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eupheme · 2 years

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Penny For Your Thoughts | Part 2 - Reunion

masterlist

Alfred Pennyworth x F!Reader

Rated E - 6.2k

Tags: age gap, semi-public makeout, smut, mirror sex, table sex, fingering, PiV, praise kink, brief discussion of pain

Summary: After not hearing from him, you’re wondering if he changed his mind. Luckily, an upcoming masquerade makes for the perfect opportunity for you to cross paths.

A/N: I got such kind comments, I decided to turn this into a little series! 💕 I hope you like this part as well. (Also I retconned a few small details [ie the name of where she works] to fit the later plot.)

This feels like the fourth time you’ve fluffed up this particular arrangement of flowers, fingers searching for untrimmed thorns, any sign of wilted leaves.

Your eye closes as you frame the vase with your hands, adjusting it until it feels perfectly centered on the slate tablecloth, the orange and gold spray of flowers complimenting the tone.

It’s one of four you’ve worked on this morning - a last-minute favor to a close friend. One who had bitten off a little more than she could chew, in an attempt to make this Halloween Masquerade the best the town has seen.

“What do you think?” You glance at the next table over, where she’s arranging her own, this one in shades of lilac and white.

“Perfect.” Hazel glances between them, finger rubbing at her bottom lip. Worried eyes glance towards you, “Do you think it looks like, Halloween-y? I know it’s still weeks away, but…”

Your hand comes to rest on her shoulder, gently squeezing, “Definitely. You picked the perfect spot.”

Her idea had been to rent a room in the Natural History Museum, but yours has been to pick the large, open banquet hall overlooking the botanical gardens. The space was perfect, and you’re already imagining how the moon will look as it hangs over the gnarled trees and clusters of foliage, leaves still clinging in shades of red and orange.

“What’s left?” You ask, mentally running through the list the two of you had been flying through all morning, and now - all afternoon.

“I think this should be about it. The caterer is here in an hour, and the DJ after that.” She sinks into one of the many king louis-style chairs, with their rounded backs and velvet tufted seats, shoulder slumping.

You grab the one nearest to her, grateful for a moment to rest your feet. Head tilting back, you let your eyes close, your arms go limb.

“I meant to ask,” She starts, and her tone has your lids cracking open. “Did your mystery man ever text?”

Now they’re opening fully.

“Uh, no. He didn’t.” You don’t look at her yet, willing the hot flush to stay in your chest, not to creep up and across your cheeks.

“Ew, did he call?” That makes you laugh, and can’t help but look as she crinkles her nose.

“No, that would be difficult.” Your head tilts, expression turning sheepish, “I never gave him my number.”

An oversight. One you had thought of, more than once over the past week and a half, when you weren’t replaying more… interesting moments.

Hazel was one of your oldest friends in Gotham, and you did tell her quite a lot about your life. But not everything - cornered into sharing the basics when she caught you deep in thought, smiling during one of your afternoon coffee runs.

And you also didn’t want to tell her part of the reason you were so willing to help her with this, unbribed and unpaid, other than in drinks and an invite to the ball itself, was the chance of peeking at the guestlist.

But you’re certain she knew. Just that morning she had cornered you, dropping her voice to ask if there’s any ‘certain someone’s’ to keep an eye out for as she counted RSVPs. But you had panicked, your jaw snapping shut as you rushed off to straighten the glasses at the bar, wiping down the marble top.

You weren’t embarrassed to tell her, or anything. It was just - something about that night, with him, felt special. Important, as silly as that seemed.

Or maybe you just didn’t want to look so completely head-over-heels over someone you just met.

Even if he did make you come more than once.

Even if you haven’t stopped thinking about him.

Her foot kicks yours from under the table, grabbing your attention, “I finally picked my dress out for tonight.”

You smile, grateful for the change in subject, “Which one?”

“The red, strapless one,” She grins, the smile tugging wider when you hum in agreement. “Which one are you wearing?”

“Oh,” you sigh tiredly, mentally flipping through your choices. You’d thought about it, tried on your whole closet twice this week. “I think the blue one. You know-”

“I know. You wore that last time.” She accuses, and you shrug.

It was ‘old reliable’ for a reason - classic cut, no frills. You looked fine in it, comfortable with the simple style.

She makes a disappointed sound, her eyes rolling. “You should wear the black one you got when we went shopping last weekend. You looked amazing.”

You snort at that, your chin propped under your palm, “I don’t know. I was thinking about taking it back. It’s a little… revealing.”

It was beautiful, a real splurge - the open back, the way the front came down in a deep v that met below your sternum.

“I know, that’s why it’s great. Wear it.” She presses, and you shake your head, checking your watch as you laugh, pushing yourself to your feet.

“I’ll think about it.” You reluctantly agree. If you’re going to get back in time to eat and change, you’d better leave now, “Are you still picking me up?”

Hazel smiles, “Yes, see you at seven. Thanks for all your help, I couldn’t do it without you.”

With a smile and a wave, you’re on your way - walking the blocks back to your apartment, shrugging off your coat as you warm in the mid-afternoon sun.

You’re up the steps and inside the door before you notice it, a thick, cream envelope on the wooden floor under the mail slot, standing out against the mix of magazines and ads underneath that you haven’t had the energy to check.

Absently dropping your bag and your coat on the small table just inside the door, you stoop to pick it up. There’s no address, just your name carefully inked on the front.

Brows furrowing, you flip it over and see the small wax seal, the initial ‘P’ in an elegant script with a circle around it. The thrum of unease wanes, the letter clenched tightly in your grip as you wrench the front door open, eyes scanning the street for any sight of him.

But there’s not, and you silently chide yourself. He could have come hours ago. He’s not waiting around outside.

The door shuts behind you, and for a long moment you don’t want to open it, fingers carefully tracing the raised ink of your name.

But eventually you do, impatience and curiosity getting the best of you, and you grab a knife from your kitchen to keep the seal intact.

The insides spill into your hands, a clipping of an article, what looked like a ticket, and a small note. Two you recognize - the announcement for the Halloween Masquerade hosted by the Mayor, the event Hazel was helping plan. The smaller ticket, matching the one she already gave you.

This one you might just have to keep, tucked away in your vanity drawer.

The note is what you spend the most time on, reading the simple line until you’ve memorized the curves of the neat, masculine script.

Will I see you there?

-A.

You smile, holding the note close to your chest, your heart and mind both racing.

Maybe you will have to wear the black dress after all.

———

The masquerade is in full swing as you arrive fashionably late, something that makes your stomach churn but Hazel had insisted on. The museum looks beautiful, transformed by the dim lighting, the dark sky pouring in from the windows outside.

The banquet hall is filled with people, all dressed in their best gowns and suits, an even proportion of elaborate masks and beautiful, bare faces.

You wind your way inside, eyes soaking in the creativity that Gotham’s finest brought to life. A man with a mask that looked like an inky black skull, paired with a crisp white suit. A woman with green vines curling across her temples, looking like she stepped right out of the garden.

The mask you wore was simple in comparison to others - delicate swirls of gold filigree - tied with a dark ribbon, the band tucked into your hair. But it matched the dramatic cut of your dress, complimenting the dark, silky fabric.

Hazel had disappeared into the crowd immediately, a to-do list a mile long, guests to check in on. You had mingled, filling a plate with hors d’oeuvres, having skipped dinner in exchange for tidying up your room, slipping some extra essentials (phone charger, toothbrush, makeup wipes, a spare pair of panties) into your purse.

You know, just in case.

It’s the planner in you, always prepared.

From your spot at the bar you have a good view of the banquet hall, though with the mood lighting and masks it’s hard to pick out faces. You feel like you’ve combed through them all at least once, seeing the same masks, the same dresses, appearing again and again.

But not the one you want to see.

Palm cupping your chin, you lean on the bar top, and it’s when you stop looking, letting your eyes idle, that you see him.

Well, more exactly - them.

They’re standing in a small group, Alfred’s face in profile, but you know it’s him - the cut of his hair and beard one you’ve come to know well. Bruce Wayne you recognized also, standing taller even with the few steps of distance between them.

The others you didn’t know, three men in suits, and frankly, at the moment you didn’t care. At least he was here.

You smile at him, a fondness blooming in your chest, wanting to walk over and interrupt, though that wouldn’t be proper. But you’re still daydreaming about it, when a thick hand lands on your shoulder, fingers digging into the flesh.

There’s a man standing next to your stool, his face hidden in a black and white mask, the bright splash of yellow making up a sharp beak where his nose would be.

“You’re one of them sparrows, right sweetheart?” He asks, and your stomach twists.

“I am.” There’s no use lying, “But I’m not on duty right now, seeing as we’re outside the Parliament.”

The fingers tighten, and you can see dark eyes moving behind the dark holes, “I’m sure the good judge won’t mind. I got a message I need delivered.”

You’re certain he would mind, but then again - if he knew about the services of the club, then surely he was a member, right? It wasn’t common knowledge, there were people that made sure of that.

He takes your silence in stride, pushing forward, “I’ll pay you well. If you play your cards right, maybe you could even come work for me.”

“Thank you, I appreciate the offer, but I’m under contact.” It’s a lie, but he doesn’t need to know that, “I’ll take the job, though. When do you need it delivered?”

You exchange information, a simple drop off scheduled for a couple weeks from now, the message and the client location to be revealed with the pickup. The pickup is at a spot that you’ve been to before, but that does little to quell your nerves.

It makes you feel jittery, anxious - like you’re doing something wrong. And maybe you are, your head turning so you can glance over your shoulder, as if to check if you’re being watched.

But with the amount of people, it’s impossible to tell, and it makes your chest feel tight, the blood pounding in your ears.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” The man is still at your shoulder, his hand finally dropping, “Don’t forget my offer, okay? The Iceberg is a classy place, a pretty lady like yourself would fit right in.”

You smile and make up a polite excuse, sliding from the stool to disappear into the crowd again. All you want to do at that moment is see him again, eyes idly scanning the tables, the groups near the bar.

The lights dim and you lose the chance of finding anyone in the throng of bodies scattering across the floor as a popular song starts up, the DJ turning up the blaring music. You give up, deciding you need a moment - away from the masks and swirling skirts, your feet aching in your heels.

You choose a spot you had stumbled on earlier, a hallway leading to some employee bathrooms, across from a large storage room where you and Hazel had dragged out the chairs. It would be quiet, the nicer, public restrooms closer to the entrance.

The change is drastic, the floors a dull linoleum, the fluorescent lights overhead making your eyes squint. The double door click shut behind you, already dampening the pounding music out.

But your relief might be short-lived, you’re not as alone as you thought. Half-way down the hall is a man, inky black suit perfectly tailored over the slight curve of his shoulders.

Your pulse spikes as you recognize him - Bruce Wayne - and you quickly sweep the hall behind him, but he's alone. But he’s glancing up from his phone, and it’s too late to turn tail and run.

"Just needed a moment,” You thumb over your shoulder, "Didn't uh, mean to disturb you."

He blinks, shoving the phone into his pockets, "You didn't."

Shifting, a hand carefully extends, and to your surprise, you find yourself taking it.

"Bruce Wayne." He introduces himself, and you want to laugh.

I know who you are.

I fucked your butler. And I’d really like to do it again.

You wonder if he knows, somehow - though Alfred doesn’t seem like the type to kiss and tell.

His grip is firm, hands cool, and you give him your name in response.

"I remember," he answers, and your eyebrows raise. "The charity ball, this past spring."

You’re surprised, that someone like him would - that you had made any kind of impression at all. Your hands drop, idly smoothing over your dress.

“So, uh-,” You search for something to say, something to fill the loud silence, “Not a mask guy?”

His eyes jerk up to yours, your own fingers touching the filigree edge of your mask in explanation.

“Uh, no.” Bruce answers, his posture relaxing ever so slightly, “Not really.”

He doesn’t offer any more, so you abandon the effort, leaning instead against the wall, using it to rest your feet, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye.

You’re close to the same age as he is, but there’s something that makes him seem so much older. A burden he carries in his shoulders, a depth to his expressive, weary eyes that doesn’t match someone who isn’t quite thirty.

The door opens behind you then, a feminine voice cutting through, “Mister Wayne! I thought I saw you.”

His eyes flicker past you, his jaw setting, the slight hunch coming back to his shoulders as he shifts.

“Vicki Vale, with Gotham Globe. I would love to get the chance to talk to you.”

“Of course.” He answers, voice flat but polite, before he glances back towards you.

"I'll tell him you're here." He says it like a question, the words low enough for only you to hear.

You feel the heat rise in your chest, your cheeks - but you manage a short nod. And with the nod, he's gone, brushing past you, leaving you alone in the hallway.

Leaving you to silently panic, all the pretend conversations you’d had the past couple days disappearing like smoke.

Maybe you don’t know what to say, but you do know you don’t want him to see you here, in this very plain, very open hallway. After a moment, you push the door to the storage room, dropping the latch to keep it cracked noticeably open.

Inside, it’s as you left it - stacks of chairs lining the walls, the lighting dim, the room quiet. A heavy conference table placed off to one side, and it’s here that you wait, a hip leaning against the rounded edge.

He finds you, like you were hoping he would. His frame fills the doorway as he moves inside, the soft tap of his cane on the floor with each footstep. He looks even better than he did before - you can see the sharp cut of his beard, the way his suit is tailored to his form.

“I got your letter.” You speak first, nerves twisting in your stomach, “I was going to be here anyways, but I was happy to hear from you. I wasn’t sure if-”

The words trail off, his forehead creasing as he steps closer, until he’s right in front of you.

“Oh, I wanted to.” His voice is soft, like you remembered, and it runs a thrill up your spine, “But I wanted to give you time. I know that sometimes, the next morning, that feelings - expectations - can change.”

Your eyes snap up to his, your throat going tight. Was he saying he regretted the night you spent together? Have you been misreading everything?

“Well, mine didn’t.” The warm flutter in your stomach turns to ice, and you have to force the words out, “Did yours?”

He looks stricken, “Christ, no. I didn’t mean to imply that. Just that I wanted to give you an out, in case you had changed your mind.”

“Alfred,” You defrost, the tightness in your shoulder easing, “I have thought about you, that night, every day.”

“So have I,” His words are soft, his posture mimicking yours, the careful circling of your conversation now steering into relief. “Despite my apprehension about your interest, I had been hoping to ask you about tonight in person.”

“Yeah?” You breathe, as he steps closer, cane resting against the side of the table, the tips of his fingers touching down on either side of your hips, flat against the tabletop.

He hums in agreement, and his eyes finally dip down, past your chin, and then further, “Though if you had been home, looking like this…”

Fingers curl to trace along your hip, feather-light against the soft fabric as he finishes with, “I don't think I would've been able to leave.”

“Looking like what?” You’re fishing, but after the days of waiting on edge to hear something, anything - you’re going to soak up everything he gives you.

Alfred’s hands slide higher, encouraged, until they rest on the soft curve of your waist, “Like a goddess, dove.”

If he was going to say more, you’ll never find out, because your head is tilting up, leaning forward so you can kiss him. Fingers bite into your skin, the last bit of distance between you closing as your arms wind around his shoulders, as his mouth presses against yours.

It’s exploratory, and he lets you lead, waiting until your tongue brushes against his lips before he deepens it. With careful movements, he coaxes you upward, until you’re sitting on the edge of the table, your skirt bunching in his grip until your knees can spread enough that he can fit between them.

Hands start to wander, the buttons on his jackets popped, the edges tucked to the side so he can press just that little bit closer, your thighs bracketing his hips, pressing, squeezing. His own fingers tracing the bare expanse of your back, sliding around until his thumbs brush at the undersides of your breasts, making you shiver.

You feel wound up, aching for friction, your dress too tight around your hips for him to grind against you the way you’d like. But his mouth is dropping, the scruff of his cheek brushing against yours so his teeth can scrape over your neck, and you’re moaning, fingers clinging as you try to rock against him.

His mouth pauses against your soft skin, where your heart flutters and thuds just under your jaw, as a loudspeaker squeals to life in the other room. The sounds he makes is close to a growl, a low rumble in his chest as he pulls back, a swirl of emotions crossing his features.

"I need to be out there." Alfred’s words are tinged with reluctance, and you find your fingers twisting in, unwilling to let go.

"Stay." You coax, needily, embarrassingly, “Please.”

He hums in amusement, his hand cupping your jaw, his eyes soft, “I have to go, but I want to see you after.”

A hand fishes around in his pocket, pulling out a thick, dark card, and you find yourself taking it automatically.

“I have a room at the hotel next door. Room 727, meet me there after the speeches are over?”

Your fingers tighten around the card, heart thudding in your chest as you nod. He leans back in for one more kiss, before he’s pulling himself away, re-fastening the buttons on his suit jacket in an attempt to look more presentable. To hide the thick, hard curve of him that rubs against you as he helps you down and off the table.

The two of you walk together out of the room, to the end of the hall, where he gives you one more glance - as if to assure himself that you’re really there.

You give him fingers a squeeze, your lip pulling up in a smile at the edges.

“I’ll be there. I promise.”

———

You had skipped the speeches, grabbing your jacket and purse instead - firing off a text to Hazel after you stepped outside, telling her you didn’t need a ride. Knowing that if you had sent it sooner, she would have torn up the gala looking for you.

The Royal Hotel had only been a block or two away, a tall, striking building with matching towers on either side. A place you had passed by many times, your neck craning to take in the architecture - but you’d never been in it yourself.

Taking your time, you had gone in, immediately getting lost in the different levels of the lobby, spending time running your fingers over the stone banisters, examining the large brass sculpture of a lion fighting a snake that dominated the room.

Not that you wanted to delay getting to the room, but the thought of just idling outside for ages while your mind wandered was not all that enticing tonight.

But eventually you made it, winding your way to the elevators, taking them up to the seventh floor, the doors opening to plush red carpet, the wainscoted cream walls trimmed with gold. And you had hesitated, not wanting to just go inside by yourself, looking out across the city through the tall windows instead - but it only a few minutes before the elevator doors are chiming.

Until he is stepping through them - eyes searching before they land on you. Relief again washes across his features as he comes to you, his voice low.

“I looked for you, but I didn’t see you in the crowd.”

You smile, your face heating, “I didn’t want to wait any longer.”

“Then don’t let me keep you now.”

The movement is so familiar, the warm hand at your back, the unsteady fingers as you fit the keycard into the lock. Walking into a dark room, anticipation sweet on your tongue and warm in your belly.

It’s beautiful, open and spacious and easily the most luxurious suite you’ve ever been in.

There’s a small dining area with floor-to-ceiling mirrors, a chandelier that glints with the twinkling of lights from outside. A door leading to a bathroom, where you can see a soaker tub inside. Through the soft arch of the doorway there’s a king-sized bed, the plush duvet folded under a line of fluffy pillows.

You want to spend an hour, easy, going over the details, if there weren’t lips at the bare skin of your shoulder, moving up to your neck. The heat of his mouth makes goosebumps prickle, raising the hairs on your arms, making you shiver.

Turning to him, you’re reaching for him when he intercepts, fingers reaching for the ties that disappear into your hair.

“You look lovely, but I miss seeing your face.” He explains, the mask slipping from your forehead, carefully deposited on the dining table.

Shifting, you move until your hip is leaning against the hard wood, his own following until he has you pinned between the table and his own thighs.

“Pick up where we left off?” You ask, pushing yourself up, his hands on your waist to guide you, already plucking at your dress, pushing it up to pool around your hips.

He doesn’t waste any time, fitting between your thighs again, this time pulling you forward until he’s pressed snug against you, groaning when his clothed cock comes in contact with your center, the thin bit of cloth covering it.

There’s a soft rhythm that you fall into easily, a slow grind and rock of hips, hands wandering as mouths meet. A palm finding the curve of your breast, thumb swiping over a stiff peak that’s pressing against the fabric of your dress, your soft moan swallowed.

Lips that drop to your chin, your head tilting back so he can access your neck, his voice low and rough as he confesses, “I wanted to bend you over that table at the museum.”

“Oh, I would have let you.” Your fingers tug at his jacket, trying to push it off his shoulders, it snagging across his chest where it’s still buttoned.

“Christ,” His fingers pluck at his jacket, and then his vest - shoulders rolling so he can sling them across one of the chairs. Fingers digging into the flesh of your hips to pull you closer again, “Dove, you can’t say things like that.”

“Why not?” You tease, “Right now I think I’d let you do just about anything.”

He groans into your mouth, tugging just a little harder until you’re slipping from the tabletop and into his arms, “Is that right, darling? Then turn around for me.”

You do, the edge of the table hitting you right at your upper thighs, and he steps closer, caging you in - his hips pressing, grinding against yours. Your palms rest flat on the buttery soft wood as his hand drifts, dragging from your waist, slowly upwards.

“You look beautiful.” He’s murmuring in your ear, as his arms wrap around you, one hand tracing the neckline of your dress while the other tips your chin upwards.

