neck nervously, a small flush beginning to form on his cheeks.

“I’ve been carrying it around for weeks. I was gonna do it next week, when we go out for a proper meal, but I figured it just felt right to do it now.”

Hands shaking slightly, your fingers prised the box open. You inhaled quietly.

“It’s beautiful,” you managed, sliding it onto your left hand.

“So, that’s a yes?” Jaehyun asked.

You looked up at him, eyes shining. “Of course it’s a yes, idiot!"

He grinned back at you, “You’re my whole world. I hope you know that.”

You didn’t say anything back, just leaned in to kiss him again. When you pulled away, you realised that the both of you had tears in your eyes.

The fourth Valentine’s Day you spent with Jaehyun, was undeniably the best one yet. It was the one where you realised that from now on, every Valentine’s Day, for the rest of your life would be spent with him. The mere thought of such a long and illustrious future ahead of you shared with the one person you loved most in the world was euphoric.

Throughout the years, retelling the story of your relationship to friends and family, you’d always remember it through those four Valentine’s Days. Jaehyun and your ups and downs, the good and the bad. You knew he wouldn't trade them for anything, because you wouldn’t either.

363 notes · View notes

megalony · 5 years

Text

Liar- Part 9

Thank you for the feedback and support on my latest Roger Taylor series, I hope you all continue to enjoy it.

Warning: Mentions of assault and rape.

Permanent taglist: @marshmallowmae @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @luvborhap @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan

Series taglist: @caborhapch @im-just-a-musical-prostitute @scarsout @luckytrashgooprebel

Series masterlist

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The truth didn't set Roger free.

It freed him from the shackles of lies he had chained to himself but it did little else in his life apart from break the foundations his life had been built upon.

Roger was going to have to explain to the three men standing around him what had happened which is exactly the scenario that he didn't want to happen. Brian had been shown the tip of the iceberg and he was not taking it very well, telling him what lied beneath the surface was not going to be an easy job because he didn't look convinced.

The guitarist stared at one of his oldest friends as if he had met him for the first time and didn't like what he saw. Brian looked at Roger and it was clear in the way his upper lip twitched and the varied emotions in his eyes that he did not believe what Roger had just told him. He knew his sister, he had grown up around her his whole life. She would never do something that cruel or damaging to Roger, she liked him. Sarah flirted shamelessly with Roger but she never advanced on him, not when the boys were around anyway. She had never hurt a fly in her life, so why would she hurt Roger like that?

"No... s-she wouldn't." Brian's head shook from side to side as his nose crinkled as if there was a bad smell in the air. His lips curving downwards in distaste as Roger didn't even bother to hide the tears anymore.

What did he have to gain if he was lying? This was ruining Brian and it was destroying Roger, it was going to damage their friendship and the band. Roger had no reason to make this up because it did nothing good and Roger had never lied to Brian before. Why did he think the drummer would start that habit now, over this of all things?

This was not Roger getting jealous over Brian's sister or wanting an affair and having been caught needed an excuse. This was Roger spilling his darkest secrets because he couldn't keep them to himself anymore and if Brian couldn't find it in himself to see that Roger was telling the truth then the drummer would be done with him. He was not having his best friend think he was a liar and he was not being around Brian if he was going to defend the monster he called a sibling.

"We saw it, Brian. She had him pinned to the ground, look at him!" Freddie's chest started to heave as he waved his arm out in indication to the drummer. He knew what he saw. Freddie saw Roger struggling with Sarah pinning him down to the carpet. He saw his friend kicking out to try and get her off, he saw his friend lying on his back battered and bruised. Freddie heard the screams of desperation that were rattling around in his head like a record on repeat and he was not going to forget those anytime soon. This was not a lie. "She's attacked him, he didn't do this to himself and she ran out of here when we arrived. Why would Roger lie?"

