#literally about to float out of my skin with happiness???' and he ponders about that for a bit and THEN we get the classic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spencersawkward · 3 years

Note

i’m so happy ur on tumblr now!! i love between the lines so much, could you write a blurb or one shot about mgg and a younger co-star, but like very spicy if possible 🙃, idk i just love that scenario🥵.

i was literally about to write "omg i love this concept too!" and then i was like “well no fucking shit, sophi.” lol. YES i can 10/10 write you a one-shot with a similar scenario! also thank you for your kind words that was the first fic i ever wrote so it’s very near and dear to my heart!

summary: reader goes to a holiday party with her co-stars and best friend, Matthew... but all the fun happens in the dressing room.

content warnings: this one is quite dirty but i’m also proud of it lol. unprotected penetrative sex, oral (female receiving), degradation, use of the term “little girl,” creampie, age gap. dirty talk?

pairing: Fem!Reader/Matthew

word count: 4.7k

masterlist

"no."

"what do you mean, 'no’?” Matthew laughs, looking between me and the mirror.

"I look like the Ghost of Christmas Past." I lift up the soft white tulle of the dress, watching it float back down to settle over my skin. he's got his eyebrows raised and there's a smirk on his lips like he's holding back a laugh. I resist the urge to reach around and hit him.

"would you rather wear that?" he points to the punch-stained gown that's now laying pathetically over the back of the vanity chair. I genuinely ponder the idea for a moment.

"honestly, the crime scene vibes might work well with the theme of our show."

"seriously, it's not bad, Y/N!" he insists, drawing my attention back to the mirror.

"you're just saying that because you're the one who spilled on me and you don't want people making fun of how clumsy you are." I cross my arms over my chest. he gives me a dubious expression in our reflection on the wall.

"do I seem like I care about that?" he challenges.

"I--" the truth is that no, Matthew is not the type. Matthew is the kind of person to flounder in front of anyone and proceed to crack a joke about himself. he's humble. but I kind of like when we talk like this, our back and forth.

after a year of working together on the same show, he and I have grown incredibly close. I'm friends with all my co-stars, but he and I just have the natural friendship chemistry that makes me want to spend all my time with him. when we're not on set, we're hanging out on his couch or ordering dinner or driving out of town to check out wacky sites around California. we just have fun. pure, clean, honest fun.

of course, in my dreams it isn't pure or honest. frankly, there's a lot of sordid scandal to what goes on in my head when he accidentally touches my arm or brushes his fingers over mine. the amount of times I have gone to cast parties trying to work up the nerve to kiss him are embarrassing. he's older and more experienced and, obviously, he has no interest in me.

but that doesn't matter.

the only reason I'm standing in a dressing room alone with him is because he knew someone on the crew who could hook me up with a replacement for the night. he left while I slipped out of the old one and came back in only after knocking and checking, like, twice to make sure I was decent. he's so respectful that it's almost like he's afraid of making me think the wrong thing-- which makes me feel absolutely stupid for my almost schoolgirl crush.

"come on, you look great. let's go enjoy the party."

"was this a dress one of the victims was wearing?" I ask with a laugh.

"probably. not like we carry a lot of gowns on set." he grabs my hand, makes my heart leap into my throat. he only does it to urge me along, but it still feels intimate as I follow him out of the room, tossing one more evaluative glance at myself in the mirror. I seem terrified.

we continue to do our rounds at the party, Matthew filling my glass of eggnog even though I hate it. I wince and take a sip while we talk to some of our co-stars.

"what's wrong with you?" Shemar chuckles at my expression.

"lost a bet."

"with whom?" he glances between Matthew and me, knowing damn well already from the mischievous grin on the former's face.

"I told you not to take it." Matthew says over the rim of his glass.

"if you mention it one more time, I'm gonna throw up eggnog all over your outfit." I threaten him, but we're both smiling. Shemar frowns.

"what was the bet?"

"you know David-- the guy I was telling you about?" I reply quickly, determined to give my side of the story. Shemar nods; I told him last week when David oh-so-chivalrously danced up on me at a club and asked me out. usually in those situations, guys just want a one-night stand, so I was impressed and agreed. "anyway, Matthew said if it turned out that he was a weirdo, he would get to pick my drinks for the next week whenever we go out."

"your drinks? that's specific."

"she's so picky!" Matthew teases me.

"leave me alone, you dick!" I elbow him and he dodges just in time.

"tell him why he was a weirdo." he grins. the glare I give could kill. but Shemar is waiting expectantly for me to share the information, so I sigh and set my jaw before telling the truth.

"he collects antique dental tools."

"what?" Shemar laughs disbelievingly. I throw my hands up.

"I don't fucking know. we went back to his apartment and he showed me his whole collection."

"you're attracted to weird people, Y/N." Matthew says. I raise my eyebrows and almost say something that dooms me. I hold my tongue, however, and turn back to Shemar with a reserved smile.

"anyway, how are you?"

...

the cast holiday party is actually pretty fun. I tend to leave these functions early in favor of my couch and some ice cream, but something about the bright colors and the smell of wintergreen in the air makes me want to linger in the studio.

I stuff myself with sugar cookies and Matthew mercifully lets me switch from eggnog to Sprite. normally, I'd drink at such an occasion, but I'm a messy drunk and this is one of my first real jobs as an actress. I don't want to even come close to jeopardizing that by breaking some expensive equipment or something.

my throat gets a little sore from all the talking I do-- Paget and I spend about half an hour horribly belting out Christmas carols at the baby grand piano they brought in. they originally had someone hired to play it, but the guy disappeared about an hour ago.

by the time it hits around ten pm, my limbs are tired. I thought people would be leaving (a lot of them have families), but the party is still very much raging when I start to wind down. maybe it's because I'm sober.

"hey." Matthew sidles up next to me as I sit at the piano bench with a slice of lime in my mouth. I like to suck the juice out of them; sour things are my favorite.

"hi." I pluck the fruit out and drop it back into my soda. he sits next to me, his cologne filling my senses with the kind of sensual warmth that it shouldn't be making me feel. he always smells so good.

"ladylike." he gestures to the movement.

"is that why you call me 'princess?'" I smirk, half-joking.

"once-- I called you that once!" he defends. it's not a lie. he used the nickname when he was mocking me for my somewhat selective food preferences. it was sarcastic, but I wish it wasn't. something about the way he said it in the moment made me blush.

"is there a reason you've come to grate my nerves?" I raise an eyebrow and he turns away from me as he bites back a smile. I pout. "what?"

"you're talking like a Jane Austen novel."

"what's wrong with Jane Austen?" I defend, skin heating up. his proximity is doing things to me that it shouldn't.

"nothing," he glances at me before moving his gaze to the ivory keys. "do you play?"

"elementary level, sure." I giggle. he runs his fingers over them, never pressing down hard enough to release a sound. I'm entranced by the delicate nature of his actions, the veins and the curve of his fingertips, the sheer width of his hand. I think about it too much for it to be healthy.

"show me." it's a direct order, one that doesn't feel directive but still ends with me placing both hands on the piano and wracking my brain for something to play. I decide on a piece that Paget and I were doing earlier, "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas."

I've never been quite good at piano, and the nearness of his body is like an anvil on my fingers, but I play anyway. and it feels good. his eyes are on me, drawn to my tracings over the instrument as they press and lift and glide.

"sing." I tell him.

"no!" he protests. I don't stop playing, only now getting into the thick of the tune.

"oh, come on. just the chorus..." I plead, turning my head to beg. "please?"

I bat my lashes playfully, fully intending it as a joke, but Matthew softens a bit. for a fraction of a second, I think he looks at my mouth. he turns his head back to the piano and lets out a quiet "here we are as in olden days... happy golden days of yore..."

"there you go!" I egg him on, and he starts to get more into it. his voice is absolutely off-key; he's no singer, and somehow that makes him even more endearing to me.

Matthew has always been this flawless, intimidating figure in my mind. even when we first met, I was certain that he was hiding something because everything else about him is so... perfect. he's funny, sweet, genuinely kind, handsomer than hell. it didn't make sense. but knowing that he can't carry a tune makes me feel a bit better. it humanizes his beauty.

while he sings, I can't help looking at him. his side profile is even more enchanting; the curve of his features meeting a smooth elegance in his jaw and cheek, especially when his mouth is open. he catches me smiling at him and returns it with his own gleeful face, now totally fine with singing like a fool in front of everyone. nobody is even really looking at us-- they're several drinks in and lost in their own universe of drunken laughter.

there's something kind of magical about that, I think. we're sober. when the song draws to a close, I lift my fingers off the keys and into my lap.

"you're quite the Pavarotti." I joke.

"the who?" he furrows his brow with a smile.

"he's a famous opera singer."

"oh," he laughs, "thanks, Mozart."

I twist my face up as I hide my smile. this is also part of the reason I could never tell Matthew how I feel; we just fit together too well. he almost always gets my references and I understand his, even though there's an age gap between us. he's an old soul with a youthful heart.

"how's your night going?" I ask him softly, changing the subject. he sets his hands on his lap, absent-mindedly toying with his fingers. it's not a nervous tendency at all. he does it whenever we're on set.

"as of right now? pretty damn good." he replies with a smile. I get warm again at the implication. he doesn't mean it like that, but god, do I wish he did.

"very smooth." I compliment appreciatively.

"how about you?"

"it was kind of boring, but then this rando sat next to me and started singing Christmas songs and it got a little better." I say flatly, grabbing my glass off the top of the piano and running my fingertip over the rim. he drops his head in a giggle.

"you're something else."

"insult?" I clarify.

"definitely a compliment."

"I like compliments."

"well, I wasn't lying before. you look really beautiful in that dress."

"the murder dress?" I glance down at it to hide the absolute wideness of my eyes at his words. he's completely flustering me and I'm starting to find it hard to breathe. he said I look beautiful. not "pretty," not "great"-- beautiful.

"yes, the murder dress." he gets a little pink in his cheeks, and that makes me want to explode on the spot.

"well, say goodbye to it because I'm gonna go change back into my plebeian clothes," I stand from the piano bench. "it's past my bedtime."

Matthew looks up at me with an unreadable expression and I feel my heart flutter in my chest. I hate leaving him. "do you wanna come with me? like-- walk with me?"

"sure." he nods, stands, and follows behind. I can feel his presence like a delightful reminder of the emotions surging in my stomach. we wind through the crowd of party-goers until we end up back in the dressing room, away from the party. it's quiet.

Matthew walks in with me, carrying our drinks in his hand, and he's about to stroll back out so I can change when I touch his arm. the door shuts automatically behind him.

"wait," I swallow quickly. "can you unzip me?"

"oh." Matthew looks at me, then at the glasses in his arms, then at the vanity. he sets them down and comes back quickly, his frame behind me while his fingertips locate the little piece at the top of my gown. my breath hitches in my throat when he brushes over my spine by accident, one nail dragging accidentally against my skin as the fabric slowly gives way. I don't know if he hears it-- it's nearly imperceptible-- but he definitely hesitates once he reaches the place where my back starts to curve into my ass. he pauses, doesn't breathe until he reaches the end of the zipper.

"there you go." he mutters. his voice is a little more hoarse than usual, and he clears his throat as he steps away. I know he's going to back out. he's going to back out of the room and wait for me to slip into nothing and I know, somehow, that he's going to be thinking about how I look in here with my clothes off. he's going to wish he stayed.

and I'm going to wish he'd done more than stayed.

before I can lose my nerve and allow the moment to be swallowed up by practicality, I shrug the straps of the dress down my shoulders and let gravity take over. it drops to the floor, leaving me in only my bra and panties. I can sense him behind me; he's silent for a moment.

"Matthew." I say, the name sitting on my tongue like a sugar cube. perfectly formed, slowly dissolving.

"y-yeah?" he stutters for the first time since I've met him.

"are you looking at my ass right now?" I ask, still turned around. the way he's frozen in place tells me that I'm right.

"yeah." he admits.

"you can touch it, if you want." I murmur softly. part of me doesn't think this is real, the way each sentence leaves my throat like it's been pre-planned. truly, I don't understand how my brain is moving so quickly.

"are you... sure?" he's hesitant, but even I can taste the longing.

"yes."

his hand smooths over my butt, softly at first like he's still not believing his own eyes, before moving back to grab it. he squeezes the flesh, and a low exhale from him tells me that he's excited.

"do you want more?" my voice barely carries. my head is almost foggy from how good it is to have his grip on my body, even in such a simple way. I can feel myself getting wet.

"how much more?" his lips brush over my shoulder and I get goosebumps. my mouth opens and closes for a moment, searching for the right words.

"however much you want."

it's flint and steel, the way he sparks. the air literally leaves my lungs when Matthew grabs my hips and spins me around to face him. my lips part as I peer up at him, at the lust that now darkens those hazel eyes and the way he holds mine. his touch is certain. he pulls our bodies together, tilts my chin up to kiss me.

it's passionate, strong, the kind of kiss that causes me to lean back a bit just to receive the full force of his desire. but I return the affection easily, moaning into his mouth. I've never been held the way that Matthew holds me. like I'm made of sugar glass, like he wants desperately to feel the soft give of my skin and make a home of me.

the heat between our bodies is almost overwhelming, and I sigh when he subtly pushes our hips together. his erection is against my stomach.

"fuck." I mutter when I pull away for air. Matthew doesn't stop his perfect movements, though, tugging my earlobe between his teeth and starting to leave love bites up my skin and over my shoulder. he chuckles against my throat. I shiver.

"you alright, little girl?" he asks.

"just--" I let out a moan at the sensation of his fingers exploring my bare waist. he reaches behind me to unclasp my bra. "just surprised."

"about?" he slides the straps down my shoulders and looks me in the eye. the lack of physical contact makes me whine.

"that you want me."

"how is that surprising?" he smiles, using one index finger to guide me to look at him.

"you don't seem like it."

Matthew raises his eyebrows as if I'm a crazy person. truly dumbstruck. "what?"

"you-- well, I don't know." I frown, but Matthew takes my hand and moves it over his torso until my palm is resting over the considerable bulge in his pants.

"is this enough proof?"

I struggle for words, sputtering. "yeah-- yeah, it is."

he bucks into my hand a little and I bite my lip, eyes moving up to meet his. something passes between us that I don't fully understand, but feel in my bones. I have never, in my life, wanted someone to fuck me as much as I want Matthew to fuck me right now. my jaw clenches.

"I need you." I tell him like this is the most relevant piece of information that will ever pass between us. he smirks.

"yeah?"

"mhmm."

"then lean against the wall and let me give you what you deserve." he orders. for a second, I try to think through what he means. then I look behind me at the open space and back up, him following me closely. his hands move up to cup my breasts, kneading and tweaking my nipples as he kisses my lips. the coolness against my back causes me to gasp, and he swallows the sound with his tongue before moving down my body.

he's torturously slow, taking one of my nipples into his mouth while he shrugs off his suit jacket. he switches to my other peak, one hand splayed over my stomach, and then proceeds southward with his lips. his kisses are delicate, open-mouthed, as they find their way to the waistband of my panties.

he hooks his fingers in them and looks up at me.

"can I eat you out, baby?" he asks. I bite my lip.

"please." like a beg.

"oh, you're polite tonight." he smirks, tugging the garment down my legs and discarding it somewhere in the room. I don't respond, and he doesn't seem to need me to, because he pushes one leg up for better access to my pussy. "let's see if it lasts."

my back curves off of the wall involuntarily when he holds the flat of his tongue against my clit suddenly, trying to roll my hips against his face. my fingers tangle in his hair, one leg resting over his shoulder.

he starts to flick at my clit. I lose grasp of my own language.

"Matthew, that feels so good, I--"

he attaches himself to my bundle of nerves, seemingly turned on by the sounds I'm making for him. he groans as he laps at the wetness between my legs, dipping into my folds and sucking the soul out of me. I whine and use his curls as leverage to gain more friction. he peers up at me.

"needy little girl." he mumbles against my pussy. I shove him back into me.

"make me cum, then." I beg. I can practically feel the devilish smirk on his face as he devours me like he'll never get enough. every twist and lick of his tongue is sending me to new places. I'm panting, chest heaving, while I grab my own tits and buck into his mouth.

he moans. my orgasm hits me like a wave, causing me to nearly thrash with pleasure as I cry out.

"Matthew, keep going, fuck yes!" I feel tears prick the back of my eyes, the culmination almost too much to bear as we hold contact. he stares into my fucking soul as he eats me out, and I want to stay like this forever. it's hard to support myself with my legs going weak, but I love it. the sensations are otherworldly. it's only when I'm about to collapse that I push his face away from me.

"I love your pussy." he tells me, licking his lips as he sets my legs down. I grin and let my head fall back against the wall.

"thanks."

"come here, princess." he takes hold of my hips and guides me over to the mirror, turning me so that he's standing behind my frame. the pet name causes me to smile.

"what?" I reference our reflection. he stares at me, reaching around to squeeze my tits.

"I wanna fuck you in the mirror." such a vulgar thing, said so beautifully. he kisses my cheek. "if that's okay with you."

"I don't care what position we do as long as you're fucking me." I breathe honestly. he chuckles and draws me towards him so his clothed boner is against my ass. I reach behind and work the button on his pants. he undoes the ones on his shirt. we're silent, him watching my naked body move like he's trying to memorize every detail.

when he's finally stripped, he lets me stroke his cock for a couple moments before pushing my upper back forward so I'm holding onto the sides of the mirror. I see him biting his lip as he lines himself up at my entrance.

"you ready?" he checks. I nod and he smiles at me once. pushing in, the smile melts into a jaw-dropped haze, eyes rolling into the back of his head. "Y/N..."

"it's so big." I try to breathe. he's so deep, I grip the mirror until my knuckles turn white. he's going to snap my body in two with the angle of his cock, filling me easily.

"tight little thing." he grunts as he holds himself inside. I can only watch in shock as I try to adjust to the sheer feeling of him. Matthew runs his hands over my sides, my ass, touching whatever he can. "how's that?"

I start to wiggle my hips and he groans at the feeling of my walls desperately swallowing him up. "Matthew, I need it."

"need what?" he thrusts into me and I have to fight a scream.

"need you."

"fuck... yes." he hisses out, sliding into me. "you're so wet I don't even need to try."

I bite my lip to withhold my sounds and he stares me in the eyes in the mirror as he starts to fuck me harder, building a pace with his hips. he growls a little if he hits certain angles, getting ruthless.

"so many times when I wanted to be inside you, princess..." he trails off. I start to play with my clit with one hand, using the other to stabilize myself with the mirror. the idea turns me on.

"when?"

"whenever you have attitude," he pants. "tonight, in that innocent fucking dress. making me wanna pound you like a little slut."

I make a high-pitched sound at the shudder of pleasure that jolts through my stomach at his words, wanting more. I've never heard him talk this way before.

"Matthew, shit--" I rub myself in circles, caught between watching his face and watching the way his hips slam into mine.

"you're begging to be fucked, you know that?"

"am I?" I smile sweetly in the mirror. we're in our own world, locked in a fantasy that I never want to leave. I can feel him in every corner of my body, sinking beneath my skin. he digs his nails into my ass.

"mhmm." he hums. I can feel the familiar weight in my stomach that indicates how close I'm getting. a knot that screams to be undone by his perfect length. I would do anything for more of this. I can taste everything good in the world on my tongue.

"I'm so close." I whine.

"I can tell," he studies my face in the mirror. "so pretty when you're breaking."

"oh--" I feel my thighs tense and my body pulses, the euphoria almost overwhelming. we move steadily, rhythmically, and he pushes my climax to new levels. "faster." I cry.

Matthew is quick to respond, gripping me closer while he plows into me like he's never going to have my body again. the sound of it is filthy, perfect, a mess. he groans at the sensation of my cunt pulsating around his cock.

"cum for me, princess." he moans, losing himself in the embrace of my core. the foggy stare in his eyes is like drowning in the ocean. I sink below, not caring at all about the consequences of him inside me. fuck working together; I need him. "where should I cum?"

"in me." I groan.

"beg." he commands easily, watching my face contort in pleasure. I could pretend to fight it, to give a little attitude, but I don't want to. I love begging for him.

"fill me up, Matthew. please." each word punctuated by the breathlessness of my voice. he gets even more ferocious with me, beating up my pussy until I'm sure he's going to leave me sore.

"right there, right there," he gasps, hitting the same spot that makes me go cross-eyed. "such a good little slut."

his cum shoots into me, deep and warm and erotically twisted, and I nearly collapse. it feels weird, but so good at the same time. full. he groans out my name and withdraws, quick to grab my shoulders and hold me up as I almost fall. I hadn't realized that most of my body weight was supported purely by his thrusts.

"whoa." he lets out a tired laugh, gentle in his touch. I'm heaving air into my lungs.

"sorry." I apologize, my body unstable.

"are you okay?" he seems genuinely concerned and I nod.

"yeah, I'm fine. just a little overwhelmed."

"here," he scoops me into his arms and brings me over to the old love seat in the dressing room, laying his jacket down before putting me on top of it. "can I get you something?"

"Sprite." I gesture to the glass on the vanity, and he smiles as he goes to get it. I gulp down whatever remains of it. "thanks."

"of course." he keeps glancing at my face and the red marks on my hips where he was clutching me like a lifeline. "I'm sorry."

"what?" I set the cup down. "don't ever be sorry for fucking me like that."

"no, I meant--" he laughs, but then he sees my playful expression and realizes that I'm genuinely alright. I think my legs were asleep.

"you're a saint." I tell him. he frowns and shakes his head bashfully. I'm already getting up and collecting my clothes. "or maybe what we just did prevents you from reaching sainthood. I don't know."

he places his hand on my lower back, kisses my forehead tenderly.

"seriously. you're okay?"

"I'm perfectly fine," I assure him. "but I would be better with a milkshake."

Matthew breaks into a slow grin, staring at me like I've done something miraculous.

"how are you so perfect?"

#matthew gray gubler #mgg smut #mgg oneshot #mgg x reader

522 notes · View notes

thatoneitaliangirl · 3 years

Note

Oh my gosh could you write a childe x reader thing 🥺🥺 I wanna just have some sweet angst with a happy outcome somehow 😔

I may have gone a bit overboard- At this point, I feel I'm literally incapable of writing anything under 1,000 words. So sorry this took so long, I had to take a break from writing to work out some things with school. A bunch of nonsense and stuff lol. You didn't specify gender, so I wrote the reader as female, only cause that's what I'm used to working with. I apologize if that's not what you wanted. I can always whip up something for ya with your preferred pronouns! But I'm not sure if I'll make it this long . . . I honestly don't know how I even did this, like this is a feat I feel. Anyways, I hope Childe isn't too OOC in this. I'm not the best when it comes to writing angst, so I hope you like it! And just as a little explanation beforehand, I read up that Childe joined the Fatui when he was about 14, became a Harbinger at 18, and is considered a young adult. So in this fic, it's assumed that he and you are at least 20 years old just so the timeline adds up and stuff. Also, despite how long this is, Childe isn't in it as much as you probably wanted- I have a tendency to write more about the reader than the characters. It's something I'm trying to break, but I was just so proud of this. I hope you like it! Anyways, happy reading!!! ^^

Childe x Reader Angst

Plot- Reader and Childe have been together for years when Reader finds out that Childe killed her sister when she was young.

Word count- 8,864 (I'm so sorry)

Warnings- Mentions of death, sadness, bad writing, possible suicide at the end(But just mentioned as a fear), swearing, and cringe 'funny' moments cause why not.

The wind blows through your hair as you sit atop a ledge overlooking Liyue Harbor. Today is your younger sister's birthday, and for the past six years, it's been nothing but a reminder of your failure. You were supposed to take care of her. After your parents passed away, you were all she had left, and she, you. But you were just a kid yourself, hardly capable of raising a child.

You bite your lip and look over at all the families walking about, having fun. It brings a smile to your face knowing at least some people can be happy on this day. She wouldn't have wanted doom and gloom to be her only remembrance. The sun in the sky is warm, beaming down on your skin. You've fought many battles for the Adventurers Guild during your time living in town, and are proud to say you've survived. Even escaped a few sparring matches with Childe relatively unscathed.

You win every time, but it's no surprise given he lets you win. That's one of the many things you love about him. He tries to put you first in most situations as much as he can with his job. And it's the little things like letting you win a fake fight that makes you feel like you're floating.

Your relationship is practically plastered on every notice board in town with how affectionate you are to each other. Not a soul in Liyue can look at you and not know you are the Harbinger's lover. But you're okay with that.

Taking in a calm breath, you hop down and glide your way to the docks below.

"Good morning, _____! Nice weather, isn't it?" You smile at the young girl as she approaches you. You've known her for a while now, and have come to consider yourself friends. She seems a bit nervous though.

"It certainly is. Are you okay, Chen?" Her smile drops and she grips onto her arms.

"Can I ask a favor of you? It's rude of me, but I'm desperate!"

"It's fine, what's the matter?" The young girl sighs.

"My brother borrowed a loan from Northland Bank last month and the payments were due two days ago. He told me he was going to pay it back . . . He hasn't been home since. I just thought that . . ."

"You want me to ask Tar?" Her eyes snap up to yours.

"Will you? Please? I'm just so worried about him! I told him not to take that loan, but he never listens to me." You put your hand on her shoulder to calm her down.

"It's okay. It's no problem at all! I was just headed there anyway. I'll see about your brother for you." Young Chen sighs in relief and reaches in her pocket.

"Here, I want you to take this as payment." You shake your head and push her hand away.

"No, I could never!"

"I insist! My mother gave this to me when I was a kid," She opens your hand and places a small coin in before closing your hand around it.

"She told me travelers would give these coins to people who did favors for them and that they grant wishes! Though I'm sure that's just a children's story; I was never able to get it to work." You give the coin a look, hesitant, before slipping it into your pocket.

"Alright, I'll accept. Thank you!" You wave goodbye to Chen and head towards the bank. Childe spends most of his days there, what he does, you have no idea. It's a mystery. The most you get out of him is 'business' which, yeah, obviously you do business. But it's understandable. The Fatui are a questionable lot, and not many people in Liyue trust them.

The Qixing keep a close eye on them as well, though you're sure even they hardly know what goes down under the 'bank' façade. Sometimes Childe comes home with cuts and bruises, claiming they're from training with his comrades, and while you don't buy that one bit, you play along. No need to add to his stress. If he thought you needed to know, he would tell you. No doubt about it.

Walking up the many flights of stairs, you nod to Vlad who lets you in.

