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hargreef · 3 years ago

Note

Hello I was the one who asked if you took writing prompts. I have one about tua if you're I terested. So my prompt is that show!allison and five are out in town in the 60s like in the second season. And so they decide to go to a cafe for lunch but after five goes in the door the owner won't let allison in because it's whites only. Five gees ballistic threatening to burn the while please down if they don't let her in. Sorry if it's long ❤

hi anon !! thank you for the prompt :)

i hope you enjoy!!! (im sorry if its not completely accurate, i sort of ran away with the idea and it did its own thing)

“This is where you work,” Five states bluntly, craning his neck to read the ‘ladies beauty parlor’ sign displayed above the entrance to the salon. He stuffs his hands in his pockets once he’s finished observing, choosing to squint through the windows instead. “Huh. Nice place.”

Allison purses her lips to hide a smile as she watches him, arms folded across her chest. “It is. It’s a good place to work. Good people to be with.”

“At least you weren’t alone,” Five replies, humming in satisfaction. He says it more as a statement rather than an empathetic musing, tightly content with that knowledge as if it were a certified fact rather than a sweet concern. “Best to surround yourself with people when you’re stuck in time.” He clenches his jaw, grinding his teeth together in that way he always does when he’s trying to say something sensitive. “I’m glad you found good company to be with.”

Allison ducks her head, somehow resisting the strong urge to wrap him in a hug. As tender as the moment is, she refuses to ruin it by initiating physical contact and result in that stand-offish, closed off demeanour he exerts when anyone attempts to be touchy with him.

Instead she knocks his shoulder with her elbow, arms still crossed with a smile on her face. “Thanks, Five. I am too.”

He nods curtly, straightening out his blazer awkwardly. He stays looking through the window to focus his gaze somewhere, avoiding her eyes as he peers at the salon workers doing their jobs. It seems to fascinate him, and it strikes Allison all of a sudden how foreign the concept must be to someone who has spent their entire life surrounded with ash.

“I’ve never been in a hair . . . store,” he says, clearly away with his own thoughts as he takes in the sight in front of him. “A salon, I mean.”

“Well, this is for women’s hair,” Allison tells him, with a wink. “I’m sure we can find barbers for you somewhere if you want a cut.” She studies him for a moment. “I don’t really think you need one, though.”

“I can cut my own hair,” Five says, sounding almost insulted at the suggestion he would allow someone else to do that task for him. “I always cut my own hair.”

“I know,” Allison threads carefully. “But, y’know. You don’t have to anymore.”

“I want to,” Five says defiantly, and Allison quickly realises she’s not going to get anywhere with this conversation. Five can be a brick wall, at times, and perhaps it’s so often due to his instilled habits from a lifetime of being so alone, but she knows this is something to bring up another time, when both of them have the patience for it.

“Why don’t we go grab some lunch?” She suggests, instead. “You must be hungry.”

He looks as if he’s going to refuse her offer, but as if on cue his stomach rumbles loudly, completely disputing whatever lie had been about to make its way out of his mouth.

She smirks. “Coulda’ fooled me.”

“Shut up,” he says with a scowl, but there’s no bite in his voice. He follows her along as she steps past him to continue their tour down the street, the hot sixties sun a reverent glare in their sight as they do so. It’s warm with a cool breeze, gentle sways of the city trees backgrounding their stroll.

They make their way in silence, Five deep in his thoughts as he bobs along quietly beside her like a very short, very stiff shadow. Each passer-by offers a strange look or double-take, the striking difference between the two of them painfully pigmented in correlation to their current debut in this timeline.

Five doesn’t appear to notice, and if he does he says nothing about it, striding casually by her side as if they were back at home and sauntering downtown. Allison isn’t sure if that’s due to his general lack of social awareness, or lack of racial knowledge, or lack of giving a fuck, in which realistically it could be all three, but she doesn’t question it as they go.

Her brother is a strange man. A strange child in so many ways, but Allison has learnt its best not to question him in some things.

Five stops abruptly outside a small café with a soft blue exterior and a bell above the entrance. A white bike with flowers in the basket is on display beside the window. It’s very sweet and simple.

“This seems like a you place,” he says, with a small nod. It’s surprisingly considerate of him to select somewhere he imagines would cater to her tastes rather than his own, but then again Five probably never sits and has food in a café other than Griddy’s, so she supposes he’s not exactly picky.

“It’s nice,” she tells him, smiling in appreciation. He looks sort of proud for a moment for having chosen correctly, which she absolutely cannot deny is awfully adorable. The way he tries to hide his pleased smile is very endearing, and so very Five. Her heart thumps with warmth and love for her smallest brother, suddenly, in a bare moment of gratitude that doesn’t come often when she engages with his prickly self.

He pulls at the door handle, eyes shooting up at the jingling bell momentarily before he swings it open and steps aside for her. “Shall we?”

“Let’s,” she says, waving him off with the gentleman act. She doesn’t even think to check before stepping in, purse in hand and smile on her face, which is quickly transitioned into gut-churning frustration when every head sitting down turns to stare at her.

Five doesn’t notice the automatic tension at her presence, following her with breezy ease and still fiddling with his blazer. “Where to?” He says, glancing around for an empty booth as if this is an everyday task for him. Nevermind the blatant glares from every single person here, this entire setting is relatively rare for Five, the concept of sitting down casually for a meal a faraway occasion Allison can imagine he indulges in once in a blue moon, so of course the last thing he’s going to notice is the gaunt stares of every diner sat at every seat.

Nonetheless, she hesitantly backs away, eyes darting to the sign just above the countertop. WHITES ONLY.

“Fuck,” she hisses, turning around. She nudges at her brother standing behind her, now totally confused at her change in demeanour, and gently tries to usher him back out the door. “Come on, we’ll find somewhere else.”

Naïve, and slightly ignorant, Five frowns and refuses her guidance. “What? Why? Just go sit down. There’s loads of tables. “

“Five, I can’t,” she says, quietly, conscious of the attention drawn to her and her every move. “I can’t be here. We need to go.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Five says, surprisingly forward as he tugs at her wrist and pulls her along to an empty booth. He must have noticed the stares by now, but simply ignores them as he hauls her along and practically shoves her into a seat. He settles in comfortably opposite her, straightening up as he does so.