Until you’re looking up, seeing what he does - the two of you, a perfect reflection in the mirrors. His cheek is pressed against the side of your head as his hand traces the soft valley between your breasts, his touch sending goosebumps skittering across your skin. Then it’s slipping under the fabric, skin against skin as he cups you, and you’re arching back into him.

“Please.” You groan, his thumb swiping over a taut nipple, “Touch me.”

“I will.” He promises, and you’re helping him hike your dress up, so he can slide a hand between your thighs.

Alfred’s groan is louder than yours when his fingers press against you, where you’re wet and needy.

“You’re soaked, dove.” Fingers rub over the fabric of your panties, and you’re already shifting into his touch.

“I know.” You pant, gently rocking because he has you too pinned to do much more, “Been like that all day. All afternoon, really.”

With that, his fingers hook in the fabric, tugging it to the side - meeting slick, warm skin underneath. He finds you easily, rubbing at your clit, humming at your groan of relief, the pinch of his other hand making you squeak.

Your eyes drift up and it makes you clench around nothing - watching the steady swirl of his fingers, the peek of bare cunt as his hands move. He catches you watching and smiles, tugging at the low neckline of your dress to bare one breast, and then the other.

“Just look at you.” He sighs, and you can feel how much he is appreciating this too, the thick curve of him pressing against your ass.

His fingers circle and press, and each of your breaths come faster, as if he remembers just how easily he made you shatter last time.

“God, I need you in me.” You pant out, fingers curling to grip the edge of the table, trying to bend at the waist. The hand teasing your tits flattens against your chest, keeping you pressed upright against him.

“Come for me first, and I will.” He says in answer, and then his mouth is dipping, teeth scraping against your earlobe - his thick fingers leaving your clit to first press one, and then another, into your wet heat.

Filling you with short thrusts as he pushes deep - the heel of his hand grinding against your clit. Working you open, only for his fingers to leave, rubbing tightly against the sensitive bundle of nerves, until each of your breaths is coming in a needy, “ah”.

“Are you going to come, dove? I want you to watch yourself.” He’s crooning in your ear, and your eyes drift up, meeting his gaze in the mirror, his eyes stormy and dark.

His hand flexes between your thighs, fingers shining in the light with just how wet you are, and then you’re moaning “yes” as you tremble in his arms, your back aching as your press your pussy into his hand, panting as the ripples of pleasure race down your limbs.

Leaving you curled over the table, sighing with contented relief as a soft afterglow warms in your stomach, the sharp edge of want now stated.

There’s a gentle kiss pressed to the back of your neck, fingers tugging at the hidden zipper under your arm. Fingers lift from your skin and you whine, helping him peel the dress off from your sticky skin, before he drapes it next to his jacket.

He’s working on his tie, popping buttons on his shirt, making a small pile on the table like before - tie, cufflinks, watch. Rolling sleeves up, as you tug your underwear down your thighs, your ass pressing against the tented front of his pants.

“Fuck,” The composure slips, fingers fumbling with his belt, the zipper, and it makes you smile - that he’s not as put-together as he tries to appear.

You stretch out now, kicking off your heels to lean across the table, rocking up to your tip toes as you peek over your shoulder. He’s drawing himself out, groaning at the sight of you, bent over and waiting for him - fingers sinking into the flesh of your hips, thumbs digging in to spread you open.

“I’m going to eat this pretty cunt later, sweetheart. I promise.” Alfred is fisting his cock, the heavy, swollen curve of it, the leaking smear at the top, dragging it to swipe against your folds, “But I really, really need to fuck you right now. Okay?”

“Yes. Yes, please-,” the word is breaking on your tongue as he pushes into you, sinking into the tight, wet suck of your pussy.

Your cry is loud, feeling stretched and full as he fits himself into you, and his hands are smoothing down your back, his words soft as he checks on you.

“Feels so good,” you’re shaking your head, pushing back against where his hips are snug against your ass, “Keep going.”

“My god, you feel incredible.” Alfred grits out, gripping your hips, sliding out before thrusting sharply back in.

Adjusting, you push yourself up on your forearms, and use the table for leverage to meet his thrusts, the sweet, steady pump of his cock making the pleasure coil in your belly. Lifting your head from where it droops between your shoulders, you glance up - and it’s an even prettier sight than before.

Your face, eyes half-lidded, lips parted. Inches of bare skin, the soft sways of your breasts with every thrust. His wide hands on your hips, leading to strong, bare forearms. The broad expanse of chest, skin and a dusting of hair peeking through a hastily-unbuttoned shirt. Up to his face, the rough groan as he watches where you’re joined.

Until he feels your gaze, his eyes lifting to meet yours.

You smile at him, and you can feel his hips stutter, his rhythm faltering, his look softening, lips curling at the edges. He tugs you back, away from the table enough to curl a hand around your hip, fitting it between your thighs.

Finger touch down against soft, slick skin, and he’s already moving them in a way that has you moaning, clenching down around him. Your back bowing, eyes closing to listen to the slap of his hips against yours as he curves over you.

It’s relieving, in a way - relaxing - knowing that at this very moment, all you have to do is just concentrate on just how good you feel. That your brain can turn off, for just a moment, because his hand is making you gasp, your muscles tighten.

But you’ve never been one to be truly idle, so you keep rocking back to meet him, until your breaths are short and sharp, until you’re squeezing him each time his cock slides from you, only to thrust back in, knocking against a spot that almost has you in tears.

“I’m, oh-“ you’re sighing, eyes closing as your cheek presses against the back of your palm, flat against the table.

“I know, sweetheart. Can feel how close you are,” he sighs, his chest pressing into your back, dropping a kiss between your shoulders, “I want you to come for me again, okay?”

You nod, because he’s thrusting just a bit harder, thrusts slowing into a shallow grind, rubbing against spot again and again until you’re wound so tight you feel like you’re going to snap.

“Words, dove.” He grits out, and there’s a low timbre to his accented voice that makes you scramble to answer, as your own rocking starts to falter.

“God, yes. I’m so fucking close.” You’re whimpering, fingers flexing against the wood, “Make me come, please.”

He hums, and with another thrusts he has you there, gasping as the breath is knocked from you, your pussy pulsing around his cock. Your vision swirls, his fingers drawing it out, leaving you shaking, drooping over the table as you moan through your release, too caught up to try to be quiet.

Alfred is gripping you again, until your hips are bumping against the table again, his thrusts sounding wet with your release, his cock soaked in you.

“Oh fuck, darling.” His praise rains down on you, soft tone edged with need, “Do you want me to come in you again? God, I’ve been dreaming about how good it felt.”

You’re nodding, repeating “yes” and “please”, his fingers pinching as he loses himself - suddenly pressing deep as his cock throbs, as he spills his hot release into you, grinding himself into your cunt until he’s empty.

You watch him fall apart, basking in the sound of his groans, the hairs that break free to curl against his forehead. Not wanting to forget a single second of it.

Pushing yourself up, your torso twists so you can pull him to you, and he’s sighing into your mouth, his touch soft and reverent as he gathers you to him, carefully easing himself out.

You immediately miss him, feeling empty without him filling you, but there’s something more important at the moment, already feeling the hot drip of him on your inner thigh.

It takes some coaxing but he releases you after another kiss - and you take a couple minutes to yourself to clean up, fixing your hair into something a little more comfortable, digging around in your clutch for the spare set of underwear so you don’t have to put on the ones that are currently crumpled on the floor.

He’s sitting on the edge of the large bed when you pad out the bathroom - his head bowed, eyes downcast as a palm rests on his hip, fingers pressing in and massaging the joint.

Hearing you, his head lifts, the furrow in his brow smoothing, offering the folded bundle of cloth in his lap as you move to sit by him.

“Perhaps presumptuous of me, but I brought you a sweater. In case your clothes were not comfortable, and you wanted to stay tonight,” He explains, hands smoothing down his thighs, “And if you don’t, I’m happy to drive you home.”

“I want to stay.” You’re accepting it gratefully, tugging on the oversized maroon sweater, sliding the sleeves up your forearms. But you’re unsure if you should forget what you saw, your next words soft and slow, “Alfred… was I too rough? Is everything okay?”

He goes still at your words, and you regret asking the warm glow from earlier turning to ice in your stomach. His head tilts up, but he’s looking forward, deliberately not at you.

“No, you were perfect. It’s been a long day, and I’m just not used to… you wore me out, dove.” Alfred’s words are soft, his hands making another slow path over his thighs.

And then, quietly, another admission, “After last time, I was sore for a couple days.“

You catch his hand, weaving your fingers through his and squeezing, “You wore me out, too. Maybe we could take it easy tonight?”

He looks at you then, his close-lipped smile soft, but there’s a flicker of worry to his eyes, something you’ve never seen on his face before.

“Does that make you change your mind about staying?” Those eyes scan your face as he asks, bouncing back and forth between your own, “It’s okay if it does, I understand.”

And once again, you’re silently left wondering when the last time someone took care of him was. If it’s been months, years. A decade.

“No.” You lean to kiss him, and it seems finally, he relaxes - the strung-tight tension in his shoulders easing.

“That doesn’t change anything.”

#eee I hope you like #alfred pennyworth x f!reader #alfred pennyworth x you #alfred pennyworth x reader #alfred pennyworth #the Batman

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ptergwen · 3 years

Text

smoke and mirrors

⇢ richkid!tom x richkid!reader ⇠

w/c: 4.1k

warnings: swearing, drinking, light angst, and implied smut

summary: because of your mother’s insistence on a pristine family image and tom’s messy one, you deny your true feelings for him

a/n: ok ok ok the pics of tom in monaco really made me think and i had to get everything out of my system so here we are! thank you and enjoy x

your living room is engulfed by a hushed chatter that comes from far too many guests. half the people, you hardly know. it’s overcrowded, superficial, and the last place you want to be. it’s one of your mother’s get-togethers, as she likes to call them. these things are always far from the casual affairs they sound like.

weeks go into planning, caterers and decorators making themselves at home in yours. the family’s image is everything to your mom, so being a good hostess is her top priority. ironically, she’s more concerned with throwing her gatherings than raising you. so much for family, huh?

the only reason you agreed to make an appearance tonight is that tom might do the same. he’s a really good friend, someone you’ve been able to count on through all the mess that is your lives. you met in high school, when he moved from london to the states. his dad was offered a job promotion he couldn’t pass up. plus, tom and his brothers would be receiving a stellar private education here in america.

it was a win for everyone, especially you. the freckle faced boy who got lost on his way to english class became your closest confidant. tom’s company is such a sweet escape. he’s not interested in opera or the stock market like most people you meet are. he sneaks you out to go on walks at dawn and does shots with you until you can’t stand straight.

as you two continue to grow together, revelations about yourselves have come to light. what you want beyond your inheritances, who you want beyond friendship. you figured out the second part on a faithful night recently. tom showed up to your place with a bottle of tequila. after you drank it down through lots of lime chasers and giggles, he kissed you. you didn’t kiss back.

your heart said to go for it, but your mind pulled you back in. you were so shocked and overcome with new feelings, you froze up. that, and you’d infuriate your mother. although she cares about tom a great deal, she loathes his public figure. he’s always getting papped in places and with people he shouldn’t be. the two of you together would just destroy her.

you still want to please your mom at the end of the day, no matter how deep under your skin she gets.

tom immediately apologized and tried play it off as him being drunk. you grew up with him, became part of each other’s families, which means you know him well enough to know he was lying. he meant every second his lips were on yours.

what you need to do now is something you’ve meant to for a while. the only problem is that you’re stuck at your mother’s party, and tom hasn’t shown up yet.

“y/n, darling,” your mom calls for your attention. she’s dragged you into a conversation with some bloggers, but you haven’t spoken a word. “why don’t you tell us about your trip to spain last summer?” she plasters on her award winning grin and squeezes your shoulder. it’s time to play along.

“oh, it was beautiful,” you halfheartedly reply, more to the bloggers than her. they nod in clear interest. one jots down notes. “we went for a few weeks and visited a bunch of different cities. i’d love to go back sometime.” the typical press formatted answer earns your mom’s approval. you’re off the hook. your eyes start to wander around the room, hoping to set on tom.

“we?” the woman taking notes asks. must everyone pry? “my friend and i,” you shortly reply. you’re standing up on your tiptoes to see over the crowd. you’d think six inch heels would do the trick. “i’m actually looking for him right now, so if you’ll excuse me,” you offer a polite smile and silently pray they won’t ask who. unfortunately, your wishes don’t come true.

the other blogger, a short and stubborn man, speaks up. “just a friend you say? come on, tell us. who’s the lucky fella?” he inquires. your mother raises a firm eyebrow, signaling for you not to.

tom has a reputation for his reckless behavior. it’s your mom’s worst nightmare when the media associates your names under most circumstances. you’re representing her, so she does whatever she can to control how you’re seen. you’re constantly in the papers, being a young socialite and all. it sucks.

“he’d like to stay out of the tabloids, sorry,” you cover for tom, on your mom’s behalf. “i should really go. it was nice meeting you.” the bloggers don’t bother to hide their disappointment as you shake their hands. your mother rubs your back in approval. “thank you for doing that. we’ll talk later,” she speaks lowly. “bye, mom!” you practically make a run for it.

weaving through the sea of people, you end up by the main entrance. it’s hard not to get lost even though it’s your house. the place is packed with girls just a couple years older than you, wearing pearls around their necks. men’s strong colognes flow through the air. you’re in a form fitting red slip dress and louboutins yourself.

smoke and mirrors is what they call it. you show the pretty parts to distract from your ugly ones.

harrison suddenly comes waltzing in with a lady on either of his arms. you’d expect nothing less. he’s tom’s best friend besides you, considering the failed kiss attempt didn’t change that. their parents worked at the london branch of the same company. they each came to the states and met you. you happily introduced them to your world, helping to make it theirs as well.

“haz!” you meet him at the front door. he’s smirking while he leads the women inside. “fancy seeing you here, isn’t it?” he jokes. “very funny. i died laughing,” you deadpan, curiously eyeing harrison’s plus two. they merely giggle. “listen, have you seen tom anywhere? if he’s coming.” you’re fighting back a frown. “why wouldn’t he be?” harrison questions in a more serious tone this time.

“long story. you have guests to entertain, so i won’t get into it now,” you decide and manage a small smile instead. he perks up. “right. i’ll let you know if i see him?” nodding, you give him a wave goodbye. “enjoy yourself.” “you too, love. cheers!” the girls lean into him, harrison wiggling his eyebrows at you. he’s ridiculous.

hours pass by without word of tom. it isn’t like him to miss an event, especially if you’re in attendance. you despise these exhausting nights, and he’s supposed to be your rock during them. he should have his arm draped around your shoulders, whispering silly remarks to you while you hide out somewhere. you miss him more than you thought possible.

you’re just about to give up when you spot nikki ushering her husband inside. behind them follows tom, clad in a grey checkered suit with his locks perfectly tousled. he’s here. you waited the whole night, and he finally came.

tom kisses his mom on the cheek before strutting over to the drink table, not without a few reporters hassling him. they’re probably looking for another holland scandal to break. he declines their requests for comments on this and opinions on that, instead pulling up a chair next to harrison. the two exchange hugs and fix themselves glasses of champagne, you watching their encounter.

harrison fills tom in on the drama he’s missed tonight while they sip their drinks. tom keeps forcing smiles that don’t reach his eyes. he’s fiddling with his fingers, leg bouncing up and down steadily. those are the telltale signs he needs saving. however awkward it may be, you’re going to have to break your silence. it was bound to happen eventually.

“mate, i’m telling you. she fit her entire first right up her-“ “boys,” you cut into harrison’s story, greeting him and tom. his face tints deep pink upon your arrival. “don’t let me stop you. finish your charming anecdote,” you encourage him and subtly glance over at tom. he’s biting back a grin as he sets his elbows on the table.

“not with a lady present. let’s just… pretend you didn’t hear that,” harrison chuckles nervously and hops to his feet. “i’m gonna leave you two to chat.” humming, you move to take his chair. tom sucks in a breath. “what happened to the girls you brought?” you wonder. “they left. said they got bored,” harrison admits, tom stifling laughter. he elbows his friend for that.

“oh, fuck off. i’ll see you later,” he mopes, flicking your arm for good measure. tom salutes him and grabs his nearly empty champagne. “so long, bruv.”

it’s just you and tom now, seated side by side, silently so. he has no intentions of speaking first. he’s too embarrassed, and you don’t blame him. this is on you. you clear your throat before starting the conversation.

“can i top you off?” you tap the bottom of his glass with a tiny smile. tom shakes his head. “i’m alright, thanks.” he finishes the last sip and sets it down, turning to face you. your smile has vanished. “wasn’t sure you were gonna make it. i’m glad you did,” you change the subject. as if he’s considering the sincerity behind your words, tom furrows his eyebrows.

“mum wanted us to. she dragged me and dad straight off the golf course,” he explains and clasps his hands in his lap. his fingers interlock with each other. you fight off the urge to replace them with yours. “we would’ve been here sooner, but the paps are camped outside.” the hint of a smile forms on his lips, at last. “guess it’s not often you get the town’s finest under one roof.”

“you think i’m one of the town’s finest?” you tease, resting your chin in your palm. something flashes behind tom’s eyes. he looks right into yours, scooting closer. “absolutely. you’re the most eligible bachelorette in this whole building.” you allow a toothy grin to spread across your face. “tommy, stop it. you’re too nice to me.”

the nickname is music to his ears. tom looks you up and down, licking his lips simultaneously. “no, seriously. you look gorgeous,” he muses, you pushing at his chest. he exhales a breathy laugh, and you giggle yourself. “red’s definitely your color.” “reverse card. you wear it way better than i do,” you insist. your fingers tug at the collar of his suit. “too bad you didn’t match me.”

you’re relieved you two can talk like you usually do, light flirting and good vibes. it might not be so hard to put the kiss behind you. well, you can’t go on pretending it didn’t happen. you have to at least discuss the fiasco. tom should know why you didn’t reciprocate, then you can take it from there. whether he still has feelings for you, assuming he ever did, will depend on how that turns out.

“not to ruin the fun, but we still have to talk,” you murmur, tom’s body stiffening across from yours. he’s not sure he’s ready to discuss that. “can it wait? we’re at a party,” tom reminds you, running a hand through his styled locks. “yeah, my mother’s. don’t tell me you’re having a good time,” you playfully chastise him. he simply shrugs. “hardly. you’re the best part.”

you ignore the butterflies roaming about your body.

“you won’t mind a quick convo, then. it is with me,” you attempt to persuade him and place a hand on his knee. tom coughs a bit too loudly, the contact surprising him. “you know what? i think i’ll take you up on that drink first,” he decides with a mustered up smile. “coming right up.” you pat his leg before taking his glass. he chews on his lower lip while you poor the bubbling liquid. that was certainly… odd.

you slide tom his champagne back with an exaggerated wink. tom scoffs at this. “mm, thanks. care to join me?” he brings the alcohol to his lips, eyes never leaving yours. your mother specifically said no drinking tonight, since the press would be here. screw your mother, though. “please. could you hand me a glass?” you eagerly grab the champagne bottle. tom searches for an empty cup next to him.

you two are unspoken drinking buddies at this point.

“here you are, darling,” tom drawls, holding out the glass for you. every time he calls you that, you completely melt. “thanks, tommy,” you purr in response. you’re finally pouring your own drink when someone taps you on the shoulder, and hard. you look behind you to find your mother standing with her hands on her hips, less than thrilled. speak of the devil.

“hello, mother. can i help you?” you make sure to ask rudely. she responds with a smile that’s obviously fake. if tom weren’t here, you’d be getting scolded. “yes, my darling. those bloggers from earlier were hoping you’d finish your interview.” your mom shakes your shoulder in a motherly way. you squint up at her. “didn’t they leave hours ago-“ “they’re back,” she sharply informs you.

she’s lying, and you have a hunch as to why.

frowning, you hold tom’s hand in both of yours. “sorry, this won’t take long. why don’t you go find tuwaine?” you suggest instead. “he’s around here somewhere.” tom gives you an understanding nod and laces your fingers together, even if it’s only for a moment. “must be chatting up some producers or whatnot. i’ll see if i can help.” he’s such an incredible friend to everyone. he deserves the same from you.