Lucky for you, the first face your eyes land on is the exact one you came looking for.

"Tar!" He immediately looks over in your direction, smiles, and dismisses the Fatui agent he was talking to.

"Well, if it isn't the most beautiful woman in all Teyvat. Come to steal my heart?" He pulls you into a hug and kisses your cheek.

"No need, I already have it," You pull away, giving him a smile.

"I actually came here to see you."

"I'd hope so! Who else would you want to see?" Rolling your eyes, you grab him by his hand and lead him to his office.

"I have a favor to ask of you," The joking atmosphere surrounding you turns heavy as you hold his hands in yours.

"As you know, today is . . . Very important to me. I was wondering if you could get off early tonight? If not, it's okay though. I don't want to trouble you or anything." Childe chuckles and pats your head.

"I know what today is. I already requested an early leave this morning, but they haven't gotten back to me yet. If we're that backed up, I'm not sure I'll be able to," Your face falls a bit, but you smile. He made the effort to try and get off early without you even asking.

He places his hand onto your face and rubs his thumb over your cheek.

"But I promise to make it up to you. If I don't get back too late, we can go up to Mt. Tianheng and watch the lights at night. I know you like to do that when you're upset." The kind smile on his face is only magnified by the gentle look in his eyes. He's always been soft with you, even before you got together.

It was always an odd sight for people to see the two of you interact before you were a couple. He always regards people with the same jokester attitude, especially those he has to keep an eye on. But when he's with you, he may joke around, but is always much more concerned for your wellbeing.

"Thank you, Tar. I really appreciate it." He smirks and laughs.

"You appreciate it, huh? How much?" You roll your eyes again and give him a kiss on the lips. Childe smiles into it and tries to make it deeper, but you pull away with his lips chasing after you.

"Easy there, tiger. Save it for later, huh?"

"So, there's a later?" You lightly smack his chest and pull away from him as he laughs.

"Get back to work, Tar." You turn to leave but stop in the doorway.

"Oh, before I forget, I ran into Chen earlier," The look in Childe's eyes shifts slightly, but you barely notice.

"She mentioned that her brother stopped by here about two days ago, and was wondering if you knew where he went after? He hasn't been home since and she's very worried."

He ponders for a moment before his eyes light up in realization.

"Now that you mention it, he did say he was headed towards Lingju Pass. Don't know what for though." He shrugs.

"Okay, thank you! I'll be sure to pass it on." You exchange words of love before you leave.

After speaking with Chen, you decided to head towards the countryside. Your conversation with her went about as well as you expected. She seemed distressed and unsure of the information you gave her, but any criticisms were held as she thanked you and left. You hope that she'll be okay and that her brother comes back. Archons know, you understand what it's like to lose a sibling.

You take in a deep breath.

The air in Liyue is unlike any other. Once you leave the city and all the warm bodies, it's nothing but gentle breezes and the smell of earth. And the occasional Hilichurl, but you can easily take out a few to preserve the peace.

Walking along a random path in the sand, you reflect.

When you and your sister were young, you would often take walks like these while your parents were arguing. Despite only being a few years older than her, you actively chose to take on a more nurturing role. But after your parents died, you realized just how hard it was to provide for the two of you.

You knew how to use a bow to hunt, but not well, and even though you had your mother's catalyst, you didn't have a vision. Sometimes just showing it off and pretending you had a vision was enough to scare off petty thieves and weak Hilichurls, but it was only a matter of time before that wouldn't be enough.

Unfortunately, that time came all too soon.

The two of you had found an abandoned campsite and you decided to rest for the night. Your sister and you were headed to Mondstadt in search of a distant relative who you believed could help you. But during the night, your sister got thirsty and you were all out of water in your canteen. So you heading out to find a lake close by to fetch some, only to return to see a dark figure escaping into the night and your sister, laying in the tent, unmoving.

You were only a few hours walk to the city.

Sometimes you wonder if you had kept going that night, maybe whoever it was would have never even crossed your path. Your cries for help were heard by knights close by and they gathered your sister. Everyone in the city was welcoming and understanding, and the church gave her a wonderful service.

But nothing could mend the hole in your heart. Thankfully, the family member was able to take you in and trained you to become a knight. But that's not what you wanted. You wanted to find the person who killed your sister. And after completing your training, you left for Liyue and gained your Cryo vision along the way.

You summon your catalyst and flip through the pages. It's strange how magic works and how everything interacts with your vision. Before you, this weapon served your pyro vision-wielding mother. After you gained your vision, all the spells changed to fit the cold rather than the heat. You sigh and close the book. Sifting through it is just going to make you more sentimental. The sky above begins to turn shades of orange and pink as the sun goes down, so you decide to head home.

"I know you did something!" A loud voice yells, not too far from you.

"Chen?" You whisper to yourself and make your way around to see her at the edge of town, yelling at a Fatui agent.

"Calm down, miss Chen. We don't know what you are referring to." She balls her hands into fists, her face twisted in anger.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about! Lingju Pass? He hasn't set foot there since our father died. How dare you make up such lies!" You decide to make your way over to try and calm her down. She's obviously upset, and you know that Fatui agents aren't well versed in the ways of 'feelings.' In fact, most of the ones you've met have all been quite stoic and unconcerned.

"Are you calling the Fatui liars, miss Chen?" You stop, Childe stepping out in front of the other agent.

What is Childe doing out here?

"You Fatui lie about everything! Everyone in Liyue despises your presence here, and this just proves to me how low you people actually are. What did you do to my brother?!" She reaches up to hit Childe, and you run up to her and grab her by her arms. You know she can't hurt him, but if she tries she could get into some serious trouble.

"Chen, listen to me, you have to calm down." She looks up at you with tears streaming down her face but shakes off your grip.

"No! I refuse! He knows something about my brother, I know he does!" She looks at you with pleading eyes.

"Please, _____, tell him. Tell him to tell me where my brother is!" Chen sobs. Tears start to form in your eyes.

"Chen, I'm sorry, but Tartaglia doesn't know," You look up at Childe and are taken aback by the look in his eyes. His eyes are dead, angry, violent as he stares at Chen. He waves his hand, and two Fatui agents come from behind and drag Chen away.

"Let go of me!" She struggles as they hold her arms and pull her through the dirt path. Chen glairs at Childe, digging her feet into the ground to slow them down.

"You're a monster, Harbinger! A monster!" You continue to stare after her as she's dragged away. What just happened? You've known Chen and her brother since you moved here. What could have happened to make this poor girl act like this? You jump when Childe places his hand on your shoulder.

"I'm sorry you had to see that." He wipes the tears from your cheeks and smiles his normal, dashing smile. Nothing like the look he was giving Chen just a moment ago.

"Sometimes those awful rumors spreading about the Fatui make people act irrationally." You look him in the eyes as he holds your face. His eyes are soft and caring now, just how he always looks at you.

"Do you know what happened to her brother?" You ask softly. His eyes darken a bit, but his smile never faults.

"_____, my love, are you questioning me now too? Come on, you know none of that stuff is true, right? I work at a bank, not much else to it." He answers, his voice joking, but there's this undertone you can't quite place and have never heard before. You force a smile and hug him close.

"Your right, I'm sorry for asking. I'm just so concerned for Chen and her brother. Do you know where they're taking her?" He hugs you back, tight, and kisses your forehead.

"I think you should just leave it be for now. Go home and get some rest. I should be getting off work soon, and we can do what I promised. How's that sound?"

"Good." You lean up and give him a kiss. His voice drops low as he whispers in your ear.

"I love you, _____. Don't ever forget that."

And he leaves before you can reply. A chill goes down your spine as you watch him leave, and it's not from your vision. You've never seen Childe like that before, even when he interacts with the Traveler. It made you freeze in place, made your blood run cold, and had your heart beating faster with fear all at the same time. That was Harbinger Childe, not your Tartaglia. You rub your hands along your upper arms to calm yourself. You never want to experience that again.

Taking a deep breath, you reach into your pocket to grab your handkerchief, but pull out the coin Chen had given you instead. All it does is remind you that once again you failed to protect someone you cared about. Poor Chen is scared and afraid, and you're positive that Childe's reaction did not help her any.

But as you hold up the coin, you notice a faint glow emanating from around the outer edge which turns the intricate patterns into Liyuian Characters.

'Let the truth be revealed.'

What does this mean? You remember Chen telling you the story of the coin, but it was just that. You've never heard of any coins gifted by travelers before, and it definitely wasn't a common folk tale.

You shove it back into your pocket and rush home.

The sun is almost fully down, and the stars begin to light your way as you walk hastily down the path. Once your house is in sight, you pick up the pace and run inside.

The glow from the coin is brighter now, illuminating your darkening house. How does one even make a wish on a coin?

"I want to see the truth, but I don't know how," The glow of the coin shifts and changes colors in your hands, giving off an almost mystical wave of magic you've never felt before. Whoever made this coin had to have been powerful. You take a deep breath and look at the coin with determination.

"Show me the truth!" The glow envelopes you and when you open your eyes, you're shocked at what lays before you. The dark figure that haunts your dreams at night looms over your dead sister, red-stained blade in hand and a mask over his face.

You step closer, the classic mask of the fatui on the hooded mans' face making his eyes glow white in the darkness. His stature is much smaller than yours, and his outline seems to be that of a boy. At the time it would have been easy for you to confuse him with a man, being he would have been taller than you. But now that you're an adult, you can clearly see his youth. He smirks and laughs down at your little sister's body while whipping the knife on his sleeve.

"You should never have crossed the Fatui." Your heart drops as the young boy removes his mask revealing ocean blue eyes. The eyes of your lover that you adore on the face of the person that you've despised for years. A woman appears next to him, the same woman you've seen him speak to on many occasions but have never spoken to yourself.

"Good work, Tartaglia. You've proven yourself useful to the Tsaritsa after all. But your job here is not done," Childe looks up at the taller woman, his face determined.

"The other daughter has left to fetch water. Unfortunately, there are too many knights around on patrol to take her. Dispose of the body, and return at once." Childe bows to the woman and she smiles wickedly.

"Yes, Signora. Anything for the Tsaritsa." She leaves, and Childe begins to wrap up the young girl's body in a blanket. He stops suddenly, lifting his head up as young _____ approaches from over the hill. Childe smirks, fixing his mask and hood back on properly.

"Until next time, _____." He says and begins to run.

You gasp as the light invades your sight again and you're returned to the present. Your heart is beating a mile a minute and your breathing begins to pick up. The realization is overwhelming, and the shock is preventing you from crying.

Tartaglia was the one this whole time? It can't be, it just can't! You love him, and he loves you, he says so all the time. Has he lied to you this whole time? Has he just been keeping you close to screw with you before breaking your heart and killing you? That coin has to be lying. There's no way your Tar would ever do something like that, especially to you! He tells you everything. There are no secrets between the two of you.

Right?

The clock on the wall says that it's seven-o-clock, usually when Childe gets off of work. You don't want to be here; you can't be here. How can you face him after seeing that, even if it was a lie? You quickly run up to your shared bedroom and grab your adventuring bag, filling it with few essentials.

Where will you even go? There's nowhere in Liyue where Childe can't find you. Even across Teyvat, the Fatui have eyes and ears. You just need some time to reflect, get your barrings, and confront him. If you'll confront him. This has to be some kind of joke, or lie placed by some unknown power to question your love for him. There's no way he could have-

"What are you doing, _____?" You gasp, started by Childe suddenly behind you, blocking the exit to your room.

"Tar, you scared me!" You say shakily, holding your bag close to your chest. He smiles his usual caring smile at you, but all you can see is the smirk he held while staring down at your little sister.

"Sorry, my love. I got off of work early like I said I would. Is that why you have your bag?" His ocean blue eyes dart down to your bag and back up to you again. You subconsciously grip the bag tighter, Childe noticing.

"N-No. I accepted a commission last minute." The lie slips out like acid on your tongue.

You've never lied to him before, and it feels wrong. But you have to get out of here. Every alarm bell in your body is screaming at you to run as fast as you can away from the man you love.

His brow furrows a bit with concern and he takes a step closer to you, but you take one back.

"This isn't about what happened today, is it?" He sighs and shakes his head.

"I'm sorry if I scared you, it's just I don't like it when people falsely accuse me of things. I kinda slipped into Harbinger mode for a sec there." He laughs, again trying to come closer to you, you step back.

"Are they false though?" The question falls from your lips before you realize it, and Childe's eyes widen in surprise.

"_____, you can't be serious? You know I would never lie to you-"

"How do I know that, Childe?" You've never called him Childe, and it shows from the shock on his face when you do.

"What are you going on about? I could never-"

"Get away from me!" You yell at the Harbinger, tears finally falling from your eyes. There's no way you could be near him like this, knowing that he could have . . .

"Why? I love you, I won't hurt you." You try to steady your breathing as he slowly inches closer, treating you as of your a wild animal he wants to tame.

"You don't love me." You shake your head, gripping your backpack with white knuckles.

"What?" The question comes out as a whisper from the man's mouth in disbelief, hoping he didn't hear you properly.

"You don't love me!" You say one again, louder, confirming what he has hoped wasn't true.

"_____," Childe tries to come closer, but you shove past him and run to the front door. Before you can grab the handle, Childe grabs you by the shoulders and spins you around.

"Please, _____," His eyes are glassy with unshed tears as he gazes into your own.

"Tell me what I did to make you think this way?" You sob, hands pushing on his chest to break free but failing. You can barely breathe as the sobs rack through your body.

"You-" Trying to get the words out only makes you cry harder as the realization hits you. All the rumors are true. The Fatui are evil, conniving, and uncaring. They kill, pillage, experiment, torture, and don't care about who they have to step on to get their way. And your boyfriend, the love of your life, the man you wanted to marry and start a family of your own with, is one of them.

"You killed my little sister!" Your hands ball into fists and punch his chest as hard as you can, but in your state, you have barely any power.

"My baby sister is dead because of you! How could you?" You managed to get out through your tears, finally breaking down in the arms of the man you've despised for years.

Childe stares at you, unbelieving. He pulls you into a tight hug, crying on your shoulder, continuously apologizing. Never in your life have you seen Childe cry. Even when talking about how much he misses his family or his country, the farthest he gets is a sentimental smile and longing. Never have you thought you'd see him cry either. It's almost enough to make you forget that he's practically admitted to the murder.

He killed your only sister. How do you know he's sincere with his tears as he holds you close and begs you not to go? You've seen him lie before, never to you, but if he kept this secret for so long, what else has he been hiding? But none of that matters right now. The man you've been searching for years for, who you wanted to kill with your own bare hands, is the same person holding you so tenderly now.

How could you forget the countless nights you've woken up from nightmares of that boy coming to kill you and finish what he stared, only for Tartaglia to wake you up and hold you close, promising that he'd protect you? Every year when you mourn your sister and confide in him about how you were going to find that monster no matter what it took, did he fear you'd ever find out and kill him?

Is that why he kept you close for so long, to make sure you'd be too weak for him with love to ever even try? How can you love someone who killed your sister? It's easy to just assume you'd hate him, but for some odd reason, a little voice in the back of your mind is telling you to trust him and love him like you always had.

Another voice is telling you to end his life with no mercy and finally bring your sister to the peace she deserves.

Gathering up your strength, you manage to push him off of you.

"_____, no," He's in a state you've never seen before, face wet with tears, nose running, eyes puffy. But, he doesn't try to pull you back in.

You swiftly grab your bag and leave the house and Childe behind.

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

"_____," Your cousin John calls your name, pinching the bridge of his nose. He watches as you continuously use your vision to destroy training dummies.

"You continue this and the knights aren't going to have anything left to train with." You stop temporarily to glare at him.

"I'm training."

"So it seems." He watches as you continue your 'training.'

"You know, this doesn't seem healthy. I'm no doctor or anything, but, maybe you should, like, not?" You sigh irritated and cross your arms.

"Not what, John?" He gestures to the broken wood pieces scattered around the courtyard. You roll your eyes.

"I'm doing no worse than the average rookie knight!" John nods, leaning up against the wall.

"Yeah, yeah, except no. Why? Thank you for asking, cause your not a rookie and you're upset, at what? I don't know because you refuse to tell me. All I know is that my cousin is back after being gone for three years and the-," John looks around before stepping closer and lowering his voice.

"The Fatui in town have been eying us up everywhere we go. What the hell happened while you were in Liyue?" You bite your lip and message your wrists. The tips of your fingers have begun to turn purple from the cold, but you hardly seem affected. John pats you on the back and leads you inside the knight's headquarters.

"Look, I know we were never very close, and when you lived with us, we barely spoke, but I'm here now. We're not kids anymore, _____." The two of you sit down in the library. The three years you lived with your uncle and cousin were your worst. They treated you nice, but you were grieving and took it out on them and many training dummies. It seems you've done the same again.

"I'm sorry, it's just . . ." What happened with Childe months ago is still fresh on your mind. You haven't seen him since you left that night, and you aren't sure if you want to. You're conflicted. You thought coming back to Mondstadt would help you clear your mind and help you decide what to do, but you can't, and it's frustrating.

Despite how hard you've tried . . . You still love Tartaglia with all of your heart. But you can't forget what he did. You could never forgive him either. You've held hatred for this man for six years now, and every waking moment has been used to devise a plan to find him and kill him. But you can't kill him; not when you still hold these feelings.

If this was his goal, then he succeeded. You know he knows you're in Mondstadt. As John said, the Fatui have had their eyes on you since you showed up. You wouldn't be surprised if they all have you listed as a threat. After all, being one of their high-ranking officer's vengeful lover with intent and reason to kill would put anyone on a list.

But, with that said, he hasn't tried to contact you. No letters, no passing of words, hell, no carrier pigeons. He's extra enough to do that. And this has caused you to feel even more upset. Cause you still love the man, and there's some hope still there that he meant what he said and he does love you and the fact he hasn't done anything is killing you.

"_____, you good?" You snap out of your daze and nod.

"Yeah, I was just thinking."

"You seem to be doing a lot of that lately. Please, what's going on with you?" You decide it's best to tell your cousin the truth.

You explain to him the situation. How you fell in love, what life was like for you the three years you were gone, the coin, and finding out the killer's identity. John looks at you in shock.

"Wow, that's a lot. And this is why you came back?"

"Yeah, I know. I should have come back sooner to at least visit, but," John cuts you off and waves his hands.

"No, you're fine. I mean, it would have been nice to see you, but that's irrelevant right now. You found out your boyfriend, a Fatui Harbinger, was the one that killed your sister, and you're here? Doing what? Destroying Favonius property?" You agree hesitantly.

"I mean, when you put it like that, it sounds odd."

"No, _____, odd is an understatement. Why are you here? You should be getting answers, slapping people, storming Snezhnaya! Actually, don't do that last one, that could get us in a lot of trouble."

"True," You agree.

"Honestly, I don't know what to do. Do I confront him? I mean, if he did kill her, which I'm about 90% sure at this point that he did, do I get revenge? I've wanted to for years, but I know that I could never kill him." John takes your hand in his and speaks with sincerity.

"You love him, I get that, but you can't let that get in the way of things."

"No, I mean, I literally couldn't kill him. He's a beast in battle, and could probably end me without even blinking. I've seen him take on multiple ruin guards in seconds, like, he's on a whole nother level." You sigh and put your head in your hands.

"But even despite that, I do still love him. At this point, I feel the best thing to do is to just move on. Go my own way and let him go his."

"And what about your sister, huh? Just gonna forget about her?" You look at him questioningly.

"Look, you need to at least get closure. Obviously, he doesn't want you dead, because you would have been so by now. I can't even tell you how many times the Fatui could have nabbed you, gagged you, and sacked you since you've been back."

"Gee, thanks John, that really makes me feel better about the situation." He rolls his eyes.

"Talk to the man, _____. There will always be a home here waiting for you to come back to." Maybe your cousin is right? If Childe did want you dead, you know damn well he has the power to have made it happen. But how would you even react when you see him? The only way to find out is to get it over with.

With newfound enthusiasm, you jump up from your position and slam your hands on the table.

"Alright, I'm gonna go! I'm gonna talk with Tartaglia and I'm gonna punch him at least once!"

"That's the spirit!" A series of loud shooshes sound around the library and you slowly sit back down.

"Sorry!"

You and your cousin John devise a plan over the next few days. You're still unsure about this whole thing, but with encouragement from John, you gain the confidence you need to push through.

In the end, you decide the best thing to do is to sneak out of Mondstadt without any Fatui seeing you. It's still dangerous to speak with him, and the two of you decide the safest thing is to get him unprepared and off guard. If he's not expecting you, he has no time to plan. Not that he needs a plan to kill you, he could just do it. But still-

As the sun seeps down past the hills and flatlands of Mondstadt, John and you make your way out of headquarters and down to the main part of town.

"You know what sounds so amazing right now? A tall mug of cider from Angel's Share!" John exclaims and grabs your arm. The two of you practically run towards the tavern, gaining looks from the other citizens.

"Cool it, John," You whisper yell to him as you head inside.

"You wanna actually look suspicious?" He laughs, sitting down at a table in the back.

"Sorry if I'm not good at being convincing. Dad always said acting would be my downfall."

"When would you ever have to act to be a knight?" He shrugs his shoulders.

"Right now?" Okay, he has a point. Merely minutes after you sit down, two Fatui agents walk in after, taking a table far enough away, but close enough to keep you in their sights.

"Don't worry, _____," Your cousin says, noticing your worried expression.

We'll get you out of here."

John waves his hand and gains the attention of Master Diluc as he's walking around the tavern.

"We'd like two Valberry Whiskey's please!" Your cousin asks loudly and winks. Diluc rolls his eyes and heads towards the back of the tavern, getting the 'drinks.'

It was a miracle and a half that John was able to convince Master Diluc to help you. But John said he owed him a favor. For what, you have no idea. Not even a second later, a young bard runs over to your table and slams his hands down.

"What did you just order?"

"Uh," You look to your cousin for guidance. The drink was simply a code, not an actual order.

"Valberry Whiskey?" The young bard looks at you in amazement. He's clearly drunk, but the sheer excitement in his eyes seems to sober him up enough to eagerly rush to the bar counter.

"A new drink! And Diluc didn't tell me?!" His shouts of joy gain the attention of the entire bar.

"A new drink?!"

"One not on the menu?"

"Master Diluc!"

Your cousin and you share a look as the crowd goes wild, rushing towards the front bar and to the back looking for Diluc to inquire about this new drink. The few Fatui agents that had followed you in stand up from their seat to get a better view of you and John. John grabs your arm and pulls you into the crowd, the Fatui agents desperately searching for your whereabouts.

"This way, _____." He pulls you farther and farther away from the Fatui till you feel another hand grab you and pull you out of the back entrance to the tavern.

"Hey, watch your hands, buddy!"

"Would you rather still be in there then, _____?" You smile nervously up at Diluc, who's handing you a bag and cloak.

"Things didn't exactly go as planned, huh?" The redhead smirks and crosses his arms.

"I knew that bard would be in here tonight. Drunk off his ass, he wouldn't be able to resist the call of a new drink item." You laugh, pulling the hood over your head.

"Thank you, Diluc." He gives you a rare smile and nods. You begin to walk off but stop, looking back at the tavern owner.

"Hey Diluc, what was the favor for?" Diluc sighs and pinches between his eyes.

"I'd rather not talk about it."

__________________

The journey back to Liyue is a tiring one. It seems a lot closer than it actually is on the map, but heading to the main harbor is always a task. Thankfully, you're able to make your rations last the whole trip, and as you enter the harbor in the wee hours of the night, you smile at the familiar buildings. You may have only been gone for a few months, but this was your home for the last three years.

Your home with Tartaglia . . . You pull your hood farther down your head and try to remain in the shadows. Despite the time of night, the area is still bustling with people. Merchants making deals, ships delivering goods, the whole nine yards.

You flatten yourself against a wall as a few Fatui agents walk past. The place is absolutely crawling with Fatui, even more so than usual. Could it have something to do with you? You doubt it. Harbinger or not, Tartaglia could get in serious trouble for using Fatui resources in such a way.

You carefully slide through cracks and crevises, branches and bushes, trying to stay out of any Fatui sights. Eventually, you find yourself on the outskirts of the city, not far from your shared home. It surprisingly takes a lot from you to not run straight for it. You miss your house. You miss your bed. You miss Tartaglia.

But now is not the time to get sentimental!

You still need to confront him about what he did. And depending on his answer, one of you may not make it through the night. You keep yourself stealthy as you enter the house from the back. He's not home, which is good. But the place is in disarray. Furniture turned upside down, plates smashed against walls, everything caked in dust. It's hard to believe he's been living here if he even has been.

If that's the case, you may have to go looking for him. You look around the house at the disaster. He may have been trying to look for something; maybe a clue to what you had planned or something to use against you.

With that in mind, you run up the stairs to the master bedroom and open the closet. You fear the worst but are surprised to find your sister's belongings still in place.

Surely he would have found them in here.

The bedroom isn't as bad as the bottom floor, though still a mess. The bed is unmade, with a small pile of your clothes on your side of the bed, and his clothes on the floor. All of your things, besides the clothes, are still neatly in their places. Pictures of you and him together that were once on the walls are now on his nightstand, face up and smudged with fingerprints.

"What the hell happened here?" The sound of the front door opening startles you. Could that be Childe? There's no way he's living like this!

Footsteps move across the floor, into the kitchen, into the living room, and slowly up the stairs. Whoever it is, your about to face them.

The door opens slowly, almost torturously so. Soon, the sunken and sullen face of your lover is in your view, and even faster, your on the floor with a knife made of hydro to your throat. Your hood continues to obscure your identity as Childe pins you down.

"Bold of you to break into the home of a Fatui Harbinger! What did you expect?" With the pressure from the knife digging deeper and deeper into your skin, you freeze the hand wrapped around his holding the knife, and kick your leg out. Childe falls over, dropping his weapon which shatters on impact. Before you can get your bearings, he's lunging at you again. He grabs you from behind and holds you in a chokehold.

"Your fast, but you'll never be fast enough!" You gasp for air, holding onto his arm as it's wrapped around your neck. He's trying to kill you, you know he is. All the times you've sparred with him, you knew he was holding back, but he's definitely not this time. Even so, his hold on you is weak. Weak for him, at least.

You rear your elbow into his stomach as hard as you can knocking him back and you summon your catalyst. As he said, he's faster than you, but before he can get back, you place a wall of ice between him and yourself. It's not enough to hold him back for long, but enough to catch your breath. He laughs as he can hear you choking, attempting to regain your oxygen.