“See?” He says, as if it isn’t excruciatingly prominent how everybody is looking at them.

Uncomfortable and anxious in her seat, Allison takes a deep breath. “Five, I’m serious. This is dangerous for me, okay?”

“I’m sitting right here,” Five says with a raised brow. “Nothing is dangerous with me here.”

“And I believe that,” Allison says quickly, noticing the uniformed waiter approaching them with a scowl on his face. “But this isn’t that simple, okay? We’ll just find somewhere else.”

Before Five can respond, the waiter arrives within reach to the table and points to the door, a cruel snarl on his face. “You,” he gestures at Allison, tone dark and grated. “Out. Now.”

“What the hell?” Five says, aghast. “We literally just got here.”

“You can stay,” the waiter says, coldly, before he nods towards Allison and points once again to the door. “You get out. We don’t serve black folk here.”

This grabs Five’s attention. “You don’t what?”

“Five, it's fine.” Allison clutches her purse like a lifeline and makes a move to step out of the booth. Five’s foot stretches out from under the table and halts her in her step, blocking her from exiting as he continues to stare at the waiter with a murderous frown.

“It’s not ‘fine’ Allison,” he snarls, interlocking his fingers on the table in an act of displaying his means of staying for a while. It’s clear he has no intentions of leaving any time soon, and the waiter locks his jaw, impatient.

“Get out, or I’m calling the police,” he snaps, in a very no-nonsense tone that indicates he won’t argue this further. “I’m damn serious, girl. Get up, and get out. Go find food with your own kind.”

Mortified, Allison once again attempts to depart from the booth. Five’s leg doesn’t stop her this time but his entire body does, blinking rapidly into place right in front of her to keep her in her seat.

The waiter jumps back, completely startled at this fucking barbaric party trick. “The hell?”

“Speak to her like that again,” Five snarls, squaring his shoulders and turning his nose up. “Do it.”

“Five—” Allison tries again.

“No, Allison,” Five spits, evidently furious at this point. The waiter is still somewhat in shock at what he’s just witnessed, and most likely the rest of the café too considering they’re watching this unfold like it’s a TV show, and he stumbles backwards for a minute in a weak attempt to process it.

“You talk to her like that again and I will skin you inside out,” Five hisses, eyes flashing in rage as he stands protectively in front of her. “Christ, you people are assholes.”

The waiter, over his moment of shock, leans down to sneer in Five’s face. “If you don’t get your filthy acquaintance out of this diner in the next two minutes, I’ll drag her out myself.”

“You lay a hand on my sister and I will burn this place down,” Five threatens lowly, voice dropping about eight octaves in tone with the darkness of its intentions, the veins in his neck protruding from where he’s tensing with aggravation. Flustery crawls in red blotches up his neck, fingers trembling from where he stands seething with fury.

“Let’s go, Five,” Allison places her hands on his shoulders from where he’s blocking her, attempting desperately to get past him and out of this stupid café. “It’s not worth it.”

“You think I’m kiddin’ around?” The waiter challenges, standing up to his full height and addressing Allison once again with his eyes, disgust clear as day on his face as he looks her up and down.

“I think you better have half a goddamn brain to think twice about pulling any bullshit while I’m standing right here,” Five sneers, and Allison nearly swears she can see sweat sheening on his forehead.

“In that case,” the waiter smiles cruelly, cracking a knuckle before he reaches behind Five and yanks at Allison’s arm, hauling her so roughly out of the booth that she trips in her step, stumbling along as he pinches her skin with the forceful grip.

And Five sees red.

“Let go of her you fucking imbecile!” He roars, reaching blindly behind him on instinct to snatch a butter knife from the cutlery holder in the middle of the table. He blinks into place onto the waiters back, locking an arm around his neck and jerking him backwards until he crumples to the floor, choking spastically in his grip. His clutch on Allison is quickly released as he attempts to unwind from Five’s serious hold, twisting this way and that as he tries to free himself.

“Five!” Allison shouts, heart racing manically. She can almost feel the reaction behind her, understanding all too well who could be on their way right now. Her suspicion of interference is justified as she takes a glance behind her, stomach churning at the other uniformed waiters making their way over.

“Five, get off of him, we need to go!” She yells, although it proves to be of no use considering Five clearly plays by his own rules and has no means of listening to her.

“Rumour these assholes!” He yells back, flat on his own back as he continues to choke the waiters red, puffing face. “Stop being a goddamn saint and use your power!”

“No, Five!” Allison backs away from the approaching waiters, unable to resist grabbing a knife herself although it’s not as if she’s intending on using it. Not by any means like Five has, having already stabbed the damn thing in the waiters ribs, flourishing as the man howls in pain.

Outnumbered and cornered, Allison kicks gently enough at Five’s shoulder from his sprawl on the floor, alerting him into shoving said waiter off his front and coming to a rumpled stance himself, positively all over the place. His hair doesn’t beat the wild in his eyes, but he looks borderline animalistic as he once again throws himself in front of Allison, butter knife dripping blood from his hands.

“You assholes touch her and this entire building is coming down,” he spits at all of them, who have halted at the sight of the knife and their colleague jerking on the floor. “I swear to every goddamn Deity in the sky I will blow this place up.”

It’s then that one of the waiters pulls out a fucking shotgun.

“Five,” Allison says, panicked. She jostles him from where he’s backing up closer to her. “Five, we need to go!”

“Fuck, alright,” he hisses, snatching up her wrist. He pauses briefly to flip off everyone in the café like the cheeky bastard he is before he blinks them out of there, reinstating them at the telephone box right across the street. Feeling as if she’s going to hurl, Allison leans over with a gag, stomach weak from either that entire ordeal or the jump, she isn’t sure.

“Fuck, Five,” she hisses, after managing barely a spit on the ground. She straightens up, covering her face with her hands as she processes everything that just happened. “What the fuck was that?”

Five pants aggressively on the spot, still glaring at the café despite being all the way across the street from it. “Assholes,” he spits. “Fucking pricks.”

“Yes, Five, welcome to racism,” Allison scoffs, sarcasm dripping from her voice like the gushing blood from that goddamn butter knife. “Yeah, it’s shitty, but unfortunately that’s the world we live in!”