"Why? Why would Sarah do that, you've known her as long as you've known me. She's never done-"

Brian's words didn't mean he was accepting what had happened. There were Freddie and John here as witnesses to the attack on their drummer yet Brian couldn't agree. He couldn't think that his sister had done that, it wasn't in her nature to go around attacking people and especially not Roger. She always talked about him, asked how he was, what he was doing. She cared about him, she wouldn't force herself on him like that.

Roger's arms wrapped around his chest again that was beginning to quake, his stomach churning as he could feel the urge to be sick rising at knowing what secrets were now going to spill from his mouth. (Y/n) was the only person Roger had told about his abuse and even then he had never spoken the right kind of words. He never uttered or even thought of the word 'rape' because that wasn't associated with a guy unless he was the one committing the crime. Roger didn't want them to see him in that light, but to have to admit he had been a victim to that kind of crime twice by the same person sent him reeling.

And yet Roger would rather Brian know that than to think this was a one-off for his sister. He wanted Brian to know what she had done rather than to imagine she had suddenly turned bad like this when in reality she had been Roger's tormentor for over ten years now.

"She's raped me twice Brian." Roger choked on the words as he had to lean forward in case his guts spilled from his lips as well. His eyes fell closed to stop the room from spinning in front of him again as a sudden lack of air hit his lungs and his head. If Brian couldn't believe Sarah had attempted to do this to Roger how was he ever going to believe that she had succeeded more than once?

John felt the room growing hotter to the point he was desperate to get out before he fainted. A sheet of sweat glistened on the bassist's skin and stuck his shirt to his frame as his hand covered his mouth in case he accidentally screamed. They always knew. They always knew something had happened to Roger but this was not what he had been expecting. Roger was the closest thing John had to a brother, he was his best friend and he adored the drummer with everything he had. This was not something John was expecting and he did not like the fact that Roger had gone through this on his own.

When they first met Roger was closed off. He was apprehensive even though he was cocky, he didn't like hugs or closeness and whenever he started to panic Roger would rub at his right shoulder or scratch his scar. This had not been what they thought was causing those little quirks.

"Sarah? My Sarah, she did that to you? When, why not tell us before now?" A very small but audible scoff passed through Brian's lips when he said his sister's name showing clear disbelief.

Sarah was not a rapist.

She would not disrespect Roger in that way because she adored him, she wouldn't force herself onto him if he said no and she wouldn't do that today because she knew he had a girlfriend. Brian's sister was not an attacker, she would never prey on Roger like that and Brian hated how Roger was accusing her of this even if some part of him wondered if this could be true.

"Are you calling all three of us liars?" John spoke for the first time since he had arrived. He had been walking behind Freddie but he knew what he saw. John saw Sarah pinning Roger beneath her as she tried to take off his jeans whilst ignoring the violent screams he let out and how he thrashed beneath her. The bassist knew it was Brian's sister when she turned around, he had seen her so many times before to know the difference between her and another person. They had seen what she had tried to do and if they hadn't of turned up this would have been three times she did this to Roger.

If Brian decided he was not going to accept this then he was going against all three of them, not just Roger.

"I don't know what you saw today, maybe... maybe she did do that to Rog but she wouldn't... Sarah wouldn't rape him- twice! I'm sorry someone hurt you Rog but don't go blaming my sister just because of whatever shit happened today." Brian couldn't just ignore them all and clearly say that they were mistaken. If Freddie said he saw Sarah attacking Roger and John backed him up on this and Roger was admitting it then clearly she had done that. But Brian couldn't accept that she had done that to Roger not once but twice before. Surely Roger would have said something, surely Sarah would have given something away or acted strange enough for Brian to notice.

"I was nineteen." All three men turned to look at Roger when he decided to speak again. Brian could disagree all he liked but Roger knew the truth and he wasn't lying to them anymore. "Nineteen when an older girl pinned me to the sofa and told me to shut up because she 'wanted me and I should want her too'. I'd been raped and two days later I got a fractured rib because your sister punched me when I told her to leave my home. I spent three months having your sister follow me around and force her way into my home so she could assault me."