"You think this little wall will stop me?" He attacks the wall with his fist, making a section crumble. Your breathing is fast, but you can't seem to gain enough breath to speak. As he crumbles your wall piece by piece, you pull back your hood and lean on the bedroom wall behind you. Finally, he lands the finishing blow and the ice dissipates in a gust of cryo magic. The crazed look of bloodlust vanishes from his face the instant he sees you, hand on your throat, and your breath heavy.

"___-," He can hardly finish his whisper as he lets out a shaky breath. With the tense atmosphere suddenly calm, you're able to regain your breath and look up at the man. His skin a pale and his eyes are dull. He has large dark circles under his eyes and he looks a bit thinner than normal.

"_____," He manages to get out, still shocked you're actually here.

"Are you okay?" You shake your head.

"You haven't seen me in months and that's the first thing you say to me?" He rubs the back of his neck and looks down, ashamed.

"I didn't know it was you. I'm sorry if I hurt you." You can hardly believe what you're seeing. He seems broken, utterly defeated. If he hadn't fought you just now, you'd assume he'd fall over with the breeze.

Looking at him now, it's hard to believe he's the same man that killed your sister.

"We need to talk." He nods, refusing to meet your eyes.

"You need to tell me the truth, Tar," He takes in a shuddering breath at your words.

"All these years, I've been beside you. I've stood up for you, I've loved you. I told you all my darkest secrets and nightmares. Not once did I ever lie to you."

Tears come to his eyes just as they do yours. He bites his lip to prevent the tears from falling. You step closer to him, dropping your cloak, and put your hands up to his face. He flinches away from you but relaxes when your palms cup his cheeks and he finally looks you in the eyes.

"Over the past few months, I've thought long and hard about what I wanted to say to you. And no matter what scenario I came up with, I could never tell if I was doing the right thing. But, even though I carry some semblance of anger, I know that what I feel for you is real. And with that, I still hold hope that you feel the same and it wasn't all just a lie."

He grabs your hands, the tears now falling one by one down his pale cheeks.

"I swear to all the Archons that I love you! I never lied about that!" You hesitate for a moment, blinking away your own tears.

"And though I don't want to, I believe you," You rub your thumbs across his face, clearing some of the tears.

"But I need you to tell me everything." Tartaglia closes his eyes. He never dreamed in a million years he'd have to tell you this story. He'd hoped that you'd live in blissful ignorance for the rest of your life with him. But the gods had another plan for him and you, and he prays that at least one of them will let him keep you. Even if that's a selfish request.

"I joined the Fatui when I was young. I was constantly trying to prove myself to Signora and the Tsaritsa that I was willing to do anything they asked me. I still am," He looks at you with regretful and sorrowful eyes as he recalls the past.

"Your parents had fled Snezhnaya when you were born, because of a debt they racked up with the Fatui. When they were found in Fontaine, it was revealed that they were working for a group of rebels intent on infiltrating Snezhnaya. It was my job to take you and your sister to use as leverage on your parents. But, your sister fought back," You release his face and look away, finding it harder to keep eye contact with him.

"I wasn't as skilled as I am now, and I panicked. But La Signora said I did a good job. I didn't know that your parents had already been killed by the rebels, and neither did the Fatui. Not until after we had left you. At that point, there was no reason to continue after you. But you were never forgotten about. And when you came to Liyue, I was instructed to keep an eye on you," Childe lifts his arms up and places his hands on your shoulders.

"But I never expected to fall in love with you." You look into his ocean blue eyes and are overcome by the warmth they hold for you.

"The day I met you, I could feel it, and I tried so hard to forget about it, but you were just so . . . Amazing, and beautiful, and kind. I never expected that from you. You never once judged me or ridiculed me, even though you knew who I was. I thanked the Archons every day that you came into my life, and I prayed that you'd never find out what I'd done."

A sob breaks through as he wipes the tears running down his face. All the years you harbored hatred for this man, you never once thought about what he could have been going through. It's true that this doesn't excuse his actions, but to know that he truly regrets what he did brings you some kind of closure. In the end, revenge would have never made you feel better. Your sister wouldn't have wanted that.

You love Tartaglia with all your heart, and in this world, it's better to forgive than to let it eat away at you any longer.

"Tartaglia," His name comes out as a whisper with your breath, but he hears you loud and clear. The fear of rejection in his eyes tells you everything you need to know as you carefully speak to him.

"I forgive you." He cries, pulling you to his chest and you hug him back. Unfortunately for him, you weren't finished.

"But, I need some time to think about this. I love you; I never stopped loving you, and I always will," You pull back and smile at him before gently kissing his chapped lips.

"I'm going back to Mondstadt, but I'll be back. You just need to give me some time." He smiles as best he can and nods enthusiastically.

"I'd give you all the time in the world if I could." He moves to kiss you again, but you put a finger up to his lips to stop him.

"Save it for later, Tar." He laughs, looking back up at you with bright eyes.

"So, there's a later?"

(A little something extra. It doesn't quite fit to be an ending, but more like an epilogue just tying things together I guess lol.)

___________________

You sigh as you sling your bag over your shoulder. It's been a good few months back in Mondstadt after your reconciliation with Childe, and you've decided it's time to go home. You've kept in regular contact with him since you've been here, writing letters to each other like new lovers. You found the whole thing quite cute, despite the circumstances. He's been regarding you with caution, taking things one step at a time, and never pushing you past any limits you set. You're grateful for that.

"You sure you wanna go back? You can always stay a bit longer, just to give yourself a bit more time to think it over." John says, arms crossed and head down. You two have grown closer over your time spent here. It's a shame to think you were so caught up in your misery to be blind to the best friend you could have had. And it's tough to say goodbye, now that you've grown attached.

"I'm sure. You don't have to miss me too much, ya know? I'll be back to visit, and I'll write every week!" John huffs.

"You better, or I'm coming over there and kicking that Fatui's ass for keeping you away! I don't care how many ruin guards he can take on!" You laugh and pull him into a hug.

"I'm gonna miss you." He hugs you back, holding you tight.

"Yeah, I know." You roll your eyes and wave goodbye to the family you didn't realize you had.

Once back in Liyue, you get settled into your home with Childe. Thankfully, he cleaned up the mess he made while you were gone. He had said he was so distraught at the thought of you leaving him, he trashed the place in anger. Not anger from you, but anger at himself. He was afraid you'd think he was a monster, that he was heartless, and that you'd never want to see him again.

He was relieved when he heard you were in Mondstadt. There, he could keep an eye on you. One of the things he was afraid of was you doing something to yourself due to the pain of it all . . . If you did that, he wouldn't know how to cope. And when he received word that you had disappeared from Mond, well, he thought that fear had come true. But in the end, things worked out. You could never forget what he did, nor do you want to. It's something you have to live with, just like he does, and it's up to you to put it aside.

You know there are many things he's done that he's not proud of. Many things of which he promises to tell you when he's ready. And you'll be there to listen as he spills his heart out to you.

You take in a breath of air as you enter the harbor, smelling the salty water of the ocean and the wonderful herbs being brought in from traveling merchants. You'll never get over these smells.

"_____!" You look over your shoulder, surprised as Chen runs over to you. You haven't seen her since the incident outside of town.

"Chen! Are you okay?" She smiles and hugs you.

"I'm doing great! My brother and I have been selling a lot more of our goods since he's been back, and business has been booming!"

"Your brother?" You tilt your head.

"Yes!" She nods enthusiastically.

"He did go to Lingju Pass as Childe had said. It turns out, he had a buyer out there but didn't want to tell me in case the deal went south. I overreacted. . ." She puts her head down in shame.

"All the rumors about the Fatui got to my head, and I assumed the worst. But Childe went out and found my brother for me. Can you please tell him I said thank you? Also that I'm sorry. I really owe him one."

You pat her on the head, relieved.

"Of course, Chen." She reaches into her pocket and pulls something out.

"For payment-"

"No!" You shove her hand away.

"Gotta go! I'm late to see Tar!" You sprint off, leaving a confused Chen in your wake.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin childe #genshin impact childe #genshin impact childe x reader #genshin childe x reader #childe x reader #genshin impact angst #genshin angst #genshin impact x reader angst #genshin venti #genshin impact venti #genshin diluc #genshin impact diluc #angst

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miss-nishinoya · 3 years

Note

I have request: bakugo, tamaki, mirio reacting to reader yelling at them. Make it angsty. Pls. Hi btw. 👀

heyy muah 😽

mirio togata (x abusive reader)

"Hi, sunshine!" Mirio was late for the date. Again.

"Where were you?" You ask, with a extremely polite tone, and his eyes already loose all the light they had when he saw you.

"I'm sorry, darling, Eri wanted to play a little more and i-"

"And again you choose her over me, right? I'm starting to figure out your priorities in life." You insist on the calm, low way to say your words, and stare at him with murder eyes.

"She is a little girl... i love her as... as a daughter. H-how can you say something like that..." Mirio is starting to breakdown, starting to doubt his own feelings.

"I'm being realistic." You grab his arm and stick your nails deep on his skin. "She is not your daughter, and you'll never be able to cover the emptiness she already holds. Only a fool like you to think that she could ever see you as a father figure... All you do is be clingy and annoying around her!" Togatas eyes drops to the ground and he plays with the sleeve of his shirt to avoid the tears.

"It's ok if she does not see me like that..." He offers you a depressed smile. "All i want is to ease her pain, even if it's just a little. And i need to take care of her-"

"Of course... guess i'm just overeacting again, sorry. I don't need your attention and support as she does..." You know exactly what to say to put some guilt on his back.

"No-no, don't say that! Your feelings are important to me too, and i'm so sorry that i let you down again, i swear i won't repeat this..."

"Tsc... the same thing you said last time. And here we are, having the same discussion... you're so dumb i swear-"

"I'm sorry... let's just... enjoy our date?"

"Hah- Funny how you say that you care but try to avoid the topic at all costs."

"I'm- fuck, how could i be so unsensitive...? do it, tell me everything you are feeling. I promise i'll fix."

"Don't make promises you can't keep. The only thing that could solve this problem would be you let go of this... this... stupid child!" You stop the pressure on his arm and start gentle massaging the place. "It's between me and her. I won't take excuses this time."

"But, but..." Mirio take a moment to think of the best words choice. "Eri makes me so happy... after i lost my quirk my days has been only her... she helps me to forget too..."

"DO I LOOK LIKE I CARE?" The tone makes him focus on you again.

"No..."

"SHUT UP. SHUT THE FUCK UP!" You point an accusing finger to his face and straight your posture.

Before talking again, you take a good, long, amused look at how destroyed he is. A tiny smile emerges.

"I don't have time to your FUCKING VICTMISM! 'After i lost my quirk' *cry noises* THAT'S BULLSHIT. DEAL WITH IT! RECOVER ALREADY, USELESS PIECE OF SHIT!" You push him.

"You're right..." Togata feels like an idiot. Why can't he just surpass the pain? Why does he need someone to do it? He has one simple task and he keeps failing.

Useless, useless, useless, useless, useless, useless, useless, useless, useless, useless, useless, useless, useless, useless, useless, useless, useless, useless, useless, useless, useless...

"DID I SAY THAT YOU COULD FUCKING SPEAK?" You aren't done with him yet. "WHY ARE YOU SO ANNOYING? YOU... SELFISH BITCH! Can't you think of others feelings for once? Damn..."

Mirio is taking everything you give him with a fake smile, but he can't stop the tears. You're right, you always are.

Is his fault. If only he had make to the date in time, if he was able to not always talk about himself-

"ANSWER ME NOW, UNWANTED TRASH!"

"I'm being so s-selfish..." The tears empaze his words in a way that would be painful to anyone that watched, but not for you. Tears mean that you won. "I apologize for being uncapable to solve my own problems... Please..."

"I'm done with this. Have fun babysitting Eri, because you just lost me." You proceed to walk away, but Togata runs to you.

"I can't do this alone. Don't leave me, please! I swear i'll be good, i will be always happy to you and you won't even notice my selfish problems. I promise, just please, PLEASE..." Mirio begging after all the yelling, all the bad things he heard... is the prove you needed that he is eating on the palm of your hand.

"I don't need a fucking dependent on my back!" With this, the sweet smile finally fades as he lets out a sad whimper.

"NO! I love you so much, give me just one more chance!" None of the "other times" were his fault either, but he felt as it was.

"I can't, you are destroying me, Mirio...."

"It wasn't the intention..." You turn away and he starts panicking. "I'LL DO ANYTHING, I'M BEGGING!"

"I already told you what i want you to do." You know that you're incisive and painfully killing any sign of joy he once saw.

"Sure, i-i will..." He is a crying mess, just to think that he would have to give up on his favorite person to have you.

"Amazing... Are you crying, love? Aw, don't be like that, shh... I'm sorry, i took it too far. I need to learn how to hide my feelings... shh.... It's ok." You hug him and pats his head, he doesn't stop crying. (this is not comfort and it's not a soft ending for clear reasons)

All the insults spin on his head, as he shakily curls into your chest.

Tamaki:

"Fairy... really, Tamaki?" The question floated in the air, as Amajiki only stared at his hands.

"S-she is m-my friend..."

Were she inducing him into flirt? Yes.

But did he tried to stop it? No.

You got so mad, watching your boyfriend sit there and watch as his "friend" threw herself to him.

"And because she is your friend, you think you are allowed to flirt with her?" It felt like you were dealing with a child, holding back your anger and jealousy so he don't get hurt.

"W-wasn't flirtying..."

"Oh, right. So how do you call it?"

"C-complimenting my friend..?" He makes himself as smaller as he can and waits, never staring at you.

"Are you playing dumb with me? She was obviously seducing you and you didn't move an inche!" It's so tiring how he can't stand for himself.

"I was being friendly..."

"FRIENDLY?" He flinches, starting to tremble and whisper to himself. "YOU WOULD'VE CHEATED ON ME IF I DIDN'T STOP HER!"

"N-no..." Tamaki hates screams so much.

"LIAR! STOP ACTING LIKE YOU ARE TOO INNOCENT, IT'S SO-"

You look at Tamaki and he is sobbing, asking for forgiviness but is barely audible. It breaks your heart when he starts punching himself.

The world is all blurry to Amajikis, he hates this part of his personality so much, and you were the only one that he thought understands him, that you understood how hard it is for him, but he is trying his best.

"Tamaki?" You were calling him since you noticed that you were screaming, but he spaced out. "I'm sorry, oh my god, answer me-"

The only one he thought fully understands...

"Sorry, baby!!! Look at me, oh fuck!"

Liar? Cheater? Is this all you have to say about him? Coudn't be more caring with the words?

Is in times like this that we really get to know someone, he ponders.

"I-i-i c-can't d-do this any-anymore..." He then runs for his life.

Amajiki told Mirio and Nejire about everything, and aa the protectors they are, both helped him to avoid you as the month passed.

Came to the point that Tamaki alone didn't look at you anymore, your face alone make him feel anxious.

and that was when you knew that the lovebirds feel apart.

Bakugo

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" Katsuki was raging, for the third time this week.

"Angel, i would like it better if we sit here and talk..."

"Who cares about what you think?" He is stubborn, you can tell after 2 years of dating.

"Katsuki, stop being immature for a minute." You aren't on the mood to take his drama today, and he doesn't notice that he is crossing a line.

"What about YOU stop being A WHORE, SHITTY PERSON!"

Katsuki is mad at you for posting a pic with your guy bestfriend. His jealousy is getting out of hand, the photo has none romantic appealing.

"You better apologize now." You're firm with him, not backing up even when the little explosions start on his hands.

"I am the one to apologize? Fuck no."

"I literally did nothing wrong and you are screaming, of course you are going to apologize!"

"NOTHING WRONG?" Bakugo walks away so he won't hurt you. "YOU AND THAT LOSER POSTING PHOTOS TOGHETER WAS WHAT? A NIGHTMARE?" he replys to you and proceeds to spit.

"You're... disgusting, you know that?"

"SHUT UP! I'm very dissapointed with-"

"YOU KNOW WHAT? I DON'T GIVE A FUCK!" You suddenly stand for yourself, gaining confidence out of nowhere.

Katsuki is silent. He just heavy breaths and stare at you with seems like fear.

"I DON'T GIVE A SINGLE FUCK TO WHAT YOU THINK!" You yell and he is taken aback by your response, closing his eyes and trying to take more air.

"I HATE YOU! I CAN'T DEAL WITH THIS ANYMORE, IT'S USELESS!" You start taking your things to walk away. "I won't insist into a failed relationship anymore."

He can't move.

All those years, he was the one pointing fingers at you, he was the one accusing.

And he doesn't know what to do now.

Katsuki is still upset, and his pride says to stay right where he is and pray for you to come back.

But he is not cold hearted as it seems, he wants you more than anything. Maybe he should give up only this time

Or maybe not.

Yes.

No.

Yes.

No.

YES

NO!!!

YES!!!!!!

By the time he is able to decide, you are already out of his sigh, out of the shopping you guys had agreed to met in, and you are out of your rational state.

Katsuki was not able to find you that day.

Katsuki was not able to fix it.

End </3

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alice-dont-break · 3 years

Text

a little fic for y’all based on the writing retreat, because i’m obsessed with how peaceful she looks and would like to imagine ant being there too 😌 special thank you to @aangstlord for literally half of these ideas and for being my #1 fan 💕

With how much peace she found through writing, Jasmine sometimes forgot how drained she could be at the end of a long session. Recording from the floor had begun because it was comfortable and grounding, but eventually she found herself washed away by the quiet strumming of the guitar until her eyes fluttered shut. A faint smile continued to brighten her face as the serenity of the retreat kept her as warm as a blanket would have, but her features were all softened into her effortless sleep.

Anthony had given her space to work through this latest idea, though it was nearly impossible to pull himself away. Whether he was serving as her muse or watching the sparkle in her eye follow a new inspiration, watching her in her element was enchanting. Luckily for him, the silky timbre of the melodies she played with flowed through the entire house, ensuring he’d never lose the soothing quality they always exuded.

Silence fell along with a wave of calm in the earliest morning hours, but Anthony found himself waiting for her to drag herself towards him in bed to no avail. He decided to go check on her in the living room turned recording studio, and found her curled up on the floor in a peaceful sleep. He was tempted to let her rest, as she had melted so completely into the floor that her face held not a single crease, but decided he ought to save her from the strain in her neck she would have surely woken to a few hours later.

He padded towards where she lay on the ground and crouched down beside her, careful to preserve the last few seconds of her rest. For one final moment, he listened to the slow puffs of her breath and aligned himself to her easy rhythm, then reached with both hands to gently squeeze her shoulders. He let the warmth of his hands linger over her upper back, as his thumbs kneaded circles around her shoulder blades until her lashes untangled to reveal her sleepy brown eyes gazing up at him.

“Hey Jas? Wanna come up to bed, baby?” He whispered, to blend in with the softness that wrapped her up. She could only muster some sleepy grumbles, but he knew that the subtle dip of her chin was close enough to a nod. He trailed his hand up from her back to stroke her cheek, clearing away her hair so he could duck down and press a soft kiss there. “Okay love, I’ve gotcha.”

His hands slipped under her arms to pull her up with him as he stood, and she clung to his chest just as quickly. She knowingly wrapped her arms and legs around his neck and waist as he enveloped her in a tight hug, pausing to kiss the side of her head before walking as steadily as possible towards their bedroom. She hummed softly as she settled her face in the crook of his neck, soaking up all his warmth and allowing his embrace to keep her on the edge of sleep. Her eyes easily stayed closed, as she didn’t need to know what was going on around her to know that he had everything taken care of. The arm wrapped around her back and the hand in her hair gave her all the safety she needed to rest.

When they reached the bedroom, Anthony carefully set her down on her side of the bed, and left her with a kiss to her forehead to go retrieve pajamas and a face cloth from the bathroom. When he returned, she had rolled over to his side of the bed, burying her nose into his pillow to inhale his musky scent. He stood at the edge of the bed for a few breaths to watch how her features relaxed with the cadence of her breath, then sat down next to her. He combed his fingers through the curls strewn across her forehead and pushed them back, so he could bring the warm cloth to her face. She grumbled a barely audible “thank you” as he swiped the water down to her neck then peppered a few gentle kisses along the dampened ridge of her cheekbone.

The coolness of the air against the water on her face gave Jasmine a little burst of energy, so she held onto his forearm for leverage to pull herself up to seated. Hugging his arm tightly and using his bicep as a pillow, she nuzzled into him through a yawn.

“Can I get you changed, babe?” He tried to rouse her with a firm hand rubbing up and down her back, but still all he got in return was some grumbling and a nod, so he breathed out a little laugh and confirmed with a peck to her temple. He left her there for a moment, ignoring her groan as soon as they lost contact, then returned a few seconds later with one of his t-shirts and a pair of pajama shorts.

She sat limp in his arms, allowing him to pull off her sweatpants and replace them with the soft linen shorts, then complied lazily when he tapped her arms so she’d raise them for him to lift off her shirt and bra. Instead of dropping them back down to her sides when he was done undressing her, she looped them tightly around his neck, pulling him down to nuzzle into the side of her head.

“Almost done baby,” he cooed, “then we can cuddle all night, okay?”

“Mkay,” she whined, giving up her hold on his neck.

Before standing up he dipped down to press a kiss to the bare skin over her collarbone, then another to the side of her jaw, and finally one to the corner of her mouth. She was so naturally gorgeous like this; her freshly dewed skin, her eyelashes floating together then apart with her slow blinks, and her lips curling with every gentle touch of his skin on hers.

Finally, he slipped one of his t-shirts over her head, and she swiftly worked her hands through the sleeves so she could wrap herself up in a tight hug. She dipped her nose down to inhale his scent from the fabric that draped around her, and hummed contently. Before she could lay back herself, Anthony had already pulled off his own shirt and lay down next to her, so he wrapped an arm around her waist and eased her back into him.

She rested her head back on his shoulder for just a moment before curling into his side, throwing a leg over his and resting her palm on his chest. His arm was wrapped tightly around her upper back, settling to rub up and down in time with their breathing. His chin dipped down so he could kiss the crown of her head, which prompted her to tilt upwards to meet his lips with her own. They kissed gently, their lips never really separating except for quick breaths where they’d fill the gap between them by nudging their noses together.

The only sounds that filled the room were the pecking of their lips, the shuffling of the blankets as Jasmine inched up closer to him, and the soft giggles as their chins bumped together. There were no words to be exchanged, as the curl of their lips together told the entire story of how content they were to be in this haven they’d created.

Once they were certain that they’d memorized every detail of the other’s lips all over again, and that the sweetness of the other wouldn’t fade, Anthony brushed over her cheek with his thumb and pulled them apart with a last, slow kiss to the corner of her smile. Jasmine grinned to herself as she curled deeper into his arms until her head rested on his stomach, pondering whether a day already so perfect could always be made better by something as simple as her fiancé’s kiss.

As she began to trace little shapes over the ridges of his abs beside her head, her words began to flow just as effortlessly. “Today was good,” she mumbled.

“Yeah?” His fingers began to thread through her hair, pushing the wayward curls off her forehead so he could see the way her eyes brightened when she spoke.

“Mhm, got a lot done. Think I’ll have the full album by the time we leave.”

“S’amazing baby, you gotta teach me how to get somethin’ done that fast,” he chuckled softly, brushing his thumb over her cheek as she tilted up to meet his eyes. They smiled at one another though their faces stayed soft, happy enough to focus on the tender, loving focus they could find in the other’s eyes.

Jasmine continued telling him about the progress she’d made throughout the day, pausing occasionally only to tilt her head up to bask in the way Anthony watched her speak. His attention was honed solely on her and his admiration seeped into his every feature. His eyes crinkled up every time her pitch climbed when she got excited about the idea she was telling him, lost in the way her unfamiliar sense of pride had her cheeks burning against his skin.

Each time she looked up, his knuckles stroked gently down her cheek while they exchanged barely-there smiles that turned into breathy giggles, just enough to tell the other that they were nearly bursting with how much love they felt in that moment. After a while, Jasmine’s words turned more into mumbles and Anthony’s responses into soft forehead kisses, as their focus shifted to the way their bodies melded together. Jasmine buried her face into his stomach and wrapped her arm tighter around his middle, trying to pull him closer despite already being fully enveloped and flush against him. He was holding her just as secure, with the arm tightly around her rubbing soothing circles over her hip while his fingers twisted her curls then pressed into her scalp, releasing her from whatever tension hadn’t already melted off into the crumpled sheets beneath them.

Most often when they’re positioned like this, with his soft touches and hushed tones, he’s carefully and wearily watching for hitched breaths or watering eyes and praying that somehow his efforts to soothe her to sleep will pay off. Tonight though, he found himself watching for her eyes lingering over his lips or the coy blushing around her cheeks that she’d try to hide against him. Instead of wishing she’d fall asleep, he hoped they could stay awake forever in this moment. It was a double edged sword though, as the very things that made them so content were pushing them towards sleep.

As Anthony felt her eyelashes brush against him at a slower and slower pace until they were finally shut, Jasmine was using the steady thud of his heart as her own personal lullaby. At some point, she felt hands bracing her waist before she was pulled upward, but the scent of the crook her face had been nestled into was so familiar and homely than she didn’t need to stir. He’d simply needed her closer, so he could nuzzle his cheek against her head and feel her chest rising and falling along with him. Even if it felt redundant with how peaceful she’d been all week, he always needed to be sure he could wake up if she stirred or faltered in the night.

Once they were settled in on Anthony’s pillow, sinking deeper into their combined indentation in the mattress, he pulled the blankets over them, being sure Jasmine was properly bundled where none of their shared warmth could escape. Even though he was just as relaxed and could have fallen asleep right then too, he decided to wait. He wanted to soak up this image, focusing on how he felt purely happy, rather than his usual exhausted sense of relief, to see her so peacefully resting. There were no worries or fears that her anxiety would follow her into sleep and turn dreams into nightmares, or tears suppressed for her benefit that were now clawing their way out; he was simply in awe. She was beautiful, calm, and safe in his arms, and now he could lull himself to sleep with the softness of the kisses he’d press over and over to her forehead.

#jasmine cephas jones #anthony ramos #janthony #janthony fics #my fics

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angellesword · 3 years

Text

SAVE ME | KTH (12)

Summary: You were determined to kill yourself, but what would happen when instead of ending your life, you ended up summoning the devil of death?

Alternatively:

The Devil: I’m here to ruin you, I’m here to save you.