“I don’t understand it,” Five snarls. “And I don’t want to understand. I refuse to understand. I’m—how dare they—”

“I know you’re angry,” Allison grasps his shoulders. “I know, I’m angry too. But we need to get somewhere safe, okay? Can you blink us home? Back to my house?”

“I’m sorry,” Five mutters, without moving an inch. His eyes are blank when he redirects his gaze to her face. “I’m sorry, Allison.”

She’s not sure what exactly he’s apologising for; attempting fucking murder at that stupid café, getting them stuck in the fucking sixties, or just for the fact the world is a cruel, nasty place that involves the sick, twisted concept of racism. In hindsight, Five has apologised for a lot of things, which she’s coming to the slow and wobbly understanding that aren’t entirely his fault.

She knows her brother would die to protect her. She knows he would die to protect all of them. Hell, he would die two times over, gut himself bone-deep and tear apart his own insides if it meant that his family would be okay. Five is a goddamn war machine, and not even the end of the world could stop him from saving the ones he loves.

It’s remarkable how she often fails to recognise that. Five has and will continue to do everything in his power to protect his family, and if that includes beating up a racist waiter in the 1960’s, then so be it.

“It’s fine,” she murmurs. It is fine. It’s not enough, and she needs to say more, he needs to hear more—but she will tell him later. They will rest, and she will make him something sweet and she will tell him how grateful she is to have him in her life. He will scoff and pretend like he doesn’t have feelings, but there will be a twinkle in his eye and a twitch in his lips and she will hug him and tell him she loves him so.

She will do all of those things later. For now, she squeezes his shoulders. “Get us home, okay?”

He clasps at her wrists at his shoulders, squeezing her back. His eyes tell more than his mouth ever has.

He nods. “Yeah. I’ll get us home.”

#i hope u liked!!!#:)))#my writing #The Umbrella Academy #TUA #umbrella academy #tua fanfic #five hargreeves #number five #number five the boy #allison hargreeves #bobbie writes

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oikawalmartt · 4 years ago

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onigiri boy

enemies to lovers collab;@mikrokyla;@parkersvibe

Osumu tends to be cold at first but little did you know that he can change… A LOT

It been 3 months since you and him met but before we go to that we are staring from the fucking beginning 🤩

This guy is literally the RUDEST peice of shit at first…But we all know we still love Osamu👀

May 23–3rd year

Junior year in college and you were slowly failing your communication class. The only thing that could maintain it is the group project that was coming up.

Yes, you're a failing student. But that's okay because you tend to pass most of the work since your friends would be in most of your classes and groups.

Sadly, this time wasn’t one of them.

You quickly stepped off the bus as you ran from your stop to the campus gates. You glanced at the time to realize you're going to be late.

“Y/n! TAKE YOUR TIME” your two best friends called behind you.

THE FÖCK YOU TRYING TO GRADUATE.

As you rushed to make your way to your failing class you felt someone with a black hoodie bump into you.

Your patience has warred off and you were fucking losing it.

I guess you guys already know what's about to go down… 😔 *sigh*

You thought they were going to apologize but…NOPE! bitch thought wrong.

The thought of cussing them out went through your mind but before you could you remembered the time—

Finally, you made it to your class. You took a seat at your regular spot while you waited for your friends.

Luckily the professor was late today.

BITCH REALLY RAN TO CLASS I—

Not long after the professor arrived and as the class continued he said to get into groups.

You watched as you slowly saw everyone in the room shift to different places.

It didn't take you long for you to finally find your group. You sat down and made eye contact with someone familiar.

Your eyes widened to come to the conclusion that it was the same person who bumped into you.

Y/n boutta throw that guy out a window..

The guy squinted his eyes while glaring at you.

“Osumu do you know her??” the guy next to him asked, bumping his arm.

You hid behind your laptop; trying to avoid the situation

Before the guy could answer one of the older peers spoke.

You would think that everything will be ignored by the time people start working…

Well föck were you wrong… Osumu starred you down the whole time…(kinda hot doe)

Finally, the class ended and you were ready to head out.

As you were making your way to the dining hall your hunger was at

max since rushing to the campus was the first priority. You were about to buy origini balls but—

THIS MF TOOK THREE!

At this point you hated him. He turned around and looked at you before sticking his tongue out. (lil mf)

Not only did he have the audacity to take the last servings but he casually sat across from you. Were you about to go crazy? maybe.

“ Your y/n right??” he asked while biting in one of the rice balls.

“HE CAN SAY MY NAME BUT NOT SORRY?!” (Y/n malfunctioning)

The two of you always ended up arguing in the group project.

Butting heads with each other.

Also, scoffing and getting back at each other constantly..

At the point where you have concluded that he was a mongrel( im sorry )

Except that one time…

On your way back to the library from the vending machines you heard two familiar voices loudly echoing down the hall. You walked towards it curious if everything was okay. As you turned the corner to check your eyes met with a scene of Osumu arguing with an older female.

“I guess he has mommy problems 🤭”

Before you left you were stopped by their sudden conversation.

“I didn’t ask for this— do you KNOW how useless this is??!” the girl threw something towards him as he just stood there.

“Breakup with me then..” Osumu’s cold words escaped from his lips which seemed to make the girl angrier.

“ YOU LOOK LIKE A FUCKING SOCIOPATH FINE THEN!!”

The woman stormed off which made you back away. You looked back at his direction to see him not there. As you turn your way back you stopped in your tracks to meet eyes with a very stressed Osumu. “It's rude to eavesdrop hun..” You ignored his comment and looked at him worried. “Are you oka-.” You were cut off by him. “ Don't look at me like.. I don't need your pity dumbass.”

You look down at his hands that were shaking. Slowly, your hand reached to grab his, he looked at you before covering your eyes with his hand. You kept hearing the faint sounds of him crying before hearing words come from him.

“Be my friend…”

WHAT?! WHAT THE FUCK—

June 3rd—junior year

It's been a couple of days since that strange meetup but the two of you have realized that it has become a trend for you guys to be around each other.

The two of you have planned to study for communication class in the rec room. It was late for studying but...exams for that class were the next day.

Get a guy who would procrastinate with you 😭

As you got there you immediately saw him pull a chair out.

“Hi dumbass”

You hit the back of his head before taking your books out.