“thomas, so lovely to see you,” your mom interrupts. tom stands up, kissing both her cheeks out of courtesy. “you, too. what a wonderful party. thank you for having us.” despite what the rest of the world believes, his manners are impeccable. “of course. give nikki my best, will you?” your mom puts her hands on his shoulders. he grins at her. “definitely. take care, mrs. y/l/n.” “always a pleasure,” she states, nudging you to come along with her.

you shoot tom one last apologetic look as your mother pulls you along and towards the crowd.

tom is no idiot. he’s well aware how she really feels about him.

when a swarm of guests is surrounding you, your mom lets go. you scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. “why would you do that? i haven’t seen tom in days.” she sighs without a care. “isn’t it time you branch out? expand your social circle?” her manicured fingers ruffle your hair. you push away her touch. “i’m social enough. we were in the middle of something really important.”

you begin to walk away, but your mother takes your arm. “whatever you’re about to do, it’s a mistake. he’ll make a fool of you,” she practically spits. yanking your arm from her grasp, you laugh bitterly. “of me, or of the family name? look around, mom.” you gesture to the spot beside her where your dad should be. “as far as i’m concerned, i have no family except tom. i’m gonna go check on him.”

you’re gone before your mom can stop you. she simply stands there, utterly mortified by what you said.

you run around the house to find tom, stumbling in your heels and not giving a fuck. you’d truly meant the part about him being your family. all the holland’s, honestly. they’re the most genuine and caring souls, and you don’t want to lose the one you’re closest to because of your mother’s delusions.

tom is in a circle with harrison and tuwaine, the three of them chuckling amongst themselves. you’d hate to bug him, but this can’t wait anymore.

“uh, tom?” you mumble his name, appearing behind him. he steps away with another quiet laugh. “hey, y/n/n. that was quick, hm?” your face gives away your distress. his whole demeanor shifting, tom reaches for your hands. “what is it, love? is something the matter?” “just… come with me,” you croak out.

you manage to smile at harrison and tuwaine, dropping one of tom’s hands so you can lead him upstairs. they each return the smile and share curious looks.

following behind you, tom keeps your hand tight in his own. he’d thought you were going to grill him about the kiss that barely happened. it seems like this is a much more pressing matter. his outburst of emotions can be discussed another time. now, it’s time to deal with yours.

you drag tom into the first room on the second floor, which is your dad’s study. he’s away on business this weekend, so he luckily couldn’t make the party. tom sits down in the office chair. you sit up on the desk, in front of him. your lip quivers the second his worried features come into view.

“y/n/n, what’s going on? why are we in here?” tom wonders, his tone soft. your heart clenches. “i- i wanted us to have some privacy when i told you this,” you sniffle out and blink back the tears forming. you’re sort of shaken from the conversation with your mother, and mostly because you have no idea how tom will react to your confession.

his hands come to stay on your thighs, right below your dress. they feel warm against your bare skin.

“tell me what? i’m listening, yeah?” tom gazes up at you with so much love. “lay it all out for me.” god, he’s fucking amazing. if only you knew where to start. “do you, um…” you trail off, letting your tears subside and words settle. “do you remember when your family made your big debut in town?”

a grin replaces tom’s frown, painting his beautiful face. “how could i forget? you made it quite memorable.” he traces circles on your thigh and elicits a giggle from you. “i spilled a whole thing of soda on your white fucking button down,” you recount with a lighthearted sigh. “right before your dad was supposed to introduce you to everyone, too.”

tom presses his tongue into his cheek to hold back another grin. “took ages to get it out. dad went mad when i didn’t show.” he cocks his head to the side, you leaning back on your hands. “you held me hostage in the laundry room so you could do that bloody stain stick.” your mouth drops open in mock offense. “i had to clean up my mess! i wasn’t gonna let the world meet you covered in pepsi.”

that was one of your earliest memories together. the holland’s threw a party and invited everyone who was willing to attend. they had been hoping to properly introduce themselves to the town, and this was their way of doing so. although yours and tom’s friendship was fairly new, you spent all night together because you had experience with such events.

tom’s dad was making a speech to thank the guests for coming. you and him listened from the snack table, until his name was called. he rushed to go up there while you were pouring yourself a drink. he’d bumped into you, and the bottle ended up all over him. you snuck tom right off to his laundry room.

you’d felt terrible as he stood there shirtless and blushing, you aggressively swiping his button down with a stain stick.

“why do you bring that up?” tom questions and continues circling your skin. you purse your lips. “i dunno. it was the last party i actually enjoyed,” you admit, putting your hand over his that rests on your thigh. “like to reminisce when i’m suffering through one of my mother’s.” his eyes shift to where your hands are laced. “i see,” he affirms. “so, is that… all you wanted to talk about?” “not even close,” you laugh out.

a burst of courage coursing through your body, you say it. “when you kissed me the other night-“ “i won’t do it again,” tom cuts in, trying to avoid the rejection he thinks you’ll give him. “it was a mistake, and i’m so sorry. our friendship is more important than my feelings.” you seem excited to hear that, though it’s not for the reason tom expects. “you do have feelings for me?”

he’d forgotten about his i was drunk excuse.

“um, yeah. i do,” he admits, cheeks rosy and lip caught in his teeth. “but, i’ll learn to put them aside, if that’s what’s best.” “no, no. it isn’t,” you dismiss him and put your free hand on his chest. “i love you, tom. that’s what i was really trying to tell you.” your words bring an instant grin to his face. he chuckles in disbelief, standing from the chair.

“fuck, thank god. that’s all i’ve ever wanted to hear.” he’s between your legs now, his hands moving up to your hips. you’re beaming at him as your arms snake around his neck. a burning question comes to tom’s mind. “hang on. why didn’t you kiss me back, then?” he almost whispers, thumb brushing over your hipbone. “this is gonna sound weird, but… my mom,” you reluctantly let out.

“you’re gonna have to elaborate,” tom prompts you and raises an eyebrow. you can’t hold back your eye roll. “she’s never been a fan of the person you are in the media.” his lips form a line. “i gathered.” your fingers tangle in his curls at the nape of his neck reassuringly. “i was subconsciously scared i would be letting her down in some way, if we were together.”

tom allows your hands to work their way up to his scalp. he exhales contentedly as you play with his ever so soft hair. “i understand, she’s intimidating. what’s changed that brilliant mind of yours about coming clean?” your nose scrunches up when he pokes one of your temples. “oh, yeah. i yelled at her earlier ‘cuz she stole me away from you.” his face lights up. “sexy.” “shut up,” you groan. “someone had to tell her off.”

“good thing it got to be you,” tom agrees with a squeeze at your hip. “‘m proud of you, y/n/n. it’s not easy, standing up to mummy dearest.” you tug on his hair. “like you’d know. nikki is a saint.” “that’s what she’ll have you believe,” he says under his breath, you gasping. his lips turn up in a smirk. “on that note… i love you, too.”

“would’ve been embarrassing if you didn’t say it back,” you acknowledge with a cheesy smile. tom dips his head down to rest his forehead against yours. “yeah, yeah. save the attitude for your mum.” your legs easily wrap around his waist, tom’s breath hot as it hits your face. “let’s give that kiss another go,” you mewl. he doesn’t hesitate to reply. “with pleasure.”

tom’s lips land on yours, you kissing back right away. he smiles into it as your lips gently move together. “about fucking time,” he grumbles, your hands situating in his chocolate curls once again. he’s savoring every second you touch him, kiss him, love him. the taste of your mouth is one he’s craved for longer than you could imagine.

it doesn’t take long for things to heat up, you messing with tom’s hair and tom rubbing your hips. you lay back on the desk as his tongue enters your mouth. holding you by your waist, tom hovers over you. his tongue tangles with yours in a deep kiss. between that and his fingers beginning to massage your thigh, you’re done for. you’re ready to take this a step further by the time he’s kissing down your neck.

“tommy?” you grab onto his shoulders, your head back. his lips detach from your skin with a grin. “yeah, love? ‘s everything okay?” he coos, pressing a final kiss to your collarbone. “more than.” you tilt his chin up to peck his lips. “you wouldn’t happen to have a condom, would you? just thinking ahead.” he laughs breathlessly, reaching into his suit pocket.

“conveniently enough, i do. not sure your dad would like me fucking you on his desk, though.” tom sets his hand on your leg that’s still hooked around his waist. “my room’s always available. carry me?” you make grabby hands and bat your lashes. he hoists you up by your waist, not lifting you just yet. “that would break the news of us, no? your mum’s gonna go apeshit.” he keeps his arms around you, chuckling.

“let her. besides, i know a couple of bloggers that would love to announce our status update.” you peck tom’s lips, grinning as you do. you’re suddenly in the air and being picked up by tom. the surprise of it makes you squeal, clutching onto his broad shoulders instinctively. he gives you the look of adoration that’s reserved for you only.

“we’ll go pop a few bottles with everyone, then we’re celebrating on our own.”

#tom holland #richkid!tom #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you

480 notes · View notes

mouisorange · 3 years

Text

☰ Yandere Personality Types 〔Big Five〕

☰ Overview

〔Disclaimer〕 Yandere behavior and mindsets are not healthy, nor should they be sought after: this is just meant to be a fun way to analyze characters and see/understand how they may fit into this specific genre of fictional horror.

This personality ‘assessment’ was inspired by @ddarker-dreams‘s ‘Yandere MBTI’ as I adore their writing and have always thought that their MBTI assessment is really cool! I also noticed how other people enjoy it so I thought I would make my own assessment, though mine is inspired by the ‘Big Five Personality Traits’. I even tried to be creative and add in the little circles that you can find on the actual Big Five assessment too (which is 100% free btw!). I don’t really think I did the Big Five assessment justice, and I think that a lot more goes into the complexities around this kinda thing, but hopefully this is somewhat interesting!

If you have your own thoughts or even wanna try this out, 100% feel free to use or talk to me about it! Check it out below the cut!

☰ OPEN • • • • • CLOSED

〔Open〕 yanderes are blatant about their obsession. They do not try and hide it either because they believe it’s meant to be, because they’re too deep in their delusions to understand that it might be a good idea to keep their mouth shut, or simply because they’re in a position to not care about hiding their interest. Usually, this type of yandere is either seen as somewhat of a ‘lovesick puppy’ or a powerful character; though, being a ‘lovesick puppy’ doesn’t necessarily mean kind or affectionate. Whether it was ‘love at first sight’ or more of a slow-burn, these characters usually roll with their feelings with little to no hesitation. Situations with this type of yandere usually include darlings who are unaware of the yandere’s emotions (or even their existence) until they’re suddenly confronted, kidnapped, or confessed to seemingly out of the blue.

examples︙Anasui 〔 jjba. Stone Ocean〕, Diavolo & Doppio 〔 jjba. Golden Wind〕, Pina 〔Beastars〕, & Zeke Yeagar 〔Attack on Titan〕.

〔Closed〕 yanderes try to hide their obsessive mindset or behaviors. While they might not always be successful at hiding their interest, closed yandere types are either ashamed/embarrassed by their feelings or are frustrated by them in some way. Usually this type of yandere will ignore/avoid their darling in hopes of losing their feelings, or pretend their feelings don’t exist. This type of yandere is either upset at themselves for having these feelings or upset at their darling for ‘making’ them feel that way. Darling can possibly see their behavior coming and try to avoid the character, but this type of yandere is likely to ‘snap’ at some point and somehow corner their darling as an attempt at controlling their obsession or feelings (though, sometimes this is just the yandere trying to excuse their behavior).

examples︙Avdol〔jjba. SDC〕, Legoshi 〔Beastars〕, Alucard 〔Castlevania〕, & Klaus Hargreeves 〔The Umbrella Academy〕.

☰ Questions to consider when categorizing a yandere

〔 ⅰ. 〕 How does their behavior shift when they realize they’re obsessed?

〔 ⅱ. 〕 What are their opinions on their darling? Does this character adore them? Do they blame darling for their behavior (if so, are they angry about it)?

〔 ⅲ. 〕 How comfortable is this yandere with their feelings and/or actions in regards to their darling?

☰ CASUAL • • • • • DIRECT

〔Casual〕 yanderes do not actively pursue their darling. This type of character is typically laid-back. They either believe that darling will inevitably fall ‘into line’ or is mellow enough to be content with simply being in darling’s life. Casual yanderes are either delusional or are not possessive enough to want more than close friendship from their darling. Though it usually takes a specific type of character for this, some yanderes here believe that they’re already in a relationship with their darling and therefore feel no need to chase after them. This kind of character can confuse their darling, and make it more difficult to get away, as their behavior can be waived off if the character is perceived as harmless, gains darling’s sympathy in some way, or otherwise is not vocal about their delusional thinking/is charming enough to convince darling to just go along with it. Some of these characters are willing to let go if darling catches on early enough, though most will just slowly follow behind regardless of what darling does (though this behavior/these reactions will definitely vary/be different depending on the character).

examples︙ Mista 〔jjba. Golden Wind〕, Luther Hargreeves 〔The Umbrella Academy〕, Connie Springer 〔Attack on Titan〕, & Cater Diamond 〔Twisted Wonderland〕.

〔Direct〕 yanderes, as their name suggests, directly or actively pursue their darling. Usually strict or over-bearing, these characters actively chase after their darling’s affections (or otherwise whatever goal relationship the yandere wants). This yandere makes organized, sometimes step by step, plans in order to achieve their goal. It depends on the character whether they get angry when plans have to be changed or if they just shift their angle, however, these characters are focused and will not be discouraged should darling fight against their plans. If anything, some of these characters will be encouraged by their darling fighting back for various reasons (for example, if they’re delusional or just thing it’s a part of the whole ‘chase’ thing/enjoy it). These characters will almost never give up on their darling regardless of what happens.

examples︙ Giorno Giovanna 〔jjba. Golden Wind〕, Armin Arlert 〔Attack on Titan〕, Rook Hunt 〔Twisted Wonderland〕, & Jason Todd 〔DC Comics〕.

☰ Questions to consider when categorizing a yandere

〔 ⅰ. 〕 How goal-oriented is this character, especially when it comes to their darling?

〔 ⅱ. 〕 How lenient is this character? Are they trying to force a bee-line to a relationship with their darling or are they willing to play the long game?

〔 ⅲ. 〕 Is this character organizing a plan in order to achieve their goal(s)? Or are they completely winging it? If they’re winging it, are they just hoping that everything will naturally fall into place, or do they genuinely believe it’s fated to happen?

☰ DISCREET • • • • • INTENSE

〔Discreet〕 yanderes either do not have overly strong yandere behaviors or are able to hide said traits enough to be seen as ‘normal’. These characters will usually hide their behavior, regardless of the reasons, in order to have a normal relationship with their darling. While similar to closed character types, discreet yanderes differ in the sense that they usually do not struggle to hide their behavior, and will slowly (or suddenly, depending on the situation, one situation being kidnapping) merge this persona with their actual personality so that darling has no reason to want to leave. While not all characters within this category are fully aware of their behavior, most are intentionally manipulative and have some kind of end goal. They’re not ashamed of this mindset as they believe their reasons (such as “protecting” darling from something) excuse any tears that their darling might shed directly because of this yandere’s actions later on in the ‘relationship’. The period between “normal” and whatever end goal will vary based on the character. This type’s darling can have friends, and even other relationships to an extent (though this does vary), they’ll usually end up reaching the yandere’s goal without knowing about their behavior up until it’s too late to do anything about it.

examples︙ Risotto Nero 〔jjba. Golden Wind〕, Louis 〔Beastars〕, Lilia Vanrouge 〔Twisted Wonderland〕, & Sinbad 〔Magi〕.

〔Intense〕 yanderes can be defined by their possessiveness, or otherwise intense behavior/mindset/emotions. This type of yandere will usually want to either isolate or monopolize their darling’s time in it’s entirety. While the character might not isolate themselves, they’ll do what they can in order to ensure that their darling is focused solely on them (or whatever goal yandere has in mind). Intense yanderes tend to come off as over-bearing or as harassers/bullies. Depending on their other traits, they will either direct their focus on getting other people away from darling or direct their focus on somehow getting darling away from other people (usually involving kidnapping or isolating them in their home). These characters have a tendency to be either cruel or manipulative and darling might believe that their yandere hates them in some way, even if the character says otherwise.

examples︙ Illuso 〔jjba. Golden Wind〕, Melon 〔Beastars〕, Kouen Ren 〔Magi〕, & Leona Kingscholar 〔Twisted Wonderland〕.

☰ Questions to consider when categorizing a yandere

〔 ⅰ. 〕 How well would this character take rejection? Do they try and rationalize the rejection or do they just accept it (even taking whatever darling said to heart)?

〔 ⅱ. 〕 Can this character handle their darling having friendships? How do they react to darling spending periods of time without them?

〔 ⅲ. 〕 Does this yandere need (or want?) to spend every waking (and sleeping) moment with darling? If so, what is time spent with this yandere like?

☰ AGREEABLE • • • • • CONTROLLING

〔Agreeable〕 yanderes seem to genuinely care about their darling and see their darling as a breathing person with their own thoughts/feelings. These characters put their darling before themselves, sometimes going as far as seeing them as someone to worship or put on a pedestal, and believe that darling is better than them in some way. In some cases, they see darling as being unable to do anything wrong (to an extent). They’re willing to debate rights or loosen rules/chains (if they even decided to do chain darling in the first place) with darling and are willing to listen to what they have to say. This yandere’s end goal usually involves some kind of genuine relationship, regardless of how delusional that might be.

examples︙ Haru 〔Beastars〕, Floch Forster 〔Attack on Titan〕, Tim Drake 〔DC Comics〕, & Vanya Hargreeves 〔The Umbrella Academy〕.

〔Controlling〕 yanderes do not view their darling as equal, either seeing them as childish (in the sense that they don’t understand things or can’t), seeing them as some kind of pet/trophy, or somewhere in-between. They usually do not care about their darling’s thoughts, feelings, or general well-being. Usually the only thing this yandere cares about is controlling their darling, the connection they have to their darling is the only important thing when it comes to darling as a person. Some of these characters even go as far as not minding if darling dies as long as they still view darling as being theirs (example being, if prince charming kept his princess asleep in order to keep princess to himself). While end goals will vary from yandere to yandere, those in this category typically don’t care how darling feels as long as they’re getting what they want from darling.

examples︙ Kars 〔jjba. Battle Tendency〕, Judar 〔Magi〕, Cioccolata 〔jjba. Golden Wind〕, & Diavolo 〔 jjba. Golden Wind〕.

☰ Questions to consider when categorizing a yandere

〔 ⅰ. 〕 Does this yandere view darling as a human with their own thoughts/feelings or is darling more of a possession/plaything?

〔 ⅱ. 〕 Is darling’s mental or physical well-being important to this character?

〔 ⅲ. 〕 How many rights does darling have and how quickly are said rights taken away/given back? Are they ever given back? What are the yandere’s motives in taking/giving these rights?

☰ RESILIENT • • • • • FRAGILE

〔Resilient〕 yanderes will almost never become discouraged. They’re confident in the sense that they know they’ll eventually achieve their goal. This type of character is willing to spend years trying to either break down their darling or otherwise induce a sort of ‘Stockholm syndrome’. Characters who heavily stalk their darling tend to fall into this category. More so, resilient yanderes are not likely to have any sort of breakdown over their darling, regardless of the situation. They’re strong in their thought process, and are not willing to change their mind-set/behavior towards their darling (or anyone else).

examples︙ Ibuki 〔Beastars〕, Bruno Bucciarati 〔jjba. Golden Wind〕, Jade Leech 〔Twisted Wonderland〕, & Shigaraki Tomura 〔My Hero Academia 〕.

〔Fragile〕 yanderes, as their name suggests, are ‘fragile’ in their goals or mind-set. Usually this type of yandere is either meek or feel overly guilty about their mind-set/behaviors. These characters can be easily swayed by their darling in some way, and they can get distracted from their end-goal if darling plays their cards right. More adoring, worshipper yanderes tend to fall in this category. Characters here usually do not like upsetting their darling and (at times) are desperate for their darling’s approval. While not an inherently manipulative category, fragile yanderes will use methods like gaslighting in order to avoid any kind of confrontation.

examples︙ Pesci 〔jjba. Golden Wind〕, Allison Hargreeves 〔The Umbrella Academy〕, Jack 〔Beastars〕, & Niccolo 〔Attack on Titan〕.

☰ Questions to consider when categorizing a yandere

〔 ⅰ. 〕 How emotional/insecure is this character?

〔 ⅱ. 〕 Is this character confrontational, or would they rather avoid any kind of confrontation by whatever means necessary (such as gaslighting or blackmailing others in the situation)?

〔 ⅲ. 〕 How patient are they? How long are they willing to wait and/or bide their time in order to achieve some sort of goal?

﹝☼﹞

#☰ Yandere Personality Types #yandere theory #Yandere Big Five #Yandere #origin post #MBTI

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mobagehelllocal · 4 years

Text

“lucky ending”

First at all, I like do much your writing and I hope you are doing well. Second, I was wondering what would happen if the MC (Fem!s/o I guess) decided to not go back to her world, like she decide stay with her villain? Can you do make headcanons of this for the dorm leaders? Thank you very much.

-- from Anonymous

A/N: Hi Anon! Sorry for taking so long! Thank you so much for liking my work and for sending in this request! Since this was submitted before I opened my headcanons request, I’ll assume you wanted a scenario! It reminded me of a particular Japanese middle school/high school tradition... I don’t want to spoil it, but I do hope you enjoy it!

edit- additional pieces: ver i (this), ver ii (???), ver iii (rook & lilia)

“Hey, did you know?”

You looked up from your meal to see a grinning Ace.

