#'it's a small orange creature - unlike anything from your world' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

delimeful · 3 years ago

Text

mere monstrosity (1)

warnings: spiders, misunderstandings, captivity

Logan woke up to the familiar soft chime of his alarm, and rolled out of bed bleary-eyed but ready to get the day started. He kept quiet as he crept out of the room.

He didn’t bother grabbing his glasses, knowing that they’d only be of use after his shower. His feet knew the way from his bedroom to the bathroom by heart, and he preferred to shower in the dark to avoid the likelihood of getting one of his light-sensitivity migraines, so he didn’t reach for the lightswitch either.

Instead, he pushed quietly past the half-open door and fumbled for the shower knob, cranking it up to exactly the point before it turned scalding.

The water flickered on a moment later, and amidst the clamor of droplets against ceramic, he heard an indistinct, high-pitched noise, like a chirp or squeak.

“A mouse?” he muttered to himself, squinting at the dark, blurry interior of the shower.

He couldn’t hear anything else over the spray, so he quickly turned the shower off and stepped back to flick the lightswitch on, potential headaches be damned.

He pulled the shower curtain fully to the side, and blinked at the sight of a blurry black splotch in the corner of his bathtub. Leaning in a little further, he could briefly make out individual legs, long and numerous, before they were pulled closer and blended in with the rest of the shape.

“You are… a considerably large spider,” he informed it, grateful that it was him and not Patton who had found it. The resulting terrified shriek would have woken him and Janus, and probably most of the neighbors for that matter. “Are you a tarantula? Are tarantulas even native to this area?”

The spider, rather predictably, didn’t respond, and Logan recalled that he’d just doused the poor thing with jets of cold water. It was probably curling all its limbs in a mock death-curl, trying to process the unexpected threat to its breathing and body temperature.

He reached over to the counter and carefully removed the collection of multicolored toothbrushes from the plastic cup next to their sink, tapping it against the side of the counter to clear out any remaining dust.

“Try to stay still, alright?” he coaxed in a low voice, crouching and leaning over the tub to get a better angle. “I don’t want to catch any of your limbs, just keep them all tucked in close like that and I’ll get you out of there.”

To his surprise, the spider really didn’t make any sudden moves, remaining frozen as he settled the cup over it. The only reason he was sure it was still alive was the tiny motion of its front legs, two little investigative nudges against the edge of the cup.

“Excellent job,” he praised, his curiosity only growing. Most of the spiders he had cupped would immediately run at the glass with arms lifted in threat, or run in frantic circles along the edges seeking an escape. Of course, none of them had been this large. Most wild tarantulas were hunters, though, not spinners. Aggression would serve them well, so why was this one so docile? Was it an escaped pet? Had the cold water been that shocking?

He quickly retrieved a folder from the living room, returning to find that the plastic cup had shifted a couple of inches. It was large enough to push it, then.

“Just a little bit more,” he continued to soothe, carefully sliding the folder under the cup bit by bit, allowing the spider time to shift its legs onto the folder so the tips wouldn’t be pinched. He then carefully lifted the whole ensemble up, keeping a cautious hand on top of the cup. “There we go.”

The kitchen was dimly lit, the small light under the microwave still on so that anyone getting water in the middle of the night wouldn’t trip or run into anything in the dark. Logan glanced at the front door for a long moment, and then gave in to the urge to investigate his catch a bit closer. It would be irresponsible to just release a domesticated tarantula into the wild, after all.

He set the cup and folder down carefully on the counter, and then placed a heavy ceramic plate on top of the cup, reasoning that it was better to make sure the spider wouldn’t push the cup-- and itself-- right off the counter.

“One moment.” That done, he went into his room to retrieve his glasses, leaving the light off so as to not wake up Janus, who had only gotten in from his night shift a few hours ago. His roommate normally slept heavily once he managed to get to sleep, so Logan didn’t have to worry about waking him by climbing out of their shared bed, but better not to risk turning the lights on in the first place.

The world came into a much clearer focus once he’d pushed his glasses into their proper place atop his nose, and with his vision improved, he had no problems finding the hall closet and rummaging through it for one of Janus’s old terrariums.

He set the glass case down on the kitchen counter without any furnishings inside-- he was only planning to get a good look at the specimen, after all-- and flicked on the kitchen light before carefully moving the trapped spider into the terrarium and then lifting the cup away.

The spider frantically scuttled back, smacking thorax-first into the glass wall of the terrarium, and Logan frowned contemplatively at the sight of it.

It was certainly a tarantula, one that he’d probably be able to find online fairly easily with the distinctive white stripes along it’s eight fuzzy legs. Concerningly enough, there was an odd swelling protrusion on the anterior part of the body. It was a similar dark shade to the rest of the body, but almost larger than the thorax, and it blocked off any sight of the pedipalps, fangs, or eyes.

The texture didn’t seem to match the carapace… Perhaps it was a piece of garbage or organic waste that had gotten stuck on the creature? If it hindered movement, that could explain why it had been so still earlier.

It wasn’t still now, exhibiting an odd vibrating throughout its body that Logan had never witnessed from a spider before. He would certainly be doing some research into arthropods after this.

Well, at the very least, he could see if that protruding material would come loose.

Logan carefully pulled on one of Janus’s thick leather gloves, one of the more worn sets in case the spider had urticating hairs, and then reached down. The spider seemed to spot his shadow, going by the way it stiffened, and he reminded himself that though he didn’t know the species and many tarantulas were venomous, it was incredibly unlikely their venom would be able to do more than hurt him.

Confidence restored, he continued reaching down until his fingers met the odd lump, at which point a low, guttural hiss sounded, and the spider threw its front legs up and lunged, slapping its limbs down against the floor of the terrarium in threat.

Logan remained undeterred by the small tantrum, instead focusing on the fact that the obstruction was loose, almost like shed skin on a snake. Studying the spider carefully, he pinched it gently between two fingers, trying to discern what in the world it could possibly be.

The next three movements happened in rapid succession.

First, Logan tugged lightly at the material caught between his fingers. Second, the spider recoiled sharply, pulling away from his grip with surprising strength. And third, the covering came loose, the spider pulling free from it and leaving a limp swathe of fabric hanging from Logan’s fingers.

Below him, now uncovered, there was pale skin, a mop of bedraggled hair, and a tiny, terrified human face.

Logan froze, staring down at it-- them with wide eyes.

The being he’d mistaken for a spider was actually a drider, a creature of myth that was apparently all too real. Logan couldn’t help how stunned he felt. Even apart from the shock of the discovery, there was the shock of their size. Driders were said to have a human-sized spider half, not the other way around!

Below, the drider was still frozen in place, staring right back up at him. He could see the way their little chest was heaving with quick, panicked breaths, could feel the way the tiny makeshift poncho in his hand was sodden and cold, and he felt guilt strike him like a ruler across knuckles.

“I-- Hold on a moment, please,” he managed, his mind racing as he stepped back, turning and hurrying out of the room.

Once again, the hall closet held exactly what he needed, and he mentally rescinded all his past complaints about the amount of extra snake care items Janus had stashed away in their storage closet like a dragon’s hoard.

The heat lamp was compact enough to fit easily in the terrarium, where the spider-person had scuttled back to press themself into the furthest corner, limbs pulled in tightly in what had to be a fear response.

Logan set the lamp carefully inside and plugged it in, sighing in relief when the bulb lit up and began to glow orange. “This lamp is designed for reptiles, not arthropods, so it may be too hot for extended use. However, it will work temporarily as a heat source to get rid of excess moisture, so I encourage you to use it.”

The drider was glaring up at him with the tiniest scowl he’d ever seen, front legs still lifted up defensively, but didn’t say a word.

“Do you speak?” Logan asked, and received only silence in return. “I suppose I should have guessed as much, seeing as you haven’t responded to any of my previous statements. Do you understand me? Do we speak the same language?”

The drider glared harder.

“I find it hard to believe that you have animal-level intelligence,” Logan continued, now mostly to himself. He lifted a hand, displaying the poncho he still held. “Although some birds can ‘sew’, construction of clothing to cover one’s form is a complex and distinctly human sentiment.”

Still, nothing. Their gaze was caught by the poncho for a moment before they looked away entirely, looking for all the world to be sulking.

Logan sighed, and then slowly moved to place the poncho next to the heat lamp, laying it out flat for easier drying. “I’m going to attend to my morning routine. It should only take me a few moments, but please feel free to call or make noise if you need my attention between now and then.”

The drider’s expression had eased into confusion at the sight of their garment laid out before them, but their legs remained warily upright as Logan left the room.

As promised, he only made a brief stop to make sure both of his roommates were still soundly asleep before climbing into the shower and preparing himself for the day, roughly fifteen minutes behind schedule.

It wasn’t too disruptive-- it had eaten into the time he normally allotted for sitting at the table and eating breakfast, so that would have to be skipped today, but it wasn’t the end of the world.

Honestly, he’d likely spend the rest of the day thinking about the surprise addition to his morning. There were so many questions he’d love to ask, but seeing as the creature had attempted to hide their existence even at risk of being perceived as a normal spider (and therefore possibly squashed), he expected he wouldn’t be receiving any answers.

Talkative or not, the drider clearly had sapient levels of intelligence, and Logan was loath to start off humanity’s relationship with a vulnerable and secretive species by keeping them trapped in a snake terrarium against their will.

Even if he was willing to weigh scientific advancement over his morals, his roommates would never allow it. Patton would naturally be terrified and possibly sympathetic when witnessing their clear terror, and he’d had enough extensive debates on ethics with Janus to know that his opinion on keeping them captive would be much the same.

So, when he returned to the kitchen and saw them toppling over and scurrying back from the heat lamp that they’d clearly been attempting to use as a makeshift ladder to freedom, Logan didn’t bother commenting, simply moving forward and looking them over.

“You seem to have mostly dried,” he stated instead, able to appreciate the subtle design work of the poncho better now that it wasn’t being used as camouflage. The drider gripped it like they thought he might take it away.

They would react fairly badly to him reaching out with his hand, and reasonably so. Logan hadn’t exactly done much except douse, capture, and then gently interrogate them. Not exactly trustworthy behavior.

He studied the terrarium for a moment before grabbing a washcloth and draping it over the side, providing an easy textured surface for the spider to climb up. There. “You are free to go.”

The surprised expression that flashed across their face was almost comical.

“I’m not sure what your purpose in the bathroom was, but I’d ask you to be more careful in the future. One of my roommates…,” Logan sighed through his nose, exasperated even imagining it. “Well, suffice to say you should avoid him at all costs.”

The tiny drider continued to stare at him, gaze occasionally flickering over to the towel with clear suspicion. It was saddening to be so distrusted, but perhaps this show of goodwill would help prove that he didn’t intend any harm? He hoped he hadn’t frightened them from the residence entirely-- he shuddered at the many, many potential dangers the creature would find outside.

“My roommates will wake later in the day, so if you intend to avoid their notice, I’d suggest leaving the enclosure as soon as I have departed for work,” he gave a little farewell wave, not reacting to the slight flinch it elicited from the little guy. “It-- well, you probably don’t share the sentiment, but still-- it was nice to meet you. Goodbye.”

Forcing himself not to turn back and get one last look, Logan hurried out the door.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides g/t #ts logan #ts virgil #tiny drider au #drider #mere monstrosity #mm #g/t #spiders tw #well just one but yknow #sorry for late posting i forgot it was saturday #time is fake #my writing #writing

316 notes · View notes

creaturesfromelsewhere · 3 years ago

Text

The Florida Bat Festival

"Yes, Father. I Shall Become A Bat” -Batman, Year One

The Florida Bat Festival has the unique and amazing power to always elicit the exact same response from Floridians when they first learn of it: "We have a what festival?" Of course, as the bat is the collective spirit animal of goths the world over, we know. Many of us make the pilgrimage each year to the wilds outside Gainesville and brave the heat and sun to pay respects to our fellow creatures of the night. The Lubee Bat Conservancy, where the fest is held, has a proper cauldron of bats (a group of bats is called a cauldron), so bat lovers will not be disappointed.

Unlike the standard Saturday tours at Lubee which are quite expensive, entry to the Bat Fest is a paltry $8 for adults and $5 for children. If you wish to partake in the beer garden, its $28. This small fee allows you to walk through the bat grotto as often as you like, where Lubee's huge bat houses are clustered and you get to see dozens of giant fruit bats from all around the world. These angels of the night are truly magnificent, even when sleeping. Every so often one will spread it's wings and yawn or perhaps scratch an itch, and the performance is goth af. Unlike during the pricey Saturday tours, people are not allowed inside the cages, but you still get a good view of all the bats from walking down the center aisle of the grotto. The double mesh of the cages plus the dense crowd makes photography challenging, so bring plenty of patience and practice suppressing murderous rages. Best viewing is from 10 am to about noon - huge quantiles of food are hung in the cages to encourage the bats to a feeding frenzy, but after they've binged, the combination of mid-day heat and food-coma puts them into full sleep mode.

After viewing the bats, which is understandably everyone's first stop, you can turn your attention to the fest part of Bat Fest. This is a pretty standard collection of vendor tents, food trucks, and a beer garden. The beer garden also features live music, and while I've never seen a darkwave or post punk band playing, sometimes there's a Celtic band, and that's about as good as the music will get since the attendance is overwhelmingly normals who prefer elevator music. The food trucks are good some years and not-so-good others, so I usually bring a pocket snack in case I can't find something I like. As with the food trucks, the vender tents vary year to year and range from "Why the hell is this here?" to "Shut up and take my money!"

If you're into bat merchandise, you and your money will soon part company. Bat shirts, bat bags, bat plushies, bat art, bat this & bat that will fight a full cage match to win the hearts & minds of your dollar bills. Oh, and always bring paper money. Lubee is far enough outside Gainesville that service is iffy and some venders can't make enough of an internet connection to take your card while others have better connections and cards work just fine. It never fails, however, that the fuzzy neon pink, yellow and orange bat throw pillow you simply must have can only be bought from the frazzled merchant who can't get connection, so you'd better have cash.

You'll also find plenty of lectures and general info on bats, both local and exotic, so come prepared to learn everything you ever wanted to know about bats, but were afraid to ask.

As Beetlejuice would say, "And bring the little 'pards, too!" Your darklings will find all manor of standard fest amusements such as face painting, photo stands, and a myriad of bat toys to make them pledge, "Please mom, just buy me this one thing and I'll never ask for anything else ever again - I promise!"

But my fav part of the Florida Bat Fest (after the bats, of course) has to be the fashion wars. Much as everyone breaks out their best hats at the Kentucky Derby, everyone busts out their best bat clothing for Bat Fest.

The amount and variation of bat themed dresses, shirts, and accessories is quite dazzling and never fails to bring a creepy smile to this elder goth's face.

Wondering if you should wear that bat backpack you got off of Etsy a few years ago? Is this the proper forum to don that bat themed hat? Should you dig out that bat winged purse and show it off? Yes, yes, and oh hell yes.

When the Bat Fest finally shuts down at 5 pm, don't think your day with the bats is over just yet. Now you'll need to make your way to the highlight of the day - the University of Florida Bat Houses about a half-hour south in the heart of Gainesville. Sunset this time of year is usually around 6:50 pm, so you even have time to grab a quick dinner if you'd like but be aware there is limited parking around the UF Bat houses, so err on the side of arriving early. Watching 500,000 bats departing their lairs for deeds best done in darkness is a sight one does not soon forget...

youtube

creaturesfromelsewhere 10-24-2021 🦇🖤🦇

#lubee bat concervancy #Florida Bat Festival #Florida Bat Fest #darkly inclined #florida gothic #southern gothic #goth #goth af #gothic #goth girls #gothic fashion #goth style #bats #fruit bats #florida bats #creaturesfromelsewhere #dark humor #Youtube

31 notes · View notes

moonbeamsung · 4 years ago

Text

Sink or Swim

You plunged deep into an ocean of love for Huang Renjun, the boy who had already fallen for the sea itself.

member: renjun

au: sailor!renjun x gn!reader

word count: 2.7k

genre: angst, fluff, slightly dystopian

warnings: character death/drowning, mentions of water (one passing mention of a typhoon and a very heavy focus on the ocean), light profanity

recommended song: when i was older by billie eilish

author’s note: Not only did the lyrics to the above song inspire this fic, but so did the general mood and sound of it :) I would recommend listening while you read, since I think it really adds to the atmosphere. My creativity took quite a while to cooperate on this one but I like how it turned out and hope you do as well, feedback is highly appreciated as always. Thanks to @astroboy-lele for her help beta-reading this (like 2 hours ago), and enjoy!

taglist: @astroboy-lele @kyuwoyo @rvse-hvvck @nakamotocore @kisshim @hunjins

network tags: @kpopscape @neo-constellations @culture-cafe @dreamlab-nct @k-dinernet

The sleepy little fishing village you call home seems to sigh with the tides, waves lapping at the shore in a rhythm not unlike that of steady breaths. It’s the world’s way of inhaling the salty air, sometimes laced with the pungent scent of a fresh catch.

The sport itself is a life force here, the key to any sort of contact with the rest of civilization. Without it, the hill that the small town is nestled into might just swallow up the dozens of small brick buildings, reducing them to nothing but a memory. The murky waters would carry minuscule traces of its existence far and wide, but not even a name could break the surface.

Unfortunately, the village’s dependence on exporting fish leaves little room for the personal aspirations of its residents. At some point in your life, you’ll be called to assist with a certain aspect of the product’s distribution. The elders in charge find ways for even the most unskilled of hand and mind to participate, but they always save the hardest work for those who were born into it: the sailing families.

Quite literally, a love of the sea is in Huang Renjun’s blood.

His great-grandfather was around to see the beginnings of the seaside community, and he became the most famous fisherman known to the village by returning to the docks with large nets in tow, just bursting with sharp fins and thrashing tails. Those were the glory days, and generations later, the Huangs want their young son to follow in his footsteps, to become just as well-known for legendary angling expeditions.

But... he’s not really interested.

He would much rather take to the waves in a boat and chase the horizon, not bothering with casting a net or even a rod. To him, the ocean air is beyond suffocating, like a poison meant to expel any wanderlust from his lungs, to rip it from his soul. Renjun is a fiery spirit, and not even the crashing, slate-colored waters can dampen the adventurous spark burning bright and warm inside of him. It would take more than a typhoon to do so.

You admire that about him, too. How he holds a strong but steady resistance to the traditions of the village, the limited and meager expanse of the world that you’ve both lived in—no, been confined to—all your life.

Just think of the endless possibilities that await, beyond the hazy fog obscuring the fine line between land and sea. The faint shapes that loom in the distance, perhaps a trick of the eye but perhaps another sign of life besides you, seem so close but are still just out of your reach, teasing you both with what could lie outside this languid, ashen realm. Your heart races at the mere notion of such a thing.

The waves are impossibly blue when their image is reflected in Renjun’s dark eyes; you notice this one dreary afternoon as you let your feet dangle above the gentle ripples, sitting at the edge of one of the many docks that tangle through a mess of sailboats and fishing gear. The burnt orange of his threaded sweater stands out against the rest of the scenery, so monochromatic you sometimes swear the world is black and white.

He’s a splash of color, a splash of adventure and determination among a colorless mass of villagers who wouldn’t trade the way things are right now for anything. The dull, scuffed toes of his boots drag along the wooden planks as he trudges towards you, settling down at your side with a small gust of wind. Both anticipating and dreading the impending day when his father would teach him how to take to the seas and steer the boat that’s run in his family for generations, Renjun finds himself at the humble and rickety marina often. Anticipating because that knowledge would enable him to change the course of his own life on his own terms, and dreading because he knew of the harsh disapproval those actions would receive.

But still, Renjun stays right there on the dock next to you, diving past the shallows of his conscious mind and into the darkest, deepest abyss of his own thoughts, letting them bubble and sputter up and puff into the air like sea spray. If both your hearts are oceans of their own, they collide in this moment, as his ambitions and aspirations spill over into yours and settle on the seabed below. He’s chosen you to entrust these secrets with. You, the only other resident of the village with a familiar restlessness in your eyes when the sun disappears below the distant horizon, gaze wistful and longing to do the same.

And as if they’re the precious riches of a mythical swashbuckling pirate, you keep them there, each word a golden coin or sparkling gem hidden away in a long-lost treasure chest. The twilight sky that evening is the most vivid you’ve ever seen it, and daylight is fading fast by the time Renjun finishes telling you everything.

“I never knew there was someone who felt the same way I did about all this.”

The realization sets in late, just as the weathered surface you’re both perched on sways in the wind. You fear for a second that you might slip forward into the icy water; that’s how strong the breeze whipping through the air around you feels. That, or it’s due to the sheer force from your heart as it swells at finally meeting someone you’ve admired from afar for what feels like an eternity, ever since you understood what life was like and what it meant for you here.

Sure, Renjun’s grandfather may have been well-known in the past for one reason, but to you, Renjun is creating a legacy of his own for another, one of more than just adolescent rebellion and defiance. It’s one of undoubtable self-awareness, of an adamant refusal to conform to an existence he hadn’t chosen, and he’s finding a way to alter what he’s been seemingly destined for all his life.

“Me neither,” you shake your head, still in a small fraction of euphoric disbelief. “All that’s left to do now is stow away on a ship together in the dead of night, I suppose.” The comment is joking, but he takes it more seriously than you anticipated. The cloudy sky above brightens with his eyes.

You convene in shadowy alleys when no one’s looking, wasting away the hours as you mutually yearn for just a sliver of knowledge of the unknown, enthralled by the waves in the distance and what lies below and above and beside. Renjun sometimes whisks you away to a steep overlook that provides a panoramic view of the beach, the powdery sand so far beneath your bare feet gray enough to pass for finely packed pebbles. You find yourself melting into his embrace like the sea melts into the sky, blurring the already thin lines between air and water and between friendship and love. The way his fingers encircle your wrist with a curl like that of a cresting wave is telling enough on its own. His heart belongs to two bodies now.

You can’t help but notice all the similarities he bears to the element you’ve never lived a day of your life without seeing, without hearing the undulations of, without smelling or tasting the salty tang it brings to the air. Always moving, a force to be reckoned with, and evidently a possessor of the ability to travel far and wide on even the most fleeting of whims.

He’s utterly himself around the water, too. You’re almost positive he could effortlessly duck beneath the surface, take a breath, and his lungs would drink it in as if it was air. The only place he doesn’t feel like drowning is below the waves.

“Look!” Renjun points out an unfamiliar vessel tied down at the far end of the pier one day, sails torn in jagged lines as if they had been slashed by a larger-than-life creature. Upon closer examination, you find that the wooden bow of the sailboat is splintering and the windows into the cabin are shattered. The name carved into the hull is simply too faded for you to decipher the letters.

“This boat must’ve gone through hell and back,” you comment, your response delayed like an echo. “Who do you think it belongs to, anyway?”

He’s lost within a symphony of thoughts before he answers, “No one.”

Both incredulous and doubtful, you whip around to meet Renjun’s assured gaze. “No one ever comes and no one ever goes, it’s that simple. These same boats have been docked for years. They’ve belonged to the same families one decade after another.” The boy sighs, scanning the horizon for anything that might appear the slightest bit unusual. “The real question is where it came from.”

You have no answer for him.