Roger grew up in a world where men weren't victims. He grew up where boys would brag about being with an older girl, he had friends who boasted that a girl had taken charge and playfully pinned them to the sofa.

If Roger told anyone an older girl had forced him to have sex with her they wouldn't hear the word 'forced' because that just didn't happen in the world. If he told someone he had been raped they would dismiss it because he was a man and that couldn't happen to a guy. If he told someone Sarah had pinned him to the sofa and left bruises tainting his skin they would think he meant love bites or that she was dominating. People saw what they wanted to see and Brian was one of them. He didn't want to think his sister was a rapist so he didn't see that, he saw Roger blaming his abuse on Sarah because she was the closest thing.

"I was still nineteen when she raped me again. She took a knife to my arm when I tried to make her leave, if you hadn't of been at Fred's place I wouldn't have lied. I've never self-harmed in my life, only had your sister harm me. She got that cut on her forehead above her eyebrow when I pushed her into the table in my apartment when she cut me. I'm not lying anymore and if you think I am we're done." His voice was broken like a scratched record.

He was so tired.

The lying always made Roger want to be sick but the truth simply made him feel like he was dying a very slow death. Brian couldn't ignore what Roger was telling him and if he chose to disagree or not believe him then they were finished because Roger couldn't do this anymore. The lying was over and Roger was not going to continue like this had never happened. Brian was not going to act like Roger had not been raped or assaulted, he was not going to treat Roger like he was a charity case or a liar. He was going to acknowledge what his sister had done or he was going to leave and never look Roger in the eye again because there was no going around this.

Freddie and John had witnessed the truth with their own eyes but Brian was keeping his clamped closed because he thought he knew his sister and learning this about her was shattering to him.

"Rog... I- I just can't see how she would do that."

Roger was going home. Brian had cut the last thread Roger was trying so desperately to hold onto. If he couldn't find the ability to accept the truth that was staring him in the face then Roger was wasting no more time trying to protect him and make things better. Roger was cutting all the contact he had with someone he used to call a close friend and he was done with the looks Freddie and John were giving him.

"We're finished. All of us."

#roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger x reader #imagine #queen band #freddie mercury #Brian May #john deacon #liar

34 notes · View notes

haughtbreaker · 5 years

Link

Gus returns home the morning after the party to find a tense household. Nicole wrestles with the events that had happened the night before.

Special thanks as always to @jaybear1701 for putting up with my shitty punctuation habits. Sorry it took so long for this chapter. There was a con, a bunch of unexpected life stuff and just my brain not willing to cooperate. Yeah I might have been listening to a bit of Death Cab for Cutie while I wrote this, hence the title.

There’s a Spotify playlist for this fic that goes up to whatever the current chapter is if anyone is interested.

TW: Blood and graphic depiction of a suicide attempt

"Where's your sister?" Gus shucked off her coat before she took a seat at the table. She'd only had a few hours of sleep in the room above the bar but it had taken the edge off the exhaustion and given the girls time to clean up. Well, to be honest, it gave Waverly time. Wynonna, as always, was nowhere to be seen.

"Still sleeping." Waverly set a mug of coffee and an empty plate in front of her. "You know how she gets."

Yes, Gus knew exactly how Wynonna could get. Considering the house wasn't in shambles and they weren't in the emergency room, they got off easy. "Well, I suppose she's forgotten she's to have community service today." Gus began to pull pancakes and scrambled eggs onto her plate from the different serving dishes. "Luckily, Randy is hungover." Gus smiled at Rosita who was quietly alternating bites of pancakes, paying attention, and scrolling through her phone. "Enjoy meeting the hooligans of Purgatory?"

Rosita grinned around her fork. "They're not too bad. Strangely comfortable with nudity in the snow, but other than that, not much different than back home."

Gus looked at Waverly in question.