“Well... you haven’t told me what this is about Ace.” you finally said in a dry tone. “So, no—I wouldn’t.” Beside you, Epel’s lips curled up in amusement.

"Are you sassing me?” Ace squinted at you.

“Who could say.” you shrugged your shoulders. “Anyways, what is it?” Ace studied you for a couple more seconds before he too seemed to ‘shrug’ it off and continue.

“There’s actually a tradition in Twisted Wonderland during graduation season.” Ace’s smile turned wicked, as he raised his hand and tugged at a button on his shirt.

“Please don’t strip. Nobody needs to see that.” you said—Deuce promptly choked on his food and Grim snickered beside you. On his other side, Jack sighed as he patted the man on his back.

“It’s not that!” Ace scowled. “Sweet Queen, if you keep going on like that, I swear—”

“Sorry, sorry.” you raised your hands—palms up. “So, what is it?”

“This button.” he pointed at the second button from the top. “Well, for NRC, they go with the fifth button—but either way...” Sebek leaned forward in interest.

“Is this the button tradition?” his eyes sparkled, “you see, I was thinking of giving—”

“It doesn’t work like that Sebek.” Ace said—at which the Diasomnia student immediately deflated in response.

"People give this out at graduation.” Ace continued. “It’s like the last chance to confess--before you leave the school life behind.”

‘Last chance huh...’ you thought, as you remembered Crowley’s words from the other day.

“In my generosity, I have found a way to bring you back home... but...” the Headmaster peered at you with glowing eyes. “Something tells me you don’t want that anymore.”

“And because I’m so generous... I will let you decide what you wish to do.” his eyes brightened behind his mask. “I hope to hear from you soon...”

"Why not the first button?” you couldn’t help but ask. Ace, who had just finished recounting how many buttons he had given out in his last graduation was startled by your question.

“Err...” Ace scratched the back of his head. “I dunno?”

“It’s the second button, because on the regular school uniform... it’s closest to the heart. Because graduations at NRC are in the summoning robes—that means the fifth button.” Jack finally spoke up, “what normally happens is... someone confesses, and the other party decides whether or not to give the button. When the other party gives their button—it means they return the love of the person who confessed.” Grim’s face twisted at that.

“In conclusion... disgusting.” Epel shrugged his shoulders, before he shot Jack a look. “I’m surprised you, of all people know that.” Jack’s whole body twitched, and his tail bristled in response.

“So. you were being a little shit.” Deuce told Ace.

“Yeah Ace, you’re an asshole.” Grim huffed.

“Not true, all of the people who wanted my heart, got it~” Deuce grimaced in disgust at his roommate’s response. On his other side, Sebek shifted upright.

“I don’t care what you all say, I’m giving—”

“Sebek, no.”

As your friends erupted into chaos your hands fell on top of your second button and you fiddled with it thoughtfully.

“Alright, what is up with you two?” Riddle turned around to glare fiercely at the squabbling Ace and Deuce. At his movement, the long cloak of the summoning robes shifted around his legs.

“Nothing, Dorm Leader!” the two immediately squeaked out, and Riddle sighed—exasperated, but continued to eye them suspiciously. As a fourth year, Riddle had no need to visit campus as often as he did. Ace was already made the Dorm Leader, and Deuce was his Vice Dorm Leader once the two had entered their third years but—

‘I know Trey told me not to worry…’

Cater and Trey had long since graduated from Night Raven College—but the former was still ever so interested in what his friends were doing. He had easily convinced Trey and Riddle to go on call that night to catch up. It was during that call that Riddle had confessed his fears about leaving the fate of Heartslabyul to Ace and Deuce.

“Wow~ Riddle is much more of a mother hen compared to Trey~” Cater had laughed, delighted. Riddle had instantly puffed his cheeks, ready to defend himself. Trey—sensing the argument that was about to come—quickly placated him.

“I don’t think it’s wrong of you to care so much, Riddle.” Trey had said, in his same soothing tone. “You’ve held onto the dorm leadership for three straight years… it’s natural that you worry about how Heartslabyul will do… but… I believe—the dorm will be what our juniors make of it.”

“That’s my worry.” Riddle grumbled in response.

“Well—the two of them did shadow you as Vice-Dorm Leaders during my fourth year, yes?”

“…Yes.”

“I think they know what they can and cannot do by now.” Trey consoled, “Have a little bit more faith in them—after all, you were the one who entrusted the Dorm’s future to them in the first place.”

“I suppose…”

“If all else fails,” Cater chimed in, “[Name] will be there, won’t she?”

“I’d like it if I didn’t have to rely on her for the two of them but…” Riddle unconsciously smiled at the thought of you. “but yeah… she… she certainly had a hand in how Heartslabyul changed to be the way it is today...”

“Ah~ I’m a little jealous you still have an excuse to see [Name]~” Cater hummed.

“I—” Riddle felt his cheeks flush at that, “It’s not like that!”

“Huh~? I didn’t say anything though~” Cater cackled knowingly. Riddle tensed, and Trey only sighed in amusement as the red head began to lecture the older man.

Despite Trey’s (and admittedly, Cater’s weaker) attempts at getting him to be more hands off—he continued to conduct surprise visits to the campus. Primarily to keep a check on both Ace, Deuce and how they were currently running his beloved dorm. He knew it almost always made the two panic, but he just wanted to ensure that—they were doing fine. Riddle worried endlessly—

“I don’t think it’s as surprising as you think.” You had told him once, a giggle on your lips. “Riddle… despite everything… you still genuinely want the best out of people. It’s the way you are.” He had flushed red when you put it that way, but he was incredibly appreciative of the fact that you noticed. He was also happy that you didn’t think it as something he should change immediately.

“Ace and Deuce—I can see why you worry but…” you had patted his hands gently, and shot him the same sweet grin you had given him that time—about two years ago—after his embarrassing Overblot. “You’re also improving yourself. Take it step by step—little by little, and I’m sure one day you won’t think twice about whether or not those two can do justice to the Heartslabyul in your vision.”

Seeing you as often as he did was just a bonus—or so he’d like to think. He hasn’t quite admitted to himself, how incredibly fond he has grown of your presence, and how much some of his visits was more to see you again—rather than visiting his juniors.

He could feel the way his lips unconsciously curled up just at the thought of you. He quickly turned away from his juniors—if only because he could not stop smiling.

“Come to think of it…” he mused, pretending that this was just a thought that came to mind—and not something he’d been eagerly looking forward to— “Where is [Name]?” When there was no response, he felt his smile drop and his brow twitched at their silence.

“Come now—if there’s anytime you’re going to be quiet…” he turned to look at them, only to realize that they had incredibly guilty expressions. “… Is something wrong? Is she hurt?”

“Well—no.” Deuce rapidly stuttered out, “It’s just—well—” he glanced hopelessly at Ace, whose eyes shifted around in an uncomfortable manner.

“Err—it’s a little hard to explain…”

“What is going on?” He demanded, his expression growing dark as he thought back to the last time, he had seen you. There didn’t seem to be anything wrong with you—you had greeted him as kindly as you normally had. You had looked healthy to him and nothing had seemed to be weighing too much on your mind… “Tell me right now.”

“Thank you, for coming with me.” You had smiled, “but you can leave me here, really.”

“Do you even know why Crowley called you?” Ace asked, his hands crossed behind his head when he noticed the most subtle shift in your expression.

“[Name]?” he arched a brow, and you shook your head, a smile bloomed on your face at his concern.

“No, it’s… it should be nothing.” You looked down at Grim. “You’ll stay with them, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” The monster scowled. “I don’t know why Crowley wanted just you… It’s not like you won’t tell us after…”

“That’s true.” Deuce had agreed easily.

“I will tell you if it’s important.” Ace’s eyes narrowed at the way you phrased your sentence, and when you slipped into the office—it was only Ace who stayed, his gaze fixated on the door.

“Is something up Ace?” Deuce turned to see that the Heartslabyul Dorm Leader hadn’t moved from his position by the door.

“I think she’s not telling us something.” Ace said, before he approached the door and pressed his ear against it.

“Ace! That’s rude!” Deuce moved to pull him away, but Ace shook him off.

“Sssh! I can’t hear!” he hissed at Deuce before he leaned harder against the door.

“—I have found a way to bring you back home—” Ace and Grim immediately stiffened. Deuce looked on, wary of their reactions.

“What…” he swallowed, “what did you overhear?”

“She still hasn’t said anything.” Ace said after he told a frozen Riddle the story. “and… well… none of us have the heart to bring it up.”

“Well Grim certainly wanted to.” Deuce interjected. “But we figured… it was probably something we should wait for her to say… are you okay, Dorm Leader?”

“You don’t need to call me that.” Riddle replied immediately, before he exhaled. He raised his hand and pressed it against his forehead as he thought of the situation.

‘Of course, …of course, I should’ve thought of it.’ His hand fisted in his hair, as his brows furrowed. ‘This isn’t home to her this is… it’s the farthest thing from a home.’ He felt the blood drain from his face, and the minute shake of his hand at the realization.

Riddle made the two promise to not speak to you about it—and that he’d try to bring it up instead. Deuce looked like he wanted to protest. Riddle could understand—the three of you had a certain type of friendship that should mean that Ace and Deuce had a right to bring it up with you but… Ace had always been much more perspective than he actually let on, and agreed to let Riddle handle it.

Whether Ace understood the depth of Riddle’s feelings or not, was currently inconsequential given the circumstance. What Riddle needed to focus on—was speaking to you about the… issue.

No, it’s wrong to call it an issue—and neither is it a problem… It’s just… perhaps best called a big decision. One that Riddle knew your likely answer to, and how it’s not the answer he would want to hear.

In his defence, ever since coming back, Riddle did try to talk to you about it. He tried very hard to confront you—but whenever he’d try to tell you—he’d take one look at your smiling expression and think about how much he’d like this moment to last longer. ‘Just a little longer… Let me have their smile a little longer—’ because he knew that the moment, he brought it up—you might no longer smile at him.

Unfortunately, time is nobody’s friend—and during a break from his graduation practice, he ran into you.

“Oh, [Name].” he blinked in surprise before his eyes narrowed when he noticed that you weren’t smiling as usual. “Did something happen?” he asked, immediately anxious for you.

“Ah it’s…” you paused, and your expression grew even more distressed. “I don’t… know how to phrase it.” He grew cold at that—he had a general idea on where this conversation could head… Before he could get a word in, the doors to the Hall of Mirrors opened, and a bunch of other fourth years exited noisily.

“Do you want to talk somewhere else about this?” The slightest furrow in his brow, and the tiny down-turn curve of his lips expressed his concern for you. Your heart did a little leap, and you briefly got lost in his pretty grey eyes before you slowly nodded.

Your voice was soft as you explained the turmoil you’d been going through the past few days.

“I… want to stay. I want to stay so badly that I keep coming up with excuses to do so but… at the same time… I know that this means I’ll be abandoning my family… my old life behind and…” you looked down at your hands, and Riddle’s frown only grew as your voice got shaky. “that’s unfair to them—isn’t it? That—I’ll just up… and leave… and say nothing.”

“If you want to stay, then just stay.” You didn’t look to be convinced, and Riddle felt his heart twist that he isn’t enough of a reason for you to stay.

“It sounds so easy, doesn’t it?” you chuckled, your tone low, “maybe my life here is certainly far better than anything else I could dream of but… the guilt will eat me alive. That I just turned away from them… It’s so selfish of me.”

“I don’t think it’s wrong for you to be selfish.” Riddle disagreed as he reached out towards you and held your hands. At the action, your eyes fell to your twined fingers, and you observed the gentle way in which Riddle rubbed the back of your hand. “I think you earned that much. I don’t believe anyone’s ever been in your situation before so—there’s no right or wrong about what you’re doing. It’s all about what you want to do.”

“You think so?” your voice cracked, and he leaned forward so that you could see the honesty in those pretty grey eyes of his.

“I know so… and if you still feel guilty then allow me to bear it with you.” He took a deep breath before he slipped one hand away from you to tug at the fifth button of his summoning robes. Your eyes widened—stunned, as you recognized what he is about to do.

“Let me express to you my own selfish desire.” He pressed the button into your palms as he met your gaze evenly. “I love you [Name]—I want you to stay—so—can I be the reason you do?”

His deep red hair fluttered in the cool wind that passed through the open halls of the college. You could see sweat dribble down his temple, and the smallest shake of his bottom lip. He swallowed; his Adam’s apple bobbed. His own eyes peered and searched your gaze too—for any indicator of the answer you would choose to deem him with.

As you looked at Riddle, you knew that a part of you will always feel guilty about the choice you were about to make but—that honest affection in those eyes were enough for you to know that Riddle, as he is, was always going to be enough of a reason to stay.

“Yes…” you murmured, and Riddle’s nervous expression broke away for a joyous one—an expression that made your heart do a little dance. “Yes—I’d want you to be the reason I stay.”

It took all your courage (and the fact that it was his graduation—Great Seven did he look so good in those robes—) to finally tell Leona about what Crowley had told you.

“Good riddance.”

You felt your face pale, and your soul—shatter at Leona’s reply.

“What… what did you say?” you stuttered, “Did you just really…?”

“I said good riddance.” Leona rolled those green eyes of his at you. “You can finally go home. You can finally stop bothering me.” His eyes turned poisonous—and you felt your whole body weaken. You would have dropped to your knees if Leona’s glare hadn’t frozen you in the first place.

“You…” you swallowed, “you don’t mean that… you don’t… right… Leona…?”

“Good—” his green eyes became murky with an emotion you couldn’t quite understand, “—riddance.” He then scoffed and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Now leave me alone.”

“But—”

He began to walk away—but desperate—you grabbed him from behind. Your hands wrapped around his chest, as you clung to him as tight as you could.

“Herbivore... The hell are you doing?” Leona hissed as he moved to rip your hands off him.

“Wait!” He froze at the command in your tone, and the way you pressed your head in between his shoulder blades.

“Let me... let me say something... Please...”

‘Were you crying?’ Leona tensed; his tail flicked about in irritation—ready to confront anyone who made his woman cry—

He hissed at his own thoughts.

“I’m not going to listen to your shit, woman.” He snapped, and he felt you flinch against him. Something deep and primal in him whimpered—because he knew he had terrified you.

He had to convince himself—this is for the best. This is for your sake.

You were not his woman. You were not his mate. You should not have a future with him.

You were supposed to be leaving.

He wanted you to leave.

It would be better that way.

You didn’t deserve the second prince. You didn’t deserve a rebel. You—

You deserved much better than him.

‘So please let me go.’ he thought, a little desperately, ‘because if you don’t... then I won’t be able to let go.’

“Leona... I... I really have no courage. I can’t even look you in the face because I’m...” He growled at that, and he felt you flinch again. “Let me do this...” He felt you move your hands, and you pressed something into his own palms. You curled your fingers around it, before you pulled away.

“I want you to have this. If you won’t let me say anything... then please let me do this.”

There was a brief silence—as you studied the way Leona remained tensed, his tail jerked around in irritation and your eyes shut in despair.

‘Of course... It’s Leona... what was I thinking?’

‘Of course, he wouldn’t want you to stay—of course—’ you realized your own foolishness. ‘Of course, he wouldn’t want you.’

“I’ll go. I’m sorry.” you said before you rushed off, as you tried, desperately not to make a sound as you cried.

Leona’s ears moved rapidly; despite your attempt to not make a sound—he could clearly hear you cry your heart out as you ran away from him.

“Tch…” he looked down at his hands, only for his brows to furrow in confusion. “This is… a button?”

“Does the herbivore…” He lifted his head to look off into the direction you took off in. “does she know what this means…?” His brow twitched in irritation; he pulled his hand back and got into a stance to throw the button away—but something in him couldn’t do it.

‘Are you really going to throw her heart away?’

“Shit!” He swore to himself as he threw a fist at the closest thing he could—one of the trees in the garden. He paused, as his eyes lingered on the patch of grass that he enjoyed taking naps on… with you.

He thought of all the things he would lose—

The way you smiled at him, despite how hopeless he was as a person. The way your skin felt against his own when he could get away with hugging you despite never saying those three words… The way you looked at him with acceptance—regardless of his glaring faults.

He thought of all the things he would never experience—

The way you would suit the crown of a princess—more than any other women he’d known. The way you could glow under the light of Afterglow Savanna’s sun. The love you two could’ve shared if he would just stop being such an asshole—“Stupid woman…” he growled low to himself, as he spun to give chase to you. His hand reached up to rip a certain button off his own robes. “I just can’t be selfless—”

‘Not when it comes to you.’

‘Not when I desperately need you.’

When he pushed open the doors of the Hall of Mirrors, Crowley turned around, startled.

“Kingscholar—?” the Headmaster gaped.

“Is that still connected to her world?”

“Yes but—what are you doing?” Crowley cried, alarmed as Leona rushed for the portal.

‘If there’s a god out there… if the ancestral spirits do exist… then please—’ he faltered at his own thoughts before he shook his head. ‘Please—don’t let me be late—’

“You’re back!” Your mother had only paused for a second, stunned when you popped out of the mirror in the living room, and fell to your knees. She quickly dropped down onto the ground before she reached for you and pulled you into her embrace.

“Mom—I’m—” you felt your eyes tear up, “I’m home—” you said—even if a part of you felt that home should have been two green eyes, a cocky smirk, and a warm patch of sunlight on the grassy ground.

“Oh… sweetie…” Your mother pulled back to cup your face in her hands as she studied your expression. “Never mind that—tell me what happened? I need to hear everything!”

You blinked rapidly and nodded. She brought you to the kitchen and sat you down as she whipped up a snack for you to eat as you recounted your adventures in Twisted Wonderland.

You were—baffled—she didn’t seem as terrified as you thought she would be. You had thought you would’ve come back to her crying—or, you don’t know—police in your house maybe? She was calm—and she was simply… interested in your story.

Like she knew all about it already—and she just… wanted to hear your point-of-view.

When you got to the part about Leona—you got all choked up. Regardless of how he treated you—you knew that a part of you would always love him. If anything—it would be something you would desperately cling onto, and in the depths of your heart—you will continue to nurture it. It was the only thing of him, you had left.

“You loved him.” Your mother held your hands, and you shook your head as you gently corrected her.

“I’ll always love him, mom.” You felt tears hang onto your lashes. “I’ll always… wonder… ‘what if.’”

“Would you go back if you could? Would you stay with him?”

“I… I would but—it’s not like he wanted me.” Your lower lip trembled, and you felt your chin wrinkle at that. “He didn’t want me.”

“I think he did, sweetie.” Your mother wiped your tears away. “Leona is pretty dishonest to others… and especially to himself.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at that.

“He pretty much is.” And that’s when it dawned on you.

“Wait you—” you looked up at your mother with furrowed brows. “Why does it sound like you know him—? You—you haven’t met—”

That’s when the door swings open, and your father’s voice echoed in the house.

“We’re back!” You only had a moment to question what he meant by ‘we’ when he entered the dining hall with a familiar figure.

“Leona—?” Both males looked at you—surprised. Despite how happy you were to see both—your eyes naturally gravitated to Leona.

Your eyes met his, and he blinked slowly before a smirk crawled up his lips.

“Took you long enough.”

“Time isn’t exactly linear across two worlds.” Is the first thing Leona told you as he brought you to your room—or more recently referred to as his room. He dragged you onto the bed and pulled you onto his lap with relative ease—his fingers tangled in the cloth of your shirt. The only reason there was a distance between you two—was because of the way you Leona stared at you with a hungry fervour.

He looked at you like he was a starved man who had just caught sight of an oasis in the middle of a desert. There was also a difference in the way he held you—a certain desperation in the way his fingers pressed against your skin—as if making sure that you were no desert mirage. You had just seen him—but it felt as if he was seeing you for the first time in an unbearably long time.

“You entered the portal before I did.” Leona studied you with his vivid green eyes. “but when I went through the portal… I arrived a day after you were first taken to Twisted Wonderland.”

“Wait… so how long… did I miss out on?” you asked weakly.

“It’s been a year.” He replied quietly, and you looked at him—stunned.

“That’s—you—” you cleared your throat. “why?”

“Why what?”

“Why—why wait? Why—why did you stay?” you whispered, “you could’ve just gone back—” He scoffed.

“That’s simple.” He stared at you evenly. “If I hadn’t waited for you I…” he paused. “I might have never seen you again.” You felt your eyes go wet, but you inhaled sharply as you resisted crying. He pulled you even closer to him, his arms wrapped around your waist. Though you tried to move away—it was futile, Leona was stronger than you.

“Why—I thought you said—”

“I tried to be selfless with you.” Leona confessed lightly, his eyes studied your face—the way your eyes glimmered, the way your lips pouted as you attempted to hold back your tears—you hadn’t changed from whence he last saw you but—

Having lived in a world without you for one year—only strengthened his resolve to be with you.

“I tried to be selfless with you.” Leona repeated, “but I’m sorry—I can’t be. I have to be selfish because—the future I want… it’s one I can only realize by your side so—” He moved his hand away from you only to move it to his pocket. When his fist opened, your eyes widened to see an elegant black button on his palm.