“Regardless,” he speaks up again, quite matter of factly, “It’s ours now.”

“Ours?”

“Yes, ours. You said you’d sail away with me, right?”

It certainly isn’t the aspiration you would have envisioned yourself pursuing. You could have chosen to quietly obey, to live and work exactly as you were told by a community so rigid that you felt frozen to the bone. Not like the pleasant chill of the ocean, rather a restrictive pair of icy shackles, ever-tightening around your limbs and subduing your mutinous thoughts. But here you are, longing for a little something more both in life and with the only person that understands your heart’s deepest desires like they’re his own. And at their core, they are.

Without fear, Renjun takes a confident stride onto the boat’s deck, turning back to you and offering his hand as you mimic the action. “What are you waiting for?” He asks, eyes twinkling.

A warm thrill courses through your veins, growing hotter with each small preparation you make towards your inevitable departure. It’s an affair of many weeks, but at last you’ve gathered all of the necessary supplies and courage to carry out your plan.

The day finally comes, the day you’ll spring into action and take hold of your futures by the ropes, no one but yourselves telling you how or where to steer.

On the most moonlit night you’ve ever been alive to witness, you and Renjun both slip out from underneath your fraying comforters, unbeknownst to the rest of your households. Save for your two restless souls, the entire village is sound asleep, the unceasing lullaby of the tides casting its steadfast spell on bodies and minds like clockwork. Wooden floors so hollow and dusty that they barely creak under your weight, you successfully glide out your respective front doors in silence like translucent spirits.

No one else in the village had even acknowledged the foreign ship’s presence, but this shouldn’t surprise you, not in the slightest. The thick, colorless fog of life had long since settled around the shoulders of anyone and everyone who allowed it to, ensnaring them in a mind-numbing, monotonous routine. It blocks out the sun and the rain, the light and the darkness. It’s all so sickeningly the same. Empty eyes can’t pay any mind to their surroundings. Meanwhile, yours are full of hope, the brightest in the land.

In the distance, Renjun appears as vibrant and sprightly as ever. His form cascades down a flight of stone steps, leading from the sheer hills clustered with homes onto sea-level ground, and glides over the small dunes of sand separating you. He reaches the edge of the beach and your side a minute later, the thump of his heart keeping time with the tides. A nod, and you’re sprinting towards the docks, fingers trembling in excited anticipation.

It isn’t until after you’ve clumsily set sail that you see the ominous shadows of dark clouds laid out ahead, directly in your path. Even in the dead of night, a flash of distant lightning illuminates the world in a harshly jagged blaze for as far as the eye can see, as it strikes some unknown location out in front of the sailboat.

You’re certain the repairs you’ve spent days and nights working on with Renjun will be enough to keep the ship intact, despite the weather you’re sure to endure if you continue on this route. So you press on, missing the apprehension furrowing his eyebrows.

But because every force of nature has decided to convene against you both for reasons eternally unknown, the harsh winds weave their way in between the threads your careful hands had stitched on the canvas, meant to catch the breeze but being torn apart by it instead. Suddenly you’re struggling to hold on to your balance and you feel as flimsy as a leaf in a blustering current of cold, crisp wind.

Perhaps you should have practiced first. Renjun had not yet received a single ounce of training from his experienced father, and it was far from wise to leave the only life you’ve ever known without any knowledge of how to get to your next one. He’s trying to hide his panic now, wavering between the steering controls and warily glancing up at the gloomy midnight sky. One more flash of lightning, and all goes awry, all at once.

The water around you surges, as if physically drawn to the heavens, and more falls from above. Raindrops pelt down onto your arms and soak your hair, drenching the sails and filling the shallow hull almost instantly. Wave after towering wave crashes down, hard, and you’re no longer certain which way is up. About to lose your footing, you feel a pair of arms wrap around your middle like the snug hold of a life preserver.

Before all vitality can be lost and smothered by the raging ocean, a desperate Renjun holds fast to you, your thin clothes clinging to the damp skin of his hands. The storm is just too much, and there’s no way you’ll see the journey through like you had hoped. It’s difficult, excruciating even, to accept, and even more difficult for Renjun to let go of you like this. He’ll fight until the end, fight the fates and the invisible forces that life entails to hold you for just a few more seconds.

He won’t be able to live with himself, even in whatever afterlife may or may not come after the darkness he already sees, feels closing in on him, if he doesn’t sacrifice his last breath for a final moment of bliss, of you.

The sensation of Renjun’s wan lips pressing into yours overwhelms and surpasses all others, his palms tracing the edges of your figure like the tides trace the sandy shore. Urgently he draws you close up against him, trying his best to shield you from the inescapable terror of the sea. A lifetime’s worth of energy and emotion and passion is expended, making up for all the time in the world he wouldn’t and couldn’t have. The tang of saltwater meets your tongue, and you’re not sure if it’s the taste of him or of the ocean.

A weak tug on your palpitating heart, an internal scream in your ringing ears tells you that you should resent him for this, for propelling you forward in your apparently unachievable fantasies of living the life you wanted for yourself. But you don’t, you can’t. It’s no one’s fault, really. With this thought, a peaceful stillness washes over you amidst the chaos, and your awareness of the boy in your embrace fades steadily, slowly, then rapidly. Reality is getting paler, more black and white than ever, and you’re sinking further and further down towards the ocean floor miles below. The faint light of the moon becomes distorted from underneath the water, blurring with your failing vision. It all slips away, and then there’s nothing.

It’s a shame no one in the village takes notice of the two extra stars that blink into existence on that moonlit night, but yours and Renjun’s souls take their place among the rest, both a warning and a calling to anyone who dared attempt what you did. Two guiding lights pointing any other dreamers towards the hope of a better, brighter future.

101 notes · View notes

exquisitley-obsessed · 4 years ago

Text

Fiancés, Firebirds, Foxes and Fawns: 3

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: A few weeks after Briallyn's attempt at uniting with Koschei, Lucien opens the door of Lockhart Manor to find Elain, cold from the rain and holding a note from the High Lady of the Night Court demanding her to assist Lucien in building alliances with the human councils. Forced to work together by their exhausted High Lord and Lady, Elain is able to convince anyone to do anything, while Lucien has the acquaintances to go anywhere he likes. Together, they attempt to unite the fae and mortal lands and unravel the deal made between Koschei and Vassa, while Lucien remains haunted by his own promise to Elain's father. ELUCIEN, POST-ACOSF

Pairings: Elain x Lucien, Elucien

Warnings: None.

A/N: This is going to be a long, slow burn fic (hopefully)

MY MASTERLIST

THIS FIC’S MASTERLIST

AO3

Chapter Four: Playing House

“Who could be calling this time of night?” Vassa rose from her chair, her skirts flowing to the floor.

“Trouble?” Lucien shrugged.

“We can only hope,” Jurian grinned, leaping to his feet with newfound excitement.

“I sent the maids to bed,” Vassa moved to peer out a window where she should’ve had a clear view of the porch, but nothing could be seen through the black rain, “Should I wake the house for guests?”

“We don’t know if it’s a guest, might be something more fun,” Jurian was still grinning wolfishly, now bouncing from one foot to the other, “So…who’s going to open the door?” Both man and male turned to look at Vassa who only scoffed in response.

“Ugh - why me?”

“You’re the queen, princess.”

“How are you going to call me queen and princess in the same sentence?”

“It’s an oxymoron.”

“Oxymoronic more like.”

“Oh Mother, I’m surrounded by children,” Lucien groaned, running his hands over his face.

“The only children in this room are you two. Afraid of answering a door for Cauldrons-sake,” she huffed as she waltzed into the foyer, embellished with russet wood and crimson carpets, Lucien and Jurian on her tail like puppies.

She’d just reached the towering oak doors when something whipped her around, pulling her by her outstretched hand. Turning, Vassa came face to face with Lucien whose eyes were stony with determination.

“I think not,” was all he said, his other hand resting on his belt where his silver sword of Autumn was permanently strapped.

“Why?” Vassa huffed, feeling her heartbeat quicken in response to the intensity of Lucien’s gaze.

“You’re insane if you think I’m going to let a queen open the door to an unexpected guest in the middle of the night, in the middle of a storm, whilst unarmed and being tracked by a Death God.”

Vassa’s wide eyes just drank him in, before looking down at where his hand was wrapped around her wrist. He dropped it instantaneously, as though she had burned him.

“So he does have balls,” Jurian cooed from behind them, but to Vassa, he was long forgotten.

“Fine,” Vassa took a step towards the Fae Lord, allowing her voice to drop a few octaves as she refused to break eye contact, “Go ahead.” She just about purred before turning and walking back to wait at the base of the stairs, missing the confused look on Lucien’s face as he turned to the door.

He should’ve been able to smell whoever was on the otherwise of the door, as well as the Belladonna’s which sat in clay pots on either side of the entrance. But all Lucien was getting, was the smothering dew of the rain, wet overturned earth and the neither-here-nor-there scent of furious winds. He could however hear a soft murmur of voices, from the pitch, female, before a second, shy knock beat on the wooden door. Two heartbeats, and that was it, all the information he could glean given the storm and inches of brick which separated him and his ‘guests’.

With his hand on the door’s iron handle, Lucien’s body felt alive and electric, like a drawn bow ready to fire. There was something in the air, a moment of calm before the storm. Without dwelling on it any longer, Lucien rose to is full height, one of his greatest assets even against other Fae, and yanked the door open.

“Hello?” A small, quiet voice. A voice that haunted his dreams.

***

Touch her. No, don’t touch her. She doesn’t want to be touched. But it is normal for people to touch, people touch all the time, a hand on a shoulder is no affront. Just touch her. But you have no reason to touch her.

That’s what Elain smelt like, or something similar, he supposed.

At first all Lucien could see of Elain was her big eyes, peeking over her purple cloak like beacons. But he’d recognise those eyes everywhere, sometimes it felt as though they were in his room, watching him. She seemed to still as he caught her eye, him standing in the warm orange light of the house, her shrouded in darkness and mystery.

In response to the cold and the rain, Elain’s cheeks had flushed a healthy rose. Her eyes were wide, and Lucien could see how the water had darkened and elongated her lashes. If Elain were this beautiful when she was fae, Lucien couldn’t comprehend how magnificent she must’ve looked like a human. Surely there had been suitor after suitor, clawing for a minute of her time, or even a handkerchief or a pearl. Anything of hers to prove to themselves that such beauty was possible – that she was somehow real.

It wasn’t until Lucien had stuttered a meek ‘come in’ when he noticed the second bundle of a person over Elain’s shoulder. When they came into the light of the foyer, Lucien had recognised her as one of the shadow wraith’s that often accompanied Elain in the Night Court. Which one, he could not tell, but she was lesser fae, and lesser fae were always welcome in his home.

Lucien was sure he was in a state of shock, his ears were ringing faintly as Elain entered a polite discussion with Jurian who was smiling enough for the both of them. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, convinced that if he even blinked for too long then she’d disappear, back to the Night Court.

Lucien stood lamely to the side, his posture rigid. Vassa remained at the base of the stairs, whatever her countenance was to Elain’s arrival, he didn’t care for it. As Jurian chatted, Elain had pulled back her hood to reveal her hair of deep gold, soaked entirely, as though she had just arisen from a bath. Lucien dug his nails into his palm.

She was so beautiful, and it hurt to wonder how the Cauldron had ever, at any point of time, believed him worthy of being considered a perfect equal to such a creature.

“Ah, might this be the letter?” Lucien forced himself to tune into the conversation.

“Yes,” Elain’s gentle voice washed over him, lapping across his skin and like magic, it began to soothe him. “From the High Lady of the Night Court. I am to be staying with you for some time it seems, an extra hand to deal with the councils. If that would be alright?” Her voice, unlike Jurian’s or Vassa’s, was consistently soft, and in a strange way, it gave her an aura of power. As though she need not speak too loudly or rush her words, as she knew the world would be listening anyway.

“Ah,” Jurian plucked the sopping note from Elain’s palm, and though he really didn’t care, Lucien watched with intent at how Jurian avoided touching any part of Elain’s skin. Instead, he grabbed the letter’s corner and held it out as it dribbled rainwater across the red and gold carpet.

“Oh, um,” Elain seemed to flush, “I promise you it was a note from Feyre. The lettering might be a bit…illegible.”

“I think we can take your word, Ms Archeron.”

“Elain, please,” she whispered politely with a small curtsey that clearly came naturally. Lucien was so taken aback by Elain that he barely had time to recognise that Jurian was putting on a big show of good behaviour for his mate. If Elain had been anyone else, and if Lucien had been back in the Spring Court manor wearing his fox mask, he would’ve winked and told Elain that she was pretty enough to go where she pleased since kings would most likely fall to her feet anyway, but he just bit his tongue and cocked his head.

He needed to say something to her, he needed to be able to look into those eyes. What was she really doing here? Had Feyre truly sanctioned this? She’d said High Lady, not High Lord. Why had she come in the middle of the night? Why was she here, why was she really here?

“Let me take that for you,” was all he ended up saying, looking from Elain to her cloak then back to her eyes.

Some part of him hated seeing Elain in damp clothes with her hair dripping. It reminded him too much of the first time he’d seen her, as his mate, after she’d just been through the most traumatic experience of her life. He wished nothing more than to wrap her up into his arms and send wave after wave of warmth through her to dry her clothes, to make sure she was never cold and shivering again.

Elain seemed to stare at him for a moment, and Lucien wondered if she could possibly be just as taken aback by him as he was of her. How many of these moments, these little pauses between words, were genuine? And how much of it was the drive of the bond?

“Thank you,” She whispered, her hands reaching up to undo the clasp at her neck. As she did so, Lucien adverted his eyes. Something about seeing Elain remove an item of clothing, even a sopping cloak, felt too much like an invasion of privacy. And then she was holding her cloak out to him, and he just nodded at her, allowing his lips to turn up at the corners as he took the damp material, making sure not to accidentally touch her bare hands.

Behind Elain, the twin appeared to cock her head and glare at him, her message clear – ‘and what about me, huh?’ Lucien ignored her as he folded the cloak over his arm and took a step back towards the wall.

“Well, welcome to Lockhart Manor, Ms Archeron,” Vassa then announced herself as she strode forth from the base of the stairs, her posture stiff and elegant. This wasn’t Vassa speaking. This was a queen. “We have spare rooms in abundance which you’re more than welcome to settle into, since the maids are asleep right now please allow me to take you to your quarters.”

“Oh, um, thank you,” Elain nodded and smiled politely, a faint flush spreading on her cheeks, one that threatened to bring Lucien to his knees.

“No luggage, or are you not staying long?” Vassa inquired innocently enough, and had Lucien tore his eyes away from Elain for just a moment, he would’ve seen the slight glint in the queen’s eye.

“My sister will winnow me my bags tomorrow morning. You see, it was paramount we left the Night Court at a certain time. Unfortunately, this was our best window for travelling, but Feyre insisted you would be awake given…” given Vassa’s curse, her inability to see sunlight with human eyes.

“Are you in danger?” Lucien couldn’t bite his tongue as something began to rise within him – Terror? Anger? Worry? Elain’s big eyes drifted back to his, and once more she seemed to pause before speaking.

“No,” she breathed. Her voice was just a petal in the wind. “At least, only in danger of Nesta finding out I’m missing.”

“You didn’t tell her you were coming here?” If Lucien wasn’t mistaken, that might just be a slightly mischievous glint alight in Elain’s eye. The idea of Elain deceiving her viper of a sister to come across the world to stay with him, seemed far too good to be real, and Lucien couldn’t stop the small grin that pulled at his lips.

“Well, you must be tired after such a journey.” Lucien wished Vassa hadn’t spoken because it pulled Elain’s gaze from his. Lucien also suspected that little travelling had been done since Elain’s companion was a shadow wraith, and able to travel the world via the shades. “Please, let me show you to your room.”

Lucien hated to see her go, as she politely curtseyed to the queen before following her up the stairs and disappearing down a corridor which led to the western wings. It was only when she was, in fact, out of sight, that Lucien felt the reality of her presence collide with him like a pile of bricks.

Suddenly, he was breathing too quickly, no, too slowly. His body was overheating, and his heart was racing. All around him swirled her scent and every cell in his body was screaming at him to follow her up the stairs, to keep her in sight and never let her leave it. Keep her warm, keep her safe.

“Careful Luce,” Jurian’s voice called him back to reality, and he found Jurian peering at him with that god-damn, shit-eating, all-knowing grin, “She’s going to want that back,” was all he said as he nodded at the sopping cloak Lucien had clutched against his abdomen. The rainwater soaking through his linens, and making him shiver.

***

“You say your sister sent you?” Vassa was leading Elain and Nuala down a series of hallways. Elain liked the manor, one she would’ve adored when she was human. There was a crimson carpet that bled across the entire house, embellished with threads of sparkling gold. Deep brown wood covered the walls in panels, and there were candles here, not faelight, which cast the hallways in a warm, watery glow. It felt so familiar, in such a painful way.

“I wanted to be of some use to my sister following Briallyn, she thought I could be of use in working with the human councils given I…well, I…”

“Used to be human?” The queen’s voice was slightly monotonous, almost sounding as though she were somewhat bored, that these things happened all the time.

“Yes,” Elain nodded furiously. She’d been so caught up in the idea of seeing Lucien again that she’d practically forgotten Jurian and Vassa.

“Well, after a good night’s rest you might be able to catch me before sunrise and we can discuss where you’d be most useful.”

“Yes, thank you…what kind of work is there?”

“Meetings with councils and human lords, establishing positive relations between fae and humans which, considering humans were enslaved to the fae a few hundred years ago, isn’t the easiest relationship to manage. There’s also work to be done regarding the human armies, and not to mention the other human queens. We could also use with someone prepared to travel to establish trade routes between the mortal lands and the Spring Court, though, really all of this pales in comparison to cleaning up the mess Briallyn left behind.”

Elain blew out a breath. There was so much going on in the world, in the mortal lands alone, and her family had hidden it all from her. Or had they hidden her from the world? It didn’t matter, she was here now, and she was prepared to make herself as useful as possible.

“Where can I find you, to talk tomorrow morning?”

“I’ll most likely be in the dining room, taking breakfast with Lucien and Jurian.” The Queen swung a hard left and Elain stumbled slightly as she tried to follow.

“Okay…thank you, for everything.” Elain put on her best smile, but the queen wasn’t looking at her.

“You were quite sick the last time I saw you,” was all the queen said in response, and Elain felt as though ice had been poured down the back of her dress.

“Yes, I was,” Elain said quietly, her eyes meeting those of Nuala’s for a fleeting moment. God, where was her room?

“You’re better now?”

“Yes,” Elain practically whispered, not interested in being reminded of those torturous months post-Cauldron. Especially when, technically, she was still in them.

“Good,” Vassa said, and Elain couldn’t read her tone, but then, “Here are your quarters, Jurian’s rooms are just down the hall. If you wish to find me, or Lucien,” she paused slightly, “Then you can find our rooms in the East wing. Just ask a passing maid and they’ll lead you to us.”

Something ugly reared its head inside Elain as Vassa referred to her and Lucien as an ‘us’. And if Elain wasn’t mistaken, judging by the glint in Vassa’s eye, the language had been intentional. But Elain knew this game, knew how to play a courtier, how to manipulate a crowd with a smile.

Interesting, some part of Elain perked up. Maybe she’d gotten herself into more than she was expecting by coming to Lockhart Manor. Or maybe, it was a really, really good thing she’d come at all.

“Thank you,” was all Elain said, letting nothing pass her courtly smile. “For everything.”

***

Nuala had her own room but had stayed with Elain for a while after Vassa’s departure, perhaps reading the slight tension in the Acheron’s shoulders as she perched herself at her room’s vanity. If Elain was rational, then she would be obsessing over Vassa, of what she said and the look in her eye as she spoke. She would try and unfurl the dynamic she was to expect at breakfast tomorrow, when the world was still dark.

But she was thinking of him.

Lucien was different here, and Elain realised that she’d never seen him out of the Night Court. In fact, all at once the chaste meetings they’d had thus far seemed entirely, hilariously inadequate.

He was otherworldly, something about him seemed more fae than the others, even the Illyrian’s with their beautiful wings. Lucien was fire and light in form. His hair, no mortal could even imagine hair like that. In fact, Elain was convinced that even Feyre couldn’t capture it’s essence in her paintings. It was ever-changing, always moving and shifting colours in the light, almost as though it were alive. When she’d first seen him in the Night Court it had been a paler, autumnal orange with what seemed to be streaked with glittering gold. But here, by the candlelight of Lockhart manor, it was the red of rust and blood.

His skin was made of tan plains that rose and fell over the contours of his body in a way that reminded Elain of the deserts she’d seen drawn in adventure books. And then there was his impossible height, taller than everyone, including those back at the Night Court, only beating Cassian by an inch. He had a presence in a room like no other, he demanded intrigue and interest, with his mismatched eyes and brutal scar.

Maybe Elain had only been so nervous of Lucien because of that reason. Because she was used to seeing men who appeared to have not quite come into their bodies, their chins loose with excess skin, their hair wiry and coarse. And Lucien…Lucien looked as though he’d had hundreds of years to hone his body. Tall and sharp, standing with a poise that reminded Elain of a blade. His eyes alert and always moving, and a mouth that quirked to the side, as though there was always some dirty joke resting on the tip of his tongue.

Guilt moved through Elain in a wave. First, guilt over Graysen, then guilt over Azriel. Both men whom she’d also found to be beautiful, in their own ways. The innocence of Graysen, which in hindsight, proved to be a hilarious interpretation. The mystery of Azriel, the way that even when she was convinced he wanted her, she was never entirely sure.

Perhaps it wasn’t guilt that washed through Elain, but rather dread. Because here she was, again, and all she could hear was her mother’s voice echoing in her mind – Foolish girl. Foolish, foolish girl. Her mother would tell her that she never learns.

Or maybe she wouldn’t. She’d only admitted to herself that Lucien was attractive, his eyes searing, looking every bit of the fae prince as he swung open the door, backlit by gold and red light. And the bond was supposed to make her find him attractive, right? She could consult the book she’d brought later. Because that was the problem – what was real and what was the bond? Did Lucien truly care for her? Would he have even looked her way if the bond hadn’t existed? No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t be convinced. Lucien was suited to the bold courage of Nesta or even the quick-wit of Feyre. Elain was brutally soft. Men like Lucien didn’t care for the delicate - right?

“I’m sorry to take you from your sister, Nuala,” Elain whispered, as her friend began to comb through her dripping hair.

“It’s no problem,” Nuala’s voice was like velvet, and in the mirror, Elain could see her eyes were soft and her mouth turned up at the corners. “Sometimes getting away from family can be good for you.”

Elain hummed in response as Nuala began to knot her hair into a crown of elegant braids so that her hair would dry with a curl.

#elucien #Elain #elain acotar #elain archeron #elain x lucien #elain/lucien #lucien #lucien vanserra #lucien x elain #lucien/elain #lucien acotar #acotar #acomaf #elucien fic #fffaf #acowar #acofas #acosf

40 notes · View notes

maandarinee · 4 years ago

Note

what are all the podcasts you listen to?

anon I'm so glad you asked

Since it is a pretty long list including synopses (stolen from the podcast feed or website because I'm Bad at summaries and in some cases it's been a while since I listened) I'm going to put it under a cut.