"Go Devils," Waverly said as she sat down with a bowl of fruit and oatmeal.

"Ah, hockey team, got it." Gus unfolded the newspaper she'd brought home and began to skim the articles. There was a sale on her favorite fertilizer and she made a mental note to stop at the hardware store. "Is Nicole still sleeping as well? She's usually up bright and early helping you with breakfast." She looked at Waverly over the top of the newspaper.

Waverly didn't look up from her oatmeal, just shrugged. "I think so. I haven't seen her this morning."

Gus rose an eyebrow. In the past few weeks, Waverly and Nicole had slowly grown to become inseparable. While the changes in Nicole, from her original forlorn state, had been the most obvious, Gus could swear even Waverly had started to look a bit brighter. Not just in the smile she gave everyone, but deep in her eyes - a glimmer that had begun to truly sparkle. What in the world had happened that had made Waverly unwilling to look up?

There was a soft beep from Rosita's phone and she sniffled. "I think Nicole just woke up." She took a long sip from her coffee before pushing back from the table. "I'll go see what she's up to. I'll be right back, cause these pancakes are too good to not finish." She tossed a wink at Waverly.

"Could ya let her know Sheriff Nedley is too hungover and her sentence has been delayed again."

Rosita paused, tilting her head for a moment. "Um… I'm going to need the deets on that but I'll let her know."

Watching Rosita leave, Gus turned her attention back to Waverly who was absentmindedly stabbing at her oatmeal, not really eating it. Her eyes didn't seem to be focused on anything, just gazing off into nothingness. Interesting.

---

Nicole looked down at the familiar desk, worn and comfortable. She could feel the burn in her eyes but she wasn't exactly sure why. The taste of vodka clung to her tongue as she looked around the room. Familiar posters and photos lined the walls, movies and bands she had adored when she'd still had the care to decorate. Hanging from the corner of her closet door, a familiar hoodie drew her attention.

This wasn't Purgatory. She knew that and she knew it was wrong, yet still she felt the comfort of familiarity numbing her curiosity. She was moving before she knew what she was doing, grabbing the hoodie and sliding it on. It was a little snug, not fit for her own frame, but fit for her on another level. The scent of coconut lotion was woven into the threads and she hugged the material to her as she moved back to her desk.

In her hand there was suddenly a photo, she and Shae sitting in the sand together, faces covered in smiles of unknowing. Nicole didn't want to be there anymore. The comfort of familiarity was replaced with the cold of a blade, one of her father's replacement blades for his box cutter. A song played on repeat from her phone, one of Shae's favorites. She looked down at her arms, coconut-scented sleeves already pushed up past her elbows, not wanting to get the material wet as vodka suddenly pooled on the desk from the bottle she didn't remember tipping over.

The movies had been wrong, she thought, as the spilled vodka began to turn red. They hadn't prepared her for the way flesh parted. There weren't neat lines that slowly seeped crimson, but rather layers of muscle that seemed to spill out once free from their flesh casing. The movies hadn't told her how she didn't have the grip strength to go as deep or far with the second cut. She felt the warm touch of another hand covering her own, a familiar presence giving her the strength she needed to keep cutting.

Over the sound of the song playing on repeat and the percussion of her father suddenly banging on the door, she heard the voice in her ear.

"Follow me."

Nicole jerked awake, gasping in pain as she looked down at her arms. Familiar scars greeted her, dark red lines with their train tracks of stitch marks. A familiar pain pulsed through her arms and she winced, taking a moment to breathe in and out. It had been a while since she felt the pain in her arms like this. Physical therapy had helped with it the most, but she hadn't been since getting to Purgatory. Maybe that was stupid.

Experimentally, she opened and closed her hands, feeling the tug from within that hadn't existed a year ago. They'd told her she was lucky there hadn't been extensive nerve damage, that she still had a grip at all.

That she was still alive.

That she had her whole life to look forward to.