“I’ve waited a year to return my heart to you.” He murmured softly, as you began to cry in earnest. “Will you accept it?”

“Of course, I will—you big—asshole—” you cried, as you hit his chest. Leona could only chuckle, as he raised his other hand to brush your tears away.

“I deserved that.”

“Yes, you did.”

With your fingers laced with Leona, you went downstairs to meet up with your parents. Your mother cooed happily, while your father nodded gruffly at Leona.

“You promise you’ll take care of her, alright?” Your father eyed him, and Leona nodded.

“I will.” He promised.

“You will visit, won’t you? Or call through the mirror?” Your mother asked hopefully, and you looked at her surprised, before you glanced up at Leona in a questioning manner.

“So, you would never need to choose.” He dodged your gaze; a light flush rose to his cheeks. “I worked with Crowley and Malleus,” your eyes widened—he willingly worked with Malleus? “to establish a proper connection between your world and mine. I kept in contact with the Crowley who let you through the door in the first place… and now we’ve managed to keep the timelines properly linked.” He raised a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. “Basically… you’ll be able to keep in contact with your parents… or anyone else you wanted to keep in contact with in this world.”

“Leona…” you felt your eyes water at that.

“Don’t cry.” Leona reached down to wipe your tears away, “cry anymore—and your father will retract his blessing.” You looked at him, a little stunned—he didn’t seem like the type of person who’d ask for someone else’s blessing.

“Of course, I did.” Leona said as he figured out where your thoughts had headed, though he sounded slightly offended that you would think he would not have asked.

“It took him a year too.” Your mother said fondly while your father snorted. Leona swiftly cleared his throat before you could ask again.

“A story for another time.” He said way too quickly, before he offered you his hand again. “For now—” his green eyes softened as he met your eyes, and your fingers instinctively laced together once more.

“Shall we go home?” he gestured for the mirror that begun to glow. You smiled, and quickly jerked on his arm to pull him down. Surprised at the sudden motion, Leona’s face drew close to yours—and you leaned forward to press a kiss against his cheek.

“Silly kitty,” you giggled, “I’m already home.” He speedily pulled back. Despite the grumpy expression on his face, you were delighted to see the flush rise to his cheeks once more.

“And I… I am too.” He murmured softly, and your smile slipped into something much more tender.

You were excited to see what the future would hold for you two.

“Azul.” Azul blinked as he turned his head to the approaching Jade. He arched a brow at Jade’s bemused expression—the man rarely made that face. If Jade ever encountered something he didn’t understand, he was more likely to react to it with curiosity and excitement. So, for Jade to be confused—with the lightest flicker of worry… well, Azul immediately found himself to be anxious.

“What is it?”

“According to one of our juniors, [Name] came by to ask for you earlier—but we were at graduation practice. They redirected her to your office to wait.” Jade’s brows furrowed. “Apparently… she looked quite distressed.” Azul felt himself frown immediately at that.

“I was going there anyways because of this—” Azul raised his hand to present some documents. “I’ll speak with her.” Jade nodded; his expression looked a little bit more relieved.

“I’ll keep Floyd off for awhile then.” Jade decided, “there must be a reason why she specifically seems to want to speak to you.”

“Alright.” Azul agreed, before the two parted ways. He thought back to when he had met you earlier that day—you had been thrilled to see them. Floyd had happily picked you up and spun you around several times—before you needed to be saved by Azul and Jade. Shortly after that, you had to go attend class—at which point they bid you goodbye, with the promise of spending more time together, later.

Azul, Jade and Floyd had just returned to Night Raven College today for the graduation practice. They hadn’t seen you in person for quite a while because their internships took them far away from the College. Azul wasn’t particularly happy with it (none of them were, really—even you) but you had always known how important success was for Azul (especially him) so you had encouraged him to pick what he knew was the best choice for the future.

His heart sped up at the thought of how deeply you understood his feelings—and his desires. At that point, he promised that he would ensure—his future would be spent making you happy and that you would never be left wanting.

You will get the best from him because he knows how much you deserve it.

You deserved so much better than him—he knew that—he’s accepted it as an irrevocable truth. However—you had chosen to stay by his side, despite his past—and despite his inexcusable actions.

“Azul… I think you shouldn’t be ashamed of your past.” Your voice resonated in his mind, and he’s instantly brought back to that time the two of you quietly stood in front of his elementary school photo.

“After all, it’s because of that Azul—that you’ve become the Azul I see today and…” You turned to him with a tender smile that instantly made his heart soar like a flying fish and his eyes well up with tears.

“I think you should know—that the Azul before me today, is not as terrible as you like to believe.” Then you giggled, and his cheeks flushed red at your next words.

“It’s quite the opposite actually—you’re someone I can’t help but watch because… I think you’re amazing.”

So, he was going to do his best for you.

He was an inherently selfish person.

You were someone he wanted to hold onto for as long as possible. He knew that maybe one day you’ll realize that he wasn’t worth it. He knew that it will hurt him—but he also knew that if that day comes, he wouldn’t stop you.

He’d let you go.

As selfish as he was—he knew you deserved for him to be selfless for once. Especially if it meant you being happier.

It would hurt so much but—knowing how much better you could probably have—he would do it.

‘While you’re by my side…As long as you’re in my life… for however long I’m allowed too…’

Until the day that someone … or something—that was inarguably the better choice for you comes along—

‘I’ll treasure you… take care of you… treat you like a Queen—’

He stopped right before his office doors, and briefly fiddled with his hair. He inhaled, before he pushed the doors open. You turned to look at him with a despondent expression.

“Azul.” You hiccupped, and his heart dropped to his stomach at seeing your tears. There’s a part of him that immediately goes into a cold fury—‘How dare anyone make you cry—’

“Shh… It’s alright.” He slid the door closed behind him, dropped the paperwork carelessly onto the ground and opened his arms.

You immediately took it as an invitation to delve into his arms. Your breath was shaky, but Azul’s familiar and fresh ocean scent immediately calmed you down. You buried your head in the crook of his neck, and he rubbed one hand consolingly down your back. He slowly led you to sit down on the couch, and let you stay in his arms as he plotted a way to get back at whoever it was that made you show such a sad expression.

Once you pulled away, he immediately pulled out a handkerchief to pat away the wet tear tracks across your face.

“Are you alright?”

“I… yeah… just… I was… overwhelmed.” You said, breath still heavy. "I have something to tell you.” Azul hummed, as he moved to tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear.

“The Headmaster... he’s found a way.”

“A way...?” Azul cocked his head, not quite understanding what you meant.

“...”

“...” At the sudden silence, Azul raised his head to see you look down at your hands. He noticed that you were trembling ever so slightly. Azul narrowed his eyes at such an action.

“[Name]?”

You looked up; your eyes were glassy—with one blink you would probably start crying again. He could see the minute tremble of your jaw.

“I can go home, Azul.”

“That’s...” Azul blinked rapidly—stunned but at the same time—his heart tightened in his chest, and he automatically clenched his fists.

‘Ah…’

‘I didn’t think it would happen so soon…’

‘I didn’t think I’d have to let go of you so quickly…’

‘I don’t want you to go.’

Azul was selfish—he has always known that he was selfish... but with you... he always tried to not be.

He would be selfless with you.

He promised himself that much.

You had always been more than what he deserved—so how could he ask you to stay with him?

Knowing that—he knew what he had to say to you.

“You must be happy.” He finally managed to speak, and he prayed that you didn’t realize how shaky his voice got. He was barely able to keep himself from crying too. “You will go home, won’t you?”

“Is that it?” you asked, heartbreak in your voice but he gritted his teeth in response.

“Well... what else did you want me to say?”

“I...” you stood up; your breath shaky.

‘I wanted you to give me a reason to stay.’ went unsaid.

“... Nothing. I just... came here to tell you.” you finally said, your voice soft. “I’ll... see you later Azul.” You turned quickly—but not fast enough for him to not see the tear that slipped down your cheek as you escaped Mostro Lounge’s VIP Room.

“...”

Azul laced his hands together, before he rested his forehead against his hands. A whimper left his lips, as he began to shake in his seat.

“Tch...”

His heart squeezed tight—and he idly wondered if this was the type of feeling that Floyd’s victims got. It hurt—it hurt so much. Azul’s pathetic whimpers turned into guttural sobs. His fingers spread to cover his eyes—and his glasses slid off his face, down to his lap and then to the ground—at his actions. His whole body shook as he cried his heart out.

The one time he tried to be profoundly good—

The one time he tried to be selfless—

It was only right that he felt this much pain over it—after all—he always believed that he deserved it.

He struggled to remind himself how much this was for your sake. How this was better for you. Even if you began to hate him for it (and witch, did the thought of you despising him made another disgusting whimper slip out of his lips—), he’ll watch over you—only the best for you.

When you rushed out of the room, you immediately slammed right into the twins. They are both briefly stunned by your expression, but just as quickly, you clung onto the closest twin—in which case, it was Floyd. The man immediately wrapped his arms around you. He began to coo comforting words to you as he shot a look at his twin. Jade’s eyes flickered between you and Azul’s shut door, before he ultimately decided to shuffle you and his brother into a nearby room. Once you were sat down, Jade quietly coaxed the story of what happened out of you.

Through your tears, you tell him. You grow a little terrified as both twins gain a quiet look of rage almost identical with Azul’s earlier expression at your tears. The two share a look, and Floyd almost immediately got up—until you stop him.

“Please… don’t be mad at Azul…” you muttered, “I… I don’t think he means it.”

You remember the expression Azul made. First—there was fear, pain—before it shifted to something more like acceptance.

You don’t understand.

Why wouldn’t he think he was worth it?

He had always been selfish—and you wanted him to be selfish with you—and yet—

“You must be happy.”

He had said, but you had immediately caught the slightest bit of wetness that had began to well up in his blue eyes. You had noticed the way he had stiffened, the way his breath and voice hitched as he did his best to hide from you what you were truly feeling—

Jade and Floyd exchanged another glance, before coming to the same conclusion.

“Listen [Name].” Jade reached and cupped your chin in a delicate manner. “Here’s what we’ll do…”

When Azul finally exited his office, he had to fix his robes, and his make-up—if only to keep his unflappable façade as Azul Ashengrotto of Octavinelle. What he didn’t anticipate was to be immediately blocked by the Leech twins.

“Ah. There you two are.” Azul cleared his throat, his voice still scratchy from the amount of crying he just did. “There are some things we need to do—” Floyd slammed a hand against the wall right next to Azul’s head, before he leaned closed—his eyes dark as he studied the octopus merman in front of him.

“Shrimpy ran by here. She was crying.” Floyd’s eyes narrowed, and Jade sighed from behind him. “What did you do?”

“Apparently, the dear girl is being offered a chance to go home.” His voice trembled at the last word, but he held fast to his belief that this is the best choice for you. “I congratulated her on it.”

“Why?” Floyd hissed, “why would you—Azul—”

“It was only logical to assume so.” Azul said in response. “I presumed she wished to go home.”

“What… makes you think she wouldn’t want to stay here?” was Jade’s quiet query.

“It’s obviously the better choice for her to go. There’s nothing for her here.” Both twins blinked, a little awed that Azul—their selfish, greedy Azul—just said that.

“… There’s nothing here worth staying for. Not for her at least.” Azul said—at the sight of their expressions. “I’m sure—she’ll be happier in her home world. She should have never even come here.”

And wasn’t that a terrifying thought?

He wondered what it would have been like to have lived in a world where he had no concept, no idea of you. He shuddered immediately—he would rather always be able to remember you. If he could not have you, then he would cup the memories you shared together in his palms and hold on as tight as he could.

Floyd let out a disbelieving laugh.

“Is that truly what you believe?” Jade’s eyes narrowed, “that there’s nothing for her here?”

“You can’t sincerely believe that!” Floyd snarked, his expression twisted in displeasure. “The Azul we know—he would be selfish.”

“Don’t you see?” Azul, fed up, finally yelled, “It’s because I’ve always been selfish with her that I should be selfless for once.” He gritted his teeth aggressively.

“Of course, I want her to stay! I practically need her to stay.” He inhaled sharply, as he looked at the twins with wet eyes—frustrated that, as per usual, he had lost control of his emotions and tears. “But I also need to acknowledge that it may not be the best choice for her! So, I don’t want her to consider me when she’s making this decision—It’s not about me. It’s about her.” He exhaled, a part of him satisfied that he had managed to stun the twins once more… that is until Jade let out a soft chuckle and stepped aside to reveal that you were standing right behind him. Floyd stepped back, while a snicker escaped his lips.

“Azul.” You peered at him with wet eyes, and he tensed.

“You two—” Azul looked up to glare at the twins, who shrugged easily as they retreated away.

“Azul… why do you think like that?”

“…” He looked away, he didn’t want to answer, but when he felt your soft hands cup his face so that you could direct him to look at you—seeing that familiar look in your eyes—the one that told him how badly you wanted to understand him—instantly made him soften. “I always think about it… you deserve better. Better than me.”

“Azul… you need… to stop thinking of yourself like this. I love you.” You added, and his eyes widened, “Regardless of what you think—I think the best option for me… is to be by your side Azul.”

“You… really think that?” his voice shook, and you sniffled too.

“Of course, I do! Even if you didn’t want me… or need me…” you lower lip trembled, and Azul wanted to kiss your worries away. “I would cling to you as tightly as possible—it hurts but—I’d stay. You’re always going to be worth it for me.” Azul’s whole body quivered, and without thinking his hand slid onto a button on his blouse. He took one of your hands off his face to press a button onto your palms.

“You have my heart.” He murmured, voice soft, and his eyes moist. “and you have my future… if you’ll let me share them with you.”

“It’s a deal, Mr. Ashengrotto.” You said, your own eyes pricked with tears—and he let out a little chuckle.

He will continue to do everything in his power to always—remain—the best option for you.

“What a couple of cry-babies.” Despite Floyd’s tone, a pleased smile made its way to his lips.

“Our cry-babies.” Jade murmured, a familiar smirk plastered on his own face as he watched you and Azul bawl into each other’s arms.

You were, once more, invited to Scarabia’s annual graduation party for their fourth-year students. It was… one of their grander parties and it was hardly the first one you had ever attended since befriending their Dorm Leader two years ago.

However—what made this party different from the others you’ve attended so far, was because a part of the graduating batch were your friends—Kalim and Jamil. The very fact Kalim was graduating, made the Asim family decide to sponsor this year’s party. This meant that even as far as grand parties would go—this year’s party blew the past other parties away in terms of extravagance. There were a lot of people (guests of the graduates), food (completely catered—for sure Jamil slunk away a little miffed that he didn’t get to cook), music (hired by the Asims) and dancing (right in the centre of the room too!)

It was incredibly beautiful—and just… something you have never believed you would have had the chance to experience. You expressed as such to Kalim, who, with a grin—laced his fingers with yours as he pulled you straight to the dance floor. His warm hand landed on the curve of your waist before he began to lead you in a complicated dance. You let out a few squeals here and there—especially because dances native to the Land of Hot Sands were quick, and nothing like you’ve experienced before. Kalim only grinned happily as he twirled you around then rapidly pulled you back into his arms. You could feel your cheeks flush red as you were pressed up against the man’s well-defined chest.

“Isn’t this fun, [Name]?” Kalim let out a boisterous laugh as he continued to spin with you at the centre of the celebration. His dark summoning robes shined under the opalescent light of the room.

“Yeah…” your eyes flickered away briefly, before landing back on his face. Luckily, Kalim had not noticed your slightest hesitation—nor the fact that you were lying.

It wasn’t that you weren’t enjoying yourself—you always enjoyed any moment you could spend with Kalim—that was the truth but—

You could feel the countless dark stares that many of the eligible young women of Twisted Wonderland shot as you hogged Kalim’s attention. Ever since you had arrived at the party, Kalim had happily, and staunchly stayed by your side throughout it—eagerly sharing with you details from the Land of the Hot Sands.

It made you… nervous… insecure.

“Hm? Is something wrong?” Kalim cocked his head to the side, bright red eyes curious—but you didn’t want him to feel upset on such an important day for him.

“It’s really nothing.” As the music finished, you pulled away. “I do think I’m a little tired… So, I think I’ll go rest back at the table.” He gave you a worried look.

“Are you sure?” he cocked his head in an innocently curious manner that made your heart hum in pleasure of his concern. “You’re my friend, [Name]! So, I want to make sure you’re well!”

‘You’re my friend.’

‘You’re just a friend.’

You felt your lips tightened at such a damning sentence, and you quickly looked away.

“Yeah, I just…” you paused, “maybe you can dance with someone else?” you suggested—even if you wished with all your heart that he’d notice how you were truly feeling.

“Oh! That’s a great idea!” Kalim beamed brightly, before he turned around and happily waved his arms. “Who wants to dance with me next?”

In an instant, the Asim Heir was surrounded by gorgeous women, and you were elbowed out of the crowd.

“Oof.” You grasped at your stomach after you were harshly pushed away, and some of the ladies at the outermost part of the circle, sniffed haughtily at you before they turned away.

You stood there for a moment, as you wondered if it would be too late to fight your way through the crowd to reach his side but… You watched Kalim offer his hand to one of the beautiful women. Something in you lurched, and you could not bear to watch so you quickly retreated to your seat—you felt like a coward.

Your table was devoid of your year mates now. Grim was hanging around with Deuce near the buffet table. Ace and Epel, on the other hand, were incredibly popular and seemed to be dancing with some other women too. Ace looked pleased, but Epel’s expression practically begged for someone to get him out of there. Jack on the other hand, claimed that the noise was too much for him, and had eagerly retired to his dorm. You let out a small giggle, as you briefly met Epel’s suffering gaze, before he and his partner turned again. In the process, your eyes landed on the ever cheerful Kalim… and his incredibly enthusiastic partner.

The woman had herself pressed up against his body and seemed to be saying something right into his ear… but judging from her slightly frustrated expression—whatever she was saying had no effect on Kalim.

“In my generosity, I have found a way to bring you back home... but...” the Headmaster peered at you with glowing eyes. “Something tells me you don’t want that anymore.”

You frowned as that memory, unbidden, returned to the forefront of your mind. You were supposed to tell Kalim about it but… Your eyes flickered up to see him dance away with the woman.

You doubted you would get the chance to do so now.

Which you definitely… did not do on purpose.

You just—did not know—

How does one bid goodbye to the sun?

As the music ended, the same hoard of women surrounded Kalim once more. Despite the pang in your heart—you couldn’t help the exasperated but fond sigh that left your lips as you see Kalim smile cheerfully at them all.

Not at all bothered.

Still of a kind heart.

The way he was right now…

‘He truly is the sun.’ you thought, you looked around and you noticed—that everyone was paying attention to Kalim. Their gaze fixated and focused on Kalim’s next actions.

‘Everyone here is a heavenly body, orbiting the brilliant sun.’

Kalim had always had a sense of magnitude to him—always had a spark that attracted everyone… even those who were never meant to stay.

‘And I’m a meteor off course.’

Your eyes hazed over and watered immediately at the realization of your position.

‘I cannot stay.’

You ducked your head frantically—as you felt the inevitable spill of your tears down the curve of your cheeks.

‘I have no place here… no place to stay.’

No one ever willingly bids goodbye to the sun.

They spend the rest of their lives trying to find the right way back to it.

And you know the path you must walk will take you universes away from the one sun that you wished you could orbit around for eternity.

You choked briefly, and instinctively grabbed a nearby napkin to dab at your face. You were glad Grim was enjoying the festivities at the table across—had he been with you, everyone would have probably noticed your complete breakdown.

You sniffled quickly and froze as a hand that held out a handkerchief, entered your line of sight. Your eyes traced the tanned forearm, up the toned arm, before your gaze was caught by deep dark eyes.

Jamil stared at you with a frown on his face as he pressed the handkerchief into your hands. You flinched, startled, before you grabbed it.

“Thanks.” You stuttered, voice low, and Jamil gazed at you unflinchingly.

“You’re thinking of going home.” He murmured in that soft spoken, delicate tone of his. “No… you’re already going home.” His eyes narrowed, and under the candlelight of Scarabia’s halls—the shadow of the flames licked his face and made his dead, calm expression somehow… even more terrifying than usual.

“Please… don’t look at me like that.” You bowed your head, as some of your tears slipped down your knuckles. You could hear Jamil sigh.

“You’re going to break his heart.” Jamil murmured, his voice as cool and collected as ever.

“How can I break something… that I’ve never held in the first place…?” You muttered as you lifted a golden goblet up to your lips. Jamil shot you an unimpressed stare at that.

“Regardless of what you believe,” Jamil pursed his lips. “You will hurt him.”

“It’s not going to last.” You said in defence. “He’ll move on…” you looked up; tears got caught in your lashes as you blinked rapidly. “He’s going to meet people even more amazing… Like someone who …”

‘Someone who will suit him.’

‘The best person that he could be with.’