I've separated the list into "Complete" (either finished or cancelled) and "Ongoing" podcasts. Some have additional comments by me. Current favorites are marked orange. My eternal beloved are Our Fair City and Wolf 359.

Complete

ars PARADOXICA: "When an experiment in a time much like our own goes horribly awry, Dr. Sally Grissom finds herself stranded in the past and entrenched in the activities of a clandestine branch of the US government. Grissom and her team quickly learn that there's no safety net when toying with the fundamental logic of the universe."

Blackwood: "Five years ago, Molly Weaver, Bryan Anderson, and Nathan Howell started a podcast focused on the local legend of a monster called The Blackwood Bugman. Quickly, the investigation grew out of their control, as they discovered that, not only are the legends seemingly true, many people in Blackwood have turned up dead or disappeared without a trace." --> [this feels like the Blair With Project, but as a podcast. Didn't get a second season due to no funding, but it works as a standalone]

Dreamboy: "Dane, a spun-out musician spending the winter in Cleveland, Ohio, has two main goals: keeping his job at the Pepper Heights Zoo and trying not to waste all his time on Grindr. What he doesn’t expect is to get swept into a story about dreams, about forevers, about flickering lights, about unexplained deaths, about relentless change, and about the parts of ourselves that we wish other people knew to look for. Oh, and also a murderous zebra." --> [very NSFW; does cool things with music! Didn't get a second season due to no funding, but it works as a standalone]

King Fall AM: "...centers on a lonely little mountain town's late-night AM talk radio show and its paranormal, peculiar happenings and inhabitants." --> [cancelled after 100 episodes, ends on a huge cliffhanger]

Our Fair City: "A campy, post-apocalyptic audio drama." --> [I know the description sounds like nothing but just trust me, I love it so much]

Steal the Stars: "...is a gripping noir science fiction thriller in 14 episodes: Forbidden love, a crashed UFO, an alien body, and an impossible heist unlike any ever attempted."

Stellar Firma: "...a weekly Science Fiction, Comedy podcast following the misadventures of Stellar Firma Ltd.'s highest born but lowest achieving planetary designer Trexel Geistman and his bewildered clone assistant David 7. Join them each episode as they attempt to take listener submissions and craft them into the galaxy's most luxurious, most expensive and most questionably designed bespoke planets. However, with Trexel's corporate shark of a line manager Hartro Piltz breathing down their necks and I.M.O.G.E.N., the station's omnipresent and omniinvasive stationwide A.I. monitoring those necks to within 3 decimal places, they'll be lucky to make it a week before being slurried and recycled into raw human resources." --> [semi-improvised, I thought I'd have a problem with the improv bit because that's not usually my thing, but no, I absolutely devoured this]

TANIS: "...is a serialized docudrama about a fascinating and surprising mystery: the myth of Tanis. Tanis is an exploration of the nature of truth, conspiracy, and information. Tanis is what happens when the lines of science and fiction start to blur." [+ spinoff The Last Movie] --> [I have no clue what the hell is going on here]

The Black Tapes: "...is a serialized docudrama about one journalist's searc for truth, her enigmatic subject's mysterious past, and the literal and figurative ghosts that haunt them both."

The Magnus Archives: "...is a weekly horror fiction anthology podcast examining what lurks in the archives of the Magnus Institute, an organisation dedicated to researching the esoteric and the weird. Join new head archivist Jonathan Sims as he attempts to bring a seemingly neglected collection of supernatural statements up to date, converting them to audio and supplementing them with follow-up work from his small but dedicated team. Individually, they are unsettling. Together they begin to form a picture that is truly horrifying because as they look into the depths of the archives, something starts to look back…"

Time:Bombs: "...a new audio drama podcast about the hilarious world of bomb disposal. Ride along with EOD technician Simon Teller on the busiest night of the year for him and his team - when business is, quite literally, booming."

Wolf 359: "Life's not easy for Doug Eiffel, the communications officer for the U.S.S. Hephaestus Research Station, currently on Day 448 of its orbit around red dwarf star Wolf 359. He's stuck on a scientific survey mission of indeterminate length, 7.8 light years from Earth. His only company on board the station are stern mission chief Minkowski, insane science officer Hilbert, and Hephaestus Station's sentient, often malfunctioning operating system Hera. He doesn't have much to do for his job other than monitoring static and intercepting the occasional decades-old radio broadcast from Earth, so he spends most of his time creating extensive audio logs about the ordinary, day-to-day happenings within the station. But the Hephaestus is an odd place, and life in extremely isolated, zero gravity conditions has a way of doing funny things to people's minds. Even the simplest of tasks can turn into a gargantuan struggle, and the most ordinary-seeming things have a way of turning into anything but that." --> [starts funny, turns very intense]

Ongoing

Alba Salix, Roya Physician (+ The Axe & Crown): "A witch, her apprentice, and her fairy herbalist treat the ills of a fairy-tale kingdom." + "Gubbin the troll tavernkeeper deals with his clueless new landlord, his shady niece, and some new competition."

Archive 81: "A found footage horror podcast about ritual, stories, and sound."

Arden: "A (fictional) true crime podcast about cold cases and the reporter and detective who try to solve them."

Brimstone Valley Mall: "The year is 1999. Lurking somewhere between Hot Topic and the food court, five misfit demons from Hell kill time inciting sin in a suburban shopping mall. When the lead singer of their band goes mysteriously missing, the demons only have two weeks to find him before they play the biggest gig of the millennium - or face the wrath of Satan herself."

CARAVAN: "First rule of Wound Canyon: No one who gets in, ever gets out. So when a brilliant, ghostly specter flies through the sky amid the rain and lightning, Samir stumbles off a steep cliff and into a hidden world, one in which demons, vampires, and all other manner of paranormal creatures take sanctuary." --> [also pretty NSFW and horny in general]

Death by Dying: "The Obituary Writer of Crestfall, Idaho finds himself deeply in over his head as he investigates a series of strange and mysterious deaths… when he is supposed to simply be writing obituaries. Along the way he encounters murderous farmers, man-eating cats, haunted bicycles, and a healthy dose of ominous shadows." --> [I had to stop listening to this in public because it kept making me undignified laugh and snort noises]

Desperado: "Blood magic, Voodoo magic, old gods, new gods: We've got it all! Follow the story of misfits from all over the world, as they try to survive and protect their heritage from modern-day crusaders."

EOS 10: "Doctors in space, a deposed alien prince, a super gay space pirate and a fiery nurse who'll help you win your bar fight."

Girl In Space: "Abandoned on a dying ship in the farthest reaches of known space, a young scientist fights for survival (and patience with the on-board A.I.). Who is she? No one knows. But a lot of dangerous entities really want to find out. Listen as the story unfolds for science, guns, trust, anti-matter, truth, beauty, inner turmoil, and delicious cheeses. It’s all here. In space."

Janus Descending: "...follows the arrival of two xenoarcheologists on a small world orbiting a binary star. But what starts off as an expedition to survey the planet and the remains of a lost alien civilization, turns into a monstrous game of cat and mouse, as the two scientists are left to face the creatures that killed the planet in the first place. Told from two alternating perspectives, Janus Descending is an experience of crossing timelines, as one character describes the nightmare from end to beginning, and the other, from beginning to the end." --> [absolutely harrowing horror]

Love and Luck: "...is a fictional radio play podcast, told via voicemails and set in present day Melbourne, Australia. A slice of life queer romance story with a touch of magic, it follows the relationship between two men, Jason and Kane, as their love grows both for each other and their community." --> [soft and gay, feels like a warm hug]

Potterless: "Join Mike Schubert, a grown man reading the Harry Potter series for the first time, as he sits down with HP fanatics to poke fun at plot holes, make painfully incorrect predictions, and bask in the sassiness of the characters." --> [the only non-fiction podcast on the list]

Primordial Deep: "When a long extinct sea creature washes up on the shores of Coney Island, marine biologist Dr. Marella Morgan is contacted by a secret organization to investigate the origins of the creature’s sudden and unnatural resurgence. Soon, she and a team of experts find themselves living on the research station The Tiamat, traveling along the abyssal plains as they search for answers far below the waves. But there are dangers in these ancient waters. Reawakened, prehistoric monsters are rising from the deep -- jaws wide and waiting, and in the darkness, something is stirring."

Red Valley: "No one at Overhead Industries wants to talk about defunct research station Red Valley, and account man Warren Godby is out of his depth. When he meets Gordon Porlock, a disgruntled archivist with a bag of tapes from the station’s last known occupant, they will begin a journey to the limits of experimental science, confront horror and trauma from the past, present and future, and try to remember the cheat codes from Sonic the Hedgehog 2."

Rusty Quill Gaming: "An actual play podcast following a mixed ability group of comedians, improvisers, gamers, and writers as they play through the extended, tabletop roleplaying campaign Erasing the Line, an original game world of the GM’s crafting." --> [took me a while to get into because I have trouble focusing on non-scripted things, but eventually I got really hooked on the plot and attached to the characters. This podcast is really fucked up at times if you think about it]

SAYER: "A narrative fiction podcast set on Earth’s man-made second moon, Typhon. The eponymous SAYER is a highly advanced, self-aware AI created to help acclimate new residents to their new lives, and their new employment with Ærolith Dynamics." --> [feels like Welcome to Night Vale but narrated by GLaDOS from Portal]

StarTripper!!: "Join Feston Pyxis on a road-trip through the cosmos, as he leaves behind his old life in search of the best and wildest experiences the galaxy has to offer!"

The Amelia Project: "...is a secret agency that fakes its clients' deaths, then lets them reappear with a brand new identity! A black comedy full of secrets, twists... and cocoa."

The Big Loop: "...a biweekly anthology series. Each episode is a self-contained narrative exploring the strange, the wonderful, the terrifying, and the heartbreaking. Stories of finite beings in an infinite universe." --> [I don't like anthologies, except this one]

The Bright Sessions: "Dr. Bright provides therapy for the strange and unusual; their sessions have been recorded for research purposes." --> [think X-Men, but with therapy instead of a school]

The Deca Tapes: "Recordings have surfaced of ten people that are locked into the same space together. We don’t know where they are, or if they'll get out. But the answers must be somewhere on these tapes."

The Silt Verses: "Carpenter and Faulkner, two worshippers of an outlawed god, travel up the length of their deity’s great black river, searching for holy revelations. As their pilgrimage lengthens and the river’s mysteries deepen, the two acolytes find themselves under threat from a police manhunt, but also come into conflict with the weirder gods that have flourished in these forgotten rural territories."

The White Vault: "Follow the collected records of a repair team sent to Outpost Fristed in the vast white wastes of Svalbard and unravel what lies waiting in the ice below."

Tides: "...is the story of Dr. Winifred Eurus, a xenobiologist trapped on an unfamiliar planet with hostile tidal forces. She must use her wits, sarcasm and intellectual curiosity to survive long enough to be rescued. But there might be more to life on this planet than she expected." --> [think The Martian, but on a water planet]

Unwell, a Midwestern Gothic Mystery: "Lillian Harper moves to the small town of Mt. Absalom, Ohio, to care for her estranged mother Dorothy after an injury. Living in the town's boarding house which has been run by her family for generations, she discovers conspiracies, ghosts, and a new family in the house's strange assortment of residents."

VAST Horizon: "Nolira is an agronomist tasked with establishing agriculture in a new solar system, but when she wakes up on a now- empty colony ship, the whole of her plan disappears. The ship has been set adrift, with numerous mission-critical problems requiring immediate attendance outside of her area of expertise. Nolira is aided by the ship’s malfunctioning AI, which acts as her confidant and companion during the fight for survival."

Victoriocity: "Even Greater London, 1887. In this vast metropolis, Inspector Archibald Fleet and journalist Clara Entwhistle investigate a murder, only to find themselves at the centre of a conspiracy of impossible proportions."

We Fix Space Junk: "...follows seasoned smuggler Kilner and reluctant fugitive Samantha as they travel the galaxy, dodging bullets and meeting strange and wonderful beings as they carry out odd jobs on the fringes of the law."

Welcome to Night Vale: "Twice-monthly community updates for the small desert town of Night Vale, where every conspiracy theory is true. Turn on your radio and hide."

Within the Wires: "Stories told through found audio from an alternate universe."

Wooden Overcoats: "Rudyard Funn and his equally miserable sister Antigone run their family's failing funeral parlour, where they get the body in the coffin in the ground on time. But one day they find everyone enjoying themselves at the funerals of a new competitor - the impossibly perfect Eric Chapman! With their dogsbody Georgie, and a mouse called Madeleine, the Funns are taking drastic steps to stay in the business…" --> [one of THE funniest podcasts I have ever listened to]

#ask #anon #please talk to me about podcasts at all times #podcasts #podcast recommendations

41 notes · View notes

static-fanatic-1 · 4 years ago

Text

Tattooed-Uvogin

(Tattoo Soulmate AU- Where tattoos are shared by soulmates, if a soulmate dies then the other looses their ability to have nen and the tattoo disappears. I love soulmate AU's, they're fun. Also when Uvogin gets the spider tattoo he will be 24.)

(Female Reader)

College is usually portrayed in two ways, absolutely fantastic where breaking into song is the norm, or a horrid experience akin to horny Lovecraftian creatures. In this case the song song type of college is the norm.

Most individuals in college receive a tattoo, whether it be their own or their soulmates. Usually it is a happy occasion when that happens. Most would flaunt their new mark and spit out how much they wanted to meet their soulmate, but (y/n) was an exception.

Junior year, the hope of a new age of adulthood quickly coming up. The twenty-two old started to strip. Why strip? Well because she had decided to wait her junior year to get her athletic credit, and because she wanted to see a tattoo if she were to get one. But the first reason is what people think. Practically tearing off the jacket she wore and tossing it onto a bench, (y/n) jumped at the sudden shrieks and hollers from across the room.

"Lilith! Holy shit look!" Deciding to see what the commotion was about, (y/n) leaned over to watch the event unfold. On her lower back, almost covered by her shoulder length blonde hair, was a beautiful koi tattoo. As if swimming the splash of blue, orange and cream colors contrasted beautifully with her deep skin tone.

"What?! Oh my god show me!" Lilith squealed, pushing away girls to get to the nearest mirror. The brightest smile decorated her pink lips and when she finally saw the new mark on her shoulder, she waved around her hands and jumped with unrivaled joy. "I can't fucking believe it!"

"Do you think he just turned 21? Like today's his birthday or something?" Another girl exclaimed, staring at the inked shin with awe.

"Probably! Most people get them when they turn 21. God I'm so excited! I'm posting this everywhere to see if someone answers."

More girls crowded around Lilith, the light tapping of gentle fingers bringing (y/n) back to her senses. Turning around the female met with her dearest friend. "What?"

"Ms. Venal will snap at us if we aren't ready, best not to get on her bad side again. She might make us do push-ups for a warm up again." The soft voice and her light brown hair and eyes pairing nicely with her shy personality.

"Oh shit you're right." Swiftly (y/n) moved back to the back of the locker room, pulling off her pants at the same time. Replacing them with gym shorts with the school logo she quickly followed by her favorite shirt.

Grabbing the school shirt she jumped when someone grabbed her shoulders from behind. "(Y/n)! Your back!"

Before (y/n) could protest she was pulled to her friends locker with a hand mirror shoved in her face. Hesitantly she grabbed it and moved it around her face, trying to see what Jessy was talking about. Finally, a large dark tattoo revealed itself on her lower back, spider legs and a white eleven in the center.

"Looks like a spider, but with twelve legs? Weird." Jessy replied, lightly tracing the many legs now inked into her friend's skin. "You seem... disappointed? (Y/n) you good?"

(Y/n) shrugged, surprisingly it was underwhelming compared to what she thought it would be like. I mean the weird spider on her back was the key to finding her soulmate right? Yet it still felt like a normal school day. "Kinda underwhelming I guess."

"Hey (y/n), you got one too? I honestly thought you wouldn't get one." The snarky voice of Lilith echoed in the locker room, a new hand placing itself on (y/n)'s shoulder. "A spider, really?"

(Y/n) gritted her teeth, Jessy moving to put on the last of her clothes. "They probably just like spiders, so what?"

"Looks like they don't know how to count, that's sad." Lilith remarked, poking at the inked flesh. "Didn't you get a tattoo not too long ago, what was it again?"

"A (favorite animal)." (Y/n) mumbled grabbing her school shirt and putting it on.

"Wow, classic."

(Y/n) pretty much had enough of this and turned to the blonde with vigor. Placing a figure on the new koi fish tattoo. "Wow, classic cunt."

The blonde scoffed, but was quickly interrupted when the teacher called out. "Girls, hurry up or you all are going to do more push-ups!"

Lilith mumbles underneath her breath, venomous words that didn't pass (y/n). "Go fuck yourself." She had said.

In a last ditch effort to get some satisfaction, the (h/c) haired girl turned to the blonde and smiled. "After you."

Man school was just dandy.

~~~

For some reason the drive home felt longer than usual, the songs uninteresting and slow. But that didn't stop the sigh of relief when entering her home. Maybe telling her parents about the tattoo would bring up her spirits? They always wanted to see what it would end up being.

"Momma! I'm home!" (Y/n) yelled, letting the fact sink in to any occupants.

She walked into the kitchen, grabbed a snack, and paused. Her dad, usually sitting with his back straight and glasses on, now held his lenses with his face in his hand. "Hey dad, you're home early. Everything alright?"

Swiftly his head shot up, (h/c) hair messy unlike usual. "Huh? Oh, yeah yeah I'm fine, just a lot of work is all. We're still trying to find who stole Ruby Red, that jewel is worth a few billion Jenny."

The man's daughter pulled a chair and sat down across from him, opening her snack to start eating it. "I still can't believe someone was able to take it, isn't the security pretty high?"

"Yup, and Ruby Red wasn't the only thing they took. They took a few other gems too." Her mother butted in, placing a kiss upon her husband's cheek. "Whoever did it defiantly had help, you're dad placed too many security guards for it to have been one guy."

(Y/n) furrowed her brows, the fact it was more than one person sans all too surprising, but how did they get past the armed guards in the first place? "So what exactly happened? Like to the guards I mean."

"Well... that's just it. We don't know." The dad rubbed the back of his neck, trying to relieve the tension that had built. "They just vanished... poof, gone. No sign of a struggle, no blood, all of it gone."

The mother removed her hand and pulled up a chair, sitting down and taking a sip of whatever is in her mug. "Yeah, pretty crazy stuff. I've been looking through the cameras and I think they have been tampered with. Whoever took the merchandise wasn't a rookie. They knew what they were doing."

"Who do you guys think did it? The mafia?" The daughter asked, looking at both her parents.

"A new group has been floating around, something called the Phantom Troupe. They are pretty much the worst of the worst." The brunette mother replied, placing her cup down and getting more comfortable.

"Worse than the mafia?" (Y/n) questioned.

"Pretty much, this gang took out the entire Kurta clan just a few months ago. They took their eyes and everything." There was a pause, easily taken up by the gravity of the situation her parents were in.

Her father butted in. "Anyway, anything happened at school? How's Jessy doing, she can come over for dinner tonight too. Martha said she was making lobster claws and steak."

"Ah, well, Jessy's doing fine and I'm sure she'd love to come over again. I'll go ahead and text her." (Y/n) pulled out her phone and did just that, asking if her friend wanted to come over again.

"What else, I feel like your hiding something." Martha asked, leaning closer to her daughter with a sly smile.

Small bits of sweat started to form on her brow, right now didn't exactly seem like a good time to talk about an odd tattoo. "Well I cursed someone out, that was fun."

Her dad groaned and rolled his eyes dramatically. "Oh my god was it that Lilith bitch again?"

"Edgar!" Martha snapped, slapping the man on his shoulder and she lightly scolded him. The both of them knew their daughters relationship with that girl. All they had to say is if the coward ever threw a punch, to lay her ass on that ground. (Y/n) was still waiting for her to throw it.

A small ping from a phone ringed, the daughter pulling hers out and slightly smiling. At least when Jessy comes over she would have emotional support over the weird tattoo. "Yeah, it was her again. Anyway, mom do you want any help, Jessy said she would come over."

"Sure, honey. I'd like that."

~~~

The air was tense, sweat slowly forming on (y/n)'s brows as her dearest friend babbled on and on about her early day bravery. "Lilith couldn't say a word to us for the rest of the day! It was hilarious." Jessy boasted, laughing at the sense painted in her head.

Though Martha and Edgar looked at their daughter dumbfounded. "Sooo, is there a reason why you didn't tell us about your new tattoo?" The mother asked, leaning on her elbow with her head in her hand.

"Ah, well you know, it's kinda embarrassing."

"Seriously, you didn't tell them?!"

"I said it's embarrassing!" (Y/n) reinstated, moving her hands in front of her face to attempt stopping the forming blush.

"So! Show us!" Martha exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air.

(Y/n) grumbled a bit and stood up from her chair, lightly pulling up the back of her shirt. On her lower back the sideways spider laid, twelve legs spread out for the world to see.

Silence followed, the air thicker than it once was. "Yeah, it's a little weird. Honestly it was underwhelming getting it." (Y/n) tried to release the growing tension with a light laugh, though it didn't do much.

"Y-Yeah, it is a little weird isn't it?" Edgar had replied, moving to lightly trace his fingers on the inked skin. "Well I don't think most people have twelve-legged spiders on their backs so it shouldn't be too difficult to find out who this guy is."

~~~

Those words meant so much now, after seeing the news talk about Ruby Red's disappearance and how it was linked to a group of mass murderers, the words felt heavy.

Changing to homeschooling was the first thing to happen, as having people see such a dangerous tattoo could endanger your family. Hunters would travel far and wide to catch the soulmate of a Phantom Troupe member, to sell or kill them for the highest price tag. So being around other reckless students was a big no-no.

Next was their home, moving to the outskirts of York New city to start fresh, where no one would know who they were. Getting a new job wasn't too difficult for Martha and Edgar, as security personnel was important everywhere.

Though (y/n) herself wasn't allowed a job, too risky they would say. And Jessy, well at least she was still there. The friend would visit every so often to catch up, and texting each other became an everyday occurrence.

It had been five years since that dinner, and now fear and anxiety ruled over (y/n)'s life. Walking on the streets it seemed every passerby was a possible hunter, just waiting to catch her and slit her throat.

(Y/n) could only trust Jessy and her parents.

The ringing of a phone smacked the female from her train of thoughts, papers she was once working on discarded. Picking up the device and placing it on her ear, a sweet voice rang with an excited undertone. "Yo, (y/n). Whatcha up to?"

A delicate smile pulled at the (h/c) haired lips. "Fine, just doing mom and dads paperwork. Kinda the only job they'll let me have."

There a was a light hearted laugh on the other side of the phone. "Well I'm going to have a few days off of work it you want to meet up and have a few drinks. I'll be coming in sometime tomorrow evening if you want to meet up then?"

"I'd love to, I'll just have to ask mom and dad, you know how they are."

"Yeah, can't blame them though. I mean it's scary."

"Yeah... I'll call you a little later with an answer okay? See you later Jessy, tell me when you get here and I'll pick you up from the airport."

"Alright, sounds good to me! Bye-bye!"

"Bye." Her smile faded when the phone call ended, at least it wouldn't be too bad. Now she just had to get on her knees and beg her parents.

Searching through the apps on the phone she ended up on the calling one, but paused. 'I'll just ask them when they get home, I'll drive over there soon.' Tossing the electronic on her bed (y/n) sighed and leaned back in her seat.