Genre: Demon au, e2l, angst, fluff, roommate au

Pairing: Devil!Taehyung x Doctor!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: stabbing, blood, evil Taehyung is back, mention of pedophilia.

SERIES: CHAPTER 11 | CHAPTER 13

*****THIS IS UNEDITED. SORRY.

When Taehyung kissed you, he felt hot, drunk, and happy.

These feelings were the opposite of what you felt.

"Ugh," you pulled away from the kiss when you couldn't bear the taste of his mouth anymore.

You could literally feel the remnant of his blood on your own lips. It had a metallic taste and it was disgusting.

"Is something wrong?" Taehyung enquired, brows furrowed because of confusion.

He still felt like he was floating in the air. He had never felt something this strong before.

"N-Nothing," you answered, losing the courage to tell him that you hated the taste of blood.

You didn't want to offend him, didn't want him to think that you did not enjoy the kiss.

You did.

And that's what scared you the most.

Where did the two of you stand after this? What did this mean exactly? Did he kiss you because he liked you? Or did he do it just to give into one of his capital vices?

"Are you sure?" Taehyung blurted out, his voice was soft that it made your heart skip a beat.

Why did he have that look on his face? Why was he staring at you as if he wanted to crash his lips against yours again?

"Yeah," your eyes were roaming around, obviously avoiding his hot gaze. "It's getting late. We should head home,"

It was rude to walk away without waiting for his response. You knew this well. But what were you supposed to do when all that was clouding your mind was perplexity?

The ignorant part of you wanted to think that Taehyung was attracted to you, but the rational part of you was saying that only a fool would think that the devil was capable of liking someone.

Devil.

He was the devil and you shouldn't be fooled.

"Wait—" Taehyung ran after you, his hand immediately found its way to your wrist.

Taehyung swore he could feel the loud beat of your pulse.

"D-Did you not like it?" He whispered, voice so small you were certain he was either afraid or hurt.

"Didn't like what?" You were pretending as though you had no idea what he was talking about.

Taehyung's heart dropped. Judging your answer, he already knew what you felt.

"I was talking about the kiss," it was like he didn't get the hint that you didn't want to talk about it.

"It's fine if you hate it." The laugh he let out was breathy.

You tried to look at his face. He was already staring at you, his golden eyes screamed something you couldn't quite decipher.

"Just..." His grip on your wrist loosened, like he was ready to let you go, which was a clear juxtaposition of what he said after losing contact with your skin.

"Don't avoid me because of it." His smile was sad. "I don't want things to be awkward between us because of a mere peck on the lips."

And there was your answer.

"Right," you smirked before walking away, totally ignoring his groans as he told you to wait for him.

You were walking too fast, like you were doing exactly what he asked you not to do: avoid him.

Yes. You were planning on ignoring Taehyung. Actually, you were doing it now. You also did it yesterday and the day before that.

You were keeping track. Fourteen.

You had been avoiding the devil of death for straight two weeks now.

[4:23pm] you: I'm gonna be home late. Don't wait for me. Don't pick me up. I brought my car.

Even your text message felt like a dismissal. Taehyung frowned upon reading it. You were talking to him in a formal way. No smiley face or whatever.

He scoffed and tossed his phone onto the couch.

He didn't know if he had done something wrong for you to act like this. It was apparent that you didn't want to see him. You always brought him with you to the hospital, but ever since the kiss happened, you made sure to leave home at six in the morning and only be back at eleven in the evening.

There were also nights when you chose to sleep at the on-call room of Cornelia Hospital.

The devil didn't dare to bother you even though he missed you. This was because he was following the advice of PD-nim, his virtual assistant.

"Hey, PD-nim," Taehyung called after retrieving his phone. He needed advice again since it was obvious that giving you space wouldn't do the trick.

He just felt like you were growing more distant to him as day passed.

"What to do when someone is avoiding you?"

PD-nim responded in a heartbeat.

"You should give them space, Master V."

Taehyung clenched his jaw. PD-nim was full of shit. He knew how to address the devil with the nickname he set for himself, but the virtual assistant couldn't give proper solution to his master's problem.

"But it's not working!"

PD-nim took a few second to respond after that.

"Well," the assistant seemed hesitant. "Have you tried giving them flowers? Speaking of which, did you know that 64% percent of men buy flowers, while only 36% percent of women buy flowers for Valentine's Day—"

"PD-nim," Taehyung said through gritted teeth, making the assistant stop. "Can you shut the fuck up?"

"Okay," PD-nim's answer was instant again.

Taehyung sighed, as he gently stroked his chin.

"So flowers, huh?" He mumbled to himself.

Maybe he could try to give you red roses? Or tulips? Would you like daisies?

"PD-nim," Taehyung was decided. He would buy you some floras. "Where is the nearest flower shop from my apartment?"

There was no answer.

Taehyung facepalmed. He forgot how sensitive PD-nim was.

"Fine. You can speak again."

"Magic Flower Shop is four hundred meters away from your apartment,"

The devil switched off his phone and then he went his way to the shop PD-nim had suggested.

It wasn't so bad. The place was decorated mostly with pastel pink ornaments.

Taehyung roamed around the place. There were so many flowers that he didn't know what to pick. He was pondering whether to buy ready-made bouquet or to customize one. He had a lot of time to kill after all.

He didn't like staying in your apartment because loneliness was only consuming him.

"Sunflowers or lilies?" Taehyung licked his bottom lip, skimming his choices.

In the end, Taehyung decided to just ask the flower shop owner to help him. Unfortunately, the owner said she was busy with some pre-orders so she couldn't help Taehyung.

On the bright side, the owner told him that her daughter was willing to help. The latter was a florist. She knew what the devil needed, but she didn't look please to render service.

"What are you staring at!?" The mentioned florist hissed.

"You don't seem very friendly," Taehyung observed, pouting his lips and turning to look at the array of flowers in front of him instead.

The florist sneered in response.

Taehyung hummed, "are you perhaps having relationship problems?" He was talking like PD-nim. This was what his assistant said when Taehyung was acting as if he hated the world.

PD-nim was right. Taehyung was problematic that time. He didn't know what to do with you.

"What is it to you?" The florist snorted once again, causing Taehyung to roll his eyes.

"You're right. It's none of my business so I don't understand why you're diverting your anger towards me," he was losing his patience. "I am your customer. You should be treating me like one."

He had enough bullshit to deal with. He didn't deserve to deal with a rude mortal like this one.

"You're right. I'm sorry," the florist mumbled, embarrassed. She also lowered her voice a little so that her mother couldn't hear her. "I'm just pissed coz my mom won't allow me to leave this shit hole."

Taehyung was surprised when the florist opened up. Huh. People were really something else. They would only treat you right if you showed them that you should be treated right.

Kindness was not an unspoken rule. This was probably the reason why people instantly fell in love with someone who showed them basic act of kindness.

They couldn't distinguish the different between romantic interest from respect and kindness.

"Wow," Taehyung shook his head in disbelief, the corner of his mouth turning up. "This is a shit hole for you? I see that you have high standards."

This flower shop already looked cool.

"First of all, my standards are not high. You are just judgmental," the florist crossed her arms. "You look like an ahjussi so I think by now you should know that just because your so-called standard doesn't live up with the standard of other people, you already have the right to assume what is and what is not."

The florist paused for a while just to swallow thickly.

"This place is a shit hole because I am always stuck here! I don't even have time to see my boyfriend!"

"You have a boyfriend?" Taehyung parted his mouth in shock.

The florist gasped. She had said so many things, yet all that mattered to Taehyung was the boyfriend thing?

Unbelievable.

"What's the problem? You think I'm not pretty enough to have a boyfriend!?"

"First of all, you're assuming facts." Taehyung mimicked the voice of the florist. "Since you look like a kid, I assume that my reaction is understandable."

"I'm not a kid!" The florist gaped at Taehyung. "I'm fifteen years old!"

The devil chuckled upon hearing that.

"So I'm right after all. You are a kid. I understand now why your mother won't allow you to meet your so-called boyfriend," he was still mimicking how the florist acted a few breaths ago.

"How old is he, anyway? That punk better be fifteen too."

"And what if he's older?" The florist challenged.

Taehyung's eyes darkened.

"Then I'll beat him up and report him to the police. Pedophile shit."

The florist looked like the cat got her tongue, causing to Taehyung wiggle his brows in contempt.

"You should breakup with him, kid. I'm serious. I won't have any choice but to tell your mom about this if you—"

"Don't please!" The florist cut him off. She looked startled, tears filling her eyes. "I know he's older than me but he loves me! He said he loves me! We are running away tonight! Please!"

Taehyung was beyond shocked to hear this revelation. This kid knew nothing. She should be stopped.

The devil didn't care if she hated him. She left him with no choice.

Taehyung rushed towards the exit. He spotted the shop owner outside of this store. It looked like she was talking to someone over the phone.

"No!" The florist's lips trembled. She pulled Taehyung's arm, forcing him to look at her.

"Don't tell her!" The girl cried.

Taehyung was about to say something, he was also about to pull his arm away from the child; however, he was too weak to do that.

Suddenly, he was coughing blood.

"Ahjussi!" The florist tried to comfort Taehyung, but the latter shook his head.

No one could help him. This was not happening because he was sick or whatever.

Taehyung knew this was the effect of trying to do good things.

He was the devil. He was supposed to tempt human beings to give into the darkness.

Either that or he would continue to suffer.

Taehyung chose the former option.

He couldn't suffer anymore. He was not stupid. He was aware that he would die if he still played the role of a hero.

He couldn’t do good things anymore. He couldn't be someone who he was not.

"H-Hey, kid?" Taehyung puked. His head was spinning and he felt like his body was burning.

He could even feel his horns threatening to show.

"Y-You....wanna get...o-out of this..." Taehyung panted. "Shit hole, right?"

"Yah, ahjussi!" The girl cried. "How could you think about that right now? You're hurt."

She was sobbing. She appeared feisty but she was just a soft person.

It was a shame that he had to corrupt her mind.

"You won't get away..." Taehyung inhaled deeply.

His head wasn't spinning anymore. It still hurt but it was tolerable now. This was because he was starting to tempt the florist.

Angry people, scared people...These were the type of people who were easy to corrupt.

"Unless we get rid of your mom first,"

"W-What are you saying?" Fear crossed her face; she took a step away from Taehyung.

The devil only smirked.

"Your mother doesn't love you. She doesn't want you to be happy. She's taking you away from the only person who really loves you..."

The florist was shaking her head as the devil fed her with lies.

"I-I can't...that's not—" She trailed off. She wanted to say that Taehyung was lying, yet she couldn't.

Her young love was poisoning her mind.

She didn't know what was true and what was made up.

"Come on, sweetheart." Taehyung took a step closer to her, reaching for the knife the florist used to cut the stem of the flowers.

"You just have to stab her on the stomach. She's going to get hurt but she's not gonna die." He was handing her the weapon. "Just one stab. It will buy you time. You can run away while I take her to the hospital."

Taehyung stopped talking when the girl pursed her lips.

Silence engulfed them.

Seconds later, the girl took the knife.

"I'll do it." She said.

Taehyung's grin grew wider.

"That's a good girl."

The florist was decided. She gripped the handle of the knife tighter as she ran towards her mom.

She was close.

But someone stopped her—you stopped her.

"Yeji-ah?" The shop owner called the name of her daughter, her brows were knitted together when she saw how you snatched the knife away from Yeji.

"What's happening?" And of course the mother was confused.

Taehyung fucked up, that's what.

The devil knew this too. He knew he fucked up just by looking at you through the big window of the store.

You saw.

You saw what happened. You knew that Taehyung tempted this poor little girl.

He couldn't be wrong. The glare you were giving Taehyung could attest to that.

Again, you saw.

After almost a year of living with him, you finally saw.

No. You didn't see Kim Taehyung. What you saw was the....

devil.

#kim taehyung #ficswithluv #taehyung fanfic #bts taehyung #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #taehyung series #taehyung roommate au #taehyung roommate #devil taehyung #demon taehyung #taehyung devil au #taehyung writing

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storysofmyown · 4 years

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How the demon bros would ask you to marry them, part two!

Satan:

This boi, oh dear. This demon has a literal devotion towards you! From the moment you two started dating, Satan completely devoted his entire being to you. Satan has spent most of his life dealing with negative feeling of rage and hate, but the moment you step into his life he has to learn to deal with this overwhelming sense of love that is just so new to him.

Though, he is always scared of hurting you. In the back of his mind he is scared that one day he might completely lose it and hurt you or even worse..But...you eased his worries on a particular day.

Satan was absolutely livid for a discussion he just had a strong discussion with Lucifer, the demon had completely lost it he was braking everything in his room when you showed up. The sound of your voice after entering his room and watching your boyfriend in demon form completely engulfed in rage sent shivers down his spine. He knew that you were not safe while he was like this, but no matter how much he pleaded you, with the last bit of control he had, to leave, you simply refused.

Satan almost attacked you, key word being almost. The moment he turned around and his eyes meet yours...he simply stopped. All the anger he felt in that moment left his body as you stepped forward and hugged him tightly. Satan was incapable of hurting you, and you knew that. And now he knew it too. After that incident, the demon started researching all kinds of information about human world proposals, he simple wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

He would research books, articles, shows, all kinds of stuff to learn about the rituals humans performed when proposing. He would specifically look for the ones in your country, he wants this to be simply perfect. In the end, he would go for a more unique proposal, and a unique ring, contacting some people so they would hand made the perfect ring with the beautiful emeralds he had seen with you once.

On a certain day, you would find a book in your room. It was one of your favorite books, you had rambled about go Satan, trying to convince the demon to read it. There were some pages marked with some of your favorite lines, and a small paper with some numbers and a message that read “Find me” and a heart beside those words.

After cracking the code, you noticed it was the place where you guys had your first date, the memories of the visit making a smile creep on your lips as you arrived.Inside the building, there was a brother, who would only smile at you, and with a hint of annoyance, give you your favorite flower with a note in Satan’s hand writing. In total, you went to six places, each one attached to a very important memory. In the last one Lucifer gave you the sixth flower and the note, which instead of a riddle had a direction, you immediately visited that place.

After arriving, you entered trough the only door there was. You were standing in a black completely black room, the door behind you closed and the room illuminated in beautiful lights that resemble stars and constellations from the human world. Dozens of photos from the moments you two shared were floating in the air as you looked at them. You turned around to look at at the place, and to your surprise, there stood your boyfriend, with something that resembled your favorite flower in his heads, but seemed a little different from the six you were holding.

“Mc” A smile showing off in his beautiful face, but the small blush on his cheeks giving away how nervous he was feeling. “I...I have only ever felt anger and hate...even after been thought about other emotions I never thought i would experience them. But...but then you arrived and you have shown me what love feels like. I don't want to spend another second of my life without you.” He would take a few steps closer as you watched on. “And i know I’m not the easiest demon to deal with, and i cant promise you i will be easier to deal with in the future. But i can promise you, that for you and for our love, I’m willing to give everything. Mc...” he will give you the flower, which upon further inspection it was actually a box, you opened it and there was a beautiful ring with green gemstones. “Will you marry me?” He would take your hand in his and look at you, one of the few times you have seen genuine happiness in his eyes, before slowly nodding, making Satan almost cry, and for the first time, not from frustration, but from love.

Asmodeus:

No one, absolutely no one thought they would ever see the Avatar of Lust settle down...not even himself. Like, no one was as surprised as he was when he started to turn down demons in order to stay loyal to you! You would bring out of him a different side. A softer, more romantic side.

Asmo was used to people wanting him for his body, like who could blame them? The demon was completely stunning, and he knew it! But you didn’t just love him because of his looks, and that came as a surprise to him.

He was having a bad few days. He wasn't feeling like himself at all and barely left his room. Normally the others would let him be until he picked himself back up, but on the third day you just couldn't anymore and decided to check up on him. Making sure he wasnt doing too bad and even bringing him snacks. You would stay with him for a few hours, letting him ramble about what was bothering him or just stay in silent while playing with his soft hair. At one point he would smile, genuinely, it would be small but full of emotion as he looks up at you, head resting in your lap.

“There’s my Asmo.” You would say, relieved he seemed to be doing better, and proceed to give him a small kiss in the forehead. Asmo was already in love with you, but this...this simple action spoke louder to him than all the times you had said it before. He didn't need to be with anyone else anymore because he had you and you loved him, every part of him. And he was going to love you, every single part of you for the rest your lives.

So, he started planing. He bought the ring first, it was the most beautiful piece of jewelry he had seen, it a lot of different stones decorating it, but the stone that he likes the most is a simple, small pink stone right in the middle of the ring. He would keep it in his pockets all the time, just in case.

He would plan every single detail. From the clothes you both would be wearing, to the place, the flowers, the makeup, everything! He would want to propose in a big ass party! He would plan for it to be on Diavolos castle during a ball where you two would look your best! In front of millions of demons so that the world knows about each others love.

But...

You tend to bring out a different side of Asmo, an Asmo that doesn't need the world to know how much he loves you as long as you know it.

So, he wouldn't ask you during a ball, or in front of millions of people in the most dramatic way he can find. He doesn't ask you in the beach or a restaurant or anything like that. He would ask you in the comfort of your room, a place can finally consider safe and a home, when the two of you would be simply be holding each other while kissing slowly after a returning from a fancy date.

He would open his eyes and the love radiating from your face as you look at him with messy hair and the moon illuminating the room, and he would simply it.

“Marry me.” To you, it come as a surprise the question, and you almost thought he was joking. But he would pull the ring out of the pocket of his jacket that laid on the floor, look at you in the eyes again and spoke in the same soft tone. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” He could not be able to say another word, because you would immediately hug him and kiss him.

Beelzebub:

Dear lord, Beel is the most sweet demon there can be. He is simply so soft for you are the only person he will share his food with, he is always touching you somehow. Be it holding hands, hugs, piggy rides, playing with your hair, head in your lap, soft touches, sweet kisses, all that kind of stuff. He literally loves you just so much!

But, the idea of marriage never crosses his mind. It wasn't that he didn’t want that kind of thing with you, it’s that he simply never thought about asking for your hand in marriage. If he had thought abut it sooner, he definitely would have asked you sooner. Because the moment he realizes he wants to marry you, is the moment he ask you.

It was a quiet night in the house of lamentation. Everyone was asleep, everyone besides you and Beel. The demon had woken up at midnight and decided to go raid the kitchen, the movement of his body leaving the bed woke you up to and now the two of you were in the kitchen waiting for the food to be done.

You would be sitting in the table, while Beel is siting in a chair with his head resting in the table as he waits. But he isn't looking at the food that is getting heated, no. His eyes are on you the whole time. His eyes are focused on your face as the light of the fire illuminate your eyes. Beel smiles, a sincere beautiful smile. It warms his heart the sight of you and for a second he ponders, what his future might look like with you. And what he sees...is simply a testament of your love.

Quiet nights were you two are just holding each other while small kisses are left on the others skin. Moment of reassurance and endless hugs as flashes of your smile appear before his eyes. The sight of your laugh and the mere idea of sharing everything with you makes the demon’s heart warm.

At one point, there is a image in his head he simply cannot shake. Is his family. All of them, in a table together simply spending family time and being peaceful and happy, and right besides him there you are. Holding his hands like you have done so many times in the past when he wakes up from a nightmare. In this picture he might even see the children of you two, and it would simply melt him, the idea of spending his life with you and expanding his family makes him slowly lift his head with a big soft smile.

He would reach for you, taking your hand in he intertwines his fingers with yours. You eyes meet with his as the orange slow glow from the fire dances over him, the stars reflected in his eyes as his hair slowly falls over them. He would squeeze your hand

“I want to marry you.”

Just like that, it a simple proposal, but its true and genuine and so full of feelings you cant help but brake into a smile, only to be embraced by the gentle giant that is your boyfriend. Later on, he will buy you a ring with orange stones and whenever you two are just laying in bed, he will take your hand in his and admire the ring in your finger before simply giving you a soft kiss.

Belphegor:

Belphie is a...special demon. To him, marriage didn't seem necessary. He loved you and you loved him, why did you need to trough all that hard work of planning and stuff just to for your relationship to stay almost the same? But, this all changed really fast.

He woke up around midnight. His mind was tired and the room was really dark, so he couldn't see anything. Instinctively, he reached out to you, who should be sleeping right beside him but in this occasion you weren't there. He opened his eyes and trough the darkness, he noticed that the space where you always laid in bed was empty. He sighed and turned over, figuring you must have gone to the bathroom, so he just tried to go back to sleep.

It was impossible. He kept moving around and shuffling and he could not find a comfortable position, and even if he did find it, he couldn't go to sleep. It was frustrating, not being able to fall asleep when he was the Avatar of Sloth. He kept moving until at some point he sat up, back against wall and sigh on his lips, hoping sleep would come soon. After a while, you came out of the bathroom and slipped right back into bed, after settling in your side, you took his arm and passed it over you, so that he would be spooning you while sleeping.

The moment his hands wrapped around your waist and his face rested in the crook of your neck he felt all that stress and worry leave and by God, never in his life had he ever felt as comfortable as he did right now with you in his arms. In that moment he noticed how used he was to you sleeping with him, and how he simply did not want or could sleep without you close by. He breathing in your scent as he smiled thinking about how much he wanted to spend the rest of his live with you, so he decided to propose.

Normally, he would have just asked you right there and there. But, you were already asleep, so he decided to wait, and while trying to fall back asleep he came up with a cute idea. A few days had passed since that and you were simply chilling in your room when a certain demon knocked on your door. It was Belphie. He had a sweet smile and an inviting look as he extended his hand towards you. You took it, and he lead you to the planetarium. In there, a small table had been set. He ushered you to sit down, a few seconds passed and Beel brought you guys food, surprisingly he didn't eat any of it. Belphegor couldn't take his eyes off of you as you took in the small yet pretty lights that had been set around.

“Whats the occasion? What are we celebrating?” His eyes would meet yours, a sweet smile tainting his lips. “That I love you.” It’s a sweet and simple moment, with you two just starring at each other with big smiles. “We are celebrating that I love and that I...” He would get up, and walk up to you, bend down, smiling at your expression the moment you understand what is going on. “I want to spend the rest of our lives together so...would you please marry me?” he would not have time to take out the ring, as you tackled him in a bug hug, both falling on the floor and staying like that for a couple of seconds simply rejoicing in the happiness of the other. He would would put the small ring with purple stones in your finger, and it will never came off.

Aight!! Here y’all go. The second part of this thing i wrote the other day. I feel like it inst as good as the others but i still enjoyed writing this. I also apologize to the Belphie stans, he was so hard to write! But anyway, i hope y’all liked it and thank you so much for the response to the first part! I also wanted to an undatable but i didn't like how it was turning out so...sowwy :(

#obey me #obey me!#obey me shall we date #obey m satan #obey me! satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me! asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me! beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me! belphegor #obey me belphie

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obae-me · 3 years

Text

Beneath Still Waters- CH 1

Miracle Meeting

Word count: 3600

Summary: It’s the first of many strange meetings you’ve yet to come across. As you feel you’ve hit rock bottom, someone comes along to give you an opportunity. Feeling like you have no other choice, you pack a bag and head to a town known as Old Midev, the place where your adventures will soon begin.

Tags: (Mostly) Human AU, second person view, gender neutral reader, I do not endorse always following the advice of a stranger, but for trope purposes, it’s fun.

They say that despite the appearance of calm surfaces, you should always be aware of the danger of currents churning just beneath them. There’s a point people warn you about, for once you drift too far from shore, there’s a good chance you’ll never be able to come back, even for all your fights and struggles. The best thing for you to do at that point is move with the flow, all the better to keep your head above water. Is that what your life had come to at this point? Had you been swept along by unseen forces, working to barely keep afloat?

A little raindrop made its way down the glass pane, weaving and shifting past other stagnant dots of moisture. The trail it left formed small beads before it drifted down too far, disappearing from view. The locomotive ticked and churned along its path, unaffected by the storm outside. You sighed, changing your posture after having sat in your current one too long. Everything in your body was stiff, your muscles were sore, but most of all you were undeniably nervous. Was this a mistake? You wondered. Had it been too good to be true? But at this point...was there a better alternative? In all honesty, your life was at a low point. A very low point. Due to circumstances beyond your control, you’d lost your job, been told you had to find a new place to live by the next month, and finding any sort of stability financially, mentally, or otherwise seemed nigh on impossible.

That was, till about two days ago. Trying to scrounge up any semblance of peace, you’d taken a trip to a local park. Disheveled, heartbroken, you sat on a bench, pondering if soon you’d have to sleep on this very seat in the near future. At that point, it seemed like a very real possibility. Little kids threw balls at each other and screamed in joy, the birds around you sang without a care. Everyone else looked happy. Everyone else didn’t seem to struggle as you did. And while it seemed silly, you couldn’t help but seem envious of everything. Envious of the adults who seemed to have everything together. Envious of the free birds. Even envious of the little flowers planted in their permanent little pots.

“Mind if I sit here?” A gentle voice snapped you out of your thoughts, some worry racing through your mind, wondering if the stranger had noticed how bitterly you watched the passersby. The man was a kind looking soul; bright blue eyes, dark-toned skin, well-kept clothes, a shining smile on his attractive features. A soft breeze ruffled his curly brown hair. He pulled his ivory jacket closer around him, adjusting the blue scarf around his neck, the ends of the fabric billowing behind his shoulders. Something about him struck you as otherworldly, but you couldn’t place it.

Aware of the way you looked compared to him, you scooted a little closer to the edge of the bench, straightening your own clothes in an attempt to make your hoodie and sweatpants a bit more presentable. “Uh...sure…”

As he sat down, he thanked you only to apologize right after. “I’m sorry, I just had a feeling...maybe you could use some company.” Had you really looked that pathetic? Like a wounded animal left on the side of the road and calling out for help? You refrained from making a comment, hunching your shoulders instead. The stranger tilted his head at you, then lifted his chin to observe the puffy clouds drift up above your heads. “A beautiful day,” he expressed. “Don’t you think?” Really? Out of everything that could’ve possibly happened today, a charming yet odd stranger basically asked how you thought the weather was? Was it a good day? Was today, a day you’d been handed two rejected applications, a day you’d been hunting for anyone to take you in, a day you felt as if nothing could get worse, a good day? “It doesn’t have to be a good day,” he started, speaking as if he’d directly read your thoughts, “For it to be a beautiful one.” The breath in your lungs stopped for a moment as you observed him with semi-wide eyes. How did he…? The man simply shot you a sympathetic grin. “Ah, sorry for the assumptions. It’s just, in my line of work, you tend to see a lot of people sport the same expression. I couldn’t help but notice it on you when I passed by.”