“I’m sure of that.” You tried to sound convincing—but you couldn’t truly—not when your heart believed otherwise.

“… That… isn’t something that you alone can decide.” Jamil’s eyes slid to Kalim. The man was burning as bright as ever in the centre of the room. “Kalim should have a say in that as well.”

“I can’t believe you’re the one saying that.” It was wrong of you to say that. It was—without a doubt—a low blow. Judging from the most miniscule of movement above Jamil’s brow—you had guessed he thought the same.

He didn’t blow up and instead, the man sighed deeply as he picked up his own golden goblet for a drink. You look down onto the handkerchief that you clenched in your hands.

“Jamil…” you did not look up, and instead your hand reached for your own pocket. “would you… give him this letter?” you pulled out a wrinkled envelope—one you had penned immediately after learning from Crowley that you could go home.

You… you couldn’t bear the thought of watching Kalim get sad.

You had always figured that if something like this came up you would tell him in a letter instead.

So, that you would never have to face his sadness or his tears.

“… You’re a coward.” Jamil said quietly, before he grabbed the envelope anyways.

You don’t say anything.

He was right of course.

You were just a coward—as you frantically cupped your heart in your hands in the hopes that it would not burn away into nothingness.

“Then,” Crowley peered down at you with glowing eyes. “Are you ready?”

You had to drag your eyes away from the doorway—that you had stared at whilst you wondered if anyone would run after you.

Though you knew nobody would.

It had been what you wanted in the first place.

You didn’t want… you hated seeing people get sad. So—you had chosen to write letters to all your friends… and you had set them in places you’re sure they’d see. It was so selfish of you but—

You remember Kalim’s tears when Jamil had overblotted, two years ago…

‘It’s better this way.’ You reassured yourself before you looked at Crowley.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” You tried to smile, and something about the way Crowley tilted his head made you feel as if he pitied you. He chose not to say anything, and instead the Headmaster gestured to the glowing mirror.

You took one step toward the mirror before the door behind you dramatically burst open.

“[NAME]!” Your heart stopped at the voice, and you turned around to see that Kalim was standing right there—his hands on his knees as he panted in exhaustion.

“Ka…lim… why…” your eyes caught sight of a Jamil who slowly dragged his feet into the Hall of Mirrors before your line of sight was completely blocked out by Kalim’s red eyes.

“[Name]! Why—why are you leaving?” His lower lip wobbled, and your heart wrenched itself at the fact that you were the cause of such an expression. “And you didn’t even tell me—have I—are we not friends? Is that not enough reason for you to stay?” His expression looked so genuinely heartbroken, but you snapped into attention at his words.

“The thing is Kalim…” you tried to avoid his gaze. “It’s exactly because we are friends that I… that I cannot stay.” You managed to force out.

“What? Why?” he gaped at you, and your frustration at the situation made tears begin to slip out of your eyes.

“Because I love you, you idiot!” you practically yelled, uncaring of your audience. Kalim gaped at you.

“But—but—I love you too!” Your heart quickened at his statement, but you frantically shook your head.

“No, you don’t—you love me—as a friend.” You emphasized, “and I can’t stay knowing that—you need to end up with someone… better than me—”

“I mean it [Name]!” honesty shone in those red eyes. There was a flicker of desperation in those eyes before he quickly fell to his knees in front of you. You gaped at him in surprise as he reached for his chest.

Snap.

He looked up at you, as he stretched out his hand to offer you the gleaming button.

“I love you [Name].” He met your eyes head on—and the seriousness in that gaze of his made an exquisite shiver run down your spine. “So—won’t you marry me?”

As the graduation ceremony in the Mirror Chamber concluded, Vil and Rook exited first out of all the Pomefiore fourth years. They quickly approached their Pomefiore juniors, who were all, enthusiastically cheering for them.

"Congratulations Senior Schoenheit! Congratulations Senior Hunt!”

Epel shuffled forward and offered the two seniors a big bouquet of brilliant red roses each.

“Oh~ They are beautiful~ Merci, Epel.” Rook took the bouquet with a pleased expression, and happily sniffed the roses. “and very fragrant too~”

“You were so impressive, Senior Schoenheit! You got so many awards!” said one particularly awed junior.

“Naturally.” Vil inclined his head, as he inhaled the intoxicating scent of the roses. Around him, his juniors continued to give bouquets to his fellow seniors. Disinterested in that—his eyes flickered around in a slow pace... looking for...

Vil frowned behind the rose bouquet when he could not catch sight of you.

‘Now, where could you have gone, sweet potato?’

“Er...” Vil glanced back down at Epel, to see him quickly flicker his eyes in a direction.

‘I see.’

“Excuse me.” he murmured underneath his breath before he proceeded to move away from the Pomefiore gathering, down the path Epel had signalled him too.

“Congratulations Vil. I mean—I guess you didn’t need it but--ah... no... I’m saying this all wrong...” he heard you before he saw you. His glossed lips curled up in an amused smirk at the sound of you practising your congratulatory message. Vil turned the corner to see you seated at a bench in the middle of the open courtyard. Unlike him, you were dressed properly in your version of the school uniform. You had furrowed brows, a wrinkled nose and pouted lips as you stared into a bouquet of what looked to be dark coloured flowers. He almost called out to you when you began to speak to yourself again.

“Hi, [Name] here. I wanted to congratulate you and also... tell you... Agh! Is this really the time to tell him about that? God... I don’t want to...”

“Don’t want to what?” You jumped in your seat. You turned your head quickly, only to immediately loose both your train of thought and breath at the sight of him.

It was not the first time you had seen Vil in the summoning robes—he had been one of those students that had immediately caught your eye during that entrance ceremony—all those years ago.

But...

It was like seeing him for the first time—if that made sense.

His light blonde hair twisted into loose lavender waves that accentuated his sharp but delicate features. The sheer brilliance of his violet eyes in contrast to the paleness of his lashes were further accentuated by the dark make up that no one else but Vil Schoenheit could possibly hope to pull off. His lips were glossed gently with that pale lavender colour that had you dying. How long have you dreamed of kissing those lips? Smearing that lavender colour across his cheek? Ruining him, the way he’s ruined you?

How could you ever hope to fall out of love with Vil Schoenheit?

How could you ever hope to fall in love with someone else, after Vil Schoenheit?

He approached you slowly, with an elegant countenance only heightened by the way his robes swirled around him.

“Sweet potato?” He arched a fine brow. You were still silent despite that he had taken the seat next to you. While he may draw pleasure from the way he made you speechless, your earlier words still held fast to his curiosity. You snapped into attention after you realised that you had been staring for quite a while at him.

“T-That is—Senior Vil! Congratulations on your graduation!” you stuttered out as you simultaneously offered to him the bouquet in your arms. You peered up at him worriedly, and promptly got distracted by the way his long lashes tangled briefly as he blinked.

“Roses as well?” he tilted his head, pale blonde hair curled gently around his cheeks. You paused and saw that he also had a bouquet of vivid, red roses in his arms.

“Oh! Um! How presumptuous of me... I didn’t mean... that is to say...” he always turned you into a nonsensical fool. It was impossible to string words into sentences when everything would fall away in the face of Vil. He stared at you, bemused, as you babbled. “Sorry, I suppose you wouldn’t want this—Right, that’s that—I can just—”

“I did not say that.” Vil’s slender shoulders shook in laughter. Vil dropped the bouquet of red roses he had already been holding, to take the bouquet you offered him. He peered at it gently and noticed that what he had originally thought were black roses were actually—not. As he moved it under the light of the sun, the roses would shift between a dark violet or a deep blue. His breath caught in his throat. Red roses were—no doubt—classic. They were beautiful—but this bouquet you gave him… the roses were bewitching.

“What colour are they meant to be?” he finally asked as he leaned down to inhale the familiar, comforting scent of roses.

“What do you see?” At that, he looked up at you with a curious expression. You looked back, eager to hear what he thought.

“I can see violet and blue toned colours... they also seem to be black in some angles.”

“Oh.”

“Are they not meant to be like that?”

“No, no they are... I asked ah... Professor Crewel to help me breed these type of roses... It’s amazing what magic can do for plants.” you admitted, his eyes flickered quickly between you and the bouquet.

“You bred these... specifically?”

“Ah... yeah... back home...” you struggled briefly, “there were these roses that were either bred or coloured to look pink and yellow. I wanted to make ones that were violet or blue. Thanks to magic, it’s possible to actually create these.”

“Why?” he scrutinised your expression as you quickly flushed.

“Er... That’s because I couldn’t choose between either of the colours.” You said quickly as you licked your chapped lips—momentarily realising that you had forgotten to bring your lip balm. ‘Vil is looking at me, and I’m horrendously ugly. What hasn’t changed?’ you bemoaned to yourself.

“I figured... Pomefiore colours, yeah?”

You watched as he studied the way the colours of the rose petals would shift in the light. You were happy to note that there was a little glow of awe in those violet eyes, and—what you hoped was delight. His expression quickly shuttered after you noted that they were Pomefiore colors, and he dragged his gaze from the deep coloured roses to glance at you.

“You know sweet potato... lying isn’t very attractive.” he said, nonchalant, and you froze.

“What... lying?” you chuckled nervously. His eyes narrowed briefly, and you winced.

“You thought I wouldn’t notice?” You quickly avoided his gaze as you felt your eyes immediately begin to go wet, “Sweet potato, look at me.” You inhaled sharply as you slowly turned your head to face him again. You chewed nervously on your lower lip, and his eyes narrowed again.

“Don’t do that.”

“Sorry.” you knew he was referring to your habit of chewing on your lower lip.

“Well?”

“... I was hoping you wouldn’t notice until... later.” you finally admitted. “though who am I kidding—I wanted you to know... I wouldn’t have given that to you if I hadn’t wanted you to know that...”

“Violet roses mean ‘love at first sight’.” Vil murmured softly, “Blue roses mean ‘impossible love’... and Black roses have so much meaning... just what are you trying to say with this bouquet, [Name]?” you flinched as he named all the colours that appeared in the bouquet.

“Black roses... I... this is also me saying... goodbye.” Vil froze, as he turned to you quickly, his eyes turned even sharper.

“What are you going on about?”

“Headmaster Crowley... he found a way for me to go back.” you swallowed, “and... I think I’ll go.”

“And what about the violet and blue roses? Will you ignore what you just told me?” Vil demanded, and you looked away—unable to look at him—because you know that if you do, your resolve will falter.

“That’s... I just... I wanted to confess. To get all these feelings out because I know... I know it’s impossible.” Your lower lip trembled, but you held fast and tight onto your resolve.

‘Just let it out. Get it out of your system and... and maybe you could start again.’

“Why do you believe it’s impossible?” You hear Vil sigh, exasperated. “For the Queen’s sake—look at me [Name].”

“No, look at me.” you snapped back, and he recoiled briefly at the sudden flash of anger. "I’m more than aware that we...”

‘We have no chance. I, of all people—know that. It’s just some dream I cooked up in my head.’

“Look at us.” you said, miserable. “I... you’re so beautiful... and amazing... and I’m just... me. How could I ever suit someone like you? How could I make someone like you, happy?”

“You will stop talking like that.”

“Like what?”

“Putting yourself down the way you’re doing right now.” He replied, “and look at me when I’m speaking to you, [Name].” You feel a soft, gentle hand cup your cheek, and move it to face him. Vil had a frown on his face—and while he never looked less pretty because of it, you still hated that you were the cause of it.

“[Name]... you...” he paused, sighed before he dropped the bouquet of dark coloured roses down onto his lap and raised a hand to his uniform.

Snap.

Your eyes widened as you watched Vil rip a button off from his uniform before he offered it to you.

“Vil—that—you—” you stuttered. You remembered him talking about the importance of the uniform, and he was the last person you would ever imagine, who would actually—

“What normally happens is... someone confesses, and the other party decides whether or not to give the button. When the other party gives their button—it means they return the love of the person who confessed.” Jack’s voice echoed in your head.

“There’s a tradition at graduations in this world.” Vil began gently as he placed it in your hands, “when one person confesses—the other can chose to—”

“Give them a button.” you murmured and Vil tilted his head to the side in surprise.

“You know of it?”

“The others... Jack... told me.” you mumbled, “but this... Vil... you...”

“My happiness will not be dictated by others—no, Vil Schoenheit is a person who will grasp happiness with his own hands.” He leaned towards you and pressed his forehead against you. His eyes softened as your eyes watered and the tears began to spill. “I’m giving you this button because I’ve already found happiness by your side. Nothing you say will change that so...” He brushed your tears away with the thumb of his hands, and you found yourself lost in the gentle affection in those violet eyes.

“Won’t you stay with me?” Those lavender lips curled—and you’ve never ever wanted so badly to kiss someone in your life, “I’m not a generous person, [Name]. You can only answer yes… or yes.”

“Ah—[Name]!” Ortho signalled for you to come close quickly. You moved to the boy’s side, before he gestured for you to peak into Idia’s room. You had expected to see Idia as he fiddled away with his computer—as per usual. To your surprise however—Idia was in fact—just stared off into space. You gaped at him, before you peered down at Ortho who nodded worriedly.

“Big Brother’s been like that for a while.” You could hear the frown in Ortho’s voice. “I don’t know what to do—not even his games can pull him out of it.”

“Really?” at the disbelief tone, Ortho looked up at you with wide golden eyes.

“Really!” he nodded, his fiery hair bobbed at his movement. “He hasn’t touched a single game in a while! He’s actually gone to some of his classes—well I still needed to bring him there—but he didn’t resist like usual… In fact, he didn’t complain at all! He’s even gone to graduation practice! That’s why he’s—” Ortho gestured at his outfit, and you realized that Idia was, in fact, dressed in the summoning robes.

“What do I do?” Ortho asked, and you knew if he could cry—he probably already would be.

“I’ll… I’ll try to talk to him. You can stay here, alright?” Ortho nodded, and with a deep breath, you pushed the door open.

Idia, on the other hand, still stared off into empty space—unable to register anything. All he could do was think about what had got him so distracted.

Crowley had bothered him too much about graduation—and Idia just simply… didn’t want to think about it. Unluckily for Idia, the Headmaster could become incredibly annoying when he wanted to be. Whenever Idia just wanted to brush aside the issues—Crowley only pressed him even more. At his wit’s end, Idia had thought to mess around with his computer… or something. Perhaps jam Crowley’s ability to connect to Idia—or even better—plant something that will hear his secrets… (‘I sound like Azul,’ Idia had even despaired briefly).

It was as he hacked his way into Crowley’s system in the Headmaster’s office that Idia had accidentally listened into a particular conversation that he sorta wished he remained oblivious too.

“You asked for me?” Idia had jostled in his seat when he heard you speak. He rapidly looked around his room—wondering if you had made it in without him realizing (again). He had an excuse on his lips—ready to be said if you wondered what he was doing. (He had a feeling ‘annoying Crowley because he wants me to physically attend graduation’ might not up your support levels together much.)

“Ah yes [Name]! Please! Do come in! And sit, sit! For I am gracious.” Idia whirled around to look at his monitor. With some rapid taps onto his keyboard, he was able to get a visual of Crowley’s office. He quickly recognized your form from behind.

‘What are you doing in Crowley’s office?’ Idia thought. He didn’t need to wonder too long however because his question was quickly answered.

“My dear girl, I’ve done it!” Crowley said rather cheerfully, “For I am gracious!”

“That’s… great?” Idia could imagine your cute, confused expression. You made it often enough whenever he tried to explain anything about the games he played. Though your worlds bore many similarities when it came to consoles—there were minute differences that often slipped your mind. He let out a soft giggle at that—you were adorable, and just having thoughts about you made his mood all better.

“That’s great.” You had repeated slowly, “but ah… I’m confused—what is this about, Headmaster?” you inquired, genuinely sounding like you had no idea what he was talking about.

‘Maybe I should go off. I don’t want to listen in and… I’m sure she’ll tell me whatever it is about—yeah?’ Idia nodded to himself, and just as he’s about to click the button that would cut off the audio—

“Well, what else could it be about my dear girl~?” Crowley had cackled, “In my generosity, I have found a way to bring you back home—”

Idia’s hand slammed down on the keyboard in shock, as he began to choke. He stared at his black screen in shock—not sure how to feel about what he had just heard.

‘You’re going home?’

He shouldn’t… have been as surprised as he was really.

He remembered that day, around two years ago, when you were first isekai’d into Twisted Wonderland. He knew that the plan had always been to send you home as soon as Crowley actually found a way to do so but…

As he spent time with you—he had gradually forgotten.

No, he didn’t forget—he—

Put it out of his mind.

He was so caught up in enjoying the time he had with you, that it had slipped his mind that it wasn’t permanent. That it wasn’t something that could last for as long as he wanted.

He knew that you always had your past world—your family, friends, and life—in your thoughts. He would too—if he were suddenly isekai’d in some foreign world where he had nothing.

So, Idia thought little of the possibility that you would remain in this world any longer. He knew—

He knew you’d want to go home because—

“What would keep you here?”

“What would keep who here?”

Idia yelped and leapt off his chair at the sound of your voice. He turned around to see you, as you peered at him with an amused smile. His heart skipped a beat at the way you smiled.

‘This is illegal—! You shouldn’t have power over me like this!’ He wailed inwardly, ‘Especially when—’ He let out a strangled noise as you pressed a warm, soft hand against his forehead.

“You don’t seem sick…” you mused, and you tilted your head in a way that Idia squealed at. You were just… so cute. Perfect waifu material for sure—you were kind—always so kind to him, and always willing to understand him in ways no one else ever was able to do. Ortho loved you too—

“Idia?” you leaned closer, and Idia frantically moved back. A wire made him trip backwards, and he let out a pained grunt at that.

“Oh no—are you okay?” He raised a hand to prevent you from drawing any closer.

“I’m okay!” he squeaked out, “I’m fine—just—give me a moment—”

“Alright.” You drew back, and with little hesitation, you chose to sit down on his bed as you watched Idia slowly stand upright. He patted his behind and winced—at which you let out a soft giggle. After a few more moments, Idia shuffled to sit right beside you. He fiddled with his sleeves awkwardly, his eyes flickered away—and back to you.

“Why—why are you staring at me like that?” he finally managed to say, and you smiled.

“Well, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in the summoning robes.” You said, “they suit you. You’re very handsome Idia.” Idia’s face quickly flamed up, and his hands rose to cup his own cheeks as he began to stutter rather fiercely.

“That—you—but—I—you lie!” he settled on; his face completely flushed with embarrassment.

“I’m not lying.” You shook your head, as you admired him in his summoning robes. You really weren’t—Idia can clean up rather nicely, and the dark colour of the robes accentuated the blue of his hair and the gold of his eyes.

“Thanks.” He said, his hands still covered the bottom half of his face.

“Are you really okay, Idia?” you asked, a little more concerned when your attempt at a conversation fell through.

“Yeah…?” he looked at you confused, and your eyes moved to the door. You knew Ortho was still there but…

“Ortho was pretty worried about you. Said you were acting all weird.”

“That’s because…” he chewed his lower lip, and he looked at you from the corner of his eye. “Well…”

“You can tell me anything.” You said—as you always did, when Idia worried himself to a frenzy at what you might think of the things he liked. “You know me Idia, I don’t mind.”

“Yeah… it’s…” he hesitated before he turned to you—Idia’s expression was different—it was, strangely serious and intense—not in any way you’ve seen it before. It instantly made you even more worried. “The truth is…”

He was never particularly good at lying—nor was he good at keeping secrets from you. You were a person he considered a dear friend—and he was always the type of person who ended up spilling everything to you. He liked being able to talk about the things he enjoyed—he liked that he had found someone who wanted to hear him out.

So, he told you what he had overheard, his eyes fell to his palms because he could no longer face you. He was worried about what you’d think when you found out that he heard what had happened—and he was worried that something on your face will make him break down.

Idia was afraid of losing you.

Idia was afraid of losing a person who was so willing to be his dear friend.

His fists tightened on his shirt, and he wondered if there was any reason, he could give you so that you would stay.

“Idia…” you began, but your sombre tone made him squeeze his eyes shut because he didn’t want to confront the truth—that you were actually going to leave and…

“Are you really leaving?”

“That’s—”

“Please don’t leave!” you faltered briefly, and looked at the way Idia was hunched over, with his eyes squeezed shut. It would have been quite the comical sight if it were not for the seriousness of the topic.

“Idia—I’m—”

“I really—I don’t want you to go—” he fiddled with his robes. “I know that’s… selfish of me—and I know you’re probably thinking of your family but I think—no—I know—” He hesitated, and he looked up at you, his expression shy, his chin wobbled.

“I… lo—” he shut his eyes quickly as finally blurted out how he truly felt. “I love you [Name]!” He tugged quickly on a button in his robes before he offered it to you with shaking hands.

You stared at him—stunned—you knew what Idia was like. You knew how much courage it must have took him to be tell you this—and to confront you about it too…

“Idia… won’t you look at me? Please?” you asked, gently. He glanced up at you, and you gave him a sweet smile that had his heart run a mile a minute. With that tender expression, you took the button in his hands and rubbed it gently with your fingers.