~~~

After plenty of begging and a semi-long drive to the airport, the now ecstatic girls drove around the city to wherever this bar was.

"Okay okay, (y/n), don't get mad at me but I invited a few other friends." Jessy timidly said, scrunching her body as close as possible to her seat.

"Who?" Was all said, making the other girl all the more afraid of an anxious outburst.

"Just a girl I met the bar once, her name is Shizuku. She said she's bringing another friend over, another girl. Don't worry though she's a bit of an airhead, an absolute sweetheart once you get to know her." Jessy relaxed, not noticing any changes with her friend's behavior. "Sorry I wanted to tell you but if you told Edgar and Martha they probably wouldn't have let you go! I just really wanted to hang out with you."

"Don't worry, mom and dad don't have to know." (Y/n) turned and gave a small wink before turning back to the road.

Jessy sighed, relieved to finally have some fun without much worry. "Oh oh! Right here!" The car slowly drove into the parking lot, the two searching for a spot to park. "Oh! They're over there." The two girls exited and quickly made their way to another pair.

The first girl Jessy walked to and hugged had shoulder length black hair and large round glasses. Large, plum doe like eyes gazed at (y/n) with innocent intrigue. Her casual wear consisting of a long black sleeved shirt and black shorts complimented her hourglass body type. She honestly looked adorable.

The other was a blonde clearly taller than her ravenette friend. Calculating eyes, short hair in a bob and a hooked nose gave her a demanding audience. The woman wore a red, low cut baby doll dress that ended on her mid thigh, and black heels making her even taller.

"Okay guys, this is (y/n), she's been my friend ever since middle school." Jessy placed her hand on the girl's shoulder, (y/n) shyly waving and saying hello. "And (y/n) this is Shizuku and her number two, Pakunoda." They too did the same thing.

"Alrighty! Now that we have all the introductions out of the way!" Exclaimed Jessy, grabbing (y/n)'s hand and waving for the other two to follow. "Let's get absolutely trashed!"

Pakunoda snorted and followed, all four of them entering the not-so-much-a-bar-as-it-is-a-club building.

Jessy grabbed a table, putting some of her things down to mark it as her own. "I'll go ahead and get something to get this party started! Anything in particular you guys want?"

Shizuku places a finger on her chin, deep in thought. Pakunoda wrapped an arm around the ravenette and shook her head. "Surprise us."

(Y/n) quickly waved her hands. "Don't get me something strong, I'll be the designated driver." She laughed, Shizuku finally making up her mind.

"Something fruity!"

She did somewhat seem like an airhead.

After plenty of drinks for the four, and pleasant conversation between the girls, Jessy was finally breaking under the alcohol. Her slim build swaying even when she sat in the booth's chair. "Y'all wanna hear a funny story? Or at least its funny to me." She slurred.

Pakunoda, sitting on the outside of the curved booth, leaned in. "Sure." Elbow now on the table and head in her hand. A delicate smile etched onto her lips, her eyes calculating as an extra hand served her drink.

(Y/n) listened to her start talking about Lilith, the old school bully having many stories about her. "I'm going to go to the restroom." She tapped Jessy's shoulders and moved over and out of the conversation.

Shizuku listened carefully to the slurring female, Pakunoda doing the same. Slowly the story became interesting, talking about receiving tattoos and snapping at the girl named Lilith.

But more importantly, a tattoo received on a lower back. (Y/n)'s lower back.

By the time said female returned all had paused, both Shizuku and Pakunoda silent but attentive. Jessy moved over to let her friend back in the booth they had claimed, Pakunoda placing a slender arm across her shoulders. "You have quite the temper don't you?"

Remembering what they had been talking about, the comment didn't surprise (y/n) all that much. "Lilith? Haha, yeah I hated her. She was difficult to deal with, always trying to one up everyone." (Y/n) waved her hand around to dismiss her temper, truly she couldn't stand people like Lilith. "Don't worry I'm much better now." Again she lightly laughed.

"You seem like it, you're so shy. I honestly didn't expect a story like that." Paku replied, leaning in a little closer.

"Which one was it? I've kinda snapped at her a lot."

"The one where ya' finally got yer tattoo~!" Jessy replied, sandwiching the poor girl between the two.

(Y/n)'s entire body went rigid, her breathing slightly labored by her hammering heartbeat. 'No, no, no Jessy couldn't have told that story, she wouldn't. She knows how dangerous it is for me already, telling people would make it worse!'

She would be hunted by hunters and the Phantom Troupe alike if the wrong people were to find out.

Doing her best to relax, her shoulders not so tense anymore. "Ye-Yeah, it's a bit of a strange one but I don't mind it too much. What time is it?"

Shizuku looked at her phone, her mouth wishing to yap about how Uvogin would love the girl. Or how Uvogin is just a call away from finding his soulmate. OR ANYTHING RELATED! But alas, the bone crushing grip placed on her thigh along with straight up saying it earlier, told her to shut it.

Now with a pouting face she checked the time. "It's 12:48."

Mumbling a short 'shit', (y/n) grabbed her purse and stood up. "Sorry! I was supposed to go home an hour ago!" She examined her phone with a pale face, not just from her tattoo being revealed, but the endless messages from her parents. "Does anyone need a ride?"

Jessy leaned in more, her lips ghosting (y/n)'s ear. "I would love to ride."

Pushing her drunk friend off, (y/n) made her way out of the booth, Jessy wrapped in her arms as the girl stumbled. "You two?"

Shizuku lifted her finger, her mouth opening to speak, but was quickly stopped when a hand smacked itself on her lips. "Don't worry about us." Paku replied, waving a dismissive hand.

"Al-alright. Well we'll be off then, take care!" Quickly grabbing her things, and Jessy, the two slipped out of the club.

Shizuku smacked Paku's hand away and pushed up her glasses. "What was that for?!"

Pakunoda shifted out of her seat, looking around at the other inhabitants of the establishment. "You were going to say something about Uvo, weren't you?"

The ravenette pursed her lips and turned away, scooting out of the booth as well. "So what if I was? It wouldn't stop us from getting her anyway." Whined the girl.

"It would have made getting her harder, she's already cautious of everyone." The two girls exited the bar, stopping to watch (y/n)'s car drive away. "Besides it won't be too difficult for Shalnark to find her."

"Didn't you touch her?" Shizuku pushed her glasses up once more, turning to wonder off to home base.

"Of course, she was very anxious the entire time, and she was weary of us from the beginning."

The ravenette hummed, both wondering through the lit up city. Smoke polluted the air of the alleyways they traveled through, the moonlight basking the criminals in an ethereal glow. The alleyway became too quiet, the once light sounds of buzzing insects feasting on the dumpsters silenced.

The girls stopped, looking at the empty sidewalk in front of them. They could sense two individuals, on in front of them and the other behind. Were the stalkers going to try and jump them? Did they know who they are? Well it doesn't matter, the stalkers will be dead soon.

"Well well well," A gruff voice echoed from behind. "Looks like the butterflies flew into the spider's web. How about you two be sweethearts and tell me about that friend of yours? The one with the (h/c) hair and (e/c) eyes."

Shizuku turned around to face the man, noting the switch blade open and poised in his hands. "He has a knife, Paku."

The man 'tsk'ed slowly walking closer to the girls. Paku stared straight ahead, the other stalker finally revealing himself, a scrawny man with a baggy shirt and large knife.

Pakunoda sighed and pulled out her revolver, aiming straight between the scrawny man's eyes. "Never bring a knife to a gun fight." A quick pull of the trigger and a loud bang caused the man to fall over, a small hole oozing blood and smoke between his glossy orbs.

Shizuku summoned Blinky and with a quick bonk on his head, the gruff voiced man collapsed to the ground.

"Shizuku, is he dead?"

"I didn't hit him that hard." With a hum and a finger on his neck. "Nope, he's alive."

"Good." She swayed over to the man and placed a hand upon his cheek. A rush of memories and emotions entered her mind, like the ripples in water. "They weren't alone, they called others before following us. We should hurry before they find her first."

"They'll kill her won't they?"

"Probably."

"Uvogin would loose his nen if that happened, hmm, we can't let that happen."

Nothing new happened after their encounter, the dark streets now baron by the late night and the rundown buildings. Turning the corner to enter the hideout, a face revealed itself, young and distressed, their thin black brows furrowed.

No words were exchanged, the girls entering without a care. A sigh left the short man's lips as he walked with them into the church. "Machi had a feeling again. What happened?"

Shizuku hopped her way onto a pile of rubble and sat down with an impassive expression. "We were attacked by some thugs on our way back. Though, it was more like a one-way-massacre."

The entire Troupe was in the broken down office building, there were preparing to infiltrate a museum filled with priceless artifacts, but it might have to be postponed.

Feitan didn't look at Shizuku, already knowing her information may very well be useless. "Paku?"

"Shizuku's friend brought a number two as well, she just so happened to be a soulmate." Pakunoda teased, crossing her arms.

The small group playing cards stopped, even Chrollo averted his eyes from his book of interest. Feitan's brows lifted slightly, probably in surprise.

"Ah! That happened too."

Franklin snorted, placing down his cards and shifting to face Paku. Shalnark, Nodunaga, Machi, Kortopi, Bonolenov, and Franklin were huddled up in a small circle playing cards, though the game was now paused. Uvogin, the secret star of the show, was rooting for Nodu to finally win a game. "Who?"

A delicate smirk etched itself on her features, a slender finger pointing to the bear-like man sitting behind Nobunaga.

With that action taken, the bear-like man grabbed Nobunaga and wrapped his arm around his head. The other hand pulling out the ponytail and messing up his hair as a boisterous laughs echoed throughout the building.

Franklin smacked a hand on Uvogin's shoulder and congratulated them, Nobu yelling for Uvo to let go. Once he finally let him go, the shorter man smacked Uvo.

Uvogin didn't exactly care, all he knew is that his soulmate was found and that she was his next target. "Keep talking Paku." Uvo kindly ordered, curiosity taking hold.

"Well she's pretty cute, (h/l) (h/c) hair, bright (e/c) eyes. She's pretty attentive." Pakunoda waved her hands around, finding a seat on the opposite side of the large room.

Another hearty laugh escaped the bellows of his chest. "Finally! Took her long enough." He exclaimed, clapping and rubbing hands together. "Where is she?"

Pakunoda shrugged. "Her name is (y/n) (l/n), Shal will have to figure that out."

Chrollo hummed, grabbing the attention of the room. "Uvo, once you find out where she lives I want you to get her, it would be a shame if you lost your nen." He paused and placed a bookmark in his spot. "Paku does anyone else know?"

The blonde nodded her head. "Yes, the thugs overheard and called a few of their friends. I don't know how many."

Chrollo hummed once more, leaning in a bit closer to the group. "Once Shal figures out her whereabouts I want you and Nabu to go with Uvo. And be cautious, we don't know how strong the hunters will be."

Uvogin laughed, hands on his hips as he threw his head back. "I will."

"Found her!" Shalnark yelped, a bright smile stretched across his cheeks. "(Y/n) (l/n), lives in the New Found Apartment Complex about three blocks from her parents. Oh! Edgar and Martha (l/n), they work as security managers for the museum we were targeting." Shalnark excitedly exclaimed, waving his phone around in the air. "I'll send you the address, Uvo."

Feitan quirked an eyebrow. "She might know which hunters were hired to protect the exhibit."

Chrollo hummed once more, returning to his book with a calm expression. "That might be the case, if so then there we could be better prepared." The sultry voice of the boss explained further her use, not just for Uvogin but the entire team.

Uvogin cracked his knuckles, waving to Nobunaga and Pakunoda to follow. "Consider it done."

~~~

(Thats it everyone! Sadly Wattpad allows for larger chapters so this will be put into two parts to accomadate.)

#yandere uvogin #uvogin x reader #uvogin #yandere phantom troupe #yandere uvogin x reader #tattooed part one #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere hxh

451 notes · View notes

remmushound · 3 years ago

Text

Beyond the Bay Chapter 12 - Hidden City

Summary: The turtles go off in search of a new rift in the Hidden City

Tags: @brightlotusmoon @selfindulgenz @digitl-art-monstr @ilo-artistry

Leo hated every part of this. The sun was up, so they should be down, and out of sight. He had known his counterparts long enough to know how loose they often played with the rules his family followed so diligently, but to take to the streets under the danger of daylight for something that could easily wait for the blanket of night was absurd! In his two decades of life, Leo could count the amount of daylight explorations he had taken on two hands; the risk was hardly ever worth it. Despite the prickling insecurities inside him, Leo pushed himself onward to follow Raphael’s lead. This city was so familiar, yet so foreign at the same time. So easy to get lost in. Leo found himself picking out familiar buildings to assure that this place was still New York, even in this toony world so colorful that he could almost believe a pallet of paint had been spilled over it. This was New York and New York would always be home, even if home was a whole dimension away.

Raphael’s guidance brought the group of anxious turtles to an alleyway. They dropped down from above; Leo felt a shutter go through his body, a cold chill seizing his senses and stealing away his breath as he passed through something that seemed almost… green. The sudden shock made him stutter, his balance unsteady enough to knock over a trash can upon landing. With a clutter and a clang the silver bin fell and rolled, several more loud crashes sounding off each time it hit something. The eyes of Donnie and Raph turned to the shock-stricken Leo, who could only stare with his wide, cerulean eyes. The people walking past in the streets to either side, just feet away from what they’d see as monsters, didn’t stopped. Leo let himself breathe and the three brothers, muscles still tensed and ready to hide at the slightest sign of trouble, moved back into a tight formation around their younger counterparts.

“What are we doing here?” Leo couldn’t contain it anymore and he had to ask. His voice was a low whisper. “We could be seen!”

“Relax.” Leonardo laughed, and his voice wasn’t at all soft. He was met with three sets of shhhhh from the Splintersons, but laughed each of them off, “This alleyway has a mystic shimmer. We can see them.” He cleared his throat, “BUT THEY CAN’T SEE OR HEAR US!”

True to his word, the people in the street kept on their way as if the turtles didn't even exist. So that was what Leo felt! What had made him stumble! The cautious tension in Donnie was immediately replaced by heart-fluttering curiosity. He couldn’t resist a high-pitched whistle, striding away from the group before Leo could say a word to stop him; he went as close as he dared to the end of the alleyway, waving and laughing and calling out to the streets with, to his utter joy, no response.

“This is so cool this is so cool this is so cool!” Donnie’s voice got higher with each repeat, flapping his wrists, “W-what is it, some type of four-lensed blind spot? O-or something using metamaterials or—?”

“Noooo, it’s mystic.” Leonardo said, and with a snap of his fingers Michelangelo perked up. He removed a small item that had been hidden in the rainbow pouch around his neck, the artifact attached to him by a slim golden collar; it was almost like a keychain he hung around his neck. “And so is this.”

Leo eyed the little trinket curiously; in shape, it was similar to Donatello’s gift, except with greens and golds instead of orange and reds. He could have mistaken it for an oddly colored compass with kanji if he hadn’t seen that familiar, lop-sided M in the middle. The compass itself was pointing directly at the wall, glowing the most vibrant neon and pulsing slightly. Leo could feel the energy radiating.

With a hand as steady as a seasoned artist, Michelangelo traced the trinket across the wall using the M as a guiding map. Before the astonished eyes of the Splinterson brothers, the compass left what looked almost like a trail of paint in its wake, except it didn't drip, and when Michelangelo had completed his work it began to glow. It was green at first, then shifted into a soft baby blue, and then into white as the faux paint finally started to drip and melt into a doorway. Leo felt an immediate draw toward it, like the force that would try to lasso them into Leonardo’s rift except not as strong. Raph gave a simple hiss in response, pulling back and shaking his head while Donnie did the exact opposite, reaching for the rift as if it were the most precious treasure.

“I thought only your Leo could make rifts…” Leo said.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Leonardo asked, dancing over to stand proud at Leo’s side, “Portals are the only way into the Hidden City!”

“Hidden City?” Raph breathed through his teeth, eyes still fixed on the rift.

“Yeah!” Raphael said unhelpfully, “You three should stay close to us; the mystic types can be pretty jarring for first timers.”

Raph started to say, “I think I can handle them” before he felt a gentle tug at his hand. Raph looked to see Michelangelo holding his hand, resting his full weight against Raphael’s arm without the older mutant so much as flinching. Michelangelo’s eyes were wide, the colors flowing in them like a warm sunset as he beamed up at his friend.

“Don’t be scared, Raphie! You can hold my hand if you want to!”

“Uh…” Looking down at this tiny, vibrant young shinobi that barely came up to his stomach in height, Raph couldn’t say anything except, “Y-yeah, sure. Thanks kid…”

Michelangelo have a happy giggle and wiggled his joy. He snatched Donnie with his other hand before the tallest box turtle could get very far.

“You can hold my hand too, Donna!”

“Donna?” Raph breathed through his nose, then laughed, “Hell yeah. Down with the patriarchy.”

Donnie, upon being grabbed by Michelangelo, had much the same reaction as Raph. He didn't know what to do, and then he fell to soft adoration as he realized he would do anything for this kid.

“Thanks Mike.”

“Can I hold your hand too?” Leo asked brightly

Michelangelo’s expression flattened. “Only got two hands, Leon.”

Donatello cleared his throat and stepped forward to motion the first group through the rift. “Please keep your hands and feet inside the mystic rift until the ride has ended, keep all personals close as we will not be liable for any limbs or items that may turn up missing. Keep your shells on, your heads low, and watch out for portal jackers as we take this small voyage to Run-Of-The-Mill pizza.”

With that, Michelangelo and the two other box turtles that had to crouch to be able to hold his hand went through the rift without fear. Leo, his mouth still hanging open, turned to look at Raphael, who could only shrug before going through the rift himself.

“Lady’s first~” Leonardo gave what could have resembled a polite bow if not for the mocking tone, motioning Leo through first.

Leo sucked in a breath, shaking the nervous jitters like water off a duck's back before he stepped through. The pull was very much so like the rift he and his family had taken to wind up in this world to begin with, except less painful. When he opened his eyes again he was standing in… a restaurant?

The smell of cumin and Chili filled the air. The feeling of the polished floor under Leo’s feet was unlike anything he had ever felt before. Like ice, except not cold; soft, but hard at the same time if that was possible. His eyes adjusted to the darkness of the building and more details were quick to come to him; wooden booths with dark brown cushions and tables clean enough to shine under the candlelight that filled the restaurant; the candles, it seemed, were held up by nothing at all! They were shaped almost like they were living; Leo thought it nothing more than a cool design before he realized they actually were living! Living candles with curves and form almost like human women, their hair the flaming candle wicks and the bottom of their shafts flowing out like a ball gown! Closer still and Leo could even begin to make out tiny, detailed faces!

“You want your normal seats I presume?”

Leo blinked and shook his head as the familiar voice brought him back down to earth. Though he hadn’t seen Hueso in just over two years, the skeleton man had hardly changed at all. The calaca’s white pupils danced across the group with a curious hum.

“And shall I double your usual then?” Hueso queried.

“Bone man!” Leonardo explained, scooping Hueso up in a hug before the older yokai could make his escape. “Good to see ya!”

“Wish I could say the same.” Hueso grumbled, then added bitterly, “Problem child…”

“And that’s why you love me!” Leonardo blew a kiss, “Now Hueso, you remember the other us’s, right?”

“Unfortunately, it’s a pleasure to remake your acquaintance.”

Hueso was met with three half-hearted mutters of greeting; none of the Splintersons were even looking at him! Why would they when there were so many different creatures to see? In most every booth and table and barstool were mutants out of a fantasy book; beings even Donnie couldn’t single out as anything familiar! Some of them had characteristics that could have been compared to more natural animals— tentacles and fangs and frills. Creatures as big as an elephant or small as a shrew, with varying table sizes to accommodate all in between.

“Hey, listen bone man.” Leonardo tried to whisk Hueso away for a private conversation, but Hueso ducked to avoid the fate. His eyes and Leonardo’s were locked until Leonardo backed down, “We need a favor.”

“Don’t you always?” Hueso asked, “Seems every time you come to pay a visit it is for your own gain.”

“What? Noooo! Me? Noo!” Leonardo scoffed, waving a dismissive hand and laughing before quickly giving up the ruse, “It’s important this time. We need to find a yokai who sells decent rifts at an affordable price, and we need it like yesterday if we want to get these boys home.”

Hueso hummed, bringing his fingers to his mouth as he considered. “Define affordable.”

“Somewhere in the price range of… eight hundred US dollars or nine thousand Japanese yen.” Donatello said.

Hueso hissed through his teeth. “You won’t get any that cheap. Cheapest I know of would be Monroe, but quality rifters at his place run upward to three million pesos.”

Donatello took out his phone and ran some quick calculations. “Okay guess we’re not eating this month.”

“Wish I could be of more help pepino.” Hueso said, turning to leave while he was still talking, “I’ll go get you directions to Monroe.”

~~~

“This looks like the place…” Donatello said, and he indicated a small sliver of alleyway squeezed between two tall buildings.

“Doesn’t look like much.” Raph huffed; Michelangelo still had a tight hold on his and Donnie’s hands for support.

“But it is discrete though.” Donnie pointed out; his mind was still wandering, trying its best to soak up the tangled stimuli from the buildings and the mutants that looked almost like something out of a cartoon! Like a child had drawn these characters and these structures and planted them together in a bright, yet disorienting, array of flashing colors. “I’d hate to be an epileptic in this place…”

“Are we… gonna be able to fit through there?” Leo asked, his question directed toward Leonardo.

Leonardo flashed Leo a warning glare before saying, “Raph, are you and the guys gonna be able to fit?”

Raphael gave a low whine. His beak crinkled in concentration as his first idea was to simply walk forward, which proved him too wide. Then he huffed and turned sideways, but was still too bulky. It seemed Raphael ran out of ideas, so Donatello cleared his throat.

“If I could direct everyone’s attention slightly upwaaaard~”

Following his motion, they found what could have resembled a bell hanging above the alleyway. It looked as if it were made of slime with little chunks of something floating inside. Raph cringed at the sight of it, but Raphael gave a far too curious ooo and reached to touch it. Leonardo quickly stepped between Raphael and the slime-bell.

“No no no no, no no. No.” Leonardo said, forcing Raphael back, “Bad Raph.”

“I wasn’t gonna eat it.” Raphael pouted.

Leonardo narrowed his eyes. Raphael stuck out his bottom lip and tapped his fingers.

“Okay I was gonna eat it. You can ring it.”

“Eh… not sure if I want to…” Despite his words, Leonardo reached up and took the slimy rope of the bell, a texture not unlike a worm, and yanked on it. Instead of ringing, it gave off a sound like a foghorn blowing that made every turtle cover their ears, though Leonardo removed his hands from his head just as quickly when he realized it was still covered in slime. “Ew ew ew ew—“

There was a pop and they were swallowed by a slimy, green bubble. What followed was mixed reactions of terror and disgust as they moved into a tighter group, shell to shell with the bigger ones surrounding the smaller. The bubble lifted then off their feet and through the wall like they had no matter at all, carried past the narrow door and lowered to the ground on the other side before the slime bubble popped and left them confused and disgruntled.