Some heat poured into your cheeks. So you had been that easy to read. A small family walked by in front of you, one of the younger children running too far ahead. Their guardians hurriedly reminded them not to go too far. Once they passed, you straightened your slouched posture, taking a deep breath. “In your line of work?”

“I’m a doctor,” he explained.

“Ah…” How much despair had he seen, how many grief-stricken people had left such an impression on him that he could simply tell how someone was feeling just by their face? Was he an empath or just observant? It doesn’t have to be a good day for it to be a beautiful one, he’d said. The leaves off the trees shone different shades of green, some shifting to warm hues in preparation for the approaching autumn, rustling under the beams of sun branching out from behind the clouds that rolled past the grey-blue sky. The air was crisp enough for jackets, but not yet cold enough for coats. You could smell the aroma of freshly baked goods, the air carrying the scent from the bakery just across the street. It was...rather stunning. “I’m going to be homeless.” The truth slipped out of you before you could process even moving your lips. With it, your emotions followed, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Everything I’ve done, everything I’ve been working towards has failed. My efforts amount--they amount to nothing! I don’t even know where to go or-or what to do anymore.” A choked back sob made your voice waver. “I’m sorry...I don’t even know you, I--I’m sorry. I don’t know why I just shared all that with a stranger.” The tears slowly began to dry as you brushed them away with the back of your hand.

“Dr. Matthews,” he stated. “But you can call me Simeon.”

You blinked, sniffling a little as you glanced quizzically at him. “Huh?”

He rummaged for a few things in the confines of his pockets. With an outstretched hand, he offered you two things. One, a tissue, something you accepted with more than a little sheepishness as you dabbed the end of your nose with it. The second was a business card. It was a white and rather professional looking little paper with gold lettering. The name and title ‘Dr. Simeon Matthews’ was printed on the front, along with his email, business phone number, and website address. “Now I’m not a total stranger.” He smiled earnestly, and something about the idea of a doctor easily convinced that simply sharing a name would immediately make you acquaintances let a bubble of amusement float to the top of your mind.

“Simeon?” You repeated, and he nodded to confirm you’d gotten it right. The vowels slid past your lips. “It’s a nice name.”

He beamed at the compliment. “Thank you.” His long legs shifted and his hands fidgeted in his lap as he struggled with an internal thought. “Tell me...have you heard of Old Midev?” You hadn’t. In fact, you couldn’t even tell what he was referring to by name alone. A book? A show? An illness? “It’s a little old town quite a ways from here, but it’s where I grew up. It’s so small most maps don’t even bother displaying it,” he chuckled. Homesickness stood out behind his eyes, his smile a lonely one. “It’s been quite a while since I’ve been home...Do you like house-sitting?” His question left you stunned, and a pit formed in your stomach. You could connect the dots. Was he inferring what you thought he was?

“Simeon!” A high voice turned both your heads. A child about the age of ten or twelve was awkwardly running towards the bench with a little plastic container in his hands. Golden hair bobbed across his forehead as he stood before the man and presented the container; a little cupcake with pink frosting and pearl-like sprinkles dwelled inside. From under the kid’s blue jacket sleeves, you spotted bandages as well as a medical bracelet covering his wrists. “I managed to get one! They let me watch them make it fresh! Doesn’t it look delicious?”

“It looks amazing, Luke!” Simeon addressed the pale child. “But remember what I told you about running?”

Luke huffed and raised his nose. “I’m old enough to buy this by myself! I can handle running a little.”

“I just want to be cautious is all,” Simeon assured him. The doctor used a hand to gesture towards the kid. “This is Luke, he’s a patient of mine.” Your heart quickly sank. It explained the bracelet, why Luke looked too pale, why his bright tufts seemed so thin. Simeon noticed your face quickly drain, and he playfully ruffled Luke’s hair. “He’s been a fighter, but it’ll end up being moot if you waste all your energy running around like a rabid chihuahua!”

Luke, affronted, swatted Simeon’s hand away and fixed the stray strands. “I’m not a chihuahua!” There was fire in him yet. He pulled the cupcake box closer to his chest like he had to protect it. His sweet innocence and their wholesome dynamic let a smile curl across your face, something that hadn’t happened to you for a while. “Who’s your friend, Simeon?”

The man hesitated. He didn’t know how to explain that you two had literally just met, and your name had yet to be announced. He’d probably refrained from asking in the event it would make you uncomfortable. You drifted your sight between the two of them, the sense of unease devoid from your intuition. Usually you could trust your gut on sketchy strangers. The two of them felt warm, safe, strangely familiar, like you’d been fated to cross paths. Some faith in your humanity was restored, and as you looked at Luke, you remembered that other people were suffering too. If he could, you too could fight a little longer. With a little sigh, you let some of the heavy weight of hopelessness slide off your shoulders, and you shared your name.

And that was simply the beginning of your journey. A meeting of miracles.

Simeon had asked you again how you felt about house-sitting, and before he took off with Luke, he encouraged you to give the number on his card a call once you’d thought it over. Now here you were, on a train to this town of his, doing something potentially reckless. Old Midev...small alright. After you’d double checked Simeon’s doctorate claims, you’d searched this town. It did exist, but it took you a while to find it. For the longest time, the only result that would show up were some crackhead conspiracy posts on a mystic sea creature written by someone calling themselves The Sorcerer. There was only a lake in that town, nothing really seaworthy about it. Nothing really note-worthy about it, in fact. From the overhead map view, you could see a school, a library, a park, a gym, a grocery store, a few other scattered businesses--basically the bare minimum--and that was it. There were only about 800 people, and even that was slowly declining as residents moved away. But in that town held the potential of some support, a shelter, some hope, at least until you could get back on your own two feet.

The train buckled a bit, the speed starting to decline. You picked your head up, eyes heavy as you’d almost begun to nod off. Only now did your heart begin to pound. New people. A new environment. Would you be able to tell people you were basically someone’s charity case? That you were going to be squatting in someone’s empty home till you could sort yourself out? Groaning, you tapped your feet against the floor to get your nerves out. It took about another ten minutes before the train came to a complete stop. The luggage you’d brought with you resided in a single large suitcase in the proper compartment. Everything else you owned you had boxed up and placed in a storage unit in your old city.

If the station you stepped out onto was a testament to what the town was like, you could see that it truly lived up to the name Old Midev. The train had pulled next to the only station in town. It almost seemed as if the station itself was built before the rails, and they conveniently converted it into a station as an afterthought. It looked more like a barn than anything. A little red wooden building with rusty red walls and white trim that had begun to chip and grey with time. The platform was decorated with log benches, carved animal statues, and barrels that had been cut in half to serve as flower planters. There was a nice little overhead to keep people--and you--from standing out in open weather. Even though it was still raining, it had lessened to a light sprinkle. As you tried to move, your luggage quickly got snagged on a nail sticking out from the creaking floorboards underneath you. With a tug, you got it free. The pistons to the train hissed as they prepared to shut the doors behind you. It’s your last chance to turn around. It’ll be hard to get out of this if you stay, you told yourself. And yet you stood your ground, watching the train start to chug away.

Simeon had given you some insight into a few things before he’d so graciously purchased your ticket for you. One, he told you that you were welcome to stay as long as you needed. Yes, this town housed his home, and yet his work had him traveling constantly, so there was no one there to look after it. Two, his extra set of keys was in a compartment behind a wall plaque with a proverb on it. And three, a friend of his would be waiting at the station when you arrived to help take you to the house you’d be staying at. Only...you were seemingly the only living soul around. Swiveling your head to observe the area around you, you only further confirmed this. There was no one else here. No one was sitting down, no one was inside the building when you peeked in the windows. Being alone in...such an unfamiliar place...out in the middle of nowhere. Your blood started to run cold. Should you have done more background checks on Simeon? Yes, there was a website and a secretary and Luke and everything...but maybe it had all been staged! Was it all fake? Did you make a mistake? What were you even doing hopping on a train to come all the way out here?! Sure you had joked about dropping your entire life to move to a desolate place and change the way you lived, but you never thought it would be this frightening in the moment!

“Hey.” The monotone voice of someone behind you made you shout. You quickly turned, placing your suitcase in front of you in the event you needed to use it as a shield. You’d brought a self defense keychain with you and hidden it in your sleeve. Up until now, you hadn’t had to use it yet...but you would if you were desperate. There before you, occupying the space you could’ve sworn was empty, was a man; ripped jeans, dark circles under his eyes about as dark as the large sweatshirt he was wearing. Floppy purple hair with frosted ends hovered in front of his vision. He had a chain around his neck, a dirty look across his face, and a strange intense stance. You were dead. You knew it. Somehow you’d been fooled into coming here, and now you were about to be killed. “Are you the person Simeon sent?”

Oh...was this the friend Simeon had talked about? Your nerves were still on edge, but you found it a little easier to breathe. “Y-yes...are you…”

“Yeah. He sent me here to pick you up. I’m kinda late, I-” He was interrupted by his own large yawn. “I overslept. But it’s whatever.” Wasn’t it already dipping into the late afternoon? There was still some trepidation inside you, and he must’ve finally noticed your defensive stance. “Oh. Simeon told me to say ‘seraph’...I think it was the word.” Seraph had been Simeon’s little safety measure to try and ease your anxiety and to prove who to trust. It was such a random little word, you’d doubted anyone could come up with it without being told by Simeon first. Your shoulders loosened a bit. Although, still...not to stereotype...but you found it interesting that a character like Simeon would be friends with someone like...this person before you. He appeared as if he’d torn up his entire wardrobe with a set of knives and yet looked entirely comfortable about it. Like...soft-emo-core. And yet their clashing attire wasn’t what bothered you...it was Simeon’s angelic nature vs...this person’s apathetic attitude. Well, who were you to judge? Simeon just always threw more surprises at you.

“Yeah. That was the word.” You sighed and rubbed the back of your neck. “Thanks for coming to pick me up. I wouldn’t know left from right here.”

His blank face managed a little laugh. “Most people don’t. Anyway, come on, my brother has the car running.” He already started walking off, not even bothered to check to make sure you were following. You muttered some curses in your head before dragging your heavy suitcase behind you, trying not to trip on the uneven platform.

“Your brother?”

“Yeah, I don’t like driving,” he replied, kicking a few stray rocks as he hopped off the platform and onto an unpaved road. A large four-door red pickup truck was idling a few feet ahead. Through the darkened window, you could see another man--the brother, you pieced together--eating behind the wheel. You grimaced. Getting inside a vehicle with two people you didn’t know was exactly the sort of thing you’d been told not to ever do. The one time your escort actually looked back was the time you’d hesitated. “What,” he smirked. “You think we’re going to murder you or something?”

You stopped in your tracks. “Maybe! I don’t know you!” Your accusatory tone came out of nowhere. “You still...Simeon told me the name of the person coming to get me. You haven’t told me your name.”

He rolled his eyes and opened his mouth. Even if he’d told you, you weren’t sure you'd fully believe him. The main factor that contributed to some trust was all thanks to the person who rolled down the window of the truck, swallowing another handful of fries. “Belphie! Why didn’t you help them with their suitcase?” The name was right. Simeon had told you the person coming to get you would’ve been called Belphie. Strange name. Much like the password, you doubted anyone would’ve just made up a name like that on the spot.

“Eh. I didn’t feel like it. It looks heavy,” Belphie admitted. You almost glared at him. What is with this guy?

The other man opened the door and stepped out of the truck. He was wearing a tracksuit. Red jacket and matching crimson pants, both of which had black stripes running vertically up the sides. He was wearing a black shirt underneath, a little bright stain of some sort smudged on his chest, probably some condiment from what he’d been eating. Unlike his brother, he had bright red hair and an expressive face, although his voice shared the same consistent and unwavering deep tone like his sibling. He stepped towards you, almost giving you a heart attack when you realized just how tall and muscular he was. God help any creature that dared to upset him. When he moved his arm in your direction, you felt faint, but then he simply grasped your luggage with one hand and plucked it up from the ground, settling it gently in the bed of the truck.

He turned on his feet towards you, Belphie slinking away to get into the passenger seat of the car without even offering to help. “You’re MC, right? Simeon told us some about you.” The doctor hadn’t known you for very long, so the ‘some’ must’ve been the whole...rock bottom explanation. He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder to point behind him. “That’s my twin, Belphie.” Twins? They didn’t exactly strike you as such just on an observational standpoint, but it’s not as if twins were always identical. “Sorry about him. He gets grumpy when he’s tired.”

“It’s okay…” You mustered up a polite grin.

“You can call me Beel.” Beel opened one of the backdoors to the car, quickly clearing the backseat by shoving old takeout bags into one slightly bigger bag before settling it on one spot on the floor, looking a bit proud of his swift cleaning job. “Hop in, MC. Let’s bring you to Old Midev.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #human au #mostly #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me beel #obey me belphie

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lixie-lovie · 3 years

Text

{ Mysterious Stranger | skz }

h.hyunjin x reader

Chapter 3: The Fall

Genre: Dark!au, Thriller-ish, Fantasy!au

Warnings: Some cursing, mentions of bodily mutation?, mention of weapons/blood/demons

((if anything else needs to be tagged/warned about please send me a message..i’ll fix it asap))

Word Count: 3.5k

Note: Okay I am becoming so excited for this story to continue, but I can only hope I am portraying all of the coolness of the idea through my writing ugh the struggle. Is this even a good story oof im unsure. Regardless, hope whoever is reads this enjoys as more should be coming soon! It’s gonna get good ;) Thx for reading and u have a great day <3

Chapter Song: Thunder - VeriVery

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It was at this moment I deemed that time felt as if it was stagnating. The rushing mid-afternoon air was whipping my hair around wildly and hurrying so quickly past my ears during my descent that the only noise I could recognize was a loud whistling and something rumbling faintly below me. I pondered on my possible end, but somehow I wasn’t afraid or screaming. No, in this moment of free fall where all I had to hold onto was faith and inevitability of time between myself and the ground I felt free, serene, alive even.

I felt my lips turning upwards in a small, genuine smile as I let out laughter that bubbled up deep from within my chest. I curled my limbs inward and felt almost childlike in my blissful glee. I kept my eyes closed and focused on feeling every second I had before the ending of this journey came. I counted down the seconds and my face turned further to the sky the higher the numbers would go until suddenly the impact came.

I fell limply down, the impact rough as a dull oof left my lips. Suddenly I realized what predicament I had found myself as I definitely didn’t just land on the hard concrete ground of the alleyway that was below the window I had just launched myself out of. I peeled my tightly shut eyes open one by one letting the bright, afternoon sun blind me for a moment before regaining my sight. As I did, however, I suddenly found myself laughing again.

I was staring into the eyes (or, well, where I thought his eyes were) of a man. A man covered in a black mirrored visor helmet, wearing all sleek, black leather, sitting on top of an equally as black motorcycle. I found myself giggling gleefully as I pressed my hands harshly against this man’s firm chest, laughing at how I marvelously wasn’t dead and also had just been randomly caught by a mysterious stranger (haha I know cheesy right). Because this seemed to be the least surprising thing I had encountered recently, I found myself bubbling out more laughter amidst a few gracious “thank you”s even as the man’s sturdy arms found my hips to lift me off of his obviously expensive bike. He plopped me unceremoniously down on my feet beside him, my back to the building I was in only moments before.

My laughter slowly died down as I really took the situation in, but a silly smile still graced my features. I am sure now, I looked wild with my hair all over the place, my face covered in sweat and grime, and laughter bubbling out of my chest after falling out of a window. As I allowed myself to take in the man’s appearance properly, not sitting on his lap, I noticed that his build seemed familiar, like someone I had maybe seen in passing, but didn’t decide to ask many questions considering the circumstance. I found myself silent, unable to come up with much to say about the ridiculous situation I had ended up in. Thankfully, I wouldn’t have much chance to say anything before the man made a move to break the awkward tension.

His large, slender, black leather glove clad hands slowly moved up to remove his helmet. I watched, enraptured at the way this other human was moving before me, as slowly the tan skin of his neck was revealed dawned with silver chains of some kind of series of necklaces tucked into his leather coat. Then, a light blond ponytail could be seen, tied at the base of his neck with some kind of thick, beaded black cord. Soon enough he was shaking his head free of the sticky sweat clad hairs on his forehead before furrowing his brows deeply and looking right into my shock stricken eyes.

“Do you always get this much of a kick out of jumping out of windows, lady?” He spoke with a voice like honey. Deeper than I had imagined and angrier than I anticipated. I raked my eyes swiftly over him, taking in his honey skin, piercing eyes, and defined features. This man’s appearance was striking in many ways, but I couldn’t help myself from becoming dumbstruck by my own sudden realization. The man who had just saved my life was none other than the blade flipping man at the diner. The same made who had given me the dagger that started this whole ridiculous adventure. I staggered backwards suddenly, both physically and mentally stricken by this revelation. “Well? What’s wrong with your face??” He said, obviously waiting for some kind of response by the angry look dawning on his features and the grating tone of his voice. Man, this guy never looks happy huh?

Before I could come up with something to say from the thousands of thoughts racing through my head as my heart pounded dully in my chest I heard a sudden noise from overhead. The strange man and I turned our chins towards the sky and took in the scene unfolding from the window I had just been persuaded to jump out of.

Seungmin was there, sweat dripping off of his forehead in beads, his arms littered in cuts and his clothing ripped and covered in red. The creature, now in a much less man-like form, was in front of him, facing away from the glass-void window at it’s back as it tried to pry itself free from his grip. Seungmin’s face contorted into a snarl as he drove the eerily similar to my own dagger into the monsters chest, forcefully tearing it towards the creature’s face, ripping a deep, black hole through the tough, burnt skin and dispersing the inky black blood of the creature all over his sweaty, heaving features. Before the ash began to eat the creature away, however, it got one final move in by reaching forward to grab Seungmin by the collar of his now stained and torn grey sweater, ripping him forward and out of the window, dooming him to fall as I had before, but this time without someone ready to catch him.

I heard myself scream as I watched them fall. The monster turned to ash quickly during the descent, turning the air into a scene of grey and red specks floating around mixing with the array of glittering broken glass surrounding Seungmin’s bleeding, falling form as if taunting him one final time before his inevitable doom. Just as my scream was dying down I saw a sudden, swift movement from the man beside me. Faster than I could comprehend he had abandoned the bike on it’s side, the sound of the metal scraping against the concrete loud in the otherwise quiet alleyway. His footsteps pounded against the ground in a strong, graceful way before reaching the wall of the building on the far side of the alleyway. He leaped into the air extraordinarily high and began scaling the wall at an inhuman speed that seemed meticulous and practiced. He made his way a few feet up, stopping briefly to calculate, before turning 180 degrees and launching himself backwards, nimbly grasping his strong arms around Seungmin’s lower waist as Seungmin swiftly forced himself stiff and they tumbled down to the ground together. I felt as if I was watching in slow motion as I took in each detail sharply. Their impact was nearly silent in a way that had me gasping for air as they rolled together in an almost playful, dancing course of action and landed safely on their feet, seemingly unharmed from the fall, holding each other’s forearms tightly.

“Hyunjin!” Seungmin gasped out excitedly, while removing himself from the other man’s embrace to run his eyes over his disheveled appearance. “I didn’t think Chan-hyung would send you of all people!” He said, increasing the volume of his voice with each excited word. “You look like shit.” He finished, matter-of-factually while laughing and tugging on the man’s blonde locks harshly.

“Good to see you too and you don’t look much better right now, reckless one.” The man, Hyunjin?, grunted out harshly, the pleasant look on his face betraying his harsh tone.

My mind was racing between the events that had just unfolded from the mysterious man’s actions, to catching my fall and the fight I had endured, to Seungmin’s brutal slaying of his own literal demon. I realized I wasn’t breathing when I was broken out of my stoic stance by the sound of my name being yelled as footsteps grew nearer.

“Y/n!” My eye’s subtle haze of thoughtfulness melted away allowing me to see Seungmin rushing over towards me with an expression of relief on his face. I felt my brows furrowing and my nose scrunching up at his disgruntled appearance. I tried to form a question out of the many ones wandering through my mind as he grew nearer, but found myself only forming new ones as I took in the blood dripping from his sleeves, unable to tell who it belonged to. I decided to simply keep my mouth tightly shut for fear of the answers I may receive if I did start asking more questions. Seungmin grabbed the sides of my face to twist and turn my body, checking me for any severe injuries. Once he deemed I was okay enough to step away from he turned back to the man, now brushing his clothes off a couple of feet away. They each muttered some words that I was too lost in thought to comprehend. Seungmin then turned back to me with a strict expression I hadn’t seen since we were kids and I had spilled red nail polish all over my mother’s favorite white rug.

“I know you must have a lot of questions right now, but now isn’t the time for answers. This man is my friend, Hyunjin. He is gonna take you somewhere safe for now okay? I need you to stay by his side and listen to what he tells you to do. I have to stay here, there’s something I have been assigned to do, but I will come find you soon.” He spoke softly, but sternly, in a way that had me holding on to each word. I nodded my head slowly, albeit slightly hesitantly, and he bit back a small smile of relief at my compliance. He grasped the sides of my face softly before planting a quick, loving kiss to my sweaty forehead. The man, now known as Hyunjin, made an overly dramatic noise of disgust from behind Seungmin’s back and I couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that fell from my lips. I gave Seungmin a brief hug before looking him over and telling him to stay safe and to find me soon. He smiled softly and nodded before pushing me towards the stranger and running off towards the building he had come out of before.

I sighed and bit my lip, wringing my hands in nervousness before turning my eyes back to the man. The once soft expression he wore around his friend had slipped from his features and was replaced with lips down-turned and one sly eyebrow raised at my puny, fear-riddled form. He sighed and gave me a once over as he walked slowly over to his side-lying bike before bending over and grunting softly while he straightened it up and assessed the damages. My eyes stayed trained on his every move, whether out of curiosity or distrust I couldn’t determine.

“I’m sure you’re just dying to ask questions, but I’m not willing to answer any. I am just here to ensure you don’t die before everything unfolds. Now,” He said coolly, swinging his leg nimbly over the bike and grabbing his helmet before turning his head to look at me insensibly, “rules are simple. Shut up, hold on, and listen to what I tell you to do no matter what.” He quickly ducked his head to put the helmet on before turning his now covered eyes back in my direction and nodding his head in a manner I could only interpret as “are you coming or what?”

I shook my head softly, anger slowly coursing through my veins as my previously curious thoughts became clouded with how much of a prick this guy seemed to be. I wanted to ask what he meant by “before everything unfolds,” but realized I probably wouldn’t receive an answer anyways so I quickly bounded over to the bike instead. Hopping on I loosely slid my hands around his sides to form some kind of grip for myself and just as I began to question the legality and safety of getting onto such a dangerous machine with an obviously dangerous man I heard his voice speak loudly over the rumbling of the engine. “You’re gonna want to hold on a little tighter than that, little one.”

Just as proclaims of needing a helmet of some kind for myself started to leave my lips, his feet lifted off of the ground and the large wheels of the motorcycle began to spin before the vehicle was in motion, much faster than I would have liked to have started out if I am honest. A yelp left my lips as we sped out of the alleyway and I felt my arms unconsciously grip the man’s firm, sturdy waist much tighter as I pressed my cheek to the cool leather covering his back.

My hair whipped around wildly in the wind, making me wish I had tied it up in some way. My eyes were pressed closed tightly from fear as the whistling of rushing air was once again the only thing filling my ears. I tried to make out where we could be headed through the different twists and turns of the ride, but the pure speed at which we were going jumbled my thoughts and left me feeling confused and scared. After one particularly hard turn my grip became stronger as I felt a noise unconsciously slip through my lips. I then felt more than heard the deep chuckle that shook Hyunjin’s shoulders against my now rosy cheek pressed firmly to his shoulder.

As my thoughts took over and I lost the sense of time around me I suddenly noticed the bright orange hues of the afternoon sun were no longer piercing through my closed eyelids, but instead we were now somewhere dark and enclosed by the sound of the rumbling roar of the engine bouncing off of what seemed to be tunnel walls. Bright, fluorescent white light flashed behind my eyelids periodically leaving me scrunching my eyes closed tighter as the bike began to pick up more speed. I tasted metal and I felt blood begin to pool in my mouth from how hard I had been biting into my lip out of fear and cautious curiosity.

I was quickly drawn from thought as I heard a strange noise and felt Hyunjin’s body move sharply under my arms before the bike was suddenly turning 90 degrees and sliding nearly parallel to the ground. I opened my eyes sharply with a gasp as it seemed like the world had slowed down briefly and took notice of the fact that we were now moving sideways under a large gate with a barely tall enough gap left at the bottom as it was lowering to latch into the ground. The gate, a dark black metal painted with red detailed and embellished with an intricate blood red ‘S,’ that had me gasping for air and quickly ripping my face away from Hyunjin’s jacket to look around frantically at my new surroundings in a panic. My grip became looser as I took in the simple, but elegant look of this white and gold tunnel before the end of the tunnel ahead became bright, blurring my vision. Hyunjin leaned forward jarringly, gaining more speed forcing me to follow suit.

The bike then slowed suddenly causing my body to lurch forwards as a loud yelp left my lips. I could now hear Hyunjin’s cacophony of laughter as he slowed the bike to a subtle roll before turning it off and hopping off quickly. I waited for a gentlemanly hand of help to get down from the large bike, but soon realized I was being rudely denied of that. Sighing loudly I watched as Hyunjin’s form slowly slinked away towards two large doors attached to a large white stone building I had somehow not noticed until now.

Quickly after I unceremoniously made my way clumsily off of the tall bike a seemingly young man in all black with a small, sweet smile came rushing up to take the bike away for Hyunjin. He held his white glove clad hand up in greeting before slowly rolling Hyunjin’s bike back the way we had come to a place I wasn’t sure of. I then rushed to catch up to Hyunjin’s retreating form hoping to not get lost around this odd hideout in a part of the city I had never seen before. Once we were within range of the doors, however, I found my pace slowing as I took in their ornate beauty.