“Idia… you didn’t hear the whole thing, did you?” Idia furrowed his brows, before he shook his head.

“I accidentally quit the program…” he admitted, “and… I was too scared to go back on so…”

“Idia—I’m not leaving.”

“I guess it wasn’t enough—wait, what?” his head jerked back up to see your happy expression.

“I have no plans on leaving. If you had listened further, you might’ve heard that.” You giggled lightly, “I didn’t want to leave you—so I asked Crowley if it was possible to just… communicate with my world instead.” Idia gaped at you, completely surprised.

“Wait—you’re staying?”

“Yes.”

“For me?” he squeaked, and you nodded.

“For you. For us.” You held up the button between your fingers, and he looked at it for a moment before he met your gaze again, his face rapidly turned a bright red.

“So, I—I didn’t need to—do this—?”

“Technically… no?”

“Can you just forget the last few minutes please—”

“Absolutely not!” He made a strangled whimper-like sound at the back of his throat, and you laughed as you moved to embrace him. “I won’t forget it—because I love you too!”

“You—you do?”

You pulled back, to cup his face in your hands. His cheeks burned red, but you disregarded that to look into his gold eyes. His pupils shook, and you could see how nervous he was—you could feel the way he trembled in your hands.

“I love you Idia—and I’ll happily accept your heart.” Idia exhaled heavily, as he slackened into your arms, before he moved to wrap his arms around you.

“And… I love you…” he mumbled, less nervous—a little more assured—but for sure, deep in love. “Thank you… for staying with me.”

When Malleus himself invited you to Diasomnia—you gathered all your courage to go and tell him about what Crowley had told you.

"Ah [Name].” Sebek greeted you with a cheerful smile as you entered Diasomnia’s Main Hall. “Care for a button?”

Your brows shot up as you realized that he was carrying a bunch of buttons in his cupped hand.

“Err... Sebek... why...” you cleared your throat. “Why do you have so many... buttons?” Sebek brightened up at the question.

“You see, remember when Ace was speaking about the Second Button tradition?” At your hesitant nod, he continued, “I have come to understand that I shouldn’t be thinking about exchanging buttons with the Young Master—”

‘Oh dear.’

“As his vassal, I should be more concerned with the fact that should he exchange buttons with someone, it would ruin his attire—and by extension it may ruin his reputation.” Sebek nodded to himself, pleased with his own reasoning. “So, I chose to prepare a lot of buttons for the Young Master to pass out to those seeking his button.”

“I... I see.” You exhaled. If you had to describe what you felt for Sebek at this very moment—you would describe it as exasperated, but fond. He wasn’t a bad person--just... hilariously attached.

'Malleus...’

Had it already been two years since you came to Twisted Wonderland? Had it already been two whole years since you had met him in the gardens of the Ramshackle Dorm?

No matter how much you tried, you couldn’t remember how dark it had been that night—nor could you remember the exact reason why you had still been awake.

“Hm. Who are you?”

What you do know is that everything faded away in favour of remembering how you felt when you first laid eyes on Malleus.

“Well now this is a surprise. You are a child of man.”

Long dark hair that tumbled down to the small of his back, pale porcelain skin, and vividly green eyes that were framed by long, thick lashes. The light of the moon was bright enough to illuminate him and it made him all the more ethereal in the night.

As you had stared at him, you felt your throat dry, your heart picked up its pace and your cheeks burned. You didn’t know—you still don’t know—but something about Malleus just left you so speechless... and in awe.

You raised a hand to your chest, as you felt it skip a beat just at the thought of him.

‘I have it bad.’ you had to accept that much—even if you knew you had—practically—zero chance with him.

“[Name]?” Sebek brought you out of your stupor. You dragged your eyes back down to Sebek’s palm, and the shining buttons in his palm.

“I’m surprised you’re even offering.” you pointed out, and Sebek glanced at you thoughtfully.

“Regardless of my personal feelings,” Sebek sniffed. “I at least know that the Young Master thinks of you as an important friend.”

‘What was it that Jack said?’

Jack had said it was something of a serious promise (Ace completely disregarded it--but... well, you were more likely to believe Jack between the two of them). You also remembered that Malleus wasn’t even allowed to show up in front of the Ghost Bride because he was the sole heir of the Valley of Thorns...

‘It’s not like Malleus would give me his he...’ You couldn’t help but blink in surprise at the bitterness of your thoughts. ‘Since when did I...’ You quickly shrugged it off, before you finally nodded at Sebek.

“Sure, why not?” After you picked it up, you began to play with it in between your fingers.

“Come to think of it [Name], what are you doing here?” Sebek eyed you suspiciously.

“Ah that’s because—”

“I invited her here.” At the sound of his voice, a shiver ran down your spine—and you felt the tips of your ears burn with a blush. You both turned to see Malleus as he entered the main hall.

Your eyes widened, and a gasp slid past your lips at the sight of him dressed in the dark coloured summoning robes. As the robe billowed around his long legs, he moved with a certain grace that made it seemed like he was gliding towards you.

“Woah...” you raised a hand to your lips in surprise. In return, Malleus’s lips only curled—pleased at your reaction.

“Ah, Young Master! You look amazing!” Sebek exhaled, as awed as you.

“Thank you.” He inclined his head elegantly, before his eyes shifted back to you. You shuffled in place uncomfortably, before his lips raised into a gentle smile.

“I apologize I could not come to Ramshackle tonight. We were busy preparing for graduation.” Malleus said, “I thought we could walk instead in the gardens of Diasomnia... before I escorted you home. Not a bad plan, no?”

“Young Master...” Sebek furrowed his brows briefly, but Malleus only raised a hand—his eyes never leaving your form.

“It is fine Sebek. I will not take too long.” He tilted his head; his dark hair gently fell across his face at the motion and your struck by the motion to tuck it behind his ear. You had to curl your fingers together to stop yourself.

“Shall we?”

You walked quietly beside Malleus through the gardens; your heart pounded in your ears.

‘I have to tell him. I really need to.’ You glanced at him quickly from the corner of your eyes. His eyes had slid shut as he inhaled, his shoulders rose and fell at his action. Your heart twisted regretfully, and you could feel your eyes tear up briefly.

His smile was gentle—delicate, much like the fairy lights that naturally accompanied him every night.

He looked so peaceful.

He looked content.

He had once been so forlorn.

His eyes had been so viridescent and sad. Loneliness had wrapped him up in a cold embrace.

You wondered if centuries from now—Malleus would remember you.

You doubted it.

You were just a drop in the ocean of Malleus’s life.

As if you could ever...

“I’ve been wondering.” you flinched as he suddenly spoke, and you blinked rapidly—as you hoped that none of the wetness in your eyes fall out.

“Yeah?” you hoped he didn’t notice the way that you had been so overcome with your feelings that you had to choke that out.

“That.” Malleus pointed at button that you had been unconsciously playing with your hands. “Why are you holding a button?”

“Oh that’s...” you looked down at the button in your hand, “Sebek gave it to me. He said he was passing it out to people who would ask you for your button.”

“My button?” the dragon fae blinked slowly. You quickly told him about the tradition Ace had mentioned.

“Ah.” Malleus let out a soft chuckle. “Yes, I do believe Lilia mentioned it.” then he peered down at you again. “That begs the question... why did you accept the button from Sebek?”

“Well... that’s because...” you nibbled on your lower lip. ‘It’s not like I can tell him that I...’ you stopped walking, and when Malleus realized that you had stopped moving—he turned around to face you.

“Little one?”

“I just figured... well... I don’t think I’d ever get one.” you said in a self-deprecating tone. “So, I thought... might as well... It’s a cute tradition anyways.”

Malleus felt his brows furrow in response. He had easily noticed that your mood was not particularly bright. He frowned; he despised the things that would make you sad—it made your light dim.

Your brilliance saved him.

He would be damned before he let anything cause you to flicker out like a dying star.

When you saw his shadow approach you, you couldn’t help but flinch. You didn’t want him to look at you right now—when you know your feelings are all over your face—when you couldn’t control the way your heart hummed in pleasure—knowing he was with you.

Malleus grabbed your hands, and you swear he could probably feel the way your heartbeat moved into a rapid pace at his touch. At this proximity—Malleus’s scent—gentle but fragrant—of wildflowers and smoke—enveloped you, it made you instinctively relax. You looked at your hands as he gently pried your fingers open to take the button away from you.

“I see...”

Before your eyes, the innocent little button caught a flame and burned away.

“Malleus, that’s overdoing it—don’t you think—” when you looked up, you caught sight of the way he reached for the buttons on his uniform.

Snap.

“I wish you spoke to me first.” Malleus said softly as he pressed the button into your palms. He looked down at you, with those eyes—

Vivid greens--but so gentle, so loving.

Nobody had ever looked at you like that.

“After all, I would gladly give my heart to you, my bright light.” your eyes widened, and they began to sting.

“You can’t... you can’t just do that... You’re a fae prince... and I.... I don’t belong here... I... I...” Malleus listened intently as your breath grew uneven as you tried not to cry. “I... I don’t...” you tried to give the button back, but Malleus only pressed your fingers close. “Crowley told me I could go home...”

“You do not have to.” Malleus leaned down and lifted your head so that he could press his forehead against yours. Your eyes were too sad—too wet.

He could not believe that you thought of yourself like this.

‘You don’t understand little light... If there’s anyone who should be unworthy to bathe in your presence it would be I....’

“You could stay here, with me. You could be my Queen...” Malleus paused thoughtfully, “No... that is wrong. You already are my Queen.”

“I’m no fae. Not even a magician. Not a speck of magic in me.” your grief escaped you through your tears, “you still want that?”

‘Volatile as I was... so arrogant and self-assured in my own powers.... but you had not given up on me, little light.... that is why... I won’t let go of you either.’

"Of course.” he replied easily, “you possess more power than you think. You possess so much power over me.” he whispered, and his breath fanned over your face. “I do not mind how powerless I am against you.”

“I’m not an immortal. You... I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Oh, bright light... I would prefer to live the rest of your life by your side... rather than spend centuries contemplating what it could have felt… to hold you in my arms.” Malleus professed. You were now openly sobbing, and Malleus pressed his lips against your jaw, onto your cheeks and over your eyelids.

“And should you worry about the centuries after... that is alright my bright light. I will simply find you again.”

As he pulled away, he noticed that your breathing was still shaky, and he leaned in again to give you several more comforting kisses.

“Won’t you... get bored of me?”

“Ah... but you are such a bright spark... I will never tire of you.” He made sure to stare straight into your eyes, “I will never tire of the way you look at me, the way you blush... the way you react when I call for you—and the feel of your heart...” He moved his thumb to feel the rhythmic beat of your heart.

“Will you not… let me…have your heart too?” He found the button—his button from earlier—and pressed it once more into your palm, to remind you of his earlier gift.

‘His heart...’

“...How... can I say no?” you choked out, “Yes... of course... Malleus.... I’d... there’s never been anything I wanted more.”

He could feel his shoulders slacken in relief at your response, as he bent down to brush his lips across yours.

‘I was terrified that you would slip away from me... Thank you...’

“Then let whatever years we have together... be ours only....”

#aiwrites #aiscenarios #female reader #twisted wonderland #twst #twst scenarios #twst riddle #twst leona #twst azul #twst kalim #twst vil #twst idia #twst malleus #inspired by: lucky ending by vickeblanka and the second button tradition #ai lucky series

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joy1579 · 3 years

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self indulgent

I've been sad. so i wrote a thing to make me less sad. maybe it'll make someone else less sad too or at the very least they can laugh at my “cringe” but either way it did make me less sad so goal accomplished.

Mc and jumin organize a bookshelf jumin asks what neko girls are and MC short circuits his brain for a couple of seconds. no smut just fluff

Moving hadn’t taken long. You had opted to donate your furniture to the local homeless shelter since Jumin’s penthouse was furnished with the highest quality furniture you could dream of. Honestly most of your things paled in comparison to the lavish goods Jumin considered tawdry. Still there were a quite a few boxes you had decided to save, filled mostly with sentimental keepsakes and the few odds and ends that catered to your specific tastes. You were practically finished by noon save the three or four boxes that sat in the main room next to the larger than life bookshelves. Certainly there was plenty of room on them. You never where a fan of negative space on bookshelves but if you were being completely honest that had more to do with how many books you needed to fit in such a finite space. Jumins bookshelves had plenty of room with just enough negative space to look perfectly balanced and while you knew Jumin had told you to do whatever you wished this felt intimate. Bookshelves where holy spaces after all, housing books that change hearts and minds alike that shape the soul and … okay so maybe you just really liked books and that made them seem important to you either way this was definitely something you wanted to do with Jumin. When you heard the door rattle with Jumin homecoming you bolt towards it excited to greet him after work.

“Jumin! Welcome home!” you cried bouncing in place as he made his way inside. You smiled as you saw the creases in his brown flatten and the stress slip from shoulders when he saw you. You waited all of 5 seconds for him to close the door giving you both some privacy from the bodyguards stationed outside before you pounced, leaping upon the business man wrapping your arms around his neck. You delighted in the deep honey of his laughter as he caught your waist in kind and kissed the top of your head gently.

“darling. I’m so glad to be home. How was your day? did you get settled?” Jumin asked as you pulled yourself back slightly giving him room to loosen his tie and set aside his coat.

“everything is in its place except um Jumin there is one thing I need if you don’t mind”

“name it and its yours”

“I wanted to share your bookshelves and I was hoping that maybe you could organize the books with me?” you admitted shyly. It had seemed like such a good idea in the beginning he could show you his favorite books, walk you through his favorite plots and tell you his favorite quotes and you could do the same with him. Yet now as you presented the idea to him you worried. What if he was to tired he had worked all day after all, what if he thought you too needy, or your books to childish. what if he didn’t want your books displayed in the living room because they weren’t very pretty, all of his books where gorgeous leather bound tomes or mint condition hardcovers, yours where second hand at best many where decommissioned library books or garage sale rescues, broken in battered and bruised by years of use. It would make sense to have them put away in a back room where they couldn’t tarnish the pristine collection Jumin had on display. Perhaps you where spiraling, working yourself into a nervous frenzy in the span of a few seconds.

“nothing would make me happier love. We can call the chef to start dinner and begin emptying the shelves for rearranging while he works.” You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face or the giggle that escaped your lips. The surprise on Jumins face was evident if only for a second before it gave way to a warm sort of fondness. “had I known simple redecorating would make you this happy I would have stayed home and done it all with you” he said affectionately running his fingers through your hair.

“it’s not that I just,” you paused face flushing a bit “books are a big deal, ya know? My dad used to tell me that every book you read becomes a part of you and that you can learn more about someone by the books they love than by the words they say so I wanted to share that with you” jumins eyes where so soft and gentle in that moment you felt your breath hitch “I want to know everything about you and, and I want you to know everything about me” suddenly his lips where on yours fervent and full of passion the hand that had been in your hair now on your chin guiding you too him. The kiss was short and when you parted from him he stayed close, just a hairs breath from your face.

Jumin voice was little more than a whisper as he asked “how is it that every day I manage to fall more in love with you?” you couldn’t help but lean forward and kiss him again an all too familiar giddiness bubbling its way through your soul. You loved this man more than life itself and you knew that would never change.

“so your ‘Encyclopedia of Fairies’ should go next to the Catherynne M Valente series so we can reference it while reading agreed?” you giggled thrilled that his collection of mythological reference books slotted together with your fae fiction so perfectly. Puzzle pieces connecting to create a masterpiece.

“yes I think that’s perfect. I can’t wait to read her interpretation of such ancient mythos. I also have ‘The World Guide to Gnomes, Fairies, Elves and Other Little People’ if you’d like to add it to that shelf” he said grinning like a child at show and tell.

“oh my goodness yes! That’s perfect and your book on Romanian vampires should be near my ‘Dracula’ and ‘vittorio’ that way that shelf over there can be dedicated to the occult, hauntings, and psychic reference books”

“that sound wonderful and takes care of all the written word but we still haven’t found a place for your comics” Jumin informed glancing toward the woefully large stack of manga you had brought.

“not comic Jumin manga and yeah I think we’re out of space though. I um I didn’t think I had that many books. Sorry” you admitted not meeting his eyes. He tilted your head up to look at him.

“there’s no need to apologize it simply means that tomorrow we can go shopping for another shelf and the next day we can organize those. I’m quite curious about ‘la petite cossette’ you said these where Japanese but that is most certainly a French title.”

“oh I actually think you’d like that one a lot it’s about a man who falls in love with a woman in a cursed portrait its actually pretty tragic in the end.”

“How interesting” he mused retrieving it from the pile of books and skimming through it “the art is truly enchanting and you said that manga has its own subculture?”

“yeah from neko girls to shonen action tropes it has its own vocabulary, history and groups of people its really fun”

“neko girls?” Jumin repeated and your eyes widened at his confusion. This was definitely something he of all people should know about! You jumped up and sprinted to the closet you had filled earlier that day with the few cosplay supplies you had. At the time it had taken nearly half your pay check but if Jumin liked them right now the purchase then would be completely justified. You put on your surprise as quickly as possible before rushing back out to greet Jumin who had just made it to the edge of the living room to come find where you had gone. He froze for a second processing what you were now wearing. White cat ears that moved and twitched fairly believably and just as he was able to cope with that your made paws with your hands and tried your best “nya”. For a moment you feared you may have broken him. He didn’t move his face blank, eyes fixed on you. You tried again hoping to spur some sort of reaction from him “nya?” you said turning to the side slightly to show off the other half of your surprise a white tail complete with pink bow and bell at the base where it attached to your skirt. You tilted your head to look up at him through your lashes trying every trick in your arsenal to look as cute as possible but nothing. He was completely frozen. “Jumin? Hello?” now you were getting worried “darling are you okay?” you asked placing the back of your hand on his forehead to feel for a temperature. The second your hand touched him however his face flushed.

“neko girl.” He muttered “that’s neko as in cat” you could see him trying to calm himself. Fiddling with his shirt sleeves and attempting to stay in control. You smiled standing on your tip toes to kiss his cheek and whisper in his ear.

“am I a good little kitten at least?” you couldn’t contain your giggle as you heard him choke slightly before scooping you up bridal style.

“certainly not, in fact I think you’ve been a very bad little kitten.” He said his voice deeper than normal as he carried you back towards the bedroom.

#Jumin #jumin x mc #jumin han #mm jumin #jumin fluff

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weirdoldmanhoho · 3 years

Note

do u have any fic recs?

Sorry it took me years to answer this! The truth was I really hadn't read many FMA fics (at least not since the FF days) and was waiting until I actually had some recs to give.

And now I have some! My list will surprise no one, I'm sure.

Soul Friends by KyberHearts

“They were not always, and simply, two minds in one body. Towards the latter part of their alliance, especially in the heat of battle and warmongering, their souls could not distinguish where the prince began and the sin ended.”

Ling Yao returns to Xing to seal his fate as the next Emperor and sets his plans for reunification and peace in motion.

Elsewhere, Alphonse Elric reconciles with the very Truth that stole his body.

I absolutely love the way this fic writes post-canon Alphonse and his relationship with Truth.

Damaged by xmypandabear

'"He's still in the hospital too, with the Lieutenant," Alphonse said dully. "Blood loss - someone slit her throat..." Ed stared up at the ceiling, remembered the scientist with the gold tooth, and shuddered at the image his brain conjured of the Lieutenant lying on the floor. "But Mei helped her! So, they're sharing a room - the Colonel and Hawkeye, I mean, not Mei, 'cause the Colonel can't use his hands yet, so she's helping him..."

"His hands?" Ed tried to remember.

"It's how they forced him to do it," Al whispered. "They pinned him down so he couldn't move."

Ed fought back nausea. The sense of wrong, wrong, wrong pervaded every sense of his being. How the fuck was any of that equivalent exchange?'

Love me a good post-promised day healing and processing fic. This one focuses a lot on how Al, Ed, Winry, and Roy are all doing immediately post-promised day and the relationships between all those characters.

Joining of Hands by ehmazing

If you're not breaking a couple of laws, is it really an Elric wedding?

Truly, the best thing about an AlMei wedding is all the hijinks and complications the come from foreign customs and marrying into royalty.

Legends by Elfpen

Alphonse Elric has been living and studying in Xing for a little more than a year and a half. Now, Ling has asked him - ordered him - to take on a new responsibility and fill the shoes vacated by Van Hohenheim four centuries ago. But what use are legends, really, when they're all frauds? The Son of Heaven and the Son of the Western Sage see it differently.

You ever find a fic that just feels completely catered to you and your interests? I love everything about this fic. Alphonse in Xing and the weird politics he has to maneuver as not only an incredibly skilled foreign alchemist but a close friend of the emperor's - all at a young age. His relationship with Hohenheim and the grief and confusion that comes from never really getting to KNOW Hohenheim and now having to come face to face with the lasting impact his father left on a foreign country. Ling scheming. It's all very, very good.