“What is this place?” Donnie was the first to separate from the group to look around. The space around them was not unlike an auction house, filled with all sorts of items on display. They filled shelf after shelf after shelf, placed around with no true order. Looking up would reveal several more floors, all just as filled with artifacts and creatures for purchase, with a convenient opening through the middle of each floor.

“Looks like some sort of witchy auction place…” Raph commented. Not to be outdone by his younger brother, Raph separated and started to investigate the place for himself, “How does a grimy grifter get a place like this?”

“Wait a minute…” Leonardo frowned as he looked around, “Wait— I know this place.”

Raph picked up a gem-encrusted chalice, turning it around curiously. “Huh. Fancy.”

“Raph, don’t touch anything.” Leo groaned.

“What?” Raph scoffed, “Guess you don’t want me to do this either, huh?”

He began to juggle the chalice with surprising style.

“Raph, stop that!” Leo tried to intervene, but that only seemed to egg Raph on. He danced out of Leo’s reach, laughing as he pretended to drop the decor before catching it at the last second, “I’m serious!”

Raph only laughed. At least, he was laughing until he actually did drop it— right on the head of a small, purple yokai who had been observing the scene, as still as one of his statues. Raph swore, trying to recover the drop but it was too late. It sank into the yokai’s head as if he were made of pure gelatin, and they could still see the gold through the flesh and skin. The purple yokai blinked, and Raph screamed.

The purple yokai’s skin shifted into flowing rings of yellow and orange that forced the chalice up and out of his head, into his hand. He didn't look like much— something akin to a slug if anything— with a soft beak and a snaggle tooth like Raphael’s only smaller. He breathed onto the chalice and wiped it off with his sleeve before placing it back on the shelf.

“Please don’t touch.”

“YOU!” Leonardo pointed accusingly, “You’re that slug guy who sold me wallet-stealing hair! You’re Monroe?!”

“That’s a talking slug—” Raph withdrew back into the crowd of his brothers, eyes wide.

Donnie gasped, pulling his goggles down over his eyes and advancing as quickly as Raph had retreated. The slug drew into himself, his entire body constricting like a squeezed stress ball. Leo visibly cringed, while Raphael and his brothers didn't seem all that bothered beyond a few yawns or comforting pats for Raph.

“This is incredible— there’s compounds in him that fail to be isolated or traced!” Donnie picked up one of the slugs arms to investigate every inch of him. “He doesn’t even seem to be carbon based at all; there’s elements I can’t even identify— what…?” Donnie pulled up his goggles as the astonishment gave way to a confused frown, “Is— is he a mutant?”

“No.” Donatello scoffed.

That was met with three very confused box turtles casting side glances.

“Are… are any of them mutants?” Leo asked.

Leonardo laughed, “What? You though every yokai in the Hidden City was mutated by Draxum and his army of mutant mosquitoes? Ha! W-what dumb idiots would think that?” Leonardo was visibly sweating.

“Not these dumb idiots, that’s for sure.” Donatello tried to brush past, scratching his neck.

“W-wait, so none’a them guys we passed were mutants?” Raph asked, pointing back at the door.

“Well, some of them might have been, but the majority? No; they’re yokai and cryptids.”

“Yokai…” Donnie breathed, and that astonished look returned to his face as he continued to circle Monroe, “They exist in your world? Oh my kama this just keeps getting better—“

“Don.” Raph whistled as if Donnie was a dog, “Buy first, geek later.”

Monroe’s eyes lit up at that and he pulled himself away from Donnie to give a polite bow to the rest of the group. “If sales you wants, sales I’s gots! I gots artifacts from all around the world, from the tombs of Giza to the ancient Amazons. If you needs it, I gots it!”

“Great!” Raphael clapped. “Cause we need a high quality rifter.”

Monroe sank into himself. “Not that’s I don’t gots…”

A visible vein twitched in Leo. “What?”

“I solds out…” He frowned, tapping his nubby hands together.

“WHEN?”

“Like ten minutes ago, don’t yell at me.” The slug quivered, his eyes like saucers.

Leonardo sucked in a slow, deep breath, “Who bought them, Monroe?”

“Oh, an andoroido with a nice voice ands such manners. He’s having buying all my rifters. He’s very rich.”

“All of them?” Raphael whimpered, “Y-you don’t even got a… a small busted one in the back?”

Monroe shook his head. “Not one! He was be very insistent he gets alls of them. But I do has a very special hover pod with your name witten all over it if you—“

“Not interested.” Leonardo quickly dismissed, pulling on his face in his frustration, “Great. We— we’ll find somewhere else to look.”

“But I is to be assuring you that no other shop has rifters worth your while…” Monroe said.

“That's what every illegal rifter peddler would say!”

“Not this illegal rifter peddler, I swearing it to you!”

“And I swear I’ll bust your teeth in if you’re lying…” Leonardo seized Monroe by the collar and lifted him up.

“Leo.” Raphael was quick to correct. His eyes met Leonardo’s for just a moment. That was all it took for Leonardo to relent and release the Yokai. Raphael made a quick point to help Monroe fix his shirt. “Sorry ‘bout that. If you happen to find a rifter you missed, could you give us a call?”

Without having to be asked, Donatello had already written up his phone number and placed it in Monroe’s hand.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any more contacts, do you Don?”

Donatello took a long, slow breath. “I’ll see what I can find.”

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #tmnt au #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #bay turtles

19 notes · View notes

some-dr-writings · 4 years ago

Text

Izuru, Hajime, and Kirumi x SHSL Military General

Izuru Kamukura:

· Boring. That was what he had thought of you at first. You had no new talent he didn’t… and yet, despite your fearsome rumors, it seemed all those under your command adored you. He already knew it was not the cliché case of ‘oh you just need to get to know them’ nor you were secretly going about your work in a cult like fashion. No, there was something else, and he decided to snuff it out.

· “It’s been several days now. If you wish something of me you need but speak, or at the least walk by my side. How much longer do you plan on tailing me?” You stopped in your tracks, turning around to face the man who was but a few paces behind. Both your expressions perfectly stoic, blank. “As long as it takes to find out why everyone loves you. That was my initial objective. But you’re boring. You’re nurturing. Your tone alone is enough to compel others to follow your lead, to not disappoint you out of respect. Now… I want to know why you’re different from me.” You needed but a glance to find your answer. “The difference… I thought a being exactly akin to myself, a person made to be a weapon would already know that.” You walked a few paces, stopping right before him. It was as if he were a statue, not moving at all as you cupped your hand on his cheek, the smallest, softest, kindest of smiles pulling at the corners of your lips. “Good luck old friend. Even with a luck talent you’ll need it.” You then walked away, Izuru following just a few paces behind.

· “Come now. If you’re going to stick around, work out with me. Surely, you’ve figured out by now that simply observing me, you’ll not get the answers you’re seeking.” Still, Izuru simply stood beside you as you were finishing your pushups atop that mountain with the sky just barely starting to show the signs of a new day beginning. “Why do you speak with me casually, unlike all others? You don’t even speak this way with those you call friends.” “I simply find it natural to speak this way with one so harmless. Just as I find it natural to speak with others in a more formal tone.” “… Harmless.” Hopping up from your pushups you began your climb back down the treacherous mountain. “You find Komaeda to be a weapon of mass destruction, and me, harmless? That’s incomprehensible.” “To you, perhaps.” You kept going for a few moments before deciding to give him some extra help. “You’re an innocent child, myself before I became who I am now, before I rejected the idiotic notion of a weapon being more powerful than man.”

· He pondered over that brief conversation for a long time. Man being more powerful than a weapon. He knew you were not speaking of how man creates weapons and are the ones who use them, so…

· “Oh! Hey, Y/N! So, your sidekick finally decided to join us!” The first day Izuru had begun to follow you, you stopped him when going for those nightly training sessions saying he would either participate or go away because you were not going to allow any bystanders. All nights after he’d disappear at some point as you made your way to meet up with Kaito and the others. But he stayed by your side that night, training with the others, giving you and Maki a run for your money when it came to endurance in these exercises.

· “You’re making everyone uncomfortable just standing in the corner. Come play with us.” Izuru did as told and joined the card game you were playing with your classmates.

· “Izuru, teach them how to set up the stall, while I take care of matters here.” He helped out your class set up for the school festival.

· “Huh…” Truthfully you were half expecting Izuru to show up to the beach his usual suit and not swim trunks, let alone playing volleyball with the others already.

· The others had already left back for school, the field trip long done, but you stayed behind to fit in some of your own exercises… Izuru did as well. “So, finally out of your emotionless emo phase, or are you still insisting everything is boring?” “… I thought by copying you I’d find why we’re different.” “And have you?” “…” He actually thought about it for a moment an answer not immediately puzzled out in his mind. “I’m still gathering information.” “I see.” Seems he was growing up faster than you did, then again you didn’t have anyone to help guide you.

· For a long time you continued your stretches. “I must admit though, I thought it’d take longer before you’d take this first step.” You stopped, beginning to jog in place, slowly picking up your pace. “This world, with how awful it is, I still find it boring myself at times. But that’s not the good part of it all. Being alive. I’m anticipating to see what you’ll find in people. For me, it’s not a certain aspect of them, but everything. True, humans are creatures of patterns, but focusing on the individual… seeing them as people and not objects, or weapons, or patterns… seeing what they actually are…Connecting… that’s my answer at least, why I gave up being you, a husk intended to be a weapon. Humans no matter how they try, can’t be anything other than human. A human being… strange and funny creatures I find us to be at least.” You placed a hand on his shoulder, lightly chuckling to yourself. “Be sure to tell me when you find your answer. I’m sure someone skilled in more than war will find something I could never hope too, and that sounds exciting to me. But for now, back to training.”

· Then you dashed away, down the shore, to that brilliantly bright sunset.

· And he ran. He didn’t even think about it. He was still unsure of what he was doing or what exactly he was searching for, but… something inside him was calling out to you, he just knew he needed to be with you. So he was going to keep chasing after you and perhaps one day, he’d figure it out and finally walk beside you.

Hajime Hinata:

· To Hajime, each and every last person who manage to be invited to the academy was an amazing person. How else could they be described? They were individuals who all had already changed the word in some way or another, but there was one individual who arguably made the largest impact to the world, more than any present or past student, the Super High School Level Military General. Nothing of their personage was known, a complete mystery, not even their name. They were solely known for their accomplishments, a child, seemingly appearing out of nowhere quickly rose up through the ranks, becoming a general, and swiftly putting an end to any war they touched. Wars still appeared, but not long and they’d appear putting it to an end with little life being lost, most countries began fighting in less direct ways because of this. What else could they do? The fighting did stop, but not the conflicts that were the root of them. Still, putting an end to so much fighting so quickly was unimaginable to most. Some say their appearance only made conflict worse, some say they saved the world. No matter what one thought, it was undeniable the Super High School Military General left an unmistakable impact that had forever changed the world.

· And such an amazing person, was the very first friend he had made at the academy, despite him just being a reserve course student.

· He didn’t even know who they were at first. The school year hadn’t technically started yet, but students were allowed on campus to move their belongings into their dorm rooms and such and that was exactly what Hajime was doing. He didn’t have much, so he was finished quickly and decided to just walk around for a bit. He found himself just looking at the main building off in the distance. So close, yet so far away, just barely out of reach seemingly when he knew deep down, he truly was nowhere close. Then suddenly he spotted something. Not far, just within reach.

· “Is the vending machine jammed?” “Not as far as I know.” Hajime looked to the machine in confusion, not noticing anything off with it, so why were you just standing before it? “What do you recommend?” Though you hadn’t done much something about how you looked to him, how your voice seemed to resonate in him, he was taken aback for a moment before collecting himself, quickly looking over the options. “Well… I like the orange ramune.” He pointed to it, showing exactly where it was. Not saying a word you placed in some yen and pressed the button for it. How you carried yourself mesmerized him. He couldn’t quite place his finger on why though. It was stiff yet seemed effortless. A rather strange combination to him. Before he knew it you had the drink and… were just looking at it, flipping it around. You had taken off the cap but seemed lost as to what to do next. “There’s a plunger in the cap, you take that out and place it on top where the cap was.” You followed his instructions without question. “Then you push it down, releasing the marble and there you go.” You seemed surprised, your eyes widening a little as the soda kinda exploded as it usually did when being opened. Then you held it out to him? “I can tell you haven’t drunk anything in the past several hours. Take it.” “Oh, thanks.”

· Your whole demeanor seemed off, somewhat alien. As you got yourself another drink, he couldn’t help but ask- “Are you a foreigner? This soda is rather common in Nippon.” “I suppose one could say that of me.” … Well, that was a strange response. “Seems like we’ve both had a long day. I saw an arcade nearby. Want to just relax and hangout there for a while?” You looked to him in what he assumed was surprise, you didn’t seem very expressive, but he could still see these small shifts in your eyes. For a moment, when he had asked, they seemed to sparkle. “Certainly, lead the way.”

· The pair of you had a rather fun outing to the arcade. So much of… well everything you seemed unaccustomed too. “What’s this?” “The prize corner? We can win tickets to trade for stuff here.” “Huh… so a transfer of currency, to test skill, to gain a new currency…” Even rather basic things. “How did you do that?” “Do what?” “Make that bubble from your mouth?” “I just blew a bubble with the bubblegum.” “There exists food to blow into bubbles?” Hajime wondered if you grew up extremely sheltered. If that was the case, you were probably from an extremely rich family considering you’d have to pour so much money to get into the reserve course. He felt rather sorry for you. “Have you been to the movies before?” “Never.” “We could go watch some if you’d like, get some more candy and some popcorn.” “I know not if I’d like it, never having experienced it before, but I am curious.” “Let’s go then!”

· For the next several days Hajime would find you around campus and you’d just go out and have fun in the town. Strangely though, he never saw you at the dorms. He did most often find you exercising so he assumed you just woke up very early.

· You sat beside him on a bench, passing an orange ramune his way. “So Y/N, feeling ready for class to start tomorrow?” “Yes, I’ve made all necessary preparations and more.” “Still doesn’t feel real that I’m even here, I think it will be a few days till this sinks in.” “… Hinata.” “Yes?” “When class stars… Well, before I ask how schools work, I find a matter more pressing. Will we still spend time together when class starts, like going to the mall, or the park together?” “Of course, we’re friends. Sure, we might get busy with schoolwork sometimes, but we can make time. If you’d like we could study together.” You were silent for a moment, mulling over his words as you took a sip of your soda. “friend…” It was strange to hear that new tone. There was no power or commend to it, it was but a faint unconscious whisper to yourself. “I wonder if we’ll have separate curriculums since we’ll be in different classes.” You knew you’d be in different classes. Maybe you were taking advanced courses or something. That was what Hajime had assumed at least. “Maybe, but we still have break and lunch to chat, we just can’t go out. At least we have holidays.” “Yes, we do have break and lunch. Then you’d be alright if I schedule to spend my breaks with you?” “I don’t mind.”

· “… Thank you Hin-… Friend. I give you my thanks, Friend. For being my friend… I’ve never had one before. There are so many things I know not, but I intend for you to know I’ll do my utmost to keep improving. You’ve… changed my view on things in such a short amount of time. I find it remarkable.” The new spring breeze rolled past, carrying along the fresh scent of flowers. The sun beamed down, warming the cool world. “Ah, I haven’t done much, but I’m glad knowing our time together means so much to you.” “It’s strange… getting the chance to live as a teenager. Never before have I had the opportunity to be anything over than a military general.” Wait… military general? “For as long as I can recall, I’ve been molded to be a weapon and nothing more. I was the top candidate in the project, which allowed me access, well more so forcibly having me join the army. I believed myself to be unfeeling, emotionless for a time. After all, the soldiers could react with horror and fear at taking life, even celebrating when a battle was won, but I didn’t, to me, it just seemed to be more training. I only ever perceived humans as more targets. That was all my existence was, fighting. But as I was trained to be smart, tactical, I had noticed their reactions. I could not relate to them, but I could sympathize with them. I thought I knew not emotional pain, only physical, but somewhere in my mind I made the connection of physical, mental, and emotional pain as all one in the same. I could not understand them directly, but at the time I knew pain was bad, and so that was what started me beginning to see humans as people, more than bags of flesh. I listened to their stories of their friends, family, and loved ones. I did not understand directly, but I knew then I wanted to protect them, just as they wanted to protect their families, and so I began to think of them as my friends. The project runners soon caught on to my realizing I was human too, and began to torture me to make me believe humans were nothing but bad… bad, good, black, white, they had such an archaic, rudimentary view of life, it’s pitiful. As I realized the humans I worked with were people, I realized those we were fighting were exactly the same. We’re all human, all people, people with causes and more importantly others to fight for… Even if I was but an outsider looking in, not truly able to understand, I knew with all that was thrust onto me I was going to change the system. Be a humanitarian. Save all I could. I would mold my soldiers not in my image, but make them strong enough so they can protect others and themselves even without my leadership, to draw out their true strength from being human… but now…” You looked to the ramune bottle you held. “Before I saw humanity, but now I’ve experienced it, even if but a fraction.” You turned to him, cupping your hand on his cheek, the smallest, softest, kindest of smiles pulling at the corners of your lips. “Simply doing things others do everyday I find so exciting, but something I found with my soldiers, hearing their stories of their loved ones, connecting with them, and now, connecting with you, connecting with other human beings… I think this is the best part of being alive. You’ve shown me the world from a new perspective. I can now finally understand. I had some semblance of it before, but… I was still fighting, not… whatever not fighting is, what you’ve shown me, playing at an arcade and watching movies. THIS is what they were all so desperate to protect. I just wanted them to live, but I didn’t know what being alive was. And so… I suppose I fear us not getting to have our outings as often. This, being friends with you… It’s the most… My vocabulary has failed me, I can’t even begin to describe this, but, I will do whatever it takes for you to not just see, but understand how much I appreciate and treasure all that you have done for me… You are my very first friend after all. I want to treat you right. And I will.”

· “Wait… so, you’re the Super High School Level Military General?” “That is a title I have been christened recently, but it is not all I am. After all, I’ve more recently gained the title as your friend.” This… was a lot for Hajime to take it. Now he felt a bit weird about telling you so much about his adoration for Hope’s Peak and it’s students, who you were one of, how he wished he could belong there and not just paid to be on the side lines. Yet… despite you being one of those students… he was just talking to his friend… remembering that made this feel less awkward, though a little embarrassing still.

· It was strange having the stares of his classmates as they just watched him eating with you, to the point you’d often walk around till you found a quieter place to just enjoy your time together in peace.

· You’d still hangout outside of school, it was both of your favorite time together. You could just be together and be happy without this strange divide that others forced between you two.

ENDING 1:

· When Hajime befriended Chiaki and her class, he dragged you along, helping you to connect with the others. You both became honorary members of the class.

· These connections were things you were never going to allow to fade, making sure to regularly keep in contact with everyone even after graduating.

· With the world having relative peace you retired, working as a personal trainer. You’d come out of retirement temporarily if a new war sprung up, but you always ended it quickly with as little life lost as possible… “Ah, Y/N, you’re back!” “I said I’d be, didn’t I?” Your face instantly flushed a bright red upon Hajime hugging you so tightly. “You took much longer than usual, I thought something had happened.” “A-ah… I…” ... happily returning to your husband and your peaceful life together. This was all both you and Hajime wanted, and you were happy just to be together.

ENDING 2:

· Even still, no matter how much you tried, you just seemed to be naturally pulled to separate worlds, the staff always causing trouble for Hajime when he’d go to see you, only for you to end up defending him. Moments like these…

· His mind was a blur, he couldn’t hold onto a single thought, and so he went out for a walk, hoping the fresh air could clear his mind.

· “Friend.” “Oh, Y/N-” He turned around, finding you were but a few paces behind him. “- you startled me.” You were stoic, standing there stiffly, the only movement was the wind lifting up pieces of your uniform. “You want to talk about something?” “Indeed. The Kamukura project… What’s with that expression, surely one such as I would know of an experiment such as this.” “Y-yeah, I guess so.” “I but wish you to place my mind at ease, after all… I’ve never trained you, you’re not my soldier, I… know not if you’ll be safe on your own, so… I wish to know if you are informed as to what you’ll be doing from kin, one who has attempted to be molded into a weapon as well.” He looked you up and down, searching for something, though he wasn’t sure what himself. Then he nodded. “By partaking in this project, you may never return to now. They may attempt to make you a weapon, but that will not come to be. Friend, should you follow my path, I still will not take you in as a soldier for you have no need of such. They will say you’re someone entirely new, and that you may be. I know not the consequences of one following my path after being allowed to be human for so long. Likely for a time, you will know nothing but fighting, you may have to relearn what it is to be human, is that a process you are willing to go through? It is one I in fact am still stumbling through.” “… Yeah. I know you say all life has meaning, that everyone matters, but… I want to do more!” “And I shall never stop you from any endeavor for self-improvement. That is not my intention here.” You held out your hand to him. “I but wish that after you follow me, you catch up so we may walk side by side once more.” “Of course. Whatever happens next, I know I’ll be alright, I have my friend with me.” Taking your hand into his own he could feel the warmth that seeped through your glove. “Well then…” With an outstretched arm you presented Hope’s Peak. “Shall we be off?” “Yes.”

· You followed Hajime, but a few paces behind till he stood before those doors off limits to most staff and all students but him. He looked over his shoulder having herd your steady footfalls come to a stop. You both knew you could follow him no longer. This next step he’d have to take on his own, but it was alright, he knew he’d be lost and run after you for a while, but in the end, he’d be someone better, someone who could not only walk beside you, but keep in time and never fall behind. No more chasing after you or leading you around. This time around, you could truly keep in time with one another.

Kirumi Tojo:

· Kirumi had met you through Korekiyo, he introduced the two of you thinking you’d make for good friends given how similar you were. You both lived to serve others, to make them as great of people as they could be. Kirumi admired the lengths you’d go for your soldiers, keeping mental and emotional health in mind, not just physical. All you wished was for your soldiers to be even greater than yourself so that together the whole world could be a safe place. Being your maid was something she had considered, but you were perfectly fine on your own, even being able to work on self-improvement without the assistance of others. Surely being your maid, she’d be able to an extent serve and help many others but given you absolutely couldn’t find someone like her to be of use, she became your friend instead.

· Whenever the pair of you had free time, you’d share stories of the past. On occasion you’d trade advice, but the both of you felt it almost wrong to assist one another. You both loved helping others, but also valued self-improvement above all else which included your own improvement. Both of you were simply so self-reliant any assistance would simply be a hindrance from improving yourself in some way. Even so, your chats together were your favorite. You both understood one another in ways most others simply could not even begin to comprehend.

· You always spent time with one another when you were taking breaks. Taking breaks was vitally important, even for workaholics such as yourselves. You both would change your schedule so they could align. Often, you’d make a day of it, going out and trying something Hajime had shown you recently such as going for a walk through a botanical garden, going to the cinema, or just lazing about on the beach. These were rather awkward but fun excursions, the both of you not exactly sure how to relax in a way similar to others. Often the awkwardness could looked back on with laughter at how silly it’d look to others.