With a soft sigh, she looked around the room, noticing Rosita wasn't anywhere to be seen. Her phone told her it was past nine, later than she normally woke up. She was usually downstairs by now, helping Waverly with breakfast.

Suddenly, as if someone flipped a switch, all the memories from the night came back to her. She remembered the drinking and that stupid game. She remembered kissing Wynonna. She remembered the jealousy that had flared up when Rosita kissed Waverly.

She remembered the barn - the bite of cold being chased away by the caress of soft lips, the warmth of fingertips against her cheek.

Oh God, Nicole thought, laying back and pulling the covers over her head. What the hell had she done? She paused for a moment. What the hell did Waverly do?

Pushing back the blankets, she looked for her phone before pulling it back to her, quickly pulling up her IMs.

I need you.

Nicole hit the send button before pulling up her social media. No weird photos. No idiotic, drunken posts. It was a small comfort in the whirlwind of emotions that were rolling through her. Of course, she hadn't been that drunk. Why the hell was she even checking? She knew there was no point, but still she scrolled through, pausing to like a photo Rosita had posted of the bottle from the night before, tagged #drama. That was the damn truth.

She remembered everything.

Everything.

Her fingertips came up to trace her lips, once again remembering the soft caress before she pulled her hand back, her eyes falling to the scar on her forearm. "Fuck." The word slipped from her lips just a second before a body fell onto the bed with her. "Shit!" She gasped as the blanket was pulled back.

"You're finally up." Rosita wiggled into a more comfortable position.

"Rosie…"

"Oh hey, Gus said to tell you something about the Sheriff wants to delay your sentence again… due to a hangover?" Rosita gave her a questioning look.

"Oh, great… I completely forgot about that."

"Sentence?" Rosita poked at Nicole's side. "What the shit is that about?"

"Wynonna," Nicole responded as if it explained everything. When she got no response, she looked over at rubbed at her eyes. "She got us arrested for drinking in public and we have to do some shit community service."

Rosita hummed positively. "Such a rebel. You were never arrested back home."

Nicole sighed heavily. "Did you bring me any water?"

"Did you ask for water?" Rosita snorted and picked up a glass and a bottle of aspirin. "I brought it up earlier."

"God, I fucking love you." Nicole sat up before accepting both. The world spun slightly but she powered through it, gulping down the water.

"Don't forget your other pills."

Nicole nodded, grabbing her backpack and hauling it onto her lap. "Can't forget those." She went through the process of shaking out the collection of pills. "Can't… forget… these." The remnants of her dream still tugged at her mind even as she swallowed the handful of medication, false sanity that left a bitter taste on her tongue.

"Hey. You okay?" Rosita reached up to push a lock of auburn hair behind Nicole's ear. "What's up with that text?"

Nicole cradled the glass in her hands, pursing her lips. "Yeah… sorry, just a little panic from waking up from a bad dream." She'd contemplated bringing up the kiss to Rosita, but the words seemed to stick to her tongue, a hard-to-swallow pill that caused more anxiety than it soothed.

"So it has nothing to do with you and Waverly mysteriously disappearing for a chunk of time last night?"

In the middle of another sip, Nicole nearly choked on the water. "What?"

Rosita shrugged. "I mean, not like anyone else was paying attention or anything but it's pretty suspicious when you suddenly disappear after Waverly kisses me and then she goes after you." Rosita gave her a suspicious look.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Nicole crossed her arms over her chest with a huff.

"Uh huh. Sure."

Nicole hesitated, weighing the pros and cons of just coming out and saying it. "Waverly kissed me." The words came out before she could stop them.

"She kissed me too," Rosita joked. "She's actually really great at it." She paused for a moment, turning to look at Nicole closer. As if sensing Nicole's discomfort, Rosita pursed her lips, folding her legs under her. "But I'm guessing she didn't kiss you the way she kissed me."