It was 12:30am where you started feeling your eyes grow heavy.

“Wakeup!! dumbass”

Your head shot up from the desk. You looked at your surroundings before looking at Osumu.

Before you knew it you were having a mental breakdown.

“I'M NOT GONNA PASS AND I'M GOING TO HAVE TO REDO THE CLASS” You felt small tears run down your cheek.

It wasn’t long until you felt his hand on the top of your head.

“Shut up you're going to pass jus—“ He was cut off by your sudden action of holding his hand.

“You have a habit of holding my hand don't you?” He said moving his face closer to yours giving you a smirk.

‘Don't look at me like that~’

You had a slight tint of pink across your cheeks. He noticed your expression and immediately backed away.

“GET BACK TO WORK!!” He slammed your books onto your face before running out—

June 18–Junior year

It was the day results of the exam were going to be released. You and Osumu were sitting at the local cafe. The two of you sat there with your eyes plastered on the screen with your fingers crossed.

The two of you heard a *ding* before jumping out of your seats. You both continuously started scrolling before looking at each other.

“SAMU I PASSED?!!!” You jumped towards his figure hugging him.

His body became tense at first before realizing the situation and calming down.

“I LOVE YOU?!! THAN—“

😳😳😳 oh shøøt

“I Do too..”

*kisses you while tucking his head in the crook of your neck.*

masterlist

taglist: @mikrokyla @parkersvibes @dateko @starboybokuto @rintarous @dorkyama

#haikyuu au #haikyuu boys #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #atsumu headcanon #atsumu imagines #atsumu x reader #osumu headcanon #osumuxreader #osumu imagine #miya osumu #osamu scenario

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scholar-thief · 4 years ago

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[ RP LOG ]

Momori hunts for dodos and eggs with Njorthrbiartr “Biartr” Hjallr and Caelrin Morra.

Snippets of OOC chat in italics + blockquotes, for flavor. You can assume many actions were due to just, so many bad rolls. So many bad rolls.

@s-udarshana @vysaldhe

Momori) australia is like a high level zone irl (Momori) everythings so dangeorus!!!!! (Momori) kangaroos like, are cute on an abstract level. but then you see one in real life, and how it has an 8 pack and is JACKED and (Biartr) they are so JACKED LMAO OMG … (Momori) my mind is racing w/ thoughts of australia. who knows what I'll write I'm a loose cannon now (Biartr) oh god kalsdfhjsd

Momori - In the wild, wind-torn lands of Abalathia’s Spine, two adventurers find themselves yalms away from vicious “Gastronis” birds. These hefty, feather-covered spheres of mass prowl the lands, searching for delicacies hidden away beneath the soil, their legs powerful enough to go from 0 to 60 in a blink of the eye. As such, they made difficult prey for the local knights, not that many wanted to go toe to toe with what were basically legs attached to a ball anyway.

Momori spots a particularly JACKED one. How that looks on a goddamn sphere is...up to you. She points at it. “Shall we start?”

Biartr | When being told about the anatomy of these birds, and observing them from the sky, Biartr hadn't guessed that they'd be so...large. On all accounts, really. Most notably, she was rather concerned by the state of their legs, canting her head to the side to get a better look. "I'll admit I have my reservations," Biartr admitted, shifting from one leg to another as she squinted slightly. "I mean I can see why the wish to eat them, at the very least."

Caelrin: "--huh. Thought I saw some folks lackin' plate strollin' about here. Strangers two, but I've seen you 'round the ship before."

Biartr was glad to quit staring at the strange...muscular legs of the gastornis, brushing loose strands of hair from her features. "Ah?" Her head canted to the side once more in thought. "The same to you -- Ah, Biartr." She gestured briefly to herself.

Momori: “Each bird is enough to feed a camp for days. How many did we have to hunt again? Ten?” Momori tilted her head slightly, not looking forward to both hunting /and/ hauling back a literal mountain of birdflesh. She then looked towards the newcomer and gave a small wave. “Hello there. I’m Momori.”

Caelrin | Sure enough - the stranger is a vaguely familiar one, a Hyur seen about camp and ship - though perhaps a brute of scarred muscle was a bit more apt in description. Dull golden eyes shed themselves keen against the features of the lalafell and viera, affable and yet observing all the while - a placid, warm smile upon tarnished features all the same. "Biartr an' Momori, then. Well met. Caelrin, Caelrin Morra. Fist of Rhalgr - Monk of Ala Mhigo."

Caelrin: "...iffin I didn't know any better, I'd say it sounds as if you two plan t' hunt."

Momori simply points at the strange ballbirds over yonder. “Ten of them, and their eggs. We were given rotten cabbages by the merchants, and hope to show goodwill by helping them with some hunting.”

Biartr inclined her head before affirming his suspicions with a short but firm nod, her golden gaze looming down only briefly. "We were unfortunate enough to strike a deal with a rather," Her shoulders rolled up and down languidly. "...Demanding trader."

Caelrin: ".....demanding trader. You two look savvy an' fierce enough to set to the hunt then, that's for certain. What stalls your intent? Waitin' for folks?"

Biartr looked towards the birds gathering, and finally back to the hyur with a slight grimace. Her voice lowered, perhaps she thought the birds could hear her. "...I've heard stories of sky pirates getting gutted from the power of their legs alone. Haven't ever seen one this...low down, admittedly."

Momori looks at the dodo’s fearsome, powerful legs, then looks back at Caelrin and Biartr. “Could go in, knives out. Maybe get punted off this plane of existence. Perhaps we could lay a trap for them instead?”

Caelrin | Of all answers to be given to such a question - given the slow, gentle rise of the brow upon Caelrin's countenance, it's clear enough to see *that* wasn't what he'd been expecting. A glance to her, and then, to Momori, before looking to the Gastornis in the distance. He's thinking. "....can't be any worse than a kick from a horse, fable or otherwise. Then again - one ain't three. Trap seems a bit too much - they ain't exactly big game."

Caelrin: "How about this - i get their attention, take the hits for you, while you two skewer as you please."

Momori: “Sounds like a lovely plan!” She gives Caelrin a pat on the back. If he was willing to bear the brunt of attacks from a herd of birds, then she would be first to jump on the idea.

Momori offers a moment of silence to Caelrin.