· By chance the pair of you had but a short break for an hour or so you’d most often exercise, something light for you like a thousand push-ups or curl-ups and other such things while Kirumi would speak of her past experiences as a maid. One time it’d be how she saved he client from a literal army, the next being about her setting up a whole wedding due to the caterer just being plain awful at their job. You’d so curiously ask her questions such as what catering was or how to bake a cake so you could gave one to one of our classmate’s for their up coming birthday. Kirumi loved answering your every last question, it was one of the few things she could do to truly help you without getting in the way. She’d eagerly teach you any and all skills you were unfamiliar with, and you rather liked knowing Kirumi was enjoying this so much. You’d think of any possible skill you were lacking and asked her to be your teacher and in exchange you’d teach her battle and fighting tactics even she didn’t know.

· You adored being able to help one another, and you’d search out excuses to do so.

· “So what you’re saying is you’re out of work.” “Indeed.” “Meet me at the front gate, sixteen o’clock.” That was all that needed to be said for the both of you to be there right on time, down to the exact second. Not a word was exchanged as you lead her down the streets through town. Though you enjoyed your chats with one another, you didn’t speak too often. Speaking wasn’t needed to build a connection with one another. Being together was enough most of the time.

· “Hey General.” “There you are Y/N, oh Tojo? So Y/N brought you here too, that’s why they’re late today.” Kirumi found herself in a rather cozy building, many people with various injuries, along with Shuichi as well. Most of them sat at one main table where biscuits and tea sat on a platter. “So this is the General’s other new friend. Come in, come in. Everybody’s welcome to the drop-in center. Come have some tea and share some stories.” “The Generals says you have quite the yarns to tell.” Both you and Shuichi knew what was to come next. “If you so wish. And if the tea is low, I shall make more.” Kirumi immediately made herself at home, serving all the ex-soldiers so attentively. You and Shuichi simply started some training while everyone else ooed and awed at Kirumi and her skills in seemingly everything. It was fun for the pair of you to see the others amazed by the girl both of you were used too, no longer surprised by anything she could do, she could take over the whole galaxy and neither of you would bat an eye, to the both of you she could do anything.

· Due to the both of you being rather stoic neither of you ever really confessed your feelings. After graduating high school you were just together, no matter the distance or time you’d always reunite with one another eventually. Kirumi often worked with soldiers, helping them get back onto their feet after war. You’d do the same when you weren’t fighting. You both were a perfect duo, doing all you could to make life easier for your soldiers and getting them to a place where they no longer needed your help. The pair of you were simply perfect together.

116 notes · View notes

doctenwho · 4 years ago

Text

Ten’s Proposal

Sure can do! I’m not the best at romantic stuff (I’m attempting to learn, and getting better I think), but hopefully it’s what you were looking for! Thanks for the request, and I’m glad you like the content!

Get ready for some Ten being a giant romantic and a bit of a nervous wreck!

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3,557

Summary: Read the prompt above!

(Gif doesn’t belong to me, credit to creator!)

“Right then!”

Your body jerked roughly as the TARDIS landed, feet slipping a bit as your hand shot out to grab one of the rails behind you to ground yourself. Not only had you not been expecting to land right then (the Doctor had given no warning), but you’d also been a bit lost in your own head.

“We’re here,” the Doctor continued on with a grin, pushing a few buttons and pulling a lever on the TARDIS’s control panel, “c’mon then, a whole new planet for us to explore!”

You righted your footing, pulling yourself upright in order to glare at the Doctor halfheartedly. He turned towards you with an excited grin, but blinked when he caught sight of your glare.

“Whot?” His eyebrow rose in confusion and his eyes tracked your movements of steadying yourself.

“A bit of a warning would’ve been nice,” you huffed as you moved to join the Doctor at the console, he gave you an apologetic smile before averting his attention back down to the screen on the TARDIS’s console. “Where are we exactly?”

“A small planet just beyond the milky-way. We’re about thirty-four thousand light-years, give or take, away from your earth.” The Doctor explained, turning the screen he’d been studying towards you so you could get an image of what he was talking about. A lot of what was written on the screen you didn’t understand, number higher than you could count and planets listed that you’d never even dreamed could exist.

“Thirty-four thousand light-years away from earth?” You gaped, trying to make sense of what was being shown, “how far is that?”

“Hn,” the Doctor paused, taking a second to do some quick mental math, “a light-year is nearly six trillion miles, and the milky way is roughly twenty-seven thousand light-years away from your earth, so, this planet would be... eh one point nine million nine hundred eighty-seven thousand three hundred twenty-six multiplied by ten to the power of seventeen miles? Give or take, once more.”

You watched as the Doctor ran a hand through his hair, almost as if he were trying to clear away the numbers from his brain, then grinned at you.

“...what?” you couldn’t help but ask. Everything he’d just said had really gone in one ear and out the other. It was like he’d just started speaking Gallifreyan to you, when you knew he was still speaking English, just... really, really smart English.

“Alot,” he simplified for you with a fond smile, “a very, very large amount of earth miles.”

“We’re very far away,” you mumbled, eyes still locked on the screen, trying (and failing) to make sense of the large line of numbers.

“Incredibly far away,” the Doctor agreed with a laugh. “Now, we’re not here to talk maths, we’re here to have a look around, right?”

You didn’t really say anything else as you watched the man stride towards the TARDIS doors and throw them open, he turned back to grin at you, then gestured you over before stepping out of the TARDIS, “it’s just as beautiful as I remember,” the Doctor sighed happily, before glancing back at you and holding a hand out as an invitation, “well, c’mon, (Y/N).”

You barely even hesitated before moving to follow him out, peeking out the doorway before gaping at the scene before you and taking the Doctor’s proffered hand.

He pulled you out, into his side so he could throw an arm over your shoulder, “welcome to Noelani, (Y/N).”

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, stunned.

It was an ocean, a sandy beach, with a beautiful ocean.

But it wasn’t anything like you’d ever seen before. The water was a rich purple, and the sand a stunning white that could put the Bahamas or Hawaii back on earth to shame. The sky was clouded, but two bright orange suns could be seen shining high above the waves.

“It’s... it’s beautiful,” you stammered, because it truly was. It was like an edited photo from one of the beaches on your planet. Familiar, but completely out of your world too.

“Indeed,” the Doctor nodded, stepping down and dragging you along with him. “I’ve always loved coming here. It’s one of my favorite places in this universe, since no matter when I come the suns are always shining.”

The man paused, thoughtful before he added a slow, “I haven’t come around for a while, but it’s still exactly like I remember.”

“You stopped coming?” You asked as you fell into step with him, barely able to draw your eyes from the world around you. It didn’t look real, but then again, when did anything the Doctor showed you look real?

You couldn’t imagine knowing a place like this and not coming back—as of now, you’d surely want the Doctor to bring you back and you hadn’t even left yet.

“It’s been... fifty-seven years? Fifty-eight?”

“Wow,” you turned to look at the Doctor. The two of you were down by the water now, close enough to touch if you wanted, but you stayed back with the Doctor. He wasn’t looking at you, just staring out to sea thoughtfully.

You stood beside him for a moment, letting him think, or whatever it was he was doing, before you cleared your throat, drawing in his eyes, “is it... okay to touch?”

The Doctor’s eyes followed your gesture downwards towards the water that was slowly climbing towards your shoes. If the water did prove to be safe, you’d probably take your shoes off and walk along the sand—or maybe in the water if it was warm enough to do so.

“Oh,” he looked from the water back to you, “oh, of course! It’s perfectly safe,” then, the Doctor was crouching down and dunking his hand into the water, whether to prove its safety to you, or to test it before you could in case he was wrong, you couldn't tell, “yes, it’s perfectly alright. No different from the ocean on earth.”

“Really?” you asked seriously, leaning forwards to dip your fingers into the purple water. It was perfectly warm—cool enough to be refreshing, but heated enough from the suns that you could jump right in like a regular swimming pool on earth.

“Of course,” the Doctor nodded, standing to his full height and wiping the wetness on his hand off onto his trousers, “well, a bit different.”

“Because it’s purple?”

“No-- well, yes,” the Doctor laughed lightly, “it is purple, but that wasn’t what I was going to say. This planet is really like nothing else in the galaxy.”

“What does that mean?” you asked curiously as you took your hand from the water and shook off the drops clinging to your fingers. The water came off just like regular water would, you’d kinda expected the rich purple colour to stain your hands.

“Everything is clean,” the Doctor explains, “it’s untouched by anything, clean of humans and creatures, and even Gallifreyians. There’re no lifeforms of any sort. No aquatic animals, no fish, or trees, no underwater plant life. It’s created its own ecosystem without really having the necessary components to create one. Technically speaking, nothing that breaths oxygen should be able to survive here.”

“How can it be untouched if we’re here?” you ask before jumping onto the next, more important question, “wait, how are we breathing?!”

“That,” the Doctor turns to you with a grin, “is the fun bit. It cleans its self. Algae unlike any other, on any other planet I’ve seen. It cleans and filters the water and air, turns any carbon dioxide that happens to be here back into oxygen like any other photosynthesizing plant. Even the sand gets cleaned, which I’m still not sure how that happens when this planet is inhabited.”

The Doctor blinked in mild confusion before continuing on, “in two weeks, it’ll be like we never even stepped foot on this planet. It always reverts back to its pristine initial state.”

“That’s amazing,” you grinned, “it’s so beautiful here, why do more people not know it exists?”

“It’s hidden a bit,” the Doctor grinned in return, “a gem hidden behind the universe’s tourist attraction, like the milky way. I only found it because I was looking for it- well, I was looking for nothing, seeing where the TARDIS took me, but found it anyways.”

“The TARDIS made a good find then,” you gave the man a smile, taking his hand again after wiping any of the water that had still clung to you had even after the shake onto your shirt.

“She did,” the man laughed, “as far as I know, no one else knows of this planet, but that’s just going off of that I’ve never seen anyone else here before.”

“More ocean planet for us then,” you laughed as the Doctor started walking, pulling you along carefully.

“Yes,” the man smiled adoringly, “but we can’t stay here too long. We’ll run out of oxygen, since there’s only the algae here to filter the carbon dioxide back into oxygen. That process is a bit slower than us breathing though. We have... I’d say three days between the two of us of fresh air, before we’ll need to head off and let it revert back once more.”

“Three days seems like a good vacation,” you joked. The Doctor laughed, dragging his thumb along your knuckles where he was still holding your hand before he interlaced your fingers together.

“Shall we walk along the shore?” the Doctor offered softly, looking down at you fondly. He had a soft smile on his lips, and his eyes kept scanning your face, “there’s a peninsula a bit away but it has a beautiful view.”

“Sounds good to me,” you gave a supportive one shoulder shrug before smiling at him, “I’m going to take my shoes off though. I’d rather not have my shoes filled with sand.”

The Doctor nodded, releasing your hand so you could kick off your shoes and gather them up so they didn’t get lost or forgotten on this planet.

“I’ll carry them,” the Doctor volunteered, taking them from your hands and holding them by their collars in one hand. He slipped his other hand back into yours, grinning at you before leading you along down the shore.

You’d never seen anything as beautiful as this planet. Not on earth, not on any other planet the Doctor had taken you to in the years you’d known him. It was unique, and lovely and it made you feel special that the Doctor would bring you here. He’d spoken highly of the place since he’d brought you here, and it made your heart stutter in your chest that he thought you were worthy enough to show it to you.

The Doctor looked lost in thought as he led you along. Occasionally he’d glance in your direction, almost as if he were checking to make sure you were still with him, even though he was holding your hand. When you’d catch him staring at you, you’d raise an eyebrow in question, but he’d just smile widely and turn away without a word.

The two of you walked for a while, but you couldn’t complain. The sand was soft and almost fluffy under your feet. It wasn’t as rocky and granulated as it was on earth, but fine and almost like a dense grainy dust. And even with the two suns shining down on you, you weren’t hot or sweating after all the walking.

You were walking closer to the ocean, and every few minutes the water would crawl up and brush against your toes and the sides of your feet, but it was really nice. The Doctor was on your other side, staying on the dry sand since he hadn’t taken his shoes off.

It wasn’t long until the peninsula came into view, just as the Doctor had described it. The purple water crashed softly against the sand; waves small but visible. You hurried your pace, dragging the Doctor behind you this time. You wanted to stand in the middle of the sand and see nothing but water in front of you and to your sides.

You really wished you had a camera of some sort because it really was breathtaking. You knew people on earth who would’ve killed to see something like this. And you really weren’t sure anyone would really believe you if you told them.

“Do you like it?” the Doctor asked by your side when the two of you stopped moving. You turned your attention from the waves, looking towards him and nodding with a wide smile.

“I really do,” you told him.

“Good,” the Doctor smiled, almost like he was pleased with himself. The two of you just stood for a moment, looking out at the sea.

“You know,” the Doctor spoke, “there is a reason I brought you here...”

“Oh?” you looked back over at the Doctor. He’d set your shoes on the ground beside him, and his hand that wasn’t holding your hand was tucked in his suit jacket pocket. “And what would that reason be?”

“There was something I wanted to ask you, I’m just not sure how to do so. I feel like it differentiates between planets, and I... well, I don’t want to do it wrong.” The Doctor turned towards you, tilting his head as he let your hand go. Before you could frown at him doing so, you were distracted by him stuffing the hand you’d just been holding in his remaining pocket.

It looked like he was looking for something. Searching through his pockets—it wasn’t unusual for him to lose something in his bigger on the inside pockets.

“You can ask me anything,” you promised, watching the man closely.

“I know,” the Doctor paused in his searching through his pockets to grin at you, “now, uh, as you know I’ve had a few companions through my life who choose to stay with me and travel through space and time. And as much as I love having companions with me, keeping me company, I’ve learned not to... get attached to humans. For obvious regenerating Time-Lord reasons.”

You weren’t really sure where this was going.

“But I, well, the thing is, I’ve gotten a bit attached to you. Well, more than a bit attached. You’ve been with me for, well, for years now. You’ve been a constant in my life for so long now. I... well, I can’t really imagine my life without you. There have been very few people that... that I love, and you’re one of them.”

You didn’t say anything, letting the man sort through whatever he was trying to do. You were sure anything you said would’ve distracted him. So it was best to just let him do whatever he needed to do before you replied, or touched him or anything along those lines.

The Doctor looked down for a moment before looking back up at you. He pulled one of his hands from his pocket and took your hand into his once more, holding it tight and secure, but soft as well.

“You make me happy, and you’re always by my side, and, well, the TARDIS loves you too. You’re... well, you’re just perfect. You’re perfect and I’ve not thought about you as just my companion for quite some time now. I... I love you; I love you differently than I love my past companions.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, squeezing his hand softly.

“I know,” the man gave you a goofy grin, “I’ve known that all along, but you never knew I loved you in return. I have for... for a long time now.”

It made you smile that the man was saying he loved you. You’d told him you loved him when the two of you first started kind of dating—which was after about a year and a half earth time of space travelling together.

The Doctor would never call it dating, but that’s what it was, whether he liked it or not. Maybe it was more courting to him, but whatever it was, it was as close to human dating as you could get. And you loved every minute of it.

He’d never once muttered the words back to you though, not even the times you were sure he was going to say it back, or when he looked like he was biting his tongue to keep from repeating them back to you. He’d always had a sort of reluctance to saying anything overly fond-- like I love you, which you could understand. He’d probably said it too loved ones he lost along the way.

You knew he loved you—but it was something else to actually hear him say it.

“I should probably get on with it,” the Doctor mumbled. You eyed the Doctor hesitantly, curious but a little afraid of what could be coming next all the same.

He shook his head, as he cleared his throat, “it’s been a very long time since I’ve even thought about asking anyone this but,” the man suddenly dropped down onto one knee, managing to keep his hold on your hand, pull his second hand which had been tucked in his pocket the whole time out, and all without tumbling down, “(Y/N), my brilliantly amazing human companion, will you possibly do me the honors of marrying me?”

And it was then that your brain short circuited.

In his hands was a ring. Small, but perfect. It had tiny little gems that you couldn’t really make out with the suns light casting through them and making them sparkle beautifully. The band was gold, but you were almost certain it wasn’t earth gold.

He’d just asked... he wanted to marry you. In that moment you didn’t know how to speak—how to express your enthusiastic agreeance to the proposal. You weren’t even sure you could form words beyond the unintelligible slur of letters falling from your mouth.

Marriage. The Doctor wanted to marry you.

“I’m sorry if this was wrong for human ideations,” the Doctor mumbled, forcing you to blink yourself out of your excited daze, “I’ve only ever seen one romantic film from your earth, and I really tried to mimic it with the romantic setting and the ring and the monologue but if-”

“Yes.”

The Doctor froze, fingers tightening around yours for a split second before they relaxed. “Yes?” he repeated like he’d heard you wrong. He looked ready for rejection, even if you’d literally already said yes. He was still on one knee, staring up at you.

“Yes!” You gave a sharp, excited nod, which was followed by an almost frantic laugh. You reached your hand up to cover over your mouth, as if you could stop the unvoluntary sounds you were making, “yes. Yes, I’ll marry you, Doctor!”

It took less than a second for the Doctor to be up, pushing up into your space and grinning widely in excitement.

“That was a yes!” The Doctor beamed, eyes lighting up in sheer excitement as he bounced on the balls of his feet where he was stood beside you, “you said yes! Oh, (Y/N), my love, you said yes!”

The Doctor slipped the ring he’d held out to you onto your engagement finger (on the wrong hand, but you’d fix it later), then he was cupping your cheeks and pulling you into a kiss you couldn’t be happier to accept.

He pulled back in the same excitement he’d pulled you in with, eyes wide and adorning, and smile as bright as you’d ever seen it. You were sure your smile matched his almost identically. “You said yes,” he repeated, like he almost couldn’t believe it.

“I said yes,” you laughed, eyes watering as you looked up at the Doctor. His eyes were a bit wet too, but he looked more concerned over your damp eyes than his own.

“You’re crying,” he whispered, cradling your jaw in his hands and swiping his thumbs under your eye lids to wipe away the tears.

“So are you,” you giggled, lightly slapping your hands on either of his cheeks so you could dry his tears as he’d done to you. “Happy tears,” you added as an explanation for the both of you.

“Incredibly happy tears,” the Doctor gave a light laugh, “you’ve made me so incredibly happy, my love.”

“We’re getting married,” you dreamily whispered in reply. You still couldn’t believe it. You’d never really though the Doctor ever would’ve wanted something like this. Like marriage. And to a human no less.

“You’ll be my wife,” the Doctor agreed, eyes fondly settling on your face, “my beautiful wife.”

The Doctor pulled you into a hug, and you happily returned it, pressing the side of your face against his chest. He held you tightly, settling his cheek atop of you head, but you could almost feel him smiling above you. His hearts were sped up, excited and happy, and it made your whole being light up with warmth.

“I really do love you,” he whispered lovingly above you, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the top of your head, “I’m so happy you said yes.”

“I love you too,” you reminded for the second time, grinning into the fabric of his suit jacket. “I always have, and I always will.”

<><><><>

Hope you enjoyed Ten’s overly excessive saying of the word ‘well’ while he’s nervous! As always, let me know if it wasn’t what you were looking for! I do hope I did the proposal justice, but I just don’t know with romance.

Oh, and Noelani means heavenly mist in Hawaiian as far as I know (from Google) and I thought it was an adorable name for the ocean planet. Now, as always, thanks for reading and new promps always appreciated!

#Tenth Doctor #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor x you #10th doctor #10th doctor x reader #10th doctor x you #doctor who #doctor who 2005 #TARDIS #writing prompt #prompt #fanfiction #fanfic

258 notes · View notes

sondepoch · 5 years ago

Text

Dance (Diavolo x Reader)

Of all the arts, dance is the most wonderful. And of all the entertainers that Lord Diavolo has seen in his time on the throne, you know that you will be the one to capture his interest. The art of dance is simply too beautiful, and you are simply too good at it. But while Diavolo doubtlessly appreciates your skill, he seems to be developing an interest in something else: you.

~Oneshot

MASTERLIST

It's about the movement. The hips as they trace the most exotic of shapes; the hands as they push and pull like the tides; the back as it arches over a bridge of emotion.

It's about the expression. The eyes as they lock with every viewer; the breathing as it falls in line with the beat; the sultry smiles as they disappear quicker than they arrive.

It's about the energy. The flames of passion that burn inside; the overwhelming zeal that overcomes all exhaustion; the eternal spirit of vivacity that never truly stops.

Dance.

Your eyes burn with passion at the very word, a sudden itch to break out into movement overwhelming your senses. But this is not the time for that. You keep your body perfectly still as you walk forward, each step taken so gracefully that it looks like you're floating.

"You are nervous," Barbatos comments, halting before the door that will doubtlessly lead you to the demon lord. He glances back at you from the corner of his eye.

To the ordinary observer, his face is perfectly placid: not a drop of emotion anywhere on the flawless skin. But you are a dancer, trained in the art of expression. Even he cannot hide the soft affection that lurks in the deep greens of his eyes.

"I am," You respond. "But only because I have not yet begun."

The edges of his lips curve upward at that, and Barbatos pushes open the door leading inside the hall. It's almost entirely empty, sparsely decorated with the skulls of various animals, and on another occasion, you might stop to marvel at them—but not right now. After all, why would you look at the bones of the dead when something much more magnificent and very much alive stands right in front of you?

Your eyes purposefully rise from the butler's shoulder, stealing a glance at the demon lord that you've seen so many sculptures of.

He is even more majestic in the flesh.

Lord Diavolo's presence is overwhelming. You can feel his gaze on you as you train your eyes on the floor, respectfully bowing as low as you can manage. It's a practiced move, one your body learned to perfection when you were just a child, but you can't help but think that bowing has never been more important in your life than now.

"Rise," Lord Diavolo orders, his deep voice filling the hall. It almost sounds like music, you think, quietly realizing that it would be the most whole sound you've ever danced to. Beautiful, rich music.

"Look at me."

You raise your eyes.

Millennia of training have made it such that your neutral face truly is expressionless, all your emotion reserved for when your body breaks forth into dance. But it's never been more difficult to keep a still face than now, as you try to hide your awe. The prince's eyes are unlike anything you've ever seen: burning a brilliant orange, bright as amber but dipped in bronze all the same, two intense suns that seem to light up the room when you look into them.

The eyes of a king.

You maintain your neutral expression, not failing to recognize the way the demon lord stares at you for longer than is necessary, likely trying to make you uncomfortable. But you know that it's simply a ruse to see if you will break, as the many who have come before you.

You remain still, unflinching as the prince observes you.

If what Barbatos has told you is true, then this is the moment where the prince makes his first decision: whether to give you a chance or not. It is an honor to entertain the demon lord, acting king of the Devildom. Only one in a thousand make it past this threshold, and many of your childhood teachers had been turned away by this man's father, told that their hearts were too weak to properly hold the demon lord's interest.

But after a moment, Lord Diavolo's eyes lose the cold, calculating look that attempts to see into the soul you've hidden away so carefully, and the oranges fade into a softer shade, one of acceptance and anticipation.

"Dance."

The first test is passed.