Squirming uncomfortably, Nicole changed positions. "No." She had her legs crossed, her hands folded in her lap.

"Okay so this is a we totally need to talk about it kind of kiss."

Nicole took a deep breath. It was so easy to turn her arms, to see the dark red marks on her skin again - permanent reminders. She curled her hands into fists, turning the scars away, as if she could pretend they weren't there. "I think we both drank too much and we were in the barn with just the two of us…"

Rosita reached over, slipping her hand into Nicole's. "By that, I'm guessing you kissed her back."

"I just… it hasn't even been a year since…" Nicole swallowed audibly, her words stuck in her mouth. It felt wrong to bring up Shae while talking about Waverly, but how could she avoid it? "I mean… I'm feeling so many damn emotions, I don't even know what to do anymore. Everything just keeps piling up and up and it's like I can see it about to tip over but I can't stop it."

"You're allowed to be happy, Nicole."

"I know."

Rosita snorted. "Do you? Because right now you're acting like you're supposed to be punished."

"Maybe I am…" Nicole spoke softly. She couldn't forget about the fight she'd had with Shae, how their last words had been an argument.

How she'd basically put Shae in that car.

Even if she verbally agreed with Rosita, she knew she didn't deserve to be happy. She deserved to be in pain for the rest of her life, loving and missing Shae.

"You're an idiot."

Nicole blinked, her head jerking up in surprise. "What the fuck?"

"You… are… an idiot," Rosita said slower, giving her a no-nonsense look.

"Wow… um… okay."

"Nicole, Sweetie." Rosita reached out and tapped the tip of Nicole's nose and Nicole swatted her hand away. "I love you. Like, I love you so much, but you are such an idiot. But, at least you're pretty."

"Why did I even call you up here?" Nicole exhaled loudly.

"I improve the aesthetics of the room." Rosita grinned. "That and your gay panic."

"It's not gay panic."

"It's the prime definition of gay panic."

"You're the prime definition of gay panic."

"That's mature," Rosita snorted. "Anyway, let's get back to you and Waverly and your gay shenanigans."

Nicole groaned, laying back down and covering her face. "I mean… she's not even gay," she huffed, rubbing her eyes. "She was dating Champ of all people." She made a face at his name.

"Excuse me with your gold star bullshit…" Rosita rolled her eyes. "Maybe she's bisexual… or pansexual… or fluid… not everyone adher's to your black and white gay scale, Miss I was born with a vag in my mouth."

"Shut up!" Nicole sat up just so she could push Rosita back.

Rosita just barely stayed sitting up. "Bitch." There was a moment of silence, both just living in the comfort of their friendship until Rosita eventually moved closer, sitting right next to Nicole. "If you honestly believed Waverly were 100% straight, do you think you'd be sitting here about to hyperventilate right now?"

Nicole knew it was true. There was no way to ignore the way Waverly had pressed against her, the softness of her hand against Nicole's cheek and the hunger in her kiss.

Rosita reached up, tugging on a lock of auburn hair. "Do you honestly think you would have stomped off into the cold, dark, night in a jealous fit if you weren't kind of into her?" A moment of silence passed between them before Rosita captured a tear that slipped down Nicole's cheek. "Hey. Come on. This is a good thing."

Nicole pulled away slightly, her hand coming up to rub at her eyes. "Do you…" She sniffled softly. "Do you think Shae would like Waverly?"

"God no, she'd fucking hate her."

Nicole pulled back in surprise, not expecting that comment. "What?"

"I mean, Waverly is fucking amazing," Rosita quickly spoke up, "but she's like… too perfect and you know how much Shae liked being the center of attention." Pausing for a moment, she pursed her lips before continuing. "I mean, even in the short time I've been here, I can tell that this town pretty much worships the ground that girl walks on, which is really fucking weird."