Biartr chewed slightly on her bottom lip, leveraging her height to her tip toes to get a look at the birds just beyong Caelrin. "They do have claws. Horses don't have claws." She had a point, at least -- and her gaze finally dropped, as did her height. "I'm not sure I could just watch you get beat pathetically by a Gastornis..." She squinted at Momori's answer, before gracing him with a rather pathetically confused look. "If I am outnumbered, then so be it."

Caelrin just sort of......stares. Rather than give into the ego of a lesser man under such scrutiny - Biartr's compassion, even if confused, earns a wry, warm smile delivered to her in mixture of reassurance and knowing. "I'm planning on it. Reckon you know not of th' faith, then - best you see it practice firsthand than me chewing your ear off with our ways. Trust me - I've taken far worse."

Caelrin: "But, iffin it puts you at ease - 's take it one at a time. Best we get the eggs first; these creatures might have materal instincts. Raid their nests, some'll come calling. Two birds with.....two eggs, I reckon."

Momori: “Oh, I’m sure ole’ Cael will be alright. Look at all the scars on ‘im! Birds will be no problem.” Momori then turns to look for a couple of birds to start with, and sees a pair nested by a tree on the top of a cliff. “Shall we?”

Biartr: "I have an idea for the eggs," Biartr interjected, raising a bone horn that was affixed to her waist. "It's entirely possible that I could ride my endymion and pick up the eggs from their nests one, or two at a time. We can fly and drop them off to a safe point."

Caelrin: ".....hrm. Hit-and-run tactics. If you reckon you an' your companion can be swift an' deft enough to do so, I see no reason for you to not try. More likely to spot nests from th' air than the ground anyways. Reckon you can handle that, while Momori an' I start setting to the birds."

Biartr: "Easily enough," She affirmed with a short nod, taking a step back to press her lips to her horn. Somewhere along the mass of tents, skirting one of the sky-islands came a purple-feathered beat. A little larger than the average endymion and of course, characterised by the muscular single foot -- swooping down to just behind the trio.

Momori takes one look at the beast and chuckles. “Gods, the size of that thing...I thought the dodos were big, but this could probably hunt them without breaking a sweat. But I’m keen on seeing Caelrin in action.”

Caelrin watches the creature with a particular interest - eyes of a man who, though having seen such beasts domesticated before, didn't quite expect to see one like this. Seems he knows well enough to keep his distance - it's no pet. With a nod, he glances to the lalafell, fists rising to clash knuckles with one another in solidarity. There's an audible *thud*, as if he'd just punched a shield. "Aye, no time to waste. Burning daylight."

Momori - The closer she got, the more...hesitant she felt. She couldn’t see beyond the chest of the bird. It looked like some awful, heaving bushel of orange feathers propped up on two legs the size of a lalafell each. Momori pulled out her two daggers...and waited for Biartr and Caelrin to give some kind of signal.

Caelrin , for one, doesn't seem daunted all that much - either by truthful discourse of having seen far worse, or merely by virtue of a firm shell of bravado. Regardless - a glance is sent in Momori's way, watching her produce her daggers before eyes train upon the bird once more - studying it, as if discerning where to strike first. He had to be humane about it....right?

Biartr | It hadn't taken long for the Veena to be seen and somewhat heard overhead. The only noise being that of the thunderous clap of the endymion's wings. The first nest that would be her target would be one teetering just on the edge of the isles. For the most part, the gastornis surrounded it seemed happily nesting until she had gone near -- at least it was a welcome distraction away from the other two.

(Momori) just start.... stabbing with me toothpicks?!? (Caelrin) KEK (Caelrin) also - are we rolling to attacks these or is it just. freeform killin (Biartr) Tenderise the meat and you'll be doing them a favour at the very least (Momori) oh man. if people play pokemon (Momori) fighting type is bad against flying right? (Momori) HHA (Caelrin) do you think these things fly (Biartr) dfjghdkfg (Biartr) and i don't mind rolls or free form, it *would* be funny to add a random element to it (Momori) if doduo is flying then ????????? (Caelrin) yeah i'm cool either way, i just wanna know before i have caelrin start things off (Caelrin) cool with it* (Momori) I'll roll, because RNG is fun :D (but will just use it as a rough guide of how things go)

Caelrin: ".....ah, hells with it," grunts the monk. Fists angle down and behind to the ground, and a low stance is taken before aether, in vicious jets, erupt and clash to produce force that sends Caelrin violently into the air before the gastorinis - only for him to aim to crash down upon it with a powerful axe kick.

Biartr | The endymion takes the first swoop down towards the nest, its powerful leg aiming to grab at the egg. Unfortunately for the bird, egg and Veena at once - its leg is perhaps a little /too/ powerful and during the lifting process, it manages to crush the egg rather carelessly. From overhead, a barrage of cursing can be heard.

Momori - While the birds are distracted by Biartr and Caelrin, Momori dashes in, daggers drawn. She mounts the back of one of the birds and becomes a whirlwind of stabs, but the whole attack is more akin to a kitten desperately trying to cause damage to a much larger foe. The bird pays more attention to the chaos Caelrin is causing.

Caelrin | With the first bird having assumedly been easily dispatched - Caelrin gets into it, now that the herd has sufficiently been aggroed. The monk is deft and fluid in his motions, focusing upon the next closest bird - it's almost comically how easily he fells it, a vicious aethercharged hook to his beak, leaving neon-violet aether in its wake, puts it down as if he were knocking out a drunkard.

Biartr | For the second round, the endymion swoops in to grab the next egg within the nest. A change of tactics, it seemed, throwing the egg up towards Biartr. The Veena manages to catch it, quite perfectly before it quite literally explodes in her grasp, leaving her covered in egg-toplasm.

Momori - Meanwhile, the dodo Momori is riding squawks! Once, then twice! It then dashes off, Momori hanging for dear life on its back, her screams growing faint as it gets further and further away. The speed is eventually too much and she tumbles off, disappearing into the tall grass.

Momori: "..............................." She gets up, the whole front of her covered in mud and tuffs of grass.