The moment the word falls from the prince's lips, the sound of his command is replaced by the jingle of the bells laced around your feet.

You see his eyes widen, evidently not having noticed that they were even there in the first place—though that's more a testament to your personal skill than the demon lord's own attention to detail.

Where you had once held your feet perfectly steady, letting them practically melt into the ground as you walked and hid the presence of the chimes that wrap around your ankles, you now set them free, embracing the movement that you yearned for not five minutes ago. Your legs jump and lift and kick and spin, every motion accompanied by a particular sound that forms the rhythm to which your arms move. You close your eyes, allowing your feet to fall into a new beat, one that is eternally changing, as is fit for someone who wishes to eternally entertain a prince.

You forget the fear you had when entering this room—why were you nervous in the first place? Of all the arts, dance is the most wonderful. And of all the entertainers that Lord Diavolo has seen in his time on the throne, you know you will be the one to capture his interest. For even if he does not care for the personality you have hidden away, it is impossible to lose interest in the art of dance. Particularly, your dance.

A confident smile springs to your lips as you lock eyes with the demon lord. He hides his expressions well, even better than Barbatos. But none can hide from a dancer. You are one with expression, and only the dead can keep secrets from you. The silent wonder in Lord Diavolo's eyes as he watches your body move sets your insides afire with bliss, heart blazing with euphoria.

You turn your body, breaking eye contact with the prince in favor of returning your attention to your dance. You do not move to a routine, or any preset motions that inhibit your ability to be free. No, the dance you perform for Lord Diavolo is unlike one the world has ever seen. Unlike one you have ever seen.

It is a dance fit for a king: masterful, unique, and utterly irreplicable.

Your clothes move perfectly around you, a second skin that adds flourish to your movements. You utilize every fabric on your body to enhance your dance. Nothing is wasted; nothing is forgotten. Even the single earring that dangles from your left ear is purposeful, moving to the beat as your neck arches.

Perfection.

A hand thrust outward raises the white silk draped around your shoulders up, and it falls delicately as your arm withdraws, only for the same process to repeat on your other arm. All the while, the loose fabric of your pants fills with air, lifting and dropping to make you look less like a demon and more like a magnificent dove, flapping your wings in the most mesmerizing dance Lord Diavolo has ever seen.

You spin, relishing in the way the tips of your hair fly up as you do so. The single earring on your left ear dangles dangerously, and you can tell that Lord Diavolo is waiting for it to fall, waiting for you to make a mistake that will compel him to send you out of his throne room, yet the pearl only taunts him, swaying like a pendulum as your body arches seductively.

No.

You pull yourself back, drawing your body into a spin to cover up what would have been a move far too bold for someone of your stature, returning your dance to the quick jumps and deft movements that flaunt your agility, continuing on in that fashion.

By the time the hour has ended, there are droplets of sweat running down your face, falling onto the stone floor that your bare feet never touch for too long.

But you're far from tired.

Every movement is exhilarating, muscles only burning brighter with need as you flex them and withdraw, every fiber of your being longing to do more.

But Lord Diavolo stops you.

"Enough."

The word rings loudly in the room, and the chime of the bells around your ankles isn't heard once after his order falls upon your ears, your body instantly moving to obey as you spin into a bow, low on one knee as you touch the floor with your hands and keep your eyes closed.

You don't need to look at the prince to know that he is still entirely enraptured by your performance.

"Barbatos, let us leave. It is time for the student council meeting."

You keep your gaze pointed at the ground to avoid any potential offense to the demon lord, not daring to take so much as a heavy breath in his presence. The sound of receding footsteps ends with the slam of a door, and you stay looking at the ground for a little while longer, before you consider it safe to raise your head.

Stunning, you think, gazing at the throne where the demon lord sat, watching you. Truly a throne fit for a king.

You glance around the room, eyes darting from skeleton to skeleton. At the front, on the right side and closest to the prince's throne, is the skull of a dragon. It's immense, easily double your height and twice as long, and it almost makes you wish you were older, so that you might have seen one of these magnificent creatures in the flesh.

Next to the dragon skull is the head of what you can only imagine to be a sea serpent, from the winding neck that has partially broken off. Behind that is the infamous Kraken, and further behind are a series of small unicorns—you know from your history lessons that those are the bones of the last ones to walk the hells—and you're just about to glance at the skulls on the other side when the sound of a door opening falls upon your ears.

You quickly turn your head back to the ground, staring forward with your usual unreadable mask adorned.

"I saw that," A voice calls, somewhat mischievous. And the laid-back inflection of the words confirms that the man is alone, and you spring to your feet, dropping your mask of composure.

"Barbatos!" You exclaim, turning around with a wide grin. The tension you had in your shoulders when you both were entering is now gone, and nothing restrains your usual cheer. You run over to him, the bells on your feet jingling with every step, and throw your arms around his neck, nearly tackling him to the floor.

"Easy," He murmurs into your ear, still reserved compared to you, but you can see a slight twinkle in his eyes as he holds you. "Lord Diavolo instructed me to see you back to your quarters. He seems to be worried that you tired yourself out earlier."

"Didn't you tell him that—"

"Of course I informed him that you would never tire so easily. But the prince has never had a dancer for his entertainer, so he did not believe me."

You chuckle at that, understanding where Lord Diavolo is coming from. Perhaps, when you were younger, you might have been tired after a full hour of nonstop movement. But now? You often practice from early morning till late night, challenging yourself to never leave your feet on the ground for more than a few seconds at a time for as long as there are demons up and about.

"And did the prince say anything else?" You ask quietly, following Barbatos as he leads you out of the room. "Like…" You swallow, bashfully turning away.

"Do you really need to hear it?" Barbatos lets out a low chuckle, pausing in his footsteps to look back at you. "If you must know, yes, Lord Diavolo has requested to see you tomorrow as well."

"Yes!" You shout, jumping. Glee washes over you like a tidal wave, encompassing all your senses as you ignore every thought of propriety to wrap Barbatos in another crushing hug, causing him to momentarily stagger as you cling to him like a koala.

"Cease this. You are heavy enough as is, and those bells on your feet add far too much weight. Gods know how you manage to walk in those," He mutters, pushing you away from him as he leads you to what you imagine must be your chambers.

But even as he feigns a look of displeasure, you can see the way Barbatos suppresses a smile at your antics, and when he catches you staring at him, he turns his face away altogether, knowing that you can see past his facade.

"Anyway," He coughs, using a key to unlock a stony door located close to the throne room. "This will be your room. You will only be staying in here if Lord Diavolo explicitly tells you to rest or if there are guests in the throne room. Otherwise, you will be expected to remain in the throne room at all times, just as you had remained when we left."

You nod your head, following along.

"Make sure that you are ready at a moment's notice to entertain Lord Diavolo. There will be times when he will call for you, and you will not be prepared. Should such a thing happen, drop everything immediately and go to him. He will know if you keep him waiting, and he will replace you instantly should you be insolent enough to do so."

Barbatos's tone is sharp, his instructions painfully meticulous and to-the-point as he continues to fill your ears with explanations of how to behave around the prince, how to act when in the presence of others, how to conduct yourself while in the palace.

"And remember," He tells you, voice slightly softer. "Do your best, but should you make any mistake, come to me. No matter what, I will fix it." The demon brings a hand to your cheek, forcing you to meet his uncharacteristically gentle eyes. "There are no lengths I won't go to for the sake of your happiness."

"I know, Barbatos." You wrap him into a hug. "You've proven that."

***

Diavolo is quick to learn the extent of your capabilities.

The first day, where he had you dance for an hour and then sent you to your room to rest? That was a one-time thing. On the second day, he crossed his arms in front of you and ordered you with that bellowing voice of his to "Dance," and so you did. Only that time, he did not stop you. Nor did he take his eyes off of you. From morning to evening, you danced for him, transitioning from a high-paced rhythm to a slow ballet in the middle to even a human-style dance at the end, which seemed to hold him particularly enthralled.

Only when the demon called Lucifer came in to speak with him did he permit you to take a temporary break, but his eyes lit up when he saw the grace with which you fell to your knees, quickly realizing that despite having danced for hours, you still had energy in you.

Since then, he hasn't held back in the slightest, ordering you to dance in every spare moment he has.

Barbatos tells you that it's a good thing, that it means you've managed to give him something to look forward to in his otherwise boring life. That you've blessed his immortal curse with your presence, and he's finally found something he can enjoy.

Yet the longer you dance for Lord Diavolo, the more his eyes take the shape of a predator.

"Dance," He orders you today, not hiding the way his eyes skirt over your body, lingering on the spots of exposed skin. It makes you shudder, the way he gazes at you as if you're a feast—and yet it sets your senses aflame all the same, and when your feet begin moving, the dance you perform is more sensual than anything you've ever shown this man.

You close your eyes purposefully, drawing in a sharp breath that you make certain Diavolo can hear as you arch your back, leaning back until your hair sweeps the floor, before pushing upward and using the momentum to pull you into a spin.

As your body turns, though, your eyes drop from Diavolo and you catch the gaze of Barbatos as he stares at you in shock, never having seen you move so suggestively.

Your eyes widen momentarily, and for a moment, you almost worry that you'll fall off-beat, but then Barbatos's expression is masked and you force yourself to complete the turn, propelling your leg forward as you fall in rhythm and try to transition the dance into something more light. More childish. More appropriate.

"Stop," Lord Diavolo orders. You spin into a bow once more, one knee on the ground as you stare at the stones on your feet, wondering whether the demon lord saw how you almost slipped up.

For the first time since you began dancing for him, your body feels tense with fear as you try to calm the sick feeling in your stomach.

"Leave us, Barbatos."

There's a moment of hesitation—and you can almost sense Barbatos's immediate fury at the prince's words for making such a cruel command. For forcing him to leave the room, for forcing him to leave you alone to handle the prince's whims. And yet, the demon butler can do nothing but obey, and you hear his footsteps trail out of the room, punctuated by the sound of a door closing with such gentleness that you can sense the resentful mockery behind the gesture.

"Rise. And speak. Does having Barbatos here disturb you?" The demon lord's sharp gaze bores into you as you rise to stand in a single, fluid motion. The man's expression is something between disdain and indifference, and you realize that you have no clue what he is thinking—and that the truth will have to suffice.

"No, my lord."

"You looked at Barbatos and changed your dance. Why?"

You remain silent for a moment, a single millisecond of hesitation that Lord Diavolo recognizes. Your mask only crumbled for a second, but that was all he needed.

His face flashes with amusement.

"Ah. You did not wish for your brother to see you perform such movements."

You keep your face still, perfectly expressionless as Lord Diavolo lets out a throaty chuckle. Genuine amusement seems to appear on his features. For the first time, you're relieved for your utterly unreadable face, because you know that if not for it, you would be blushing in embarrassment at having compromised your dance for such a foolish reason, and the demon lord would only laugh louder at your state.

"Very well. Your heart was in the correct place. You dance for me, not him. It is not fitting for Barbatos to bear witness to what you wish to present to my eyes." The prince stares at you thoughtfully, studying your blank face. "Would it please you if he remains out of the room in the future?"

"I am pleased by whatever my lord would prefer."

"How boring," He comments, though his eyes are filled with amusement. For the first time, he looks at you as if you are more than a body moving and dancing to his will, seeing that there is indeed a person inside.

But he does not forget why you are here.

"Dance," He commands.

And without your brother staring at your back, you don't restrain any of your charm as your movements resume, slow and sensual.

You dance late into the night, the purple silks around you flying brilliantly as you make your movements as big as possible, flaunting your confidence as every movement falls into place. The jut of your hips, the batting of your eyes, the smirk on your lips. It's all intentional, and though the game you're playing is a dangerous one, it's one that Lord Diavolo seems to enjoy, for he keeps you by his side longer than he ever has before.

When he finally instructs you to stop, his instructions are clear: "Tell your brother he will not be joining us from now on."

But the words that follow ring louder in your mind, accelerating the beating of your heart in a way that exercise has never done.

"And when you come dance for me tomorrow, I want you to dance for me the same way you just did."

***

Barbatos's scowl the next morning is unlike anything you've ever seen before.

Unlike the usual mornings, where he comes to your room and helps you adorn the traditional garb of demon dancers while casually talking to you, today, he remains dead silent as he pulls the black fabric over your shoulders.

He's still putting forth his best effort to help you, tying the finishing knot with more skill than you've ever managed to procure, but the air around him is angry as he works, and you can tell that he resents the idea of you dancing for Lord Diavolo without him there to make sure that you're not being taken advantage of.

"Don't be mad," You tell him when he steps back, crossing his arms and leaving you to tie the string of bells around your feet. "There's nothing either of us can do."

Silence.

"Barbatos!"

You groan when you look up to see his body angled away from you, mouth set in a firm frown. You finish tying the bells around your first foot and move on to the second.

"You can be awfully stubborn, do you know that?"

More silence.

You internally roll your eyes, rushing to finish tying the knot before you stand, testing that both sets of bells are equally tight around your legs.

But more importantly—

You step forward to wrap Barbatos in a tight hug from behind, making sure that he can feel every emotion in your body as you squeeze him. "I'll be fine," You tell him. "You've taught me how to look after myself."

There's not much time left after that, given that Lord Diavolo can never be kept waiting, but just as you're about to exit the room, Barbatos grabs your arm.

"Be careful," He warns. "Don't do anything too suggestive, and don't—"

You place a finger to your big brother's lips, silencing him instantly. "I won't."

"If he makes you uncomfortable, call my name and I will be there instantly." He clasps your hands, his solemn expression especially heavy. "Promise me."

You sigh softly at his overprotectiveness, running a hand through his dark green hair. "I trust you, Barbatos." You pull back. "But I also trust Lord Diavolo."

Before he can say another word to you, you pull away from his grasp and set yourself in a brisk walk, rushing to make your way to the throne room.

As you've been doing for nearly a month now, you enter without a word and move forward, taking steps so delicate that the bells on your feet are still as you silently glide to your usual spot.

You haven't even bowed by the time Lord Diavolo has started speaking, the same word—dance—rolling off his lips. He says it so smoothly that you feel he was born to say it, born to command you to captivate him for all eternity.

The word still lights your blood with the same fire it did before, and your lips curve upward as you drag your leg out and draw a circle with it, leaning forward and pulling your body dangerously close to Lord Diavolo's for a single moment before withdrawing.

That's a dangerous game you're playing, he seems to say with his devilish smile. But for once, you aren't forced to maintain a blank mask as you boldly gaze upon the king. No, the dance has set you free, and all your emotions come rushing to the surface of your face in the name of expression, including the wicked smirk that tells the prince you want to play this game.

"Stop," Lord Diavolo orders, and though you're surprised, you fall to a bow as usual.

"Rise." You do.

"Come forward." Two steps.

"More." Two more steps.

"Closer." One step.

The prince pauses, studying the distance between the two of you. There's hardly any, now, and if you reach your arm forward, you can actually touch him for how close his body is to yours.

He leans back in his chair, resting his chin on his elbow as he studies you up close, taking his time to look over your features.

Panic surfaces in the back of your mind, suddenly understanding that this is how the prince means to play.

"Dance," He orders, now confident that he has won.

And while you are now restricted in your movements, limited to how far you can push yourself, you move to tell him no, he has not won. Because the caged bird sings loudest, and now, with no distance to sully it, the song of the bells on your feet rings clearer than the prince has ever heard.

***

Black? Or White?

It's a simple question, but a dilemma all the same, and you cross your arms as you stand in your underwear, debating which pajamas you should wear to sleep.

The black is softer, you reason with yourself. But the white fits better.

You hold the different shirts against your body, checking how you look in the mirror in case it has any answers that will end your internal crisis.

Alas, your reflection seems to be no help to you, and you groan, tossing both sets of clothes onto the floor as you flop onto your bed, wondering if you'll simply sleep in your underwear instead.

Your pondering is cut short when a burning sensation fills your heart: something warm, fuzzy, and incredibly royal as it pulsates throughout the rest of your body.

The prince, you realize instantly, not quite sure how you know that this is him calling, but there isn't a trace of doubt in your mind. The prince is summoning you.

Blindly grabbing the shirt closest to you (which so happens to be the black one), you fumble with the buttons, trying to undo them so that you can pull the fabric over your head and look at least semi-decent when you run to the throne room to answer his summons. But just as your fingers have undone the first button, Barbatos's words to you when you first arrived ring out in your ears.

There will be times when he will call for you, and you will not be prepared. Should such a thing happen, drop everything immediately and go to him. He will know if you keep him waiting, and he will replace you instantly should you be insolent enough to do so.

You drop the shirt, glancing down at your body. Your most private bits are covered up by underwear, but…

No. You shake your head, yanking the door open and breaking out into a jog to arrive in the throne room before Lord Diavolo realizes that you were about to keep him waiting. There's no point in going back now.

You force your face to remain blank as you pull open the door, internally relieved that you didn't run into Barbatos along the way, and Lord Diavolo's eyes light up the moment he sees you. It is late now, and whatever filter the prince usually has is gone as he rests his chin on his fist, expression bright as ever.

"Ah! I was concerned that you might not have sensed my magic, but it appears you have." He smiles at you, eyes looking almost kind as they remain trained on your face. "I see you were in a bit of a predicament before arriving here."

His gaze flits down, and you suddenly realize that he knew you were changing even when he summoned you. The mischievous smile on his face says it all.

"You no longer need to await my order to speak in my presence," He informs you. "I wish to hear your thoughts. How do you feel about being here before me?"

"It is the highest honor, my lord."

"Diavolo," He corrects, clicking his tongue.

"Pardon?"

"Call me Diavolo."

"I see. Then, Diavolo…" You test the word on your tongue, not missing the way the demon lord's ears perk up when you say his name. "It is the highest honor to serve you."

"Even if you're in this state of dress? Without those bells on your feet?" He is amused with your attempted indifference to the situation, you can tell. No doubt, he recognizes that this is just a facade and that you're dying on the inside. But nonetheless, you find a response for him.

"A dancer can dance in anything," You declare. "The garb I usually wear is one that enhances the visual appeal of a specific style of movements. There are dances that complement these clothes as well, my lo—Diavolo."

The demon smiles at your correction, but he sees through your words.

"You are a very composed person," He comments. "Tell me, my royal dancer, why do you pretend like you have no emotions?"

A taunting question. Lord Diavolo may appear relaxed and comfortable, but his mind is sharp as ever.

The game the two of you play never stops. Whether you are simply speaking or are dancing, there is the eternal toying with each other, testing each other to see how far the other will go.

"A dancer must save their emotions for dance," You respond.

Dance, and the ones they love.

Your natural smile will only reveal itself to two people: your brother, and whoever may capture your heart.

"Do you like having your emotions surface as you dance?" Diavolo asks, his eyes never leaving yours.

"I love it."

"I see," He leans back in his chair. "Then," He begins, and you already know what comes next.

"Dance."

***

He's trying to crack your shell, you realize.

He's trying to make you show expression outside of when you dance.

And, if you're honest, Diavolo is doing a damn good job of it.

You have to fight your body with all your might to suppress a blush, but it takes nearly all your energy, and you almost begin to worry about what will happen when you have to dance later.

"Are you uncomfortable?" Diavolo asks, and although he has the biggest grin on his face, you suspect that he will release you if you tell him you are.

But a ridiculous mix of stubbornness and actually wanting to remain on his lap compels you to shake your head, holding your body even stiffer as he settles a hand over the side of your waist, effectively caging you in.

"You don't seem very comfortable," He murmurs, almost pouting. "Relax."

You force your muscles to lose a bit of tension, though it's nearly impossible when you realize, once again, that you're literally sitting on the lap of the prince of hell.

"Tell me about your childhood," Diavolo begins. "We have some time before Barbatos expects that guests will arrive. And I expect you already know everything about me. So tell me. What was it like, growing up with Barbatos?"

You do relax a little bit at that, noting the childish grin that Diavolo wears as he not-so-subtly asks you if you have any embarrassing stories of your older brother. Alas, you have to shake your head and deny the prince any answers.

"Barbatos and I were only together for a few centuries before we split apart. I left to study dance when I turned two-hundred."

"Impressive," Diavolo mutters, eyes lighting up as he imagines all that time spent training in a single art. "Did you always know you wanted to pursue dance?"

You nod your head, a small smile forming on your lips.

Expression!

Something screams at the back of your mind, reprimanding you for losing the facade of inexpression that dancers are expected to adorn when they step into their garb, but you can't bring yourself to turn your face blank as Diavolo looks at you so hopefully, and you simply opt to answer his question and leave the soft smile on your face.

You win this one, Diavolo.

"Not always. I thought I would grow up training in sorcery and magic, like Barbatos. But I was never as skilled like he was, and my only gift seemed to be the ability to dance."

Diavolo nods his head, leaning further back in his throne. Meanwhile, you make yourself comfortable in his lap, squirming lightly on his thighs before your bottom is rested more comfortably atop them.

"My family didn't want me to pursue dance. They argued that it had no future. That I would be dropped into the lowest rungs of society. But Barbatos believed in me, and he personally helped find me an instructor and paid for all my lessons until I could finally make a living out of it." You smile, remembering how he, quite literally, changed the course of your life. "He's done so much for me, just so that I could be happy. I owe him everything."

Diavolo remains quiet, his eyes seeing you but not quite seeing you as he gazes at your (h/c) hair, one side streaked with the telltale patch of teal that both you and your brother share.

"Barbatos is a good man," The prince decides. "And an even better brother, it would seem."

You smile, slightly proud of your brother for having earned the praise of the demon lord of hell. You open your mouth to respond, but before a sound can leave your lips, a knock echoes through the hall.

"Come in," Diavolo calls, and it opens, revealing the very man you were both talking about.

"The guests have—" He breaks off in the middle of his sentence, eyes narrowing the moment he sees you seated so willingly on Diavolo's lap. The temperature in the room seems to drop by ten degrees. When Barbatos begins speaking again, he doesn't bother hiding the raw fury in his words, only further emphasized by their shortness. "The guests have arrived. They will be in this room shortly."

"Wonderful," Diavolo responds, not reacting at all to the barely concealed growl at the end of Barbatos's words. "Send them in."

You watch as your brother nods curtly, closing the door with far more force than is necessary, and you sigh internally. You would never be bold enough to act so callously around Diavolo, but the man seems like he was almost expecting this, and he only sighs when the echo of the door slam has faded.

"And Barbatos is awfully overprotective of you," Diavolo mutters, a pout forming on his face. "I expect he'll be yelling at me later tonight.

"Yelling at you?" You gasp, never having realized that Barbatos would dare reprimand the prince.

Diavolo nods his head. "Wish me luck," He mutters, using both his hands to lift you by the waist off his lap. He sets you down right next to him, a silent stay there implied as guests begin to file in.

The second they lay their eyes upon you, whispers begin to fill the air.

"Look at that clothing! I've never seen anything like it! What kind of dance do you think they are going to show us?"

"Oh, how exotic! They look positively ravishing! I could just scoop them up and eat them!"

"Why do you think the prince chose to bring his entertainer out? Do you think he might keep this one?"

You don your emotionless facade once more, steeling yourself to help you ignore the rumors that the demons are doing an awful job of whispering. Diavolo glances at you from the corner of his eye every now and then, but you hold your face neutral, and he relaxes once he sees that you can manage yourself.