Nicole shook her head. "She's not perfect. She's flawed, and insecure, and…" Nicole looked down at her hands, picking at her nails. "She's so sad sometimes. She's so good at hiding it from everyone, but I guess maybe takes one to know one." She sniffled. "She's so damn guarded behind that damn smile and wave." Shaking her head, she sighed softly. "I'm such a fucking mess, Rosie."

"And that is totally acceptable." Rosita covered Nicole's hands with her own, stopping her picking fingers. "I miss her too, Nicole. Every day, I think about her." Rosita looked down at their hands, the dark red scars evident as always against Nicole's pale arms. "Sometimes I'll be getting dressed and in my head I'll hear her voice like 'you're not really wearing that top with those pants are you?'" She impersonated Shae's questioning voice.

Nicole had to laugh. "That's good. That's… that's definitely Shae." With a sigh, she adjusted her position, pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on one knee. "I miss her, every damn day. I think about her, the good and the bad and how much I still love her." Nicole sniffled. "Waverly has this weird ability to… I don't know… calm shit." She took a deep breath, feeling her emotions settling even just thinking about Waverly's presence. "When she's around it's like the storm calms down, or rather makes way for a completely different storm… a storm I want to be in."

"That… is some deep shit." Rosita rolled her eyes. "Now, can we go downstairs so I can finish my breakfast?" She huffed. "Waverly is acting all skittish and the only other person down there is Gus. I need you to keep me company, at least until Wynonna wakes up." She gave Nicole a wink.

"Rosie…" Nicole was thoroughly distracted, as she unfolded her frame. "That is such a bad idea."

Rosita had the decency to smirk. "I know, but you know how much I like a bad idea."

----

"Good morning!"

Waverly looked up at Gus's greeting, seeing Nicole following Rosita into the dining room. She immediately got up from her seat to retrieve the coffee to pour Nicole a cup.

"Happy New Year." Nicole smiled at Gus. "Did you sleep well?"

"Better than I would have here," Gus answered with a chuckle.

Nicole stepped up to Waverly, who was holding a mug in her direction. "Thank you." She offered Waverly a smile and Waverly's cheeks flushed slightly.

"Of course. Have a seat and eat something."

Nicole nodded, taking a seat next to Rosita who had resumed alternating bites of her breakfast and typing into her phone.

"So, what are you lot up to today?" Gus folded up the paper she'd been reading, setting it aside. "Not much is open today. Everyone's nursing a hangover."

"I have a fantastic idea." Wynonna came bounding down the stairs and into the room. "Hey Gus, Baby Girl, Red…" She paused at Rosita, offering her a wink, "Hottie." She looked at Waverly whose eyebrows shot up to nearly her hairline. "We got some fresh snow last night. We should head out to Nakiska, show these Californians a good time."

"Naked kissing what?" Rosita perked up.

Nicole coughed loudly, nearly choking on a mouthful of eggs.

"Nakiska," Waverly corrected. "Wynonna wants to go snowboarding." She pursed her lips, thinking over the idea. "That could be fun. Did you want to drag the boys along?"

Wynonna snorted, dropping down next to Waverly and grabbing a pancake and beginning to pour syrup over it. "They wish. How about just us? Just a bunch of gals… being pals?" She looked at Rosita and licked a bit of syrup off her fingertip with a wink.

"Oh boy." Nicole focused on her own plate.

"We don't have to… if you don't want." Waverly smiled softly.

"No. It sounds like fun." Nicole nodded. "I've been wondering how different it is from surfing."

"Well I definitely can't tell you that." Waverly laughed, a sound that made Nicole smile wider. "Not a lot of ocean around here."

"Yeah. I've noticed." Nicole chuckled. "I don't know if we have any snowboarding worthy stuff."

"No worries. We've got a bunch of stuff. I'm sure we can find something to fit," Waverly added, looking at Wynonna.

"Yeah. I'm sure we can find something warm you can slip into."

Gus looked around the table and sighed heavily.

#wayhaught #wynonna earp #pmm #tw: suicide #tw: blood

24 notes · View notes