Two large, black doors covered in ornate gold paintings of leaves and other intricacies stood intimidatingly in front of me. The building itself was large and seemingly very old. Upon closer inspection the white stone appeared to be a lightened grey due to years of standing tall in the sun and the intricate details around the windows and seals of each floor held deep cracks from ages of weathering. My neck ached trying to look upwards to see the tall roof above me and my chest felt full at the strange aura this whole place gave off. My instincts were blazing with alarm. Regardless of the intimidating look of the thick, cold stone and black metallic detailing of the building, the atmosphere somehow felt calm, safe even. Something about this place felt powerful, but passive. My pace slowed to a stop a couple of feet behind Hyunjin as we approached the doors. He casually walked forwards towards them before muttering a few words I didn’t quite catch before turning back around to face me with a small, sly smirk on his face.

Clicks and creaks could be heard before the doors began to crack open allowing my curiosity to peak as I waited anxiously to see what would be inside. As the doors fully opened I gasped taking in the sight of the intricate and modern place. It seemed as though each hallway led to entirely different areas. An entire operation of sorts could be run here, a functioning company of people all working under one strange roof miles away from the bustling, naive city. Although the main ornate entrance area in my sight was empty the sounds of swords clashing and other forms of presumable training could be heard from somewhere deeper in the facility, typing on numerous keyboards sounded from the other direction, and other noises I had yet to figure out were happening in so many directions it made my head spin.

The whole place was intricate and obviously expensive. My eyes trailed over each detail meticulously, trying to come to some fathomable conclusion about the place, but ending up further intrigued and confused. The interior design of the building was cozy, albeit slightly thrown together, but the color palette of the design seemed to stay consistent throughout all I had seen, blood red. A dark, dull chuckle and a firm hand on the small of my back shocked me out of my still form with a gasp. I hadn’t even noticed the man’s movement in my direction before I was pushed lightly forwards, stumbling into the main room. I whipped my head in Hyunjin’s direction to send a glare his way before sighing and shakily reaching up to brush my hair out of my face. “Where the hell am I right now?” I said as harshly as I could manage through the concern threatening to climb up my chest cavity and choke me.

“Welcome to Stray Kids base.” He proclaimed with his arms stretched out in a gesture towards the interior of the building. He took a few steps in before doing a small circle only to turn back around and let his arms fall to his sides where he reached into his sleeve and like magic pulled out the blade he had given me starting all of this. I gasped at the sight of it and made a mental note to find a way to ask all of the questions coming to the forefront of my mind later. “Try not to let this out of your sight again, I won’t always be willing to bring it back to you and you’re gonna need it.” He then tossed the blade harshly at me. I caught it without thinking too much about the gesture and let it rest heavy in my sweaty palm.

“Better get used to all of this.. it all starts right here.” He said with a devilish grin, turning on his heel nonchalantly to begin walking down one of the many hallways. The sound of his black leather combat boots padding against the tile flooring pierced through my thoughts dully. I could hear his dark chuckle as my feet began to move of their own accord to follow him. He turned his head so I could only see a shadowed version of his profile before speaking. “So, how about a tour?”

#stray kids #straykids #skz #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #reader insert #dark!au #fantasy!au #demon hunter!hyunjin #seungmin #kim seungmin #straykids x reader #I hope anyone actually reading this enjoys lol #more will be here sooooon #mysterious stranger #good luck :)#this is only loosely edited don't sue me i'll go over it soon

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kiarasflowr · 4 years

Text

Kiara Carrera Imagine. I want you to love me the way you love him. Angst and fluff. Featuring Pope Heyward.

Summary: You’re in a relationship with Pope, but Kiara, your best friend, can’t help but be in love with you.

You never noticed the way she looked at you. The way she watched your every movement with eyes sparkling in admiration and curiosity. You never noticed the way her touches lingered a little bit longer than they should’ve, and you never put second thought into the way her fingers danced across your skin in different motions, for different reasons.

Kiara adored you with every bone in her body, but you were too preoccupied with who you adored to even notice it.

While Kiara’s heart belonged to you, your heart belonged to Pope Heyward. And the love you and Pope shared was put out on show for her. It taunted her, to watch you fall in love with someone else. Especially when the one who caught your eye was one of her friends.

Wherever Pope was, you were there too. The friendship between you and all of the pogues had seemingly made your relationship even more real, because it was often that the group spent time together. Kiara had a constant front row seat.

Despite your status with Pope and what would at best be morally right, Kiara still held onto her feelings for you. In her own way, she cherished and fueled them. It was intoxicating – the way she loved you.

When she woke up in the early mornings and when her head hit the pillow in the night time, she was thinking of you. She daydreamed and wondered, and hoped that one day her feelings wouldn’t be simplified into only thoughts.

If you were in pain, whether it be physical or emotional, she was the first to tend to you. She made you homemade soup and binged your favorite films. She gave you a shoulder to cry on and hands to wipe your tears.

Kiara spends hours memorizing the features of your face and the curves of your frame. She drinks in the sight of you with sunlit skin and your signature adorning smile. The sound of your laughter drew her in over and over again, and your touch sent bolts of electricity through her veins.

The way she loved you was overwhelming but welcomed, passionate but pure. It was as if she was swimming in her feelings for you, letting them wrap her up with a calming certainty, like the waves she knew like the back of her hand. The vast emptiness of it left her cold, but she always swam further, deeper.

Her love for you enticed her and terrified her. There was a risk in loving you. If her feelings ever came into light, it would ruin the tranquility of everything and she feared she would lose you. So she carried her fears with her, letting them devour possibility.

She only let herself wilt away to the side, settling with the reality – you with someone that wasn’t her. Her heart was heavy, but she never failed to plaster on a fake, happier persona.

And for a while, that was okay.

But as time went on, your love with Pope only got more vibrant and taunting. It felt to Kiara as if she had been dosed with poison and it was taking its toll.

Every moment with Pope – the kisses, the i love yous, the way he held you and the way you touched him – they were flashes of her own nightmare, and they replayed relentlessly in her mind.

She felt like she was drowning. As if she had been caught up in a storm and the once calm waves had a hunger for her heart. And the only thing that could calm the storm was untwisting the cap off her bottle of feelings.

And despite the lingering fear that ending this storm would simply create another storm, she had to crawl to the temporary safety within her confession.

It was a warm summer day, and after an afternoon out on the water, you and Kiara had ditched the boys to relax at your home – some one on one time that Kiara had been desperate for.

She needed to clear her mind and face her fears, and it was time. She didn’t want to cower anymore, and she needed to breathe again.

So when the two of you were loosely cuddled on the couch, a cheesy romance film playing on the screen at the front of the room, Kiara took advantage of the moment.

“Hey, Y/n?”

You peeled your gaze away from the film, looking at her with soft, curious eyes. “Yeah?”

“You know how you always say I can tell you anything? Do you really mean anything?”

“Yes, of course. What’s going on?”

Kiara straightened her posture and cleared her throat, pushing through her nerves. “Okay, so... I have feelings for you. This has literally been one of my most sacred secrets for the longest time, but I can’t hold onto it anymore. It’s killing me... keeping this from you. Watching you with him... I just can’t stand by and pretend anymore.”

Your eyes were wide when she looked into them again. Her confession lingered in the air, and the lack of words from you made a bubble of panic grow in her chest.

“Listen, I don’t expect much from that, but at least say something, please.”

“Kie, I- I don’t know what to say,” you had pushed yourself further into the cushioned couch, your voice quiet and unsure.

Kiara sighed and took a shaky breath, her eyes filling up with the burning sensation of tears.

“Okay, um... I’ll just go then, okay?” She slowly stood and brushed her sweaty hands against her pants, her eyes tracing your expression. She made her way around the couch and was just about to put her hand on the doorknob when she felt a hand wrap around her wrist.

“Stay.”

She was hesitant, but she let herself turn around to look at you. Your eyes were clouded and your other hand was nervously brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Y/n... please, I can’t stay and listen to you tell me you don’t love me. I get it, okay? You love Pope. It’s always been him.”

“You’re right. I do love Pope. But Kie... before I even knew him, I loved you.”

Kiara furrowed her eyebrows in disbelief, your words barely sinking in – floating around her like the ghost of what she had always wanted you to say.

“What?”

“I loved you. I still do, I think. I know that a part of me has always wanted you... even after I met Pope. And trust me, he makes me happy and I love him, but, god, I used to ache for you.”

Somewhere among your words, you had stepped closer to her, your chests now nearly up against each other.

“What does this mean?”

You pondered her question, not even sure for yourself what it meant. “I don’t know.”

Kiara’s heart was beating loudly in her chest, the warmth from your body reaching her skin. Her skin which itched to be fully enveloped by you. “Is it bad that I want to kiss you right now?”

“No.”

And within those next few seconds, it felt as if the world around her was fading away into blurs of color and shapes. Your hand was buried in her hair and her arms were wrapped around your waist, her lips dancing with yours in a frenzy of desire.

She could feel herself melting under your touch, a content sigh blowing past her lips when you leaned away and put your forehead against hers.

She felt as if you had taken the breath from her lungs. Everything was hazy but she was tingling with relief and excitement. She reveled in the moment and imprinted it on her mind like a tattoo.

But the moment passed quickly when dread filled her stomach. “What about Pope?”

You seemed caught off guard by the question – you hadn’t even let yourself think about the consequences of what you would say or do. And you were clueless as to what was next.

Pressing one more kiss to her lips, you smiled faintly, “I-”

Before you could even get a second word out, your distraction to Kiara was pulled away when the door opened and another voice filled the atmosphere around you.

“Y/n? Kiara? What...”

You were suddenly embraced by regret and guilt, the boy you loved standing just a few feet away, his brown eyes swirling with confusion and pain.

“Pope...”

Kiara stepped forward quickly, ready to speak herself, but Pope held up a hand as to stop her.

“Whatever you have to say, I don’t want to hear it.” Pope landed his gaze on you, his eyes watered and somber. “How could you do this? Please, Y/n, explain to me why I just witnessed my girlfriend and best friend kiss.”

“I- I am so sorry, I was caught up in the moment and I... it was a mistake.”

Pope scoffed and shook his head. “Which part was the mistake? You kissing her, or me seeing it happen?”

“Please, Pope, I didn’t mean for it to happen this way. I love you, I swear I do... I don’t know, I just... I let my feelings lead my actions and I should’ve known better than that, but I didn’t, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You were standing in front of him now, your hands reaching for his in an attempt to calm him down. But he yanked himself away from your touch and pulled frustradedly at his hair.

“We’re done, Y/n. I’m done. Go mack on whoever you want.”

Pope turned and you watched him walk away with a heavy heart. Your legs were weak beneath you and you let yourself fall to your knees. Kiara rushed to your side, wrapping her arms around you and pulling your head to her chest. Your body shook with cries as she held you.

“It’s gonna be okay... everything will be fine, okay? When he calms down, we can figure this all out. We’ll figure it out either way.”

Her heart broke at the sight of you with mascara running down your cheeks, and ached with the possible loss of one of her friends, but deep down, she knew that because she loved you and you loved her, it would be okay.

You lost someone you loved. Pope had easily been one of your greatest loves, and you would always hold dearly onto the memories you made with him, the way he made you feel.

It tore you apart to lose him, and you would always regret the way you lost him – but as you inhaled the scent of Kiara’s perfume and felt her hand on yours, you felt as if maybe you didn’t make a mistake in choosing her.

And maybe, you hoped, he’d come back into your life. It would be different, and you would be putting your love into someone else, and maybe he would be putting his love into someone else too. But it would be the pogues, your family, together again. That’s what mattered now.

#outerbanks #kiaracarrera #popeheyward #romance #lgbt #fanfic #fanfiction #oneshots #imagine #obx #johnbroutledge #jjmaybank #love #angst

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jjba-hell · 4 years

Text

Take of Epitheus

So this is the second half of my most recent piece. Context for reader’s relations and abilities were stated here- you can read the pieces separately (but I’d appreciate if you read them together UwU)

Prompt chosen was: Happy ending because a happy ending for us would have just been if our faves could LIVE

Triggers: mention of death, caring and rehabilitation of extreme bodily trauma (I guess you could put that under gore?) dark yet hopeful

@giogio-gucci-gangstar @risottoneroo @lasquadraweek2020 @junosartsthetic

2,5K words, gender neutral reader- good luck

“Will you please stop being a crybaby and let me take off the bandages already?”

You were busy finicking with Formaggio’s bandaged chest- the burns he had gotten over most of his body needed intensive care but he whined about it every step of the way.

“Hey hey! Come on, be gentle with me!”

Your gaze shot up to meet his cringing face. “I AM GENTLE!”

You moved quicker- opting to rip off the stained gauze from the burn ointment that peeled off the burnt skin with a sticky squelch.

“Would you rather have Melone do it?” You grumbled, more to yourself but he grabbed your wrist.

“No! Please no, you at least listen when I whine- he just ignores me.” In his eyes you could actually imagine seeing some form of desperate pleading so you sighed, continuing to gently remove the rest of the gauze.

“Can I put the air conditioning on for you while I prepare the soak?”

He looked so ashamed of himself as he nodded, you couldn’t help but feel a scrap of sympathy for him.

Now that everything was over with the Boss’s take down, you were left having to rehabilitate your team back to functioning people. Your stand could only heal so much- mostly keeping their souls attached to their bodies- but the physical healing you had to do yourself.

Formaggio could at least stand up and lead himself to the bath you had prepared for him but some of the others weren’t so lucky. Prosciutto took a particularly bitter hit at his pride with his busted right leg which you had no choice but to amputate so getting him clean was a particularly tense event you deeply dreaded.

You advised Formaggio to take his time in the bathroom as you changed the bedsheets but you knew he had limited mobility so you’d need to help him with his back.

Pesci wasn’t so lucky...he was in literal pieces, Illuso was still in the hospital you dumped him in while Melone was doing the research to find the cure for the disease still ravaging his system. Melone got off pretty well- you had recognized the snake that bit him and got him on anti-venom within a few minutes so he was back on his feet in a week- albeit a bit mute. Ghiacchio was holding on for dear life- you had replaced his windpipe but you’d be lucky if he wasn’t paralyzed from the neck down. Risotto was luckily just a few gunshot wounds heavier but they weren’t the only ones you had chained back to their bodies.

You slid down on the edge of the bath beside Formaggio to run some of the water over his back. His shoulders slumped. You understood why- they were all like this. They felt defeated- by their own sudden inability and you couldn’t reassure them that they were lucky enough to be alive, figuring you’d personally rather be dead than hanging on for dear life.

“You can help yourself right?”

He could only nod.

You got up and let him help himself, wrapping him back up in bandages and gauze before wrapping up the laundry and taking out the food from the freezer to thaw for his dinner. “Call me when you need me.”

Outside Formaggio’s apartment you popped the trunk of your car and tossed the second batch of laundry into the trunk. A few cars behind your own, another car door opened and out stepped a dirty blonde in a red suit.

You narrowed your eyes at him as he approached, suddenly noticing how young he was.

“What do you want, kid?”

You called back as he approached. The second he took a step too close to your liking you gave one back. “That’s close enough. What do you want?”

“You’re La Squadra’s healer, aren’t you?”

“What about it?”

“You saved some of my friends a few days ago.”

You couldn’t help but lift an eyebrow. “You worked under Bucciarati?”

“Yes- I do. Or rather, used to. Listen, I’ve been tracking you and this is the third time you’ve come here this week... what are you doing?”

You racked your brain for a second. Part of your stand’s ability- working with the chain that links soul to body allowed you to see some memories people held near the end of their lives.

The kid wrapped in flowers at the coliseum... that’s where you’ve seen his face before.

“Panacotta Fugo?” You guessed from the names you’d heard in the kid’s soul.

His eyes widened a bit. “Yes, how did you-“

“The kid I saved at the coliseum... you were in his memories. Could’ve sworn you were nowhere to be seen, though.”

At this point you were playing mind games with Fugo, you didn’t need more complications to your life.

“I’m trying to help you. You probably know Giorno-“

“That blonde kid that healed Abbachio.” Of course you were referencing the other man you had found on the beach after you helped Risotto.

“Yes, I‘ve come to understand that you’ve been working around the clock to heal your teammates. You can keep people alive but not heal them.” He seemed to be a bit annoyed by finding a new way to approach the subject he wanted to talk about without you changing the subject.

You leaned against the back door of your car. “Then you’ve also figured out why I didn’t come running to the new Don to heal my teammates.”

You refused to continue giving this kid more information so you popped the driver seat door open.

“Bucciarati owes you, as does Abbacchio, and Narancia. Surely that’s enough leverage for you to gain something out of the situation.” He said simply, trying to get closer which you answered with another step back.

You pondered the idea- thinking out loud. “Three wishes from the Don’s inner circle but nothing from the Don himself. Hmmmm.” You tapped your fingers against the roof of the car. “Still can’t figure out why YOU came to deliver this news.”

Fugo seemed to curl in on himself, casting his gaze down at the pavement beside him. “I’m grateful for you saving them when I was too much of a coward to even join them on their crusade. If it weren’t for you, half of them would be dead.”

“Hm. And what insurance do I have that this isn’t some kind of trap?”

Fugo’s gaze shot back up with shock in his eyes. “A trap? Why would you think this was a trap?”

You shrugged. “A traitorous group of skilled assassins? You’d be missing on a grand opportunity to weed out any dangers for the new Don.”

The realization dawned on Fugo’s face- it was clearly not something he had considered.

“Tell Bucciarati that I’ll be at Libechio’s tomorrow at noon for half an hour. I’ll bite from him.”

And with that you stepped into your car and left. You came to a final stop at Risotto’s apartment- trying to get the stubborn bastard to rest instead of trying to walk on his janky leg.

“You seem less patient.” He grumbled as you eventually plopped down on the couch with a groan.

“Yeah, I’m chewing through my own problems.”

He slid down in the seat across the living room from you. “Which would be...?”

“One of Bucciarati’s old underlings came to me- promising some shit about helping me.”

Risotto’s eyebrow shot up. “Help you with what?”

“Taking care of you guys, Ris. I can only heal you so much but the Don can actually fix you.”

“Why would he offer the help?”

You sighed- forgetting that you hadn’t told any of them about what you did after you got Risotto to safety.

“Because I offered mine. There’s three of them that got a new lease of life because of me.”

Risotto seemed to digest your words behind his curled up fist, propped up on his lap.

“I’m not stupid, Ris. I know how dangerous it is. So I figured I’ll talk to the ones that owe me, personally.”

He lifted his head a bit, frowning up at you. “And what would you ask the three of them?”

“Heal you guys fully, of course.”

“But three of them are indebted to you.”

It took you a moment to click what he was getting at.

“You’re implying I ask for three things.”

“You can finally leave the mafia.”

The words hit you like a ton of bricks. Was it really how far you’d come? Had you come full circle? Was it time for you to finally do what you’ve been dying to for years?

You’d soon find out as you sat down at your table at Libechio’s with a hot plate of food- a commodity you’d been refusing yourself since Formaggio got burnt.

You’d just finished when Bucciarati walked in, unaccompanied for once.

“You look good for someone who used to be half dead.” You commented as you slid back in your seat, leaning one arm over the backrest with a cup of coffee in your other hand.

“I have you to thank for that.” He smiled warmly, sliding into the seat across from you.

You swirled your coffee in your cup, trying to get the sweetener at the bottom to dissolve into the black liquid.

“You were a weird case- it’s not often the chain gets broken and someone latches themselves back on.”

Bucciarati laughed, folding his hands over each other on the table. “You make it sound like you helped me out of curiosity.”

“You think I did it out of kindness?”

He tipped his head to one side, as if he was trying to understand you. “Why else would you?”

Ah, the billion lire question. You didn’t know why you ran down the beach to grab hold onto Abbachio’s soul until his team mates came over. You didn’t know why your first reaction to Narancia’s soul floating out of his body was to grab hold and wait until it could return to its body. You didn’t know why you desperately begged Bucciarati to zip his soul back together. But it didn’t change the fact that you did and it was Diavolo’s who was sent into oblivion.

It couldn’t possibly have been because you were a good person. Were you banking on having these debts paid out? You certainly weren’t thinking it at the time.

“I don’t know, in all honesty. Suppose it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

Bucciarati’s tea arrived a few moments later and as he was adding the sugar he came forward with the reason for your meeting.

“As far as you probably know, my team and I are indebted to you but you are, understandably, mistrustful about the olive branch offered to you.”

You scoffed. “That’s an understatement, however I’ve come to offer collateral for our dealings.”

Bucciarati seemed to freeze in place, his teacup halfway to his mouth as you leaned in.

“And what would that be?”

“Simply reverting you back to your previous state. It’s as simple as that.”

Bruno placed his teacup back into its saucer with a serious look on his face. “May I ask you a question, y/n?”

You leaned forward with your arm on the table. “Of course.”

“What is it that you’ll be asking of us?”

You took a steady breath. You were unsure if you were going to indulge in this but it was do or die at this stage.

“For Abbachio’s life, I want my team healed completely- all damage inflicted on them needs to be reverted. I know what Giorno’s stand is capable of and I know he can heal them- even restore limbs as far as my understanding goes.”

Bruno only nodded. “Understood.”

“Second...” the words got caught in your throat but with a shaky determination you uttered the words. “I want to disappear. I want nothing to do with this gang, ever again. My existence, as far as any of you are concerned, is unknown.”

With a slight reluctance he nodded. “And your last request?”

“My team get the last request to do whatever they want. Weather that be to earn the Don’s loyalty or chicken out like me, the decision is theirs. And I expect you to respect it.”

Bruno met your gaze head on, before giving a heavy sigh. “Your requests seem fair. But you’ll have to ask Giorno yourself.”

You left Libechio with Bruno, sitting down in the back seat as Fugo drove you there- his eyes glancing up at the rear view mirror to yours every now and again.

“How old are you, Fugo?” You eventually asked. You could tell he was young but if he had just been on verging on 21 or 22, you weren’t sure.

“17.”

Your jaw dropped a bit at that formation. “Ah, life’s done you dirty you and you, Bruno?”

“Turning 21 in a few months.”

“Fuck. You’re infants.” You huffed as you leaned your elbow against the door.

“You’re not that much older than us.”

You couldn’t help but throw your head back and laugh. “I passed 20 a long time ago. Back when things were much simpler.”

For a moment you rode in silence until you sat up and spoke to car as a whole. “Simply speaking as a coward and an unwilling participant in this bullshit, lemme ask- don’t you wish you were normal?”

You never did get an answer, not even a glance in the mirror from Fugo...

You didn’t say anything as you arrived at the villa, tiredly hauling yourself out of the car and following Bruno through the expansive hallways. You’d seen Giorno before- you knew he was young so you figured he and Fugo were the same age, or at least so you hoped- oh the team’s going to pop their stitches at hearing their ages.

You walked past Mista, the gunslinger that helped take down Ghiacchio, so you stopped in your tracks, turned to him and surveyed his face. “So that’s what you look like up close.”

Mista shrugged with a slight smile- was that... dare you say... personality?

He was about to open his mouth to say something to you but the baritone voice of Abbachio had you turning around to find him approaching you from a different hallway. “You know I never did catch your name.”

When you had held onto Abbachio’s soul on the beach, you had sensed some struggle within him- you recognized his story, understood what he was going through... but for men like him, coming back from the dead had two possible effects- either anger for refusing them the relief of death... or peace and clarity.

“You don’t need it. How’s life?” You smirked at him. He gestured for Mista to leave- which he did with a roll of his eyes so you and Leone were standing in the hallway alone.

“I wanted to ask you something... when I was dead, I saw things, people I’m pretty sure I would only have seen in the afterlife...”

“They’re real and chances were you were in the limbo between living and dead for the duration of the experience but I pulled you back.”

He glanced to the side, as if he was considering your words for a moment before nodding down the far end of the hallway where Bruno was standing, waiting for you. “He’s waiting.”

He spun around on his heel and walked away.

“Your friend really did forgive you, Abbachio. If you weren’t meant to come back I wouldn’t have been able to bring you back.” Was all you called back at him.

You walked past Bruno into the room Giorno was waiting, the door shutting behind you to leave you alone with the new Don, a bit on edge until his face emerged from the seat he was sitting in and you couldn’t help but feel relieved.

“So you’re the one I have to thank for my team’s survival.” He attempted to start the conversation.

You reached into your back pocket for your cigarettes and when you turned back to face him, his stand was at the ready.

“My my, no need to be on guard. I wasn’t part of the traitors.”

You brought a filter to your lips and walked towards the balcony, lighting the end without a word. “I’m guessing you’ve been briefed on my wishes?”

“I have- and I can agree to all of them.” He said as Golden Experienced de-materialized.

You hummed in content. Simply waiting for the ‘but’- it never came.

“No exceptions?”

“No, your requests are understandable and manageable. It’s you and your team’s motivations I wanted to know more on.”

You leaned against the balustrade of the balcony, tipping your head back to look up at the orange sky, painted by the setting sun.

“You mean why they were after Trish and Diavolo?”

“Yes.”

You picked your head up and took a drag from the cigarette between your fingers, letting the smoke dribble from your mouth.

“They wanted Trish to gain access to Diavolo. I wouldn’t have let them lay a hand on her. As for that bastard Diavolo, I suppose it was the shitty pay and the fact that they killed my brother and his husb-“ you forgot the marriage certificate was forged. “His lover.” You corrected yourself.

“So why wouldn’t you join in against the coop?”

You took another drag, hoping you could dull your own senses enough to not care about the words that came out of your mouth.

“I didn’t want to die. A stupid sentiment for a hitman but I felt like I can give still do good.”

“Then how did you end up in the gang in the first place?”

“My stupid, very dead brother. Whose killer you so graciously tossed into a garbage truck.”

Giorno actually laughed quietly at that, folding his arms over his chest as he joined you beside the balustrade.

“What did you do before it all?”

“I was a forensic pathologist, though I apprenticed as a mortician for many years.”

He nodded, gazing up at the sky with you.

“I admit, you’d have been a good addition to my own team but I understand your reasons for wanting to leave. There’s just one thing I ask of you- since it seems your stand can trace some things deep within a person’s soul...”

You didn’t completely think it’s fair, your part of the bargain was already done so you suppose you agreed on the terms simple because you were curious yourself... “What do you want to know?”

“I want to know the identity of my real father.”

#la squadra #risotto nero #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #lasquadraweek2020 #jojo part 5 #jojo golden wind #formaggio #bruno bucciarati #panacotta fugo #giorno giovanna

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mysweetestcreature · 5 years

Text

Tomorrow Never Knows (President!Harry) Chapter 11: Kiss Me

(Banner by the wonderful noblewomankat!)

***

Thursday November 27, 2008

“One more.”