"My lord!" A noble cries, approaching the throne. The man bows and rises, greeting the prince. "So, the rumors are true! This dancer has caught your interest!"

You ignore the noble and remain facing forward, watching those around you. For a moment, you make eye contact with Barbatos, but neither you nor he has the luxury of letting your emotions surface right now, so the conversation he doubtlessly wants to have with you will have to wait for later.

"Dance for us, child!" The noble looks at you expectantly, eyes bright but foolish, and you have to hide your irritation. You ignore him entirely, staring forward blankly.

He frowns at your disobedience. "What are you waiting for? Dance!"

"They only dance for me," Diavolo interrupts smoothly, the words sharp as a knife as he smiles at the noble who dared command his personal dancer.

He looks at you. A single glance, and that's all it takes to prepare you for his next word.

"Dance."

And you do, effortlessly hypnotizing the entire room the moment you begin moving.

But not once do you meet the eyes of the audience. No, just as Diavolo said earlier: you only dance for him. The watching eyes all around are nothing to you. Not even distractions. You dip your head low, raising your gaze on the upbeat as a smile spreads across your features.

All you care about is him.

And he knows it.

***

You've still yet to decide what you like most about living the palace.

Is it the fact that, at last, you can see your brother and enjoy his presence daily? Is it the fact that you no longer need to worry about food or bills? Is it the fact you are able to do what you love all day, every day, for the most important demon in the world?

No, you think to yourself.

It's the showers.

You hum quietly, turning the faucet off as you reach for a towel. It's soft and fluffy against your skin, and you momentarily wonder if you like the towels better than the showers, but no, you decide that your favorite thing about the palace is still the former.

Not bothering to dry your wet hair, you wrap the towel around your figure and step out of the bathroom into your chambers, glancing around for the clothes you laid out.

Gray, you note, glancing at the faded color of the silken garments laid across your bed.

You run your hand over them, savoring the cool softness of the fabric, and you're just about to pull the shirt over your head when a familiar sense of magic beats through your body.

Oh no.

You bite your lip, realizing your predicament.

Diavolo is summoning you, a summons which you technically must answer immediately and without a moment's hesitation.

But all you're wearing is a towel.

You reach your hand forward for the cotton underwear you had laid out. Surely just wearing those won't count as disobedience to the crown, right?

Alas, fate is not on your side. Because the moment your fingers graze over the cotton, the sensation in your heart grows overwhelming, and then you know Diavolo wants you in front of him and now.

Praying that Barbatos doesn't run into you in the halls, you clutch the towel and sprint to the throne room with as much grace as you can muster, stepping inside with a look of pure concern written on your face.

"What's wrong?" Diavolo asks from the other end of the room. As usual, he wears that Cheshire-like smirk, and you once more realize that he was all too aware of your predicament when he summoned you.

"...Nothing," You finally mumble in response, averting your eyes.

"You know, if I were the type of person to jump to conclusions, I might think that you're embarrassed to be here in front of me in only a towel." Diavolo's words are teasing. Truthful, but teasing.

"You know, if I were the type of person to jump to conclusions, I might just think that you consciously summoned me while I was changing so that you could see me naked."

"Oh no," Diavolo responds, licking his lips. "That's a fact, love."

And suddenly, the confidence you had from before is gone, and you're left nothing but a blushing mess as you awkwardly try not to look Diavolo in the eye.

What happened to that emotionless facade? You wonder, only realizing now that you've begun to show your emotions to Diavolo. And that you've grown worse at hiding them.

What kind of dancer can't hide their emotions? You ask inwardly, and suddenly, your internal question becomes a challenge, and you force yourself to be confident. To be bold, to be sexy. You are a dancer, and it is in your nature to be able to become anything and everything in an instant: hiding a blush is trivial compared to the training you've been through.

Your hand flies to the part of the towel where it's tucked in, the only thing holding it up, but you tap it dangerously.

"So," You begin, an unconfident confidence taking over your senses as you stare at Diavolo. "Are you saying you want me to take this off?"

Diavolo's eyes raise at your offer, evidently not having expected you to respond so boldly to his earlier comments.

He studies your face, your so-obviously forced look of confidence as you resolutely stand in front of him, about to strip when he knows that you're completely nude underneath.

"Do not push yourself," He warns, but then you've taken his words as a challenge, and you rip the towel off your body, discarding it in a hasty throw away from your body.

For a moment, as the cold air hits your privates, you do regret your decision. You feel exposed. Vulnerable. Weak.

But then, you raise your eyes from the floor and you look up at Diavolo—and the way he stares at your body fills you with true confidence. His eyes are hungry as they skirt over every spot, hovering a bit longer over his favorite places, and you can see the way his muscles strain as he consciously restrains himself from moving to touch your body.

His mouth is partially open, and you can hear the quiet breath that leaves his mouth as his breath hitches, and then he's also looking back up at you with worry, concerned that you've pushed yourself too far for his sake and that he's made you uncomfortable. But the confidence you didn't have before now flows through your veins as you return his gaze, your eyes locked to each other in a way that screams desire.

"Can you—" Diavolo clears his throat, hearing how quiet his words were at first. But even when he begins speaking once more, his words are gentle. He's no longer commanding, but is asking. "Can you dance like this?"

You nod your head slowly, already imagining all the ways you can take advantage of your nudity to execute moves that would otherwise look ridiculous.

"I can."

"Then," He opens his mouth to say the word, but before he can even begin, your body has begun moving, and the sound is caught in his throat as he simply stares, utterly captivated by every movement, every bounce, every sway.

He's left frozen as he stares at your figure, dancing without any clothing or jewelry to distract him from your natural perfection. And in this moment, Diavolo is truly spellbound by the spell that is you, unable to move an inch as you single-handedly move enough for the both of you.

***

Barbatos always knows more than he lets on.

When you were a kid, he knew you wanted to learn dance even before you did. When you were older, he always seemed to pop up whenever you found yourself yearning for him. And even now, you're certain that he's aware of more than he's telling you, as he unfolds the brilliant blue silk in his hands and prepares to drape it around your shoulders.

"...You don't have anything to say to me?" You finally ask, raising a suspicious eyebrow. It's been over a week, now, and he hasn't said a single word about finding you seated on Diavolo's lap that one time. And you're quite certain that he has his suspicions about you dancing nude for the prince.

"Not at all," He responds, fastening the blue to your armlet. He turns around, inspecting your jewelry box, flashing you a cryptic smile. "Why? Should I be concerned?"

His smile remains subtle as he continues flitting through your earrings, lifting two—a topaz and a sapphire—and comparing them to the color of your garb before handing you the dangling sapphire, which you slip into your ear.

He walks behind you as you examine your figure in the mirror, pulling bits of cloth here and there until you look like a proper dancer, ethereal as you are refined.

You study Barbatos's expression. He's wearing his usual, enigmatic smile, but you don't detect any anger or upset in his eyes. If anything, his steps are lighter than usual, and he seems unbearably pleased as he begins walking you to the throne room, not seeming to care at all that he saw you sitting on the demon lord's lap not one week ago.

"Are you sure you don't have anything to say to me?" You call when he begins to walk away, the demon already three steps away from you. "Anything at all?" You bite your lip. You want him to chew you out, ask you about it, or even sulk angrily as he tends to do from time to time—you just want him to acknowledge what happened, or at least tell you why he's so okay with it.

"Follow your heart," The demon calls back, not even looking at you as he continues walking away.

The words make you blink, seemingly coming out of absolutely nowhere with zero context, and your face scrunches up as you try to figure out why in hell he would say something so random.

And as much as you want to chase after him to find out what in hell he means, you have a duty here, and your brother will have to wait.

Stupid Barbatos and his endless riddles.

"Diavolo?" You call, opening the door.

He isn't seated at his throne, but a quick scan of the room reveals that he's standing inside the mouth of the dragon skull, staring at the structure around him. He nods at you when you arrive, his usual smile overtaking his features as you walk forward.

"Join me," He calls out to you, offering his hand. You take it, letting him intertwine his fingers with yours. "When my father came to this room, he sat on this skull as a throne. Do you see that spot, at the top of the dragon's head, where it's slightly flat?" He points, and you nod. "Right there. Every day. I used to think it was the most uncomfortable thing in the world, but I suppose my father sat in it not because of the comfort, but because of the beauty, no?"

You take a step forward, marveling at the fossil now that you can see it up close.

"It is beautiful."

"Would you like to stand on it?" He asks, leaning his weight on one bone. "Stand on the place my father used to use as a throne?"

"No!" You decline swiftly, understanding that of all things, it would hardly be appropriate for the prince's entertainer to stand in what was used to be a sacred throne. But Diavolo must see the glimmer of hope in your eyes, because a second later he's muttering 'nonsense' under his breath and is lifting you onto the skull, holding you until you've managed to stabilize yourself on what you imagine must have been the dragon's snout.

"Oh my goodness," You gasp out loud, clutching the bone for support as you climb higher at Diavolo's encouragement.

"Be careful," He warns, but millennia of dance has taught you footwork too well for you to land in a weak foothold, and before long, you're at the top, even beyond where the throne supposedly was.

"Diavolo!" You gasp, laughing merrily. "Look! I'm—I'm—"

"I know," He says, a warm smile spreading across his face as he looks up at you, stepping back. "Do you think—" He breaks off, shaking his head. "No, never mind."

"What is it, Diavolo?"

He hesitates, staring at the bony skeleton you're standing on, but at the sight of your pleading eyes, he yields. "Do you think you could dance on that skeleton?"

You glance around. There are holes, and definite spaces that you'll need to jump over, but that's the nature of dance, is it not?

Your beaming smile answers his question, and Diavolo has to hold a hand up to stop you.

"Just for a few minutes, alright? I don't want to risk you injuring yourself, so come down quickly. But…" He trails off, sheepish eyes darting back down to the skeleton before they return to your figure.

"Dance."

And with that single order, the bells on your feet are brought to life once more, swinging and stepping as you practically fly over the dragon's spine. You jump back and forth, from side to side, stepping over hollows, bending your back over points, going as far as to do a front flip that lands you on the edge of the dragon's eye socket.

You detect a flicker of concern in Diavolo's eyes every now and then, but you don't doubt yourself. It's an unusual platform, but you're in control.

Step to step, your arm doesn't cut the air as it moves, but rather the air makes way for your arm and your limbs simply follow, your body swinging gracefully like an acrobat as you recall the centuries you spent working with master gymnasts, building upper body strength to pull your body through spins and twists that now make Diavolo gasp as you perform them for him.

But you don't forget his initial order, to not get carried away and to only go for a few minutes, so you continue making your way down the skull, dancing and jumping, reaching and pulling, until you swing out of the jaws of the dragon, landing perfectly in Diavolo's arms just as you planned.

Laughter spills from your lips on instinct as he holds you, and you realize that there's a slight blush on your face from how muscular the demon lord's arms are as he practically hugs you, but you savor the feeling.

"That looked far more reckless than I had anticipated," Diavolo confesses, though there's a reluctant smile on his lips. "But you seemed to enjoy yourself."

"That was wonderful," You respond, grinning as he sets your feet on the ground and releases you. But the earlier movement has your body itching for more, and you interlace your fingers with Diavolo's, subtly pushing him back into his throne.

"Say it," You tell him, cheeks flushed. From exercise or the hug, you don't know. All you're aware of is the overwhelming desire to keep moving.

"Dance," He whispers, sending the word to you like a kiss as he leans forward in his throne to watch you.

And you dance.

***

Barbatos insists on dressing you in red today.

"It's a beautiful color," He says as his excuse when you confront him, and while he's absolutely right on that front, you can't help but suspect that there's an ulterior motive that he has.

Trying to convince yourself that you're just overthinking things in your head, you watch as he selects a ruby for your earring, an expensive gift he had given you many millennia ago. The red gem has been carved into the shape of a stunning rose, something you usually wouldn't risk dancing in, but Barbatos insists on it as he fusses over your outfit, pulling cloths and fabrics into place with more effort than you've ever directed toward yourself.

"You look good," He finally comments, and though the words hardly count as praise, you know that Barbatos means them with all his heart.

"Thank you," You respond, opening the door. "Now, will you tell me what the special occasion is?"

But Barbatos shakes his head, maintaining the ruse that there is no 'special occasion.'

You suppress an urge to roll your eyes as you lead the way to Diavolo's throne room, thinking that if Barbatos was going to prepare you for something, he could have at least been a bit more subtle about it.

This morning, he had marched into your room nearly an hour early, ordering you to bathe and shampoo your hair with a handful of expensive soaps he handed to you. He answered no questions, frowning when you began asking too many, and threatened to withhold dessert from you if you continued to pester him. He then proceeded to dress you in your finest red garb, complementing it with black rather than another darker shade of red, and went as far as to dab perfume at your skin.

"I am not dumb," You blurt, once you're at the throne room door.

"You are not," Barbatos agrees, nodding.

"I know something is up," You clarify.

"As was my intention," Barbatos quips back, that aggravating smile back on his face. But before you can say another word, he silences you with a finger to your lips. "Just go along with it, will you?"

He hesitates, looking awkward and extremely uncomfortable for a moment, but then he sighs and seems to groan to himself, stepping forward as he awkwardly pulls his arms around you.

A hug, you realize, blinking. This is supposed to be a hug.

And it's perhaps the first one Barbatos has initiated in your entire lifetime together.

You hold back your gasp as you return his embrace, pressing his body close to yours and helping him out as you smile. And he pulls back, eyebrows furrowed just the slightest.

"Be safe, alright?" He seems to have an internal struggle for a moment, but one side wins out, and when he looks at you next, his eyes are soft. "I will always care for you."

You're about to respond, about to say something equally heartfelt and sweet, when a rush of magic bursts in your chest, and you have to clutch your brother's shoulders for support.

He calls out your name in a panicked breath, eyebrows furrowed as he looks down at you, and you laugh.

"My apologies," You smile bashfully. "I am still not quite used to the sensation of Diavolo summoning me. It's overwhelming, every time." You glance toward the door. "I suppose I should…"

Barbatos nods, flashing you another rare smile before turning around.

You push open the door to the throne room.

“Diavolo?” You call, glancing around.

He's not on his throne. Nor is he standing in the dragon skull. Nor is he standing in the skull of any other creature, or anywhere else in the room.

The magic in your heart beats once more, stronger this time, and you frown. This is doubtlessly the sensation of Diavolo calling you, so where is he? And why is he calling you if he's not here?

You're about to walk forward and take a better look around when the sensation nearly overwhelms you, your dancer's grace being the only thing that prevents you from stumbling onto the floor.

He's not here, you realize.

And just when you begin to wonder where he could be, you feel a weak tug on your heart, as if it's pulling you somewhere.

Follow your heart.

Barbatos had said that not long ago.

And like you've always done, you take his advice, following your heart out the throne room and down the hall. You attempt shouting Barbatos's name along the way for assistance, Diavolo's name spilling from your lips a little more often, but neither men respond, so you continue marching in the direction your heart pulls you, only stopping with you find yourself in front of a particularly majestic door.

You take a step back, taking in the full view of it.

Diavolo’s personal chambers.

Your breath hitches.

You wrap your fingers around the handle, hesitating to open it. There's no going back, either way. Should you turn back now, this opportunity will never arise again. But should you enter, your relationship with Diavolo will certainly change. After all, these are his personal chambers.

Follow your heart.

Except that your heart is no longer tugging you to or fro, not even weakly. You bite your lip, concern imprinted on your mind. You want Barbatos here, so your big brother can give you advice and tell you what to do. Or if you can't have him, you want Diavolo, so that he can laugh and make everything better and—

Oh.

Realization dawns in your eyes.

You want Diavolo.

And not just in the wholesome, friendly way. You want to be able to run your fingers along his muscles, to be able to play with his fiery red hair, to be able to look into those bright eyes until you can decide what shade of orange they are, never caring about what he'll think of you for staring so long.

You want Diavolo.

All hesitation deserting your body, those words echo through your mind. And you twist the golden handle down, opening the doors to the prince's private chambers and entering.

He lives like a king.

That's your first foolish thought, before the notion strikes you that with his father lying dormant, he is the acting king of the Devildom. And once your immediate stupor induced by the sheer lavishness of his quarters passes, a voice speaks.

"You came."

Your head turns to the source of the voice instantly, and you see a large bed pressed against the center of the wall on your left, the shape of a familiar figure still buried inside.

"You...summoned me," You say, trying to justify why you entered the prince's personal chambers. At the back of your mind, there is a moment of panic—you worry that this was a test, and you chose wrong by entering—but Diavolo's next words reveal that it is quite the opposite.

"I have summoned many entertainers to this room, but none have ever dared step inside. You are the first," Diavolo says, but then he corrects himself: "You are the only."

Your fingers twitch at your sides when he says that, the possessive tone in his voice not lost upon you.

"It is my honor," You say, instantly bowing your head.

"No." You raise your eyebrows the slightest, eyes focused on the blankets as Diavolo's figure emerges from beneath them, sitting up. He looks princely as ever: dignified and royal as he exposes his bare upper body to you for the first time. "It is your destiny."

Your heart swells at that, a rush of pride coming to the forefront of your mind as you understand the prince's words. Destiny, you think. Something so intangible but so undeniably there. You shoot Diavolo a questioning look, quietly wondering whether he means the words in a literal or metaphorical sense, whether he's chosen you for his destiny or you truly are fated to be with him, and he smiles. Opening his mouth, a single comment slips from his mouth, and that's all you need to know for the answer to your question.

"Barbatos."

Of course.

If there is one person in the world who would know something so utterly lifechanging and shocking, it would be him.

Suddenly, your brother's strange actions over these past few weeks become understandable: the transition from concerned to confident, irate to pleased, protective to accepting. Even his actions this morning flit through your mind, and they take a different shade in your memories when you realize, for the first time, that he has donned you in the colors of Diavolo: red and blank.

Destiny, you think, eyes widening at the realization. Barbatos knew yours, and then Diavolo learned it, and now you understand it, too.

The moment the fact dawns on you, the silence grows weighted. Air filled with tension, too thick for even a knife to slice through it. You stare at Diavolo with round eyes, the sudden pressure of the moment not lost on you as you try to sort out your thoughts.

An amused smile breaks out on the demon lord's face at your evident confusion, and you realize—with a curse directed inward—that you've once again abandoned the expressionless mask of a dancer. But as Diavolo continues to gaze at you, you find yourself frozen, entirely unable to hide anything away as he stares into your soul.

He smiles.

"Come."

An order, one that your body heeds on instinct.

Yet, as you move to obey, it's different. You don't force yourself to tread so that the bells on your feet are silent, to wear a blank face to save your expressions for later, to stare at the ground when you want to gaze upon the prince. No, as you obey this final order of Diavolo's, you are no longer hiding behind forced grace—you reveal you, in all your natural elegance and wonder.

The bells on your feet tinkle softly as you move, and your body sets itself into a natural rhythm that makes the gentle jingles sound perfectly continuous, and it's like a musical trance wraps around the room as you approach the bed.

Normally, you would stop at least eight feet from the king, awaiting his inevitable orders to further approach. Six feet, if you're feeling brave. But now, emboldened by the prince's earlier words of destiny, you hold back nothing as you stride forward, stopping only when you are less than even a hand's length away from the prince, and he is so close that you can cup his cheek.

The moment you stop moving, the trance is broken—the music of the bells on your feet quieting. But where one moment ends, another begins, and Diavolo pulls you into an entirely different state of captivation.

The prince looks up at you from his spot on the edge of the bed, never breaking eye contact as he takes your smaller hand in his. And though you've certainly done much more with him, having sat on his lap and danced completely nude for him, nothing has ever felt so intimate.

"Even destiny is nothing before the power of a king. If you do not wish for this, nothing will be forced upon you." Diavolo raises his eyebrows gently, and you realize that he is giving you a choice. That though you two are fated to be together, he will still honor your decision, no matter what it may be.

But truly, did you not give him your answer the moment you decided to enter this room?

Your heart swells with warmth. With warmth and affection and desire as you gaze upon this prince, who, by all rights, can take anything he pleases, and still chooses to give you a choice in the matter. And it's in this state, when you're so overwhelmed by love that any words that might leave your lips fall short of your throat and you opt to answer Diavolo's question with action, leaning forward with such certainty that there leaves no room for further doubt.

I want to be with you.

You say the words in the way you kiss him, pressing your lips against his slowly but surely, showing him just how much you want this. It's a second before he responds, but the moment he understands your answer, he holds nothing back.

A hand comes up to your hair, better angling your face down at his, and a warmth enters your mouth as Diavolo deepens the kiss. Mind already growing clouded with lust from this simple action, you steady yourself by laying a hand against Diavolo's chest, the muscles impossible hard as you hold yourself up.

But the action is entirely unnecessary, because moments later, Diavolo has you pulled into his lap, the bells on your feet jingling at the movement.

The sudden sound prompts both of you to withdraw for a moment, and you glance at your feet, the nine rows of bells which trail from low on your ankle to low on your calf.

"I can take them off—" You try to say, but Diavolo silences you with a kiss, flipping your bodies over in an elegant spin so that you are underneath him. The bells clatter against each other once more, but when the sound fades, so does the last of Diavolo's restraint.

You glance upward, and the look Diavolo gives you is nothing short of a starved man, desperately holding himself back while he studies your body laid out beneath him oh-so-temptingly.

"Don't make me wait any longer," He murmurs, and you feel his hips press against yours, the fire in his eyes fueled not just by desire but by true need, and you can't hold back your grin as he sucks in a sharp breath when you experimentally roll your body against his. But his earlier muttering does not go forgotten, and with one more body roll, you throw an arm around his neck and collide his lips with yours in a hungry meeting of lust long overdue.

"You're perfect," Diavolo whispers breathlessly between kisses, fingers deftly unclasping the red silk that hides your shoulders.

"And you," You try to respond, but the combination of Diavolo's overwhelming presence and his intoxicating touch has you feeling high, and those end up being the final coherent words you stutter out as the prince throws the clothing to the floor, leaning back to study your exposed form.

His eyes widen and his breath hitches, and the hand on your waist twitches as he studies the skin he's already begun to litter with hickeys.

You look up at him, not missing the way he seems to be devouring you with his eyes, memorizing the image of your body splayed out before him.

His left thumb hooks the soft fabric of your pants, pulling experimentally, delighting in the softness of the skin there. He glances upward at you, eyes slightly wide as his mouth spreads into a grin, realizing that this is actually about to happen.

"May I have this dance?" He jokes, tugging on the elastic fabric experimentally.

The breathless nod you give him is all he needs, and then his lips are on yours and you lost track of where his hands are, just aware of the fabric being stripped from your body until your bodies are pressed flush against each other.

You close your eyes, savoring the sensation of Diavolo as he takes control, guiding you through the passion with a gentle but sure hand.

And for the first time, you dance together.

MASTERLIST

Word count: 11.2k

Notes: so when i had this idea i was like okay ill make it a series and each new interaction will just be a new chapter but then i got excited and wrote the whole thing in one night and i didnt wanna make you guys wait so yeah heres hopefully the longest oneshot ill write

Comment & Like

Thank you for reading <3

I do not own the rights to Obey Me! or any of the characters within it.

419 notes · View notes