The Principle of Mentalism by The-Immortal-Moon (LunaKat)

There’s a woman with a wrench and a penchant for alcoholism, and what he doesn’t know is that she’s going to change everything.

Another fic that feels like it was written specifically for my interests. This one explores Pinako and Hohenheim's first meeting and how a rowdy mechanic from Resembool and a reserved guilt-written immortal from Xerxes ever became friends in the first place. Features Hohenheim and his one million soul friends and a young awkward Pinako who I want to give SUCH a big hug to. I love it so much.

We'll be Holding on Forever by zipadeea

"Hohenheim left them to save the world. But Dad loved them more than everything in the world."

AU where Alphonse gets his body back a little earlier on the Promised Day.

It changes nothing.

It changes everything.

Read this if you want to cry. It focuses on Ed and Hohenheim's relationship and it is full of pain but also healing and understanding. Great quick read.

ticket stubs and your diaries by nerdywriiterchild

Alphonse Elric is almost fifteen. He will never know Xerxes.

This one is short but packs a powerful emotional punch and a really interesting character study into only a few paragraphs. Explores the really interesting question: what is it like to mourn a culture you're a part of but will never really know?

Briding Her Time in Wait

The wedding date was set. Winry and Ling had screamed at one another for months during the preparation out of a mutual need for their childhood friend and half-sister to have the most incredible wedding in the history of either Amestris or Xing, and as a result the wedding canopy suffered from a unique blend of western and eastern traditions that left guests from both sides of the desert confused and requesting refills on drinks that didn’t exist. Still, the two wedding planners manipulated the day into running smoothly, Ling pulling his Emperor card when necessary, Winry pulling her, well, Winry card when necessary, while Ed and Lan Fan stood awkwardly around the food table making small talk that mostly consisted of complaints about automail. By the time the golden groom was ushered through a beautification process that left him requiring an escort to avoid the various women—and men—attempting to seduce him at the last minute, the guests were settled and the wedding was ready to roll.

Except no one knew where the hell the bride had gone.

I'm always a sucker for Scar and Mei's relationship.

One More Time, With Feeling

In the end the Elric brothers laughed over the irony: The traveller had settled to write books on alchemy while juggling two boisterous children blessed with Rockbell rockheadedness and Elric recklessness, and the settler had taken to travelling between Amestris and Xing for the remainder of his life. It came, really, with having two homes.

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

A bird could love a fish, but where would they live?

This one explores Alphonse's relationship with Mei post-series and is VERY in line with how I picture it. Being in love with a foreign princess in line for the throne with a duty to her people and country would make for a very complicated and often strained relationship.

Magic and Mind by Preelikeswriting

Of all things Edward was prepared for as the day of reckoning grew near, being transported from one world on the edge of war to another was not one of them.

AKA: Edward gets accidentally summoned by Death Eaters, and neither party is happy.

(Pre-Promise Day, HP book 5)

Ok so preface: I rarely like crossover fics and I very rarely like HP crossover fics, but this one just works for me. I think what I like so much about it is that Edward doesn't just get thrown into the world of HP and join the golden trio / order and start fighting Voldemort. Oh no. He does not care about their fight at all. He just wants to get back home and will do anything he needs to to achieve that, even if it makes him look like he's working with Death Eaters or going against Harry and friends.

I think the fun of this fic is that it kind of plays around with the fact that the READER knows who the good guys are of each series and would expect them to join forces. Sure, Ed is the Good Guy of FMA and Harry and friends are the Good Guys of HP, but Ed's goals don't really align with Harry's goals and so they're not really working together, and Ed kind of comes off looking shady af to the HP characters despite the fact that the reader knows why he's doing what he's doing. It's a far more interesting take on Ed goes to HP world than "Ed immediately joins the fight against Voldemort."

The series has three works so far and I haven't finished it, but I really loved the first and what I've read of the second. It also eventually heads into Ed/Draco territory which is not a ship I would have initially read but.....kind of works for me here.

#fic rec #fanfic #van hohenheim #alphonse elric #ask

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biaswreckme · 3 years

Text

looking for something right | jjk/knj

Summary: When Jungkook needs to find a new apartment with a roommate to share expenses, he thinks that the universe must be either laughing at him or conspiring in his favor. Because when he finally finds an ad that fits his budget, his roommate is the tall and handsome man from the coffee shop.

Pairing: Namjoon/Jungkook

Member: Namjoon, Jungkook, Jimin, Yoongi

Length: 3568 words

Genre: smut, fluff

Type of AU: roommates au, university au, coffee shop au (kinda) (yes i used all my favorite tropes and aus in one fic)

Rating: 18+

Triggers/Warnings: heavy pining, slightly dom!Namjoon, slightly sub!JK, dry humping, handjob, dirty talking

Project: @thebtswritersclub April project with the theme Bloom 🌸

A/N: A huge thanks to my lobely beta-readers @taegularities AND @voiceswithoutlips for help in revising and editing ♥ and also @voiceswithoutlips for the conversation that inspired the smutty scene :3

cross-posted on AO3 too!

Jungkook had seen him around campus before, more specifically in his favorite small coffee shop just outside the university that was much cheaper and actually catered to students’ financial range when it came to prices. He always had a book with him - usually a tome so big Jungkook thought he could do some real damage to someone with it -, reading and taking notes in the margins, which Jungkook thought was an atrocity, but the other boy didn’t seem bothered or apologetic.

He must be an early riser, because he was always there before he arrived, a steaming cup of hot coffee on the table and a bottle of water next to a small open pencil case and sticky notes. He looked too well-put together to be an undergrad, so he assumed he was a grad student. Philosophy maybe? Or something that demanded a constant consumption of large books. And maybe - just maybe - Jungkook shouldn’t have been spending so much on coffee when he could be brewing it at his apartment, but his apartment didn’t have the tall boy - man? - to discreetly look at while having his morning drink.

What his apartment did have was Jimin, his close friend and dance major that moved from Busan at the same time as him. They’d been sharing a place for some time now, but things were about to change. Jungkook knew this had been coming, but the day Jimin came home announcing that he’d been accepted for a scholarship abroad and that he would need to move soon came as a shock. He was extremely happy for him, but they would need to rush the process of moving out and Jungkook finding a new place or roommate.

They opted to let the apartment go, and so Jungkook began his search for a new place to share. He’d looked at listings, visited some places that were out of his budget, and then he found it. It was a small poster at the coffee shop’s cork board from a guy named Namjoon; the place was a block away and it fit perfectly into his budget and what he wanted for the location. It seemed too perfect; there had to be a catch, right? He texted the number - who calls anyone these days anyways? - and arranged to meet him at the coffee shop the next day before classes.

The catch. Oh, there was a catch.

He entered the place as usual, and the only person there was the tall man with a book on the table, steaming drink in his hand. He looked up at Jungkook who froze for a second, nodding his head and going to the counter quickly, barely mumbling his order to the barista trying to not freak out at the eye contact. So he avoided it for the next few minutes, until he heard his name being called out. What? How did he know his name?

“Jungkook?” the man repeated.

“Yes?” he took a deep breath and turned around at the sound of the deep voice.

“I’m Namjoon,” he introduced himself, standing up and motioning for Jungkook to join him at the table. No, no, no. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be him. The universe had to be joking. “Nice to meet you.” He reached out to shake Jungkook’s hand.

He was touching him. And he smelled so good. And his voice was so deep. Jungkook felt like a schoolgirl with her first crush, sighing at the very sight of Namjoon, whose name he now knew. He nodded in response and looked at the counter, trying to take a break from that smile, pretending he was checking if his order was ready. It was not.

“So, you’re interested in the apartment, right?”

“Ah, yeah… my friend and roommate right now, Jimin, you might have seen him around campus? He’s an amazing contemporary dancer, so he got this incredible and super rare scholarship to go study at this academy... I forgot the name,” he shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts and stop his rambling - to no avail, “anyway he’s moving too soon and I need to find a new place but everything’s so expensive. Yours fits the budget and is so close to uni and I couldn’t help but check you out, I mean, check it out…” He closed his eyes in embarrassment at the slip up, hearing Namjoon’s soft chuckle.

“Alright. What are you studying? Undergrad or grad school?”

“Media. Photography, film making, this stuff. I’m into it. I mean. Excuse me,” he was saved by the barista calling him, and as soon as he got back to the table, he took a sip, burning his tongue - but at least it stopped him from babbling for a second. “Undergrad still,” he complemented.

“Cool. I’m in grad school for social studies, so I’m a TA, but I also work with music production,” Namjoon began, but upon Jungkook’s raised eyebrows and brown eyes rounding up, he continued. “I wanted to get a better grasp on understanding society, so I can write better lyrics and try to integrate that into the music writing itself, you know?”

Jungkook nodded, fascinated. So he was cute and smart. And captivating. The interview didn’t really seem like one; it was so easy to fall into conversation with Namjoon that he did not notice time passing, and soon enough they were cut short, remembering they still had classes to attend.

“Alright, Jungkook. You don’t seem like a serial killer, so how about you visit the apartment to see if you like it?”

Jungkook choked on the last sip of his drink, and he really wanted to answer that he did not need to see the apartment to know he liked him, but he managed to catch himself before letting it out. He knew what Namjoon was seeing right now: his eyes wide open in shock, maybe even a light blush on his cheeks? His ears certainly felt hot. Dear lord, he needed to get a grip on himself.

“I’m not a serial killer, I promise. I’m a law abiding citizen. When are you free? I have classes the whole day today, but I’m free around lunchtime.” Jungkook wanted to dig a hole and hide right in there. Did he sound too eager?

“The sooner the better, but wait,” Namjoon stopped midway while getting up, looking very serious all of a sudden, “I forgot a very important question that might change my mind.”

Jungkook inhaled deeply, dreading the question that was about to come. Did he seem too forward and let the other man know he was into him? Would that be a deal breaker?

“Can you cook?”

“Ah… yes?” Jungkook was caught by surprise, confusion stamped on his face again. “Yes, I can. The basics at least.”

“Oh great! I can’t cook to save my life and I can’t really afford to live on take out anymore, so… we can work something out with that for sure!” He laughed, those dimples adorning his cheeks appearing again.

Soon Jungkook would learn that not only could Namjoon not cook, but he was actually a disaster and walking hazard in the kitchen. The man didn’t even know to properly hold a cutting knife to chop some vegetables or kimchi for a simple plate of fried rice. They attempted cooking together one time and that was enough for Jungkook. That was his kitchen from now on, Namjoon would be responsible for other chores but he himself would do all the cooking in the kitchen. Namjoon was even forbidden from boiling water on an electric kettle; that was the level of disaster-waiting-to-happen that he was.

The apartment was cozy and filled with books and musical equipment, and soon enough Jungkook’s filming materials were sharing the same space. It warmed his heart to come home in the evenings after class and see how his camera bag would be sitting beside Namjoon’s headphones, or how his black chunky sneakers rested beside the other man’s boots at the entrance. Whenever he put on or took off his shoes - which was almost every single day of the week, mind you - he would get a fuzzy feeling in his stomach. He would tilt his head quickly to try and shake the thoughts away, not letting himself hope too much. He had no idea or indication if Namjoon even liked men, and he had no idea why he was even wishing for something more.

He was not exactly sure if he could pinpoint the precise moment in time when his adoration had turned into real infatuation with Namjoon. Maybe it was the fact that the older one was a disaster in the kitchen and always thanked Jungkook, each and every single meal the younger one cooked. Maybe it was the look he sported whenever he was engrossed in a book, glasses almost falling off his nose before a finger would softly push it back up (and Jungkook had found out that he only used his glasses comfortably at home, preferring contacts whenever he was out).

Maybe it was the way he always listened to Jungkook’s ramblings, no matter the topic of interest, from deep art films he had to watch (and Namjoon would actually sit down and watch with him) to the new game he’d been playing. Maybe it was the way he would always wish him a good morning and a good night with that dimpled smile. Maybe it was the way he offered to produce a freaking song to be used as a soundtrack to one of Jungkook’s short films. Maybe it was the way they ended up watching the first snowfall of the season together, side by side, looking out of the living room window. Maybe it was the way Namjoon’s left arm enveloped Jungkook’s shoulders in a soft side hug while they watched the snowflakes drift down and when Jungkook didn’t move, those dimples appeared on his cheeks.

But that was the only physical proximity for a while. The next day Jungkook could barely look at Namjoon and spent the day over at Yoongi’s place. He arrived just in time when Jimin was video calling his boyfriend, and proceeded to freak out about watching the first snow of the season together and it had to mean something, right? He put his arm around him while they stood in front of the window, Jimin, what the hell did it mean?

All the while Yoongi watched him with a cocked head, as if he was thinking hard about something, and then an amused smile shaped his lips. Jungkook thought it must have been because he had never had such a strong reaction for a boy - a man - before, especially one who was his roommate. Was it a brotherly hug? Namjoon hadn’t said anything or done anything else, did it mean he was interested in him or did he see Jungkook as a little brother? He was full of questions and asking them to the wrong people for sure, but he did not want to risk the little he had with Namjoon.

It was winter. The small affectionate moments he had with Namjoon were keeping him going, fueling and warming his heart enough to get through the coldest season. They watched movies together on the couch, huddled up under a blanket with cups of tea warming their hands. Going to the coffee shop in the morning for a cup of coffee before classes. Namjoon waiting for him outside the media building with a cup of hot chocolate in the evenings when he had classes later, walking back to the apartment together. Watching Namjoon work, focused on creating the loop he had been struggling with for a while, nothing seemed to fulfill what he wanted. Namjoon watching him work, editing an experimental short film he filmed for a class group project.

The freezing weeks passed like that, with Jungkook cooking different types of jjigae for them, Namjoon being allowed back in the kitchen mostly to keep him company, telling Jungkook he was hungry and will it take much longer?

He visited Yoongi once a week, calling Jimin together so he could freely talk about his growing fondness for Namjoon and get some advice he was keeping for when he thought the timing was right. Yoongi told him he had to create the right timing and he would actually probably be surprised if he acted on his desires. But Yoongi couldn’t know. He still had no clue about the mystery that was Namjoon’s love life, only that he had never taken anyone to the apartment.

Whether he was even interested in that, Jungkook had no idea, but he also had no courage to ask. Jimin suggested he did what he knew best: work with images. So he had been filming small snippets of their lives, their walks to their coffee shop, comfortable scenes at the apartment when no one else was looking but Jungkook through the camera lenses. Sometimes Namjoon asked to film Jungkook too, or positioned the camera so both of them were caught in the recording.

Winter went and spring came. Just as the flowers were starting to blossom on the street outside their windows, Jungkook was getting ready to show Namjoon the film. As he edited throughout the weeks, he noticed more than once how fondly he would look at the older man, and he could almost swear the gaze was reciprocated when he was not looking, but he didn’t want to get his hopes up. He made Yoongi promise he could crash at his place for a while in case things got weird and Namjoon kicked him out, to which Yoongi had let out a full laugh, something the boy had never heard before, and merely gave him a Sure, almost as if he was mocking Jungkook.

And so the day came. He chose the perfect song, adjusting his editing to fit the rhythm and lyrics, hoping it would express his love. Yes, he would call it love. He fell in love with the good person that the man was, with all the small quirks and imperfections.

He told Namjoon he had something to show, that he had finally finished his project and wanted to him to see. He waited for Namjoon to come back from his day out nervously, heart racing as he made them some tea while the man showered and got into more comfortable clothes. The video was ready to be played and Jungkook almost gave up, but decided this was the time.

He could not hide his feelings anymore.

And so he pressed play and closed his eyes. He had heard that song over and over again while editing, perfecting each millisecond of the final product. His heart was beating almost as loudly as the song, the sound filling his ears, his fingers clenching the fabric of his oversized black t-shirt, a shaky breath leaving his nose when he heard the final notes.

“Jungkook?”

He took a deep breath before opening his eyes, suddenly finding Namjoon’s face much closer than he was expecting, the man’s eyes staring into his own.

“I love you, too.”

The words had barely registered in his brain - although they had been imprinted on his heart - when Namjoon’s pillowy lips pressed softly against his, one of the man’s hands caressing his cheek, wiping at a tear he did not notice had fallen. He sighed into the kiss, relief perpassing his entire body. He loved him. When it finally clicked for him, his brain finally sent the necessary signals that made his arms go around Namjoon’s neck, his fingers entangling in the man’s hair and pulling him even closer. They moaned almost in synchrony when their tongues touched for the first time, Jungkook’s body almost undulating in a way that made Namjoon tug his hips towards himself, making the younger man sit on his lap.

“Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this for a long time,” the older broke the kiss, staring into Jungkook’s eyes, “been waiting for you,” he murmured against the younger’s lips. As their mouths clashed in an open-mouthed kiss, Namjoon pulled Jungkook’s longer hair, making him bend back so he could have access to the expanse of his neck.

Jungkook moaned when Namjoon’s lips pressed onto his skin, licking and biting and sucking and definitely leaving some marks, and all he could do was clutch the older’s biceps, shifting his hips to try and alleviate some of the pressure that was making his pants tighter. The hand that was not entangled in Jungkook’s dark strands made its way down his body, grabbing a firm buttcheek first, then going to the younger’s hip.

“Wanna ride me?” Namjoon asked low on Jungkook’s ear, biting his lobe after.

“Yes, hyung” the word came out as a whine from Jungkook’s lips, his hips starting to move aided by Namjoon’s firm grip. “Your thighs…” he started, but couldn’t continue when he adjusted his hips just right and his hard erection pressed against one of Namjoon’s thighs.

“Yeah? I’ve seen you looking at them, Kook. So go on, ride my thigh, come on,” he said as he flexed his muscles, his other hand joining the one at Jungkook’s hip, one on each side now to help him move, to watch him fall apart.

Jungkook just closed his eyes and surrendered, his hips moving on their own accord, pressing his cock closer and closer to Namjoon’s, soft whines and pleas tumbling out of his mouth as he lost himself in the movements. It was too much and not enough, his erection pressing just right so his skin glided back and forth on the fabric of his underwear stimulated by the older’s thigh, the couch too small for this - yet he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else at the moment. He needed it, and the sense of urgency overtook his body, his movements more frantic as he gripped the older’s hair and kissed him sloppily, letting out his breathy whimper against Namjoon’s lips. He wanted it.

“I’m… I’m close, hyung,” he had to pause to whimper again, a shiver going through his body from how close he was. “I want to touch you, hyung.”

“Touch me, Kook, make me cum with you, hold on just a bit,” Namjoon all but moaned into his lips when one of the younger’s hands reached into his pants.

Namjoon’s cock was heavy and hard and big, yet the skin was so soft in his hand, and Jungkook immediately closed his fist around it, his palm wet from the precum that had already gathered on the bulbous head, aiding his movement. And if Jungkook thought Namjoon’s speaking voice was deep, his mind and ears were certainly not prepared for the low guttural moan leaving those swollen lips, his own hips stuttering, pleasure coursing through his entire body, from the tip of his toes to the ends of his hair, his cock pulsating with release inside his pants as he pressed it against the strong thigh beneath him. He took a second to breathe and enjoy the tingling in his body, but soon noticed his hand had stopped. His gaze met Namjoon’s, his hand moving up and down inside the man’s pants.

“Cum for me, hyung, please,” he begged, wanting to pay attention to that moment of euphoria when it crossed his hyung’s face. And so it did; he watched as Namjoon threw his head back on headrest of the couch, hips raising and fucking into the tight grip around his cock, that heavy moan escaping his lips again as Jungkook felt the thickness of the release coating his hand. But he kept moving, prolonging Namjoon’s pleasure until it became too much and his hand was stopped, a smile stamped on the older man’s face.

There were no words needed for a while, until it seemed to finally click for Jungkook.

“Wait, you said you love me too.”

“I’ve been trying to express it for a while... And your eyes do this cute thing where they widen whenever you think you are caught and should change your gaze, so I noticed you were interested too. Plus Yoongi told me.”

“Wait, what?” He turned his head fast to look at Namjoon again, “You know Yoongi-hyung?”

And so he explained how they’ve known each other for years and how they’ve collaborated in music production before, under the names of RM and Agust D. He’d heard of RM, even heard Yoongi mentioning it more than once, and thinking back, he kept talking about RM more and more after he moved in with Namjoon. Oh. And then he remembered Yoongi’s smirks and head shakes, his certainty that Jungkook would not be turned down.

“You still haven’t said it.”

“I love you, Namjoon-hyung.”

And as Jungkook woke up the next morning, warm and cozy under Namjoon’s blankets, legs entangled and bodies pressed together, he breathed easier, lighter, happier. And he made a mental note to thank Jimin for applying for that scholarship and being so good that he’d gotten it. Maybe he would have met RM at some point, but he didn’t want to think of other possibilities. Living together and falling in love, getting to know each other was perfect for now.

They met in autumn, got closer through the cold days in winter, and their love bloomed in spring.

He could barely wait to see what summer had in storage for them.

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