(Biartr) Benny hill theme music intesifies (Biartr) intensifies** (Momori) I need the playdead emote after all this (Momori) haha benny hill theme music BLARES and destroys headphone users

Caelrin | Two birds down - and yet, despite being so focused, Caelrin is much too occupied in the witnessing of Momori tumbling down and out over the dirt that the focus drops for just a second. Not even a chance is had for him to accost the third bird, just watching as it rears back - only to peck him in the chest! Certainly doesn't draw blood, but the force of it produces a tough grunt and a backstep.

Biartr | This time, third time lucky? Right? Wrong. Biartr and her endymion swoop down a third time, only to be met by a rather territorial gastornis. The endymion's muscular claw picks up the would-be attacker as opposed to the egg. It's at least something that could be used to a form of advantage, and Biartr directs the bird higher, where it would drop the gastornis from a great height. It plummets to the isle not far from the duo, dead upon impact.

Momori tosses a dagger at one of the Gastornis, and the blade flies straight and true. It buries itself deep in the neck of the bird, ending its life swiftly. She wipes the mud from her eyes, steps over, and wretches the dagger out from the corpse without batting a lash. That was more like it - now, who’s next?

Caelrin | Who's next? The poor gastornis that's just pecked Caelrin square in the chest. With a clashing of fists and a grunt, the aether within, a sickly, violent, violet aether stokes, swelling muscle and shading over flesh and flaring like neon within veins. With particular speed a force, he seizes the bird by the literal beak with a single hand, heaving and throwing it down into the ground like a hulk would a trickster god.

Biartr had many an excuse for this situation. Namely, the fact that she didn't half-drown her head in a vat of ceruleum. Now that her endymion was finished trashing an entire nest, she ground both of their progress to a halt and stepped off the bird in the middle of the peninsula. Both of her hands dipped into the bright blue paint in a contained on her belt - and she practically painted her entire face blue with ceruleum. The woman now smelling like an engine room, and possibly glow in the dark.

Momori - Some dodos surround Caelrin, pecking and dodging. Others run around in dumb circles, kicking up dust and adding to the overall chaotic ENTROPY of the whole ordeal. Under the cover of mud and grass, Momori leaps deftly into the air and lands on the top of another bird, blades sinking down on where she stands. Another one down. The sight of something purple catches her eye, and she witnesses Caelrin go hulk on a Gastornis. Weird? Something to ask about later? Yes.

Caelrin | With the poor bird left in a small, feather-lined crater - now it was time to adapt and fight against one's surroundings. Peck and dodge as they may, combat aqgainst beasts was a specialty of Caelrin's, and pecks are weaved through or land uselessly against powerful arms or iron-like muscle. Another bird bites the dust with retaliation, as a streaking overhead fist hammers down firmly upon its cranium - followed with an audible *crunch*.

Biartr | The somewhat lost-looking Viera had now a certain fierceness about her, if you could see her once more in the sky. She had stood herself on the back of the endymion, who had swooped towards the second nest, grabbing the egg neatly within its clutches. It leant towards the side with its swoop, allowing the Veena to pick up an egg within her grasp too. The two flying briefly off to deposit the eggs within Cloudtop.

Momori slides under a bird, dragging her blade through as she moves between its legs. As it collapses, she quickly turns back and gives it another good stab near the neck, as to end its suffering quickly. How many was that now? Seven?

(Momori) cromch (Momori) god that sound. I'm thinking of that video where someone bites a banana horizontally and it makes just, the worst sound (Biartr) N O (Caelrin) HELLO? (Momori) IS. IS THAT THE SOUND?? (Caelrin) IDK WHAT YOU MEAN (Momori) here I will show you (Biartr) im trying to find the video dkfgdf (Caelrin) wow i REALLY HATE THIS (Caelrin) but no not quite the sound (Momori) that cronch sound is burned in my memory (Biartr) perhaps just speed it up a bit to 2x (Biartr) and that's the sound (Biartr) anyway im going to eat my keyboard (Momori) ahaha PLS

Biartr | Its perhaps not the sun for Biartr and her endymion. The purple-feathered 'friend' comes into contact with the third nest and only a horrid 'squelch' can be heard as the two overzealously destroy all of the eggs and the single inhabitant within it into a mushed pulp.

Caelrin | Seven, eight - frankly, Caelrin stopped counting after the second. His focus remains firmly upon seeing the herd cleared and brought to rest, even that which was eternal. Despite this, the assault continues from the last few present, and Caelrin endures with the same defense and speed he had at first - though the birds are starting to pelt a little more fiercly. Maybe avenging their fallen brethren - or all those eggs. He's handling it well, though.

(Momori) so. so many eggs exploded (Momori) f (Biartr) Biartr out here looking like boo boo the fool (Caelrin) should've put on clown makeup (Biartr) peels off her flesh to reveal a full clown suit with make up (Momori) dfjsldjfkls jfSDJFSDKJ

Momori hears something behind her, and she whips her head around. The motion is too fast though, and her hair slaps right onto her eyes. Momentarily blinded, something hits her on the back and sends her flying through the air, right towards Caelrin.

Caelrin | Momori may have despaired - but rest assured, with a monk on the team, she's in good hands. Literally; she's been *caught*, a reactionary movement made to preserve himself and her. With a huff, he promptly tosses her like a football to the nearest bird to continue the attack, while he occupies himself with another satisfying crunch of a gastornis cranium.

Momori - The bird catches Momori.

Biartr | Despite being out of practice for the traditional 'hunt' that Biartr was accustomed too, perhaps she was getting back into the hang of it. Somewhat, at least. Once more, the Veena and her mount swoop down into a nest and carry off two eggs back towards the Camp. There is an air of chaos to it, as the gastornis attempt to trample (read: follow) the egg-snatchers.

Momori - Lalafell under wing, the bird sprints to its nest and slam dunks Momori into it. Touchdown! Momori is just, done. She lets it happen. Dead inside eyes gaze to the sky.

Caelrin | Nevermind. She *isn't* in good hands, for she is now in a nest. Unfortunately, the said bird finds itself sideways and slackened as a vicious dropkick is loosed into its flank - seeing it skid along and through dirt and rock to its death in retaliation. Not quite a slam dunk, but - it's a goal. Goal. Goal. GOOOOOOALASSOOOOOOOOO

Biartr | It's not a great time. It's an awful time. The next set of nests Biartr and her endymion race for are the ones precariously teetering on the edge. Except, now they're not on the edge and are dropping into the clouds below. Ooft.