“They’re probably wondering where we’ve gone!”

“Just one more, please.”

“We’ve already been here for more than half an hour.”

Harry tightens his hold around her waist, stroking her sides in soothing reciprocating motions as the pads of his fingers trace along the creases in her shirt. “Kiss me again,” he begs, burying his nose into the curve of her neck. For the first time in his life, he feels completely content. Words to describe it are beyond inconceivable, not a single phrase can do justice to sum it all up. He had tried to imagine what this would be like in the early hours of the morning before even the sun sets its alarm. And yet, none could have even come close to this feeling of bliss, a paradise of their own where everything around them is nearly nonexistent.

The movement of his lips against her skin as they form into a cheeky smile is enough to send goosebumps up her spine. She runs her palms up his chest and lets her hands curl around his shoulders until her middle fingers hook together as they tangle through his brown curls. Her cheek presses up against the side of his head, and she can’t help that sense of relief that makes it feel like she’s floating. Having experienced such a burden of uncertainty from the very onset of their relationship (and yes, she means relationship in a romantic sense –– how could she not after tonight?) she would have never expected the accumulation of all those heartbreaks –– both big and small –– to transform into something as wonderful as this. “Just one,” she giggles into his ear. “But then we really have to move it because I can’t imagine Mason being very happy that I’ve stolen his best friend away.”

“It’s all I’m asking,” and he lifts his head up, dimples dressing his cheeks as he wriggles his eyebrows. “Now, c’mere.”

Pulling her closer between his legs, he starts with small pecks along the underside of her chin. They become slower, more concentrated in certain areas as they move up and linger at the side of her mouth. His lips hover over hers, and he stares at them with half-hooded eyes. The way her lips part as they make subtle contact with each small movement of their heaving chests only makes this all the more enticing.

Unable to dawdle at such a teasing phase for much longer, Harry closes the gap that separates them. It’s unhurried, nearly sensual. Two longing persons finding exhilaration as their lips move fluidly together as though it were second nature. The temperate flavoring of strawberry or cherry or something just as fruitful and sweet once again finds its way to coat the tip of his tongue and cause the ends of his mouth to curve up as he finds fulfillment in ravishing her like this.

She’s the first to pull away, pushing lightly against his chest just to catch a breath. He’s quick, however, to entertain her once more with one last suckle of her bottom lip. He isn’t sure when he��ll be able to kiss her again once they’ve joined the others downstairs, nor does he want to envision a time when they won’t be locked together and surprisingly uninterrupted by a chaotic world full of mountains and treacherous seas.

“That was two!” she gasps, but the premature stages of a simper rebel against her, and she fails to display any mask of displeasure. “Don’t be greedy.”

“We can be as greedy as we want. We’ve waited an eternity for this to happen,” he counters before settling for a tight embrace as he stands from his sitting position on the bed. With his height now towering over her, he looks down and chuckles when she rolls her eyes at him.

Y/n scoffs playfully and shakes her head. “I would barely consider two and a half months an eternity.”

“No?” he ponders thoughtfully, pressing another kiss to her temples. “Sure felt like it, though.”

***

Every moment thereafter is been filled with forcefully reserved and pining looks from across the room whilst Harry is doing his best to get back in a football state of mind (he’s only now realizing just how difficult this will all be once the season starts back up again), and Y/n attempts to answer questions about various piping techniques and flavor combinations.

“Where’d you run off to earlier?” Jeremy asks during a commercial break. He dips a hand into a snack bowl filled with Party Mix and tosses each cheesy piece into his mouth one by one. “For a second I thought you were going to miss the entire second quarter.”

Harry coughs as he tries to scratch the tickle in his throat. Before coming back down, they had agreed to keep it subdued in front of their families, especially when it’s all so new for the both of them. Besides, they’ve done what they had set out to do, there’s no wrong in wanting to keep it to themselves for a short while.

“Uh...” he drones, scratching the pointed part of his jaw. “We were just talking about organizing a study guide for finals.”

Well, it isn’t a complete lie! He had quickly glanced down at a set of her study notes on her desk just as they were exiting the room, and he might have –– he can’t remember since he was too busy covering her shoulder in sweet, seemingly innocent little kisses –– suggested they collaborate on ones for the classes they share. (Come to think of it, he doesn’t recall an actual answer to the question either, the only thing his ears had heard were the sounds of her stifled giggles as he tickled her neck.)

Thankfully, Jeremy seems to accept it without further question. The older man nods before taking a long gulp of iced tie from his officially licensed Packers tumbler. “That’s studious of you two. Good job!”

“Mhmm.” Harry bites his lips inward to hold in a snigger. Imagining the look on Jeremy’s face if he were to find out what they had actually been doing would probably regress everything in his eyes (but that’s just speculation for the time being).

“Your turn, Harry!” Mason chirps, having just dropped his second red piece into the suspended grid. As Harry prepares to release his own yellow disc in the far-right column, the little boy is quick to stop him. “Don’t go there! Or you’ll lose again,” he pouts, and takes it upon himself to move Harry’s hand and hover it over the middle.

A soft coo sounds from Harry as he ruffles Mason’s hair. “Taking pity on me, eh?” he teases.

“At least he lets you win,” Jeremy interjects, slumping forward with his knuckles pressed firmly into his cheek. He squints at his son with pursed lips. “Whenever I play with him, he sabotages my every move.”

“But Harry’s my best friend, Daddy! And friends always help each other.”

“I’m your father. I quite literally mad–”

“Honey, he’s six” from across the room, Olivia scolds her husband. “Save it for puberty.” She turns back in her chair, the three women around her unable to hide their amusement as she slaps her forehead at Mason’s hushed “What’s poo-berty?” behind her.

“I remember when Harry was that age,” Anne gushes, a warm mug of cocoa sat in her lap as she recalls the past fondly. “He once poured out the entire fish tank into a river that flowed out back.”

“Be free fishies! I love you! Bye-bye!” Gemma mimics a young six-year-old Harry.

Y/n giggles into her hands. She turns to the side hoping to catch his eye, only to find him blushing profusely into one of the decorative pillows.

Falling for him could not have been easier.

***

Monday December 1, 2008

For the eighth time today, Harry feels more than grateful to have her locker only two down from his. It’s a convenience, really! He doesn’t have to search far for her in the mornings when he wants to give her a quick peck before they start the day, or just hug her because now he can without any looming doubts that he’s sorely pressed his luck.

So, here he is, watching with soft eyes as she reorganizes all her textbooks and notebooks and folders alike.

“Will you quit it?” she pokes his tummy. “I literally can’t concentrate when you’re looking at me like that all cute and British.”

The last part makes him laugh, and he curls a finger along her chin. Taking a moment to examine their surrounds to make sure no one is being too intrusive (he thought he saw a junior raise an eyebrow at them earlier today), he tilts her head up and nudges his nose to hers. “I can’t just look at my gir–” but he cuts himself short when he realizes something.

Now, there’s no questioning that this thing between them exceeds any form of platonic friendship. The real question is what the appropriate label for them would be right now without being too presumptuous or just moving too fast.

“So, I’m your girl?” she smiles.

“I guess that really depends if you want to be because if you ask me...” he starts, stepping forward, “I’m pretty much already your–”

“Y/n!”

Both let out an annoyed sigh (Harry more so) as they hear his footsteps approaching from down the hall. She’d almost forgotten about this one little impediment with her mind having been preoccupied over the long weekend. But as Jasper moves waves to her, she’s suddenly reminded of everything she probably should have taken care of by now. She retreats so that her back is up against the cool metal surface. Harry starts to grumble a few colorful choice of words under his breath as he begrudgingly goes back to his locker.

“Hey!” he greets and looks behind her to nod at Harry. “How was your Thanksgiving?”

“It was, um...” She darts her eyes towards Harry. “It was really eventful, really great” she chuckles nervously, and intrinsically slaps herself for making this more awkward than it needs to be.

“I’m happy to hear that then.” She watches as he rummages through his bag. “Here, I got this for you,” and he pulls out a plush figurine. From behind, Harry glares menacingly at it, not finding any of this to be an ounce amusing. “My family and I went into the city this weekend, and I saw this and thought you’d like it.”

“That’s so nice of you,” she says, taking the plush toy. “What-what is it exactly?” She looks up at him.

“It’s a tarsier! They’re pretty popular in the Philippines.”

“Right! I can’t believe I didn’t catch that,” Y/n muses, staring into its big piercing eyes. “You know whose favorite animal this is?” He shakes his head, shrugging his shoulders. “Cici’s, she like obsessed.”

“Cool, cool,” he replies enthusiastically, and she can tell he has more to say. “So, my mom was actually wondering what color your dress is gonna be so we can coordinate with my tie.”

She glances over her shoulder to check on Harry, whose face is practically stuffed inside the alcove. “Formal...yeah, that’s a thing...isn’t it...uh...” she trails off, the body of the tarsier in her hands suffocating as she tries to find the right words. There’s no way she can go with him now, and she hates that she has to do this to him. After all, Jasper is a genuinely nice guy, and any girl would be lucky to be his date. It’s just she’s not that girl. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that, actually.”

“Really? What about?”

“This is really hard for me to say but I can’t–”

“Can’t decide whether to take photos at your place or hers.”

Her mouth falls open when Harry appears at her side. Their eyes meet, his filled with something she’s unable to put her finger on. She doesn’t understand this, but as he places a hand on her back, giving her the opportunity to study his expression, she can practically hear his thoughts, believe me.

Jasper looks between the two of them. “Is that true?” he asks, and it seems open for either one to answer.

She gulps before snapping back. “Yeah, you know...we need a good background and everything.”

“Oh, uh...” he checks the time on his phone, “I’ll text you about it? I’m actually a little late for a meeting with Dr. De Angelo about my essay, but I’ll definitely get back to you!”

He runs back down the way he came.

It leaves Harry and Y/n to endure a painful silence. Neither opt to move. Feet stay glued to the floor as more and more students start to occupy the halls. She can’t help but feel a little betrayed, having honestly thought that they would be going to the formal together now that they’d cleared everything up. “Harry...” it’s barely above a whisper.

His hand slides around her hip before he carefully turns her around. “I should explain.”

“Please do.”

He sighs, his forehead falling unto hers. “Follow me.” And he takes her hand and hurriedly guides them up the far-right stairwell to the second floor. She wonders where this might lead, especially when they duck into one of the less used corridors that hold the building’s teacher’s lounge and stockroom.

The last door on the left just beside an open window. He jiggles the knob before pushing against it with his shoulder. She squeezes his hand and her fingers curl around his bicep as she takes a peek at what he’s doing. Suddenly, the door creaks open to reveal an empty room. “In here,” he tells her, and pulls her in.

It’s more or less what she expects from an unused room, a moderately large open space with school posters covering all four walls, a few long tables and a couch positioned diagonally in a corner.

“I did something stupid.”

***

“I’m sorry, but you what? I swear it never ends with you two!” Cici groans, head banging against the table. “How’re you gonna spend all of Thanksgiving making out and still go to this godforsaken dance with different people? It’s anti-intuitive! Literally insane!”

“Usually I’m not one to agree with Cici, but you guys really have exhausted my last functioning brain cell,” Maxxie joins in. “And I have a Geometry test in an hour, so if I fail that’s on your consciences.”

Mrs. Comey, the librarian, emerges from behind a shelf, a stern expression coating her pointed features as she gives the four of them a warning glare.

Harry and Y/n sit opposite of their friends, her leaning into his side as he strokes along her arm. “It’s not like that was intentional,” she complains. “I was already going with Jasper and Harry had just asked...you know what? I don’t even want to say her name right now.” And she covers her face with her sleeve to hide her contempt. After a long talk –– so long, in fact, that they had missed homeroom and the entirety of first period US History –– they had come to a bittersweet agreement that they would stick to any prior commitment plans to avoid any (overly) ill-feelings with their respective dates.

“Hey,” he whines, trying to get her to look at him, “you said you weren’t mad!”

“Honestly, if you were my boyfriend and you asked the girl that had continuously tried to steal you from me to a major school function –– even before we officially got together –– I’d be pretty pissed too.”

“Thank you, Cici,” huffing, Harry shoots her daggers with his eyes, “for that wonderful assessment.”

Cici massages her temples. “Just tell me why –– out of all the girls at this school –– would you choose Zoey as a rebound? The actual devil incarnate!”

“Don’t harass him,” Y/n pleads, playing with his fingers. There’s no use dwelling on something they seemingly have no command over. “Yeah, it sucks that we won’t be going together, but at least after it we can move on from this.” At least they’d resolved the most significant issue, making this little bump in the road to be almost trivial, right?

“Y/n’s right,” Maxxie agrees, falling back in his chair. “It could be worse. He could be taking Zoey to prom.”

***

They take Harry’s bike to Ruben’s right after dismissal. He enjoys this even more now that the faint restrictiveness from the first time is delightfully gone, and instead it just feels so completely natural to have her so close, and now with an added bonus of being able to kiss her fully.

Because now that he thinks about it, not a whole lot has actually changed besides that. Sure, they’re probably thrice as affectionate now than they were a month ago, or even at the beginning of last week. It really only was a matter of time!

“Halfsies on the roast beef and swiss, and a strawberry milkshake?” It’s their usual order starting from the first time they’d eaten here all the way back in September. They order it every time without fail as though tradition.

“Yeah, sounds good,” she sings, “but can we get mozzarella sticks too? Maxxie ate like half my lunch when we told them, so I’m a lot hungrier than usual.” She snorts out loud, closing her menu and placing it on the table.

Harry looks up at their waiter. “... and add some mozzarella sticks. Thanks, man.”

Comfortably, they sit and enjoy the song playing from the jukebox. Someone with excellent taste had just chosen Landslide by Fleetwood Mac, and Harry wraps his arm around her shoulders as he hums along to the chorus. “...built my life around you. But time makes you bolder, children get older...”

“You should sing more,” she encourages, pecking his cheek, “you have a really nice voice.”

He lets out an airy chuckle. “I guess you have to say that now.”

“Shut up, that’s not it!” she gasps, lightly smacking his chest. “I mean it.” She raises her hand to cup his cheek and uses her thumb to wipe away a fallen lash. Peering back at him, she smiles shyly. It’s almost strange, being able to do something like that so freely and without having to think twice. The way they’ve already managed to fall into this with such ease will never fail to astonish her.

Overcome with the sound of his heart’s tune, he surges forward to press his lips to hers in a gentle kiss. “I really, really like you,” he breathes as they pull apart just as their order arrives. “And I’m so happy this is finally happening.”

“Me too,” she says, pulling him back for one more.

For a moment she’s completely distracted by a basket of decadent fried mozzarella. She takes her favorite of the bunch –– the one that has the most cheese oozing from the tips –– and takes a bite, pulling it away to test the stretch. He takes the opportunity to ask a burning question.

“So, earlier at the library,” he starts, sounding as ambiguous as possible as he picks up a fry from the side of their plate. “Do you remember what Cici said?”

Her eyes narrow on him as she tries to think. Could he be referring to before or after she’d scolded them for stressing her out more than any upcoming exam? Or maybe when she’d called them lunatics for formal? “Cici said a lot of things today, Harry.”

“Well, there was this one thing that I’ve been thinking about all day” And he dips that fry into a pool of ketchup and layers it in his mouth. He muses to himself as he savors the crispy yet fluffy texture. “And I feel like it’s kind of urgent.” He shoots her a wink.

“Don’t leave me guessing then,” she pouts, swatting his hand away when he goes for another fry.

“It’s just that she called me your boyfriend,” he smirks, sitting back and waiting for it to fully marinate between her ears.

Her lips quirk to the side as she lies back and rests her head on his shoulder, then cranes her neck to gaze up at him. “She did say that, didn’t she?”

“She did.”

***

#president!harry #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles au #harry styles drabble #harry styles fluff #one direction #one direction imagine #one direction fanfiction #one direction au #one direction preferences #writing

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langdonsvcrd · 5 years

Text

Hot & Cold: Xavier x Fem!oc Reader

Summary: OC Reader sees Xaviers favourite purple jumper in the lake of Camp Refwood and almost drowns retrieving it, the two had been best friends [with hidden feelings] for one another since they were 14. Xavier hears Mavrey’s Chimes that she’d set up with Chef Bertie an hour before the incident, Ms Bertie had a suspicion the two had mixed feelings for one another yet wouldn’t admit it. This ends with Xavier clutching tightly against his lovers limp corpse feeling the wet sensation of water seep within his burns, Mavrey comforts the man and kisses his burns as if he’d never not been beautiful his entire life with or without his burns, but then Xavier notices her bloody chest, Mavrey stutters and confesses her love for him before kissing his lips like a hazey ghost, then falls. Collapsing into an oblivion like darkness set awaitimg for her arrival.

Warnings: none just an extremely sad: hurting/ xavier

____

RUELLE: War of Hearts [acoustic]

Come to me.

—

“Mav?” Xaviers pet name for his best friend came off rather hesitant, because she’d always answer him the first few times to when he’d call it. Xavier shifted himself into the cookhouse rolling his eyes at this sneaky game. “Mavrey I’m not playing with you, come on you need to go to bed I know how you get all cranky and shit over a few hours of sleep missed princess.”

Xaviers eyes moved along the kitchen appearance, his heart pondered over the concept that his best friend might be sneaking around the kitchen for snacks again.

In the night hours.

“Mavy you idiot it’s 2:45 in the fucking morning, a king needs his sleep too. Princess come the fuck on!” But that’s all Xavier could murmur under a whisper, before his gaze became hazy and unbearable. “What th-“

I will wait for you.

“Xav?” Mavrey swept across the riverside, her voice slightly weary in her interruption unto Xaviers whereabouts, she was told by Montana that her dearest best friend had stalked off to the lakeside for a quick jazz sesh in the Woods. His words exact were: ‘I’m becoming one with nature Tana who knows maybe I’ll stumble upon Chef Bertie on my stroll.’

And I can't sleep.

“Xav, Tana told me you were out here? Come on it’s 2 fucking something in the morning headass and I’m tired!” Mavrey kept stalking the lakeside before fleeting upon Xaviers favourite sweet violet jumper. “Do I always have to pick up after you asshole. Jesus! I want to go to BED!” Mavrey bent down to retrieve the slightly wet jacket, she was confused it was in direct aim of the lake.

“Oh.” That’s when the dots had clicked into place.

'Cause thoughts devour, Thoughts of you consume’

“If this is some kind of way to lure me into this stupid Ice bath think again!” After murmuring this a soft set of bubbles floated above the moonlit lake, just a few feet aways from where Xaviers purple beloved jacket was thrown. At this point Mavery’s heart had exploded, with worry. She did what she thought was right: she ran into that stupid lake to save her best friend or so she thought he was there.

I can't help but love you.

“Mav!” Xavier screamed eyes straining for tears to spill, his skin began blister and his heart wrenched out of his chest. Literally. “Mavrey! Help me!” The soft sobs of Xavier could be heard but whoever had the intention to shove him into this human like oven, watched with a gentle wave before speaking to him.

“Shes down too deep for your warmth now. Pretty boy” With that the unknown suspect strained to leave, just after hearing this Xavier bumbled an escape. Painful cries left his chapped and crusted lips and at this point he couldn’t careless about himself or his ego. He had to get out of this boiling hell.

Even though I try not too.

“N-No! Someone!” Stuttering at the thought of Mavrey getting hurt triggered his ambition to fight for his life. “SOMEONE! Please.” Falling to push the oven glass door once again fell hopeless for Xavier. “I love you!” His soft statement fell on deaf ears. He only wished Mavrey could hear his pleading.

I can't help but want you.

Mavrey’s skin ran cold, her eyes were shut and lungs soaked with heavy falls of water. Yet she still had her hand shackled to Xaviers sweet soft purple jumper as if her lifeline were connected to it. She had no idea what happened but she was being dragged deeper into the darkest part of whatever this hell was in an instant.

She tried to pull her feet away, kicking down towards the source but seemed to have failed in keeping air within her at the same time. The hand that was latched to her had vanished and now she was lost in her own mind to snap out of this hazy settlement. Memories flipped along her brain in order to help her fight for her own life, sweet thoughts.

Happy ones that made her heart flatter and it was all directed to the man who’d brought her here to begin with. “Xav?” Air bubbles formed around the small girl, heart pondering over the male, she had to get out of this predicament. She had to fight for him.

I know that I'd die without you.

—

Pulling herself out of the lake bubbled the girls attention, Mavrey blinked the tears away, her eyes strained with them still yet she wanted to be that ‘big girl’ Xav always taunted her to be. Falling to her feet Mavrey whimpered at the seeping sensation set in the centre of her chest directly set between her breasts. She muffled a cry when she pressed down unto the open wound, she was penitrated with a wooden stake, Mavrey hadn’t noticed since Xaviers jumper covered the wound. “Xa-“

SCREAMING FROM THE CAFETERIA ROOM:

That’s when Mavrey limped off, tears trailing down her face as she pushed her way down to the Cafeteria Room in order to retrieve her best friends precious life. “I’m coming Xav wait for me!” The small girl whipped her left to right feet up the sturdy wooden steps, she felt her heart drop when the door to the Cafeteria openedher eyes watered, leaving her gaze to drop on a slightly disgorged Chef Bertie. An unsteady breath left the girls mouth, Bertie was stabbed constantly from the back, she was beaten and bashed.

Stay with me a little longer.

“K-kitchen.” Berties words came out as a sob, Mavrey set herself next to the broken woman. Heart shattering when Bertie pushed the child away. “Y-you have t-t-to get h-him.” - “N-no Bert-“ Bertie pulled the girl to face hers I’m a demanding manner. “Kitchen!” Bertie muttered.

Mavrey’s eyes snapped to the slightly dimmed Kitchen doorway. It was lit like a warm fire on Christmas. But what came next only ceased for Mavrey to fall teary. “Xavier.” She’s rushed to the male in a hurry her voice cracking when her gaze fell on the boy she’d loved trapped within his personal hell.

I will wait for you.

Falling from the heated contraption, Mavrey clutched herself unto her best friend. Her arms pulled the man in as he too pulled her unto him, Xavier sighed deeply at the cold sensation set to sooth his blistering skin. He’d cried whilst clunging himself to the small rigid girl, his heart broke and it wouldn’t stop. He just cried and held his lover closer to him. “I-thought id lost you.” Mavrey’s voice came out sturdy and slightly different. Xavier shut his eyes switching to cup the girls face in the palms of his hands. “I couldn’t find you.” He sobbed lips pulling into a frown. Mavrey lightly laid his soaked purple jumper she had cover her chest to his shoulders letting the soft water seep his hot body. “I- I c-couldn’t find you e-either.” Xavier eyes opened and shone over his best friend, Mavrey had a gentle smile plastered on her face as she gazed up at this precious wonder boy. “I couldn’t lose you too.” She whispered. Xav bit his bottom lip tears streaming down his face before his eyes trailed down to the dark red soaked blue overalls set in the centre of Mavrey’s chest.

And want grows stronger, deeper than the truth.

“N-no-“ Xavier shuttered at the wound his hands pulled from the girls face to the seeping red stake wound. Mavrey wasn’t just cold from the lake, she was losing a lot of blood too. “Mav-“

I can't help but love you.

Mavrey just smiled up at Xavier, her lips fell agap when she’d finally gotten to see the appearance of the boy. Tears fell from her eyes before she softly reached up to cup Xaviers face for the last time. “Ma-Mav you’ll be okay- I just w-we ha-“ Mavrey’s bottom lip trembled along with Xaviers. “Still pretty.” She’d shuttered out. The poor boy shut his eyes at the way Mavrey had said that, his hands covered his best friends. The wonder boy was broken he just couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t live with himself if she did die on him. The two had sobbed together, their breathing in sync with one another like a harmony set to rhyme.

I can't help but want oceans to part.

“I-I love you.” And that was all it took for the two to break. After Xavier had said this his eyes softly fluttered open in an instant, but when they did his breathing stopped like the limp body set beneath him had fallen. The love of his life had stopped breathing, her cold hand had slipped from his and her eyes had closed. “M-Mav?”

The first time he’d said ‘I love you’ felt as if it were going to be the only time. Xavier never had the intention to say I love you in his entire life, he thought the sentence was a cheap way to say “I want to fuck you.”Yet now he finally knew the real intention to the sentence.

Cause I'm overcome in this war of hearts.

“Mavrey h-hey.” Yanking his limp best friend to sit on his lap felt heavy on Xavier. “Wake up- P-please.” His sobs became more intense and he thought the girl was joking, like she usually did. But she wasn’t. “M-Mavrey.” -“I-I said I loved you- w-wake up.” Xavier kneeled Forward hands falling to pull the girl to his chest, his cries began to build and fall out of his mouth harsher and harsher in anger. “Y-you ca-can’t leave m-me!” Xaviers head fell into his best friends soaked/cold shoulder. Tears pooling over his blistering skin. “I-I can’t do t-this without you!”

I can't help but be wrong in the dark.

The man couldn’t bring his mind around to believe that his best friend had passed nor did he want to leave her at this stupid camp, she was his and his alone. “I-I’m sorry. I-I’m so sorry- p-please come back to me please.” Everything was cold now, Xaviers heart had sunk and the more he’d held onto this girl the more he’d wanted to bring her back. He awaited for her to breathe but she never ceased to do so. Xavier never knew that this would be the first time he’d ever love and the last time he’d ever feel feel loved. She was gone.

I know that I'd die without you.

And he couldn’t bring her back even if he tried.

#ahs #ahs apocalypse #ahs coven #ahs spoilers #ahs8 #american horror story #cody fern #codyfern #michael langdon #michael langdon smut #xavier plympton smut #xavier plympton x reader #xavier plympton american horror story 1984 #xavierplympton #xavier plympton

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skvaderarts · 4 years

Text

Hallows Eve Happenings

Here’s a fun little Halloween Oneshot for you! Happy Spooky Day!

The AO3 Version can be found right here.

The girls had simply insisted on having a Halloween party for once, a sentiment that had largely been rebuffed with a smile and a laugh by Dante. Or at least that was until Nero had turned up with Kyrie stating that she thought it would be a fun and festive opportunity to try and socialize Vergil. During his extended stay in the underworld, the elder twin had developed the temperament of a feral cat, albeit a very well kept one with impossibly high standards of place and person. Kyrie, being the kind-hearted girl that she was, wanted to see the twins rekindle their relationship, but was nowhere near dim enough to get between the twins and their family trauma. That being said, Nero simply couldn't bring himself to turn down a request from Kyrie on the rare occasion she even asked him for something. She gave him so much and asked for so little in return. That and Nico would never let him live it down.