(Biartr) Roblox oof. (Caelrin) do the eggs also explode mid-fall (Momori) HAHHA (Biartr) :pensiveclown: (Biartr) we'll go with no and see if we can salvage it with a /good/ roll. (Caelrin) also actually how many birds have we killed (Caelrin) is it like....8 or 9 (Momori) I think 10?? or 9. But we can round up (Caelrin) 9.7 birds > Biartr literally rolls a 1 (Momori) OH My god!!!! (Biartr) BYE (Momori) this is MOMENTUOUS (Biartr) im laughing so hard rn (Caelrin) : ) (Caelrin) the endymion releases an egg - it explodes as soon as it's out (Biartr) ????

Momori sits up in the nest, in time to see a bird crash into a rock. Absolute chaos. She looks up, eyes searching for Biartr and her companion. Something in her gut tells her that she better be watching.

Biartr | Biartr's concern for Calerin getting gutted by a muscle-leg flightless bird was misplaced. Especially now that she was somewhat over-hulked on the mix of ceruleum and paint on her face. Her endymion flies off, for now, but Biartr appeared to have been dropped amongst the piles of birds. Or moreso, thrown - her body skidding through the mud in a dirty, yolky, blue-faced mess. Nice job.

(Biartr) ah I also don't have /playdeadon this character (Momori) splot (Caelrin) roblox death sound (Caelrin) also who's Calerin (Biartr) hello darkness my old friend (Momori) long lost twin (Momori) evil dark twin (Caelrin) Calerin Moarr (Biartr) his more attractive sister (Biartr) biartr: overjuiced on paint. me: overjuiced on coffee (Caelrin) LMAO (Caelrin) aight one last roll since i think this bird be the last yeah? (Momori) sounds good!! (Biartr) :) (Biartr) biartr is gonna have to just end up being "Look guys I am actually really cool okay please beliEvE ME"

Momori silently stares at Biartr, gaze flat and serious. But seconds later, she bursts into a laughter so powerful she topples over on the floor. A bird comes over and sits on top of her as if she were an egg, and the sound of laughter is muffled by several layers of feather.

Caelrin | Biartr's concern for Caelrin getting gutted by a muscle-leg flightless bird may have been misplaced, certainly; after all, given all the carnage on the ground, as well as the beaten and slain birds with crushed heads and perforated necks, it's clear the two are handling themselves well. One bird left - and that is all it takes for Caelrin to lose focus long enough to watch Biartr faceplant into the dirt and mud. Nice job. Instinct has him rushing to move to her - but he takes his eyes off his prey long enough for the very same bird that sits on Momori to kick the monk squarely in the stomach, raking as well. A flash of red and a few ilms driven back. Okay, yeah - it's got a kick.

Biartr merely stares flat-out, looking at the sky - the only movement is the heavy rise and fall of her chest. For a moment she moves the spear off her back, throwing it towards the duo in a hope she'd at least skewer a bird, only for the spear to fall short and plant into the ground shy of the target near Cael.

(Caelrin) ......does the tail of the spear have a sharp end too (Biartr) it does! just shorter than the usual (Caelrin) e x e c u t i o n t i m e.

Momori can’t hear what’s happening. What’s going on? In the warm darkness she’s trapped under, she fumbles about, hands searching for her daggers..which she doesn’t find. No, the bird seems to tell her. It is egg time. Time to be egg.

Caelrin | Momori will not be egg. Not today - not this time. Like being birthed from the womb for a second time, the lalafell is thrown into the world of light and air as the bird is quite *literally* pulled off of her and lifted into the air with bared teeth and a low snarl. He's clearly fed up with all of this - and tempers his frustrations accordingly with due justice. Biartr's spear is just nearby, waiting like a pole - and just like that, the monk slams the bird upon its tail-end with force.

Caelrin | Skewered - unfortunately, not a good kebob. Still raw and feathered.

Biartr continues to lie deathly still amongst the grass and bird corpses. There is likely a thought process of if she lays there still and long enough, she'll be forgotten about. The Veena is hoping, at least.

Caelrin: "--Biartr!" calls the monk, who's patting down his front with gauntlets as that peculiar violet aura begins to fade, drifting away with particles bleeding into the wind. Sorry - you're still here. "You alright over there?"

Momori doesn’t say. A word. She picks up her daggers.Then, a bird. Wordlessly starts making a pile of their bodies. She additionally steps over to Biartr, and waves a hand over her eyes. “...Shall we carry you back as well?”

Biartr continues to stare at the clouds overhead. She is plain-faced and taking a deep breath. "You can leave me here." There's a half-smile, though her brows are in knots and speak an otherwise rather frustrating story.

Momori cracks a mud-caked smile at Biartr. “This was certainly.......exciting.....Let us not speak of this in detail.”

Caelrin: "........I'll keep me lips locked an' shut real tight," the monk remarks, having moved over to join the two - considerably less dirt-coated as the two of them.

Caelrin: "Did good work either way, methinks. 's ten birds, and.....however many eggs you got before you...took your fall."

Biartr continues to lay flat-out, though her gaze at least lifts to dead-stare at the two of them. "Four eggs." She paused, gesturing to herself. "Five if I'm put over the campfire."

Caelrin: "Be a real cruel merchant indeed if he decided to accept scrambled Viera on top of all we're to recover."

Momori nods. “At least the merchants will be pleased. And no one is injured, though our egos find themselves devastated. Nothing a little merry-making can’t fix.”

Biartr: "I've had more flattering moments, admittedly." She sighed, pushing herself to her feet, a hand wiping away the mixture of egg and paint near her eyes.

Momori: “I’ll go carry over all the birds, and wash off. See you back at camp?” She gives a small wave, and busies herself with bird delivery.

Biartr: "Of course, thanks for keeping up the bargain."

Caelrin | "....merry-making to be had indeed, after all of this chaos," the monk chuckles, canting his head all the while as a glance is sent back over the shoulder to observe the handwork. With Momori's bidding, he offers a nod and parting wave. "--aye, be safe. See you back at camp."