In an attempt to not get slapped unconscious by his Nephew again, Dante begrudgingly agreed to the party when Kyrie asked him. If there was one thing the brothers agreed on, it was their mutual dislike of parties. Vergil enjoyed his solitude and serenity, and Dante... well he just couldn't be bothered with it. Nero was largely indifferent to them. But there was one person who would literally prefer to pass on into the afterlife and face the hoards of demonic entities that he had slain during his lifetime than drink spiked punch and listen to cliche spooky music.

And yet somehow V had ended up at this godforsaken party anyway…

The festivities had gone reasonably well, all things considered. Nero had spent most of the evening playfully tormenting Kyrie and their three adopted children (who were dressed in adorable animal costumes), while Dante had taken the opportunity to find creative new ways of annoying Vergil in what he wrongfully assumed was a safe environment. (He figured wrong. Vergil was absolutely going to stab him to death in his sleep tonight. Make no mistake.)

And then there were the girls. Lady and Trish had been the life of the party, singing along horribly to the music, making a mess with the pizza napkins, and Nico consumed a concerning amount of the dry ice spiked fruit punch. They were all pretty sure she should be dead, but no one was going to say anything to her. They didn't need a repeat of the nailgun incident.

In an environment filled with screaming children, horrendous singing, and booming metal, V had retired to one of the sofas in the far corner of the room to entertain his favorite past time. In keeping with the spirit of Hallows Eve, he had opted for a classic by Edgar Allen Poe. When he reached the midway point of the poem, he suddenly felt eyes on him from behind the couch. It was little Carlo, one of Nero and Kyries' children. The fluffy-haired child was hanging over the back of the couch, staring at the words in what V could only assume was confusion. "Why is the man in the poem so scared of the bird?"

V smirked and pondered how to explain what was going on to a young child, settling on the bluntest answer he could fathom at the moment. "He laments the loss of his love and believes the bird is an evil being sent to torment him for his wrongdoings, Carlo."

The child nodded, clearly still not understanding, but appreciative of the explanation nonetheless. "And why does the bird keep saying "Nevermore" so much? Is it making fun of him?"

V nodded, amused by the interest the young boy was showing in the poem. Carlo climbed over the back of the couch and plopped down next to him, practically climbing on him as if having a better view of the text would help him understand it. Nico walked past them carrying a drink, laughing about something that Kyrie had just said to Trish that she could not quite make out. "I just want to know how the hell you can read in a pitch-black room under a blacklight, V. What the hell?"

"Language, Nico!" Nero shook his head and joined them, seemingly finally tired of messing with Kyrie and in absolutely no mood to trying to conversate with Vergil. It wouldn't have mattered if he had been anyway. Vergil had very mysteriously gone missing during the party about a half-hour ago. Perhaps he had retired to his room when his social battery had completely drained (as if it had been charged in the first place.)

Nico shrugged and snickered. "Oh please, as much as you carry on? They know all those words by now!"

Nero blanched, hoping that Kyrie had not heard her say that. He then turned to Carlo who was still entranced by the dramatic reading of the story that V now had him extremely invested in. "We have to get going. It's past midnight and it's a pretty long trip home."

Carlo groaned. "But he was just getting to the good part! Come on, it's almost done. Well, I think."

Nero glanced and V who gave him a subtly but reassuring nod. He sighed and relented, allowing V to finish. None of them had paid any mind to the fact that everyone still left at the office had gathered around the area listening to V read the poem. It was so off-brand for him to read anything that wasn't William Blake, but he was nothing if not well-read and an excellent speaker.

V continued, unfazed by the audience. "And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting, On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,

And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

Shall be lifted-"

"Nevermore."

Everyone in the room, V included, practically jumped out of their skin at the sound of Vergil's voice. It had seemingly come from nowhere. Just as they were going to respond, Nero turned around and walked directly into the twin in question. He jumped back and cursed, clearly startled, and nearly knocked Kyrie to the floor in the process. Everyone stared at him as he stood back up and brushed himself off. "What the fuck, Vergil?!"

A few scattered snickers passed through the room, much to Nero's dissatisfaction. But then something happened that made everyone in the room do a massive doubletake.

V laughed.

Not a snicker. Not a throwaway chuckle. An actual laugh.

V leaned over his legs, cradling the open book to his chest as he burst into an almost tearful laughing fit. It was the most unexpectedly enjoyable thing most of them had ever heard. Several different emotions played across the faces of the occupants of the room. Dante looked startled, Lady and Trish glanced in surprise back and forth between V and each other, the children stared with their mouths agape, and Kyrie just smiled, unsure of how else to react to something so new to her.

Nero looked as though he was considering being upset about this, but the look of irritation on his face rapidly faded and was replaced with a barely contained smile. Even Vergil who never smiled looked pleased with himself for once, although he would never admit as much.

"If I knew all I had to do was make myself look like a tool in front of everyone to make ya laugh, I would have done that forever ago! Holy shit, you can actually laugh..."

Kyrie ushered the children towards the door, more than ready to call it a night and head home. As she went, she waved goodbye to everyone and shot Nero a grumpy look for his choice of language in front of the kids. Nero laughed nervously and followed closely behind them. As to door behind them closed, Dante shot Vergil a glance and nodded in V's direction. He had finally stopped laughing at the preposterous situation. "Who would've guessed V had a sense of humor hidden under all that sullen misery and depressing poetry?"

Vergil shrugged, not really sure how to answer that question. He was as surprised as everyone else. He headed towards his room and then stopped, stretching. At the foot of the stairs, he casually glanced back at Dante. "... Sleep with one eye open, little brother." And with that, he disappeared up the stairs. Dante paled. Vergil hadn't let those pranks earlier slide because the kids were here after all.

"Shit."

Holy shit, today is V's first Halloween!

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olicitysecretsanta · 5 years

Text

someone to watch over me, pg, 4664 words

A very happy holiday season and the best of New Years to you, @emeraldolverqueen! You said you liked soulmate fic, so I tried to do that. It’s less Christmassy than I’d intended, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

—–

She knows them longer than it took to meet herself.

That this place where she died becomes the place where they learn to live is an understanding that comes only in time – and amidst many curse words spewed among missed sips of hard liquor. Because while she’s honored to Guard them – even as far from an angel as she is, was, or ever will be – even as much as the light within them, between them, acts as a uniting beacon between their souls, guidance and a reminder that sometimes stories don’t have endings such as hers, goddamn are they frustrating sometimes.

(Because, honestly. His coffee shop was in a bad neighborhood? He ran out of sports bottles? It’s like he’s not even trying sometimes. And what, exactly, does the man have against tennis balls? Or shirts? And while she’s at it, can she just mention the entire Napa Valley worth of red wine he’ll owe his partner-slash-wife-slash-best-part-of-his-always when all this is over? But she digresses. It becomes second nature, given the many stops and starts to Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak she has to endure but still somehow wishes she could live through.)

There is a jubilance in her when she slides quickly, hungrily, through their line together for the first time, something light that lifts her even higher than her perch Above and that she hasn’t felt, well, ever. She feels the raindrops on the window he waves rather dorkily to her when she’s too scared to come to his house; smells the flowers she brings Walter Steele in the hospital when he introduces her as his friend. Her mouth waters for the fries they order at Big Belly Burger, and her head spins just as much as Felicity’s does – will – on the power of narcotics and Oliver Queen saying she’ll always be his girl. She feels the swooping stomachs of the leaps Felicity takes, literal and figurative, to save Oliver, from Lian Yu and Ra’s al Ghul and himself time and again. Her fingers itch for the contradiction of soft butter and coarse salt on popcorn when Felicity reconfigures Oliver’s systems, and wishes she could pass it to John Diggle – who, literally, bless that man – points out Oliver doesn’t have a problem with Felicity’s performance until Barry Allen shows up. Then she wants to throw it at the looks they give each other after she locates a shipment of weapons for “Mr. Queen,” and her “a you were right and an apology; I really should be recording this,” because, just, ridiculous.

She floats at the inevitability contained in the words there was no choice to make and the redux of I know two things; the number of times they say yes even when they don’t think the other one is listening.

She is ready light years ahead of them; knows everything while they know so little.

What she doesn’t realize is how much she still has to learn herself.

She’s an eternal twenty-something when she’s finally allowed Below and sees him in person for the first time, in the place his father brings him when the son becomes the scion at barely eight, the place the young boy doesn’t want to be but where the man will try to find himself in leaps and lifetimes, fingers fidgeting for his Gameboy where in too short a time they’ll be wanting a weapon. And for the first time in generations, this isn’t the underground speakeasy where she overheard one too many men speaking down to one too many of her girls and fought back, only to get a pistol to the chest for her trouble. It’s the first moment she’s in since her soul left this place, the first thing she Sees from within rather than Above, feels deeply and is tied directly to since her time ran out, and though her lungs haven’t worked for decades, it still takes her breath away a little bit. The stacticity of the inevitability, the moveable objects and unstoppable forces, the idea that this is finally, that this is the start of a – every – moment, leaves her buzzing.

It falters ever so slightly as she takes in how much greyer the reality is against the light she sees in him, the one that shines with and partly because of a Vegas-reared card shark he’s already destined to go all in with, and the contrast is heavy enough even in its haze that it makes her realize everything she’s going to try to help them do will be caught between black and white.

It’s a lesson, a harbinger of a constant reminder that they – Oliver, Felicity, and her own being, such that it is – will forever be caught between life and death, right and wrong, light and dark, yesterday and tomorrow. She stumbles slightly against the knowledge that even though she knows what, she doesn’t know how, and she glances up for an answer she somehow knows she’ll have to live – such that it is for any and all of them – to tell.

(“The things you’ll do here will be great.” Robert Queen might say it to his son, but the woman neither know is listening hears it just as loudly. “Your work is just beginning.”

It’s truer than any of them know.)

She returns to Above to Watch the first Hanukkah after Noah Kuttler leaves, and it’s her first and greatest failure, because she has to turn away from the little girl on her eighth night lighting her menorah and speaking hitched Hebrew as she tries to pray for anything other than her greatest wish: her father to walk in the door of the home that feels less like shelter now than it ever should. She almost misses the burn of the tears on her cheek; almost wishes she could take them from the sweet little girl with glasses that fall down her nose more than they help her see, and eventually she has to turn away because she’s just not as strong as Felicity Smoak is now and forever will be.

It doesn’t matter that she can See other Hanukkahs, the ones where Felicity teaches William how to play the dreidel, or the ones where Oliver starts a list on his phone in June for gift ideas to give their children across the holiday evenings. It doesn’t matter that in the seemingly endless in-between, she Sees the there and here, how the blended family time comes together, be it margaritas after a bomb-collar wielding psycho and a gold dress that starts and stops their Witness and Oliver Queen’s hearts in the same go, or six years later, when they finally return with their son from to Star City on the 23rd of December only to find that a longtime resident who wishes to remain nameless has bought a Christmas tree at one of the downtown lots and paid the owner for weeks to keep it healthy until the castoff-turned-castaway-turned-man with too many masks until he found his true self didn’t darken doorsteps again, but instead enlightened them all with his presence.

(She’s not allowed to See that she’s the longtime resident – because she will be just that for them, longer than she’s actually supposed to be – that it’ll be one of the only times They actually let her be seen by the living world. She doesn’t know that she’ll ponder over what to say in the note she’s asked if she wants to leave, and that in the end, she’ll write with a shaking hand the only thing anyone should ever say to either of them, the things she wants them to hear echo for eternity, which is thank you and I’m proud of you.

She isn’t allowed to See, but should still know, because she yells those very things through the wandering years – Lian Yu, Hong Kong, Russia, Boston, Starling when it’s built on bones and standing on secrets – when things are so dark they seem to blind. She knows she can’t interfere; can’t change course. She knows the things she Witnesses now are the things that make them who they are, perfectly imperfect and right even in their wrongs. But the pain of it all settles in her – Oliver will later talk about five years where nothing good happens, and she’s got five times that as she Watches how the world shapes and scars their stories, and goddamn it, she hasn’t felt this helpless since she realized there was a gun in a gangster’s hand; hasn’t felt this sharp a pain since the impact of a bullet beneath her skin.

She’d waited for the light then. Now she stares at the light she’s seen in them, hoping it’ll bring her home, too.)

She begs Them time and again to let her down, a plea in a second of the infinite to remind herself it’ll be okay in how it’s meant to be; desperately needs to soothe herself with the knowledge that their path is as long as it is alight, and that the pain of the wait will lessen with whispered words of transition from “you’re my partner” to “you are my always”; from “someone’s broken our coffee maker” to a failsafe code that includes “latte” among its inspirations.

She needs to breathe those moments from her Before and their After again; needs the reassurance among the ruins.

They eventually give in, but she can’t leave the steel mill, and it’s only then that she learns moments can’t just be wished into existence, but that they have to be breathed into life, even when they feel like they’re suffocating with their entirety. She bangs her frustration on the pipes; it’s like slamming a hand against glass, starkly painful in its multitude of reminders, as they’ll experience in Darhk’s chamber, as they will when Oliver is in prison, only she doesn’t feel the inevitability of reunion then. She feels nothing but lonely and lost, wanting anything to be able to be there for them, with them, because this feels far too much like saying goodbye before introductions are even made.

It’s in that moment that she realizes that for as much as they’re going to fall for each other, she’d Fall a hundred times for them. They don’t know it yet – they may never know – but she’s just as willing to sacrifice everything for them as they will in the name of their fight for their city and for each other; for the life and liberty she won’t know again and that they’ll find only with each other.

For the love that will sustain them individually, together, apart, wholly, triumphantly, expectantly, entirely.

She makes her mind up then. She’ll stop running her parallel path, trying to get to the end because she sees how it begins, and instead Guard theirs with everything she has in her – with as much love as they’ve been destined to have for each other since before the universes within and around them had names. She’ll believe in the midst of “I don’t want to be a woman that you love” as much as she will during “you will be the best part of me for the rest of my life.” She’ll fight when he runs time and again, when she doesn’t go after him, when there are no good choices and the only certainty is failure. She’ll hear the truth in his mother’s lies, trust during so much doubting, rebuild during the wreckage.

She will Guide when they are at their most alone; even if they can’t see or hear or believe her into existence, she will be with them every step of the way, even if she has to crawl herself to get there.

(She draws the line at wiping up Roy’s training water bowls, though. Even ethereal beings have standards.)

She’s waiting at the bottom of the foundry stairs when he makes an absolute racket dragging his trunk in; “I thought you were supposed to be the shadow of the night,” she mutters as he starts putting his headquarters together. “How do you not get caught, like, forty-seven times before John and Felicity cover your ass?”

He doesn’t answer, but then again, she doesn’t need him to.

He slides into this new life almost as easily as he guides his quiver on his back; her transition is less smooth. She’s not used to interacting with the physical world anymore; time and megahertz vibrate differently, and she worries she’s leaving too much resonance as she fights between remembrance and rediscovery. He doesn’t take notice, transforming fully into something he always knew was something else, something she knows he’ll eventually understand is more, and every time the suits up – such that it his “disguise” at the beginning; it’s a hoodie. The man wears a hoodie. – she hears her and Felicity’s voices answering the question he doesn’t dare ask but that either woman he doesn’t know exist at this point would hesitate in saying: he is a hero. That he’ll go from hiding shouldering a son’s promise beneath a bruised history and the crack of leather that echoes in his aloneness to kissing his soulmate as they stand among their future and in the thick of the fight is the thing that keeps her thriving in the dank darkness of the basement; keeps her believing, and Watching, and Following.

(Tommy Merlyn feels her, though. It’s instant and obvious, and he always looks over his shoulder as they begin to set up their business and she lingers as she Watches over Oliver. It takes a few weeks, but he whispers, “Mom, is that you?” after closing late one morning. She wishes so hard that she could say something – what, she doesn’t know; what would be better, saying yes or no? – that a literal light starts to emanate from her the same way it does from Oliver and Felicity’s souls. She stands in the middle of her old building, the speakeasy that killed her, now turned into a bar hiding the man giving them both a second chance neither thought they’d get, staring at her hand as she turns it over and over again in absolute shock and disbelief.

She’s not his Caretaker, but she reaches out to him nonetheless. Her hand lingers on his shoulder, and he shudders through a deep breath as he hears the unspoken message: I’m here.

He says goodnight to her every day after that, and for all the companionship her job is predicated on, she’d never really known just how alone she’d felt.

She’s there at his End even as the foundry cracks around Felicity – as the city breaks around them all in ways that cut so deep they won’t know for so much longer just how badly they’re bleeding – and Tommy watches her in wonder and horror, glancing between his body on the ground and the sobs emanating from his best friend as Oliver begs him to open his eyes. When her hand shakes this time, it’s not entirely because she’s reaching Through for Rebecca Merlyn, but because there are no words to thank her son for the quiet conversations he’d led even without reply while restocking the bar, or the Christmas music he’d introduced her to just a few months before that he’d called classic and that she’d never heard before.

He glances between the familiar face of his mother and the scene in front of him before focusing on her, the embodiment as the confusion at the conduit of it all, and all she can do is smile.

“Take care of him,” he requests, and she nods, saying the word Oliver and Felicity will redefine for each other – have already done for her.

“Always.”)

It’s a lifetime and a half of adagio, of Waiting, but the day finally comes when he shows up in Felicity’s cubicle with a bullet-filled laptop and a bald faced lie, and it’s just…so much funnier than she expects. Of course, neither knows the monumental shift their lives have just taken, but she feels it like the electricity Felicity will soon put in his cave – his world, his heart, and how he’ll route it all back back to the woman that was always so much more than an IT girl. The look on John’s face when he wakes from his poisoning and realizes the ne’er-do-well he was supposed to be guarding is in fact guarding him makes her laugh so much it would have been audible were the rushes of both men’s heartbeats, borne of fear and confusion, not absolutely deafening.

She particularly delights in the moment when Felicity blurts out “I’m Jewish” and Oliver wishes her a Happy Hanukkah. She lingers in the QC offices as Felicity tilts her head back with an embarrassed groan once Oliver’s left the space, and can’t help but laugh as she leans against the blonde’s desk. “You marry him,” she says with utter glee and a delighted handclap not unlike the one Felicity will do when their firstborn takes her first steps toward the city Christmas tree her father once proposed to her mother by.

(She feels the shiver of the after of that moment, another cacophony of a gun and too close of a call, but she holds steadfast to the tomorrow she sees beyond it – the white lace dress and a look across a room, closeness that does not fade regardless of the distance they put between them.

She’s thought it before, but now she wonders aloud, her chin turned toward Above: why can’t this be easier for them? Why can’t the magic of a road trip summer and an unexpected home both in Ivy Town and each other last longer than a single solstice? Why can’t they have lazy Saturdays and non-burnt breakfasts instead of hostile takeovers and closing doors? Yes, they’ll have holiday plays in which one child plays the Christmas turkey on the stage and the other plays with the necklace their father gave their mother as the very first push present as they wiggle impatiently in the audience, and they’ll have William waking early one Christmas morning to mock up reindeer hoofprints in the snow, and they’ll have Hebrew school and Donna buying light-up menorahs so no flames are around her daughter or her daughter’s small children – because even at thirty, to their Nana, they’ll always be small – but words like Havenrock and Nanda Parbat and “maybe my code name could be Hot Wheels” seem to undermine the fact that he’s one of the few good ones, that she’s the last of the real ones, and she is just their Witness.

Because then they wouldn’t be Them. She hates how quickly the answer comes almost as much as she hates how true it is. But they’ve given so much up even before they have it, and it just doesn’t seem fair.

It isn’t. But it’s what makes them better.)

She stays with them after the foundry is discovered, first by Slade Wilson – and what a time she has with that madman; for all the times she’s wanted to reach out to Oliver or Felicity the way she was able to with Tommy, she is full-bodied and pissed off when he infiltrates the grave that has become the only home many of them acknowledge. He thinks she’s a figment of his imagination, a Mirakuru mirage, but instead she’s the first line of defense and the pawn in the chess game Oliver is gearing up to win.

She is red in her rage, seething in her skin – such that it is – and her voice is a hiss when it registers in his ears. “You’ve just gotten here, and you’ve already failed.”

He sets his traps, and she follows every step he stumbles through. “She’s already rebuilt this,” she says, motioning to the place that had felt like a coffin and now sings of comfort. “So has he. And they’ll do it time and again. You…” she laughs, humorlessly, hollowly. “What will you be in the end, other than a cautionary tale?”

She disappears when he swipes his sword at her, chases him around in a madness that registers a little too close for him, but she’d do anything to keep this sanctuary – the sanctity of united souls – safe. It’s why she lingers after the battle of the war no one saw coming and still somehow end one day; settles back as the unthinkable is not only spoken about but finally comes into being. Belief is truth, and it is beautiful. She enjoys those bright days even more than Oliver and Felicity will in their Porsche – Oliver Queen pretending to be confused about Ikea instructions just so Felicity will stay and help him set up the bed she insisted on buying for him is at once the dumbest and greatest thing she’s ever Witnessed, and damn it, why isn’t Caretaker popcorn an actual thing? – because it’s not just her Seeing the possibilities, the promise, the poetry even among the pain anymore.

They’re becoming them, slow and steady as it tries to be – syncopated when he makes it so, the stubborn ass; and yes, she does clang the pipes angrily – loudly – at him as he tries to settle down in the beds of his own making, cold and empty and alone – and she makes the first of her own choices.

She takes the light of that summer, of longing looks and walks for mint chocolate chip ice cream “just because” and holds it to her, even as she knows it means she can’t be there the way she wants to be, aware and awake and as alive as she can be; as she’s been for decades. She uses every ounce of energy they’ve imbued her with – both heavenly and human – and holds tight to that warmth, that belief, that righteousness, and uses it after Oliver’s own fall to soften Felicity’s descent. She uses it to fight through the biting coldness of Felicity’s despair, the pressing callousness of an empty foundry and the pain of dulled, departed souls. She clings to it while she Watches them make choice after impossible choice, after they fall apart and come together in the exquisite way only soulmates can.

She whispers it in their ears in too-empty lofts, in jail cells, in coffee houses operated alongside fake names and pink hair, and even a Dunkin Donuts in Cambridge, one Felicity frequented while at school that William makes his way to for a sense of home when he’s furthest from it.

They are her beacon as much as they are each other’s, and keeps it alight during the dark days and the navy nights.

(The second choice she makes – though doing so contradicts this ones made for her before the Beginning – is to stay long after Quentin Lance finds the foundry and shuts it down. She’s not tied to the place anymore, and should go back Above. She refuses, because if she’s learned one thing from them, it’s that you never abandon the fight. Though they don’t know she’s there, she’s still tied to them, and they have many miles to go before any of them can sleep.

There’s also a small part of her that wonders if they do know she’s there, because after the first date they both believed to be the last, Felicity appears in front of her, shimmering and shaking as brightly as the wedding rings she can’t see but that her Guardian won’t forget, bloody but beautifully aware in her red dress, even as her body lies unconscious and unmoving on a table.

“Is this…Heaven?” she asks brokenly. “Because that would be inconvenient on so many levels.”

She’s thought a hundred times – a thousand – about what she’d say to this beautiful creature if ever given the chance. Would she want to laugh with her; tease her a little bit about just how exhausting the will they/won’t they scenario was when the answer was most obviously duh. Would she be serious; speak about how for as much as she’d fought Oliver’s corner and is helping the world understand he’s a hero, she’s one in her own very big right, that she’s changed just as many lives as Oliver’s changed hers, that she’s as strong as anyone could hope to be and learned it only from herself? In the moment, she just stares, her mind racing to remind Felicity to believe when everything is broken, to relish the calm after the storm even as she loathes its furious existence; wants to beg her not to let either of them run unless it’s to each other. She wants to show her all the things she Sees – has Seen – how she’ll lose too much but find herself in the end, that she’ll hold her husband’s hand until he’s 86 and she’ll follow shortly thereafter with a smile on her face and peace in her heart because the only place they were ever supposed to be was together; wants to tell her how damn proud she is of all of them. How she’ll cheer when Felicity Smoak stares down every fool that dares cross her path, whether it’s the madman-hellbent-on-revenge du jour or her three-year-old who very clearly got into Oliver’s homemade cookies before bed and is shaking a familiarly curly head in denial even with chocolate chip smeared all over their face; how she’ll be shaking a pipe in celebration as Felicity cuts the ribbon on a building bearing her name, and how she’ll do the same at Oliver’s nonprofit office when it’s time for him to head home for dinner with his wife and family.

She wants to tell her the one thing she wishes she’d heard at her End: it’s all going to be okay.

She doesn’t say that, though, even if it’s true. Because what’s even truer – what’s even more important – is that it’s all going to be worth it.

All of it – the lies, the tears, the tribulations – will pale in comparison to vividity of the triumph. These days are long and hard, but the one thing that has never changed – will never change – is the light inside them. It’s not even just their souls anymore; not just them with each other. It’s a beacon, a road home. It’s a journey and a destination and a beginning and an ending, and it’s the most beautiful thing any of them will ever see.

She doesn’t say much, actually, because there’s just too many things to note. Instead, she follows the heart Felicity helped both her and Oliver realize they’d never lost, and the words that finally come out are instinctual. “No, my love,” she says softly, sweetly, and with a smile even as her heart bursts and breaks at the same time, because the woman in front of her really is remarkable. “It’s not.” She swallows, closes her eyes and reaches out for Felicity’s hand – not because she doesn’t know what’ll happen, but because this is something she needs to remember. “Your work is far from finished, but you’re doing great, great things.”

“I – I don’t understand,” Felicity says, glancing behind her, her body leaning toward Oliver in the same way their souls yearn for each other.

“That’s okay,” she replies. “I know enough for the both of us.”

The moment she touches the blonde, everything snaps back in place, and Felicity bolts upright with one name on her lips; the most important one.

The last one she ever says in the foundry, though, comes years and understandings later, after so much as fallen, but more importantly, has been reclaimed again. There’s a single rose in her weathered hand and an even older newspaper article folded in her pocket.

“Thank you, Millie,” Felicity whispers as she lays the flower on the spot the paper said the woman passed away on, stopping with a smile when the pipes clang noisily one last time.

“No, Felicity,” Millie whispers as she rises Above just as their souls have time and again, “thank you.”)

#Olicity Secret Santa 2018 #Olicity #Arrow #submission

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