#momori mori #Njorthrbiartr Hjallr #Caelrin Morra #ff14 rp logs #im sad the chat log filter i had removed all the dice rolls D:>#heartless AU

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hobiwonder · 6 years ago

Text

Fifty Shades of Jimin | (m)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: Smut, some plot if you squint??. Noona!reader. Sub!Jimin

Warnings: Dry sex, dry humping. Dirty talk. Just some good old foreplay. Noona kink.

Words: 6.5k

Summary: Remember when jimin once said he couldn't rec the books he read because they were a little... yeah.

A/N: this is also from my old blog but i deleted it from there too bc i hated it jkbdeifuwbfl. one of the first smuts I ever wrote and im so sorry for posting so much jimin lately lmao. but like he’s so easy for me to write. I edited this a little bit to make it less horrendous since I wrote it over a year and half ago oops. hope you guys enjoy. feedback appreciated my loves.

Today you decided to finally go to the dorms to teach English to V, Jimin and Jungkook as you had all planned. But seeing as the boys were always so busy, your plans kept getting interrupted and they had to leave for their Promo in Japan for their Japanese album and MV of Blood, Sweat and Tears. You saw them at least once a month in the past 6 or so months since your aunt was the senior stylist for BigHit and you liked to tag along to her work. Nonetheless, you and the younger ones, despite you being 2 years older than Jimin, had still decided to spend some time together outside of work related events to have a fun session of English. You had become quite close with the BigHit family over these months and you loved seeing the boys. It all started when your aunt decided to take you to work with her to the dress rehearsals for MAMA in 2016.

You having just returned from overseas after completing your degree, knew minimal details about the entertainment and idol culture in Korea. Having grown up surrounded by Kanye West and Britany Spears, you always thought that the Korean pop scene was way too manufactured and lacked authenticity. You didn’t quite understand how hard could it be being an idol. You just had to look good, sound moderately respectable and dye your hair every other month, right? Didn’t sound too challenging, given that you have those idol looks. It always seemed to come down to looks it seemed. Thus, you never paid much attention to your Aunt’s job or recognized your mother’s efforts to send you back to Korea to maybe tie the knot with a rich idol – Typical mother wanting to set you up for life.

However, when you did decide to finally go abroad and take a break from your normal life, your aunt had convinced you somehow to make a trip to Korea. After being in the country for just 2 weeks, you had quickly found out how busy she was with continuous shopping trips to plan outfits for the idol group she worked with, in advance. It was then that you had found out that she worked for BigHit and was a senior stylist and makeup artist for the famous boy group, BTS. You had heard a fair bit about them from your Korean friends and even some American friends who raved about their looks and voices, but mostly looks, which further pulled you away from having any genuine interest. Though, being too focused on your studies and just the normal party scene, you didn’t deem it too important to pay attention or inquire from your aunt if she knew, let alone worked for the famous boys that everyone seemed to swoon over. After not being able to spend a decent day together even when living with her for a good 2 weeks, it was then that your aunt decided to take you to work with her so you can meet the famous Bulletproof boys that your aunt also seemed to fangirl over.

When you had arrived at the BigHit building, you were instantly met by curious, yet warm stares. No doubt wondering who the foreigner was. Your aunt was quick to introduce you to everyone and soon enough, everyone on the team had welcomed you with open arms, taking extra care of you as a guest of your aunt. Every room had been bustling with people running around, calling out each other’s names to make sure each one had done their part and were ready for fittings. The boys had arrived shortly after, greeting everyone with bows and smiles. The first thing that you noticed was how beautiful they all were. Of course, you were expecting them to be quite eye catching but never did you think they would be this handsome. The first one to notice a new face was V, whose real name you later learned to be Taehyung. He had come up to you and smiled his charismatic boxy smile and waved while greeting you in Korean, which you returned. His smile was seriously contagious. After that, you greeted the rest of the boys, each one of them making your jaw almost drop at how their skin glowed. Though, you had only greeted 6 boys. You had been told there were 7 members? You shrugged and chatted with the ones that were present. You could mostly understand Korean and speak some passable Korean but you still preferred to reply to your aunt in English, being the most comfortable with it. So when you had begun chatting with them, it was no problem connecting with them all as you could understand them and they could understand your English fairly well, helping you when you did reply in Korean.

Every once in a while, you would forget to pay attention to what they were saying, getting distracted by their sharp features and handsome faces. It was then when your aunt called for you from the room adjacent to where you all sat, you excused yourself and went to see what she was after, finally, meeting the last member known as Jimin. You remember being completely entranced by a head of cool blonde hair, a face chiselled to perfection and lips plumper than yours and as red as strawberries. Your first thought had been about how they would taste and the thought had been interrupted when the boy that all those features belong to had noticed you standing in the doorway and smiled hesitantly, not being completely sure about how to react seeing an unfamiliar face. Your aunt in turn also noticed the stiffness in the boy’s body as she was tightening the collar of his shirt and looked up to ask you to fetch a piece of garment for her. You mutely followed her instructions. when you finally came back to face the boy again, your aunt, at last, decided to introduce you two. Jimin had smiled in understanding that you were there with your aunt and had given you a cute smile that reached his eyes, almost completely closing them. when you smiled back and extended your hand to shake his, he had shyly looked at it and shook yours while the mysterious little smile still played on his lips. Once again, you were entranced by his good looks and immediately face palmed internally at your earlier first thought of making out with him when he was shy as fuck with just even shaking your hand. After Jimin’s fitting had finished, he had joined the rest of the group. One by one, all of them had their fittings done while you hung out with them, surprisingly having the best time, and enjoying their company more than you expected to.

You had a completely different scenario in mind. You had imagined them to be stuck up, being too busy with keeping up their idol image even behind the scenes and barely engaging with the team. All of them had proven you wrong, talking to almost everyone at the company, being cooperative and even welcoming you, a practical stranger and making you feel at ease. All of them were insanely handsome, down to earth and funny as hell. Throughout the day you found yourself doubling over with laughter multiple times watching the boys interact with each other. Especially the eldest, Jin, had been the biggest player in providing the laughs while the others had teased him and each other about various things. However, you noticed that even the youngest, Jungkook had warmed up to you despite having the reputation of being ‘scared’ of girls and seemed quite comfortable around you. Perhaps maybe it was because you were older than him. No matter, Jimin, the boy with lips made to sin, was still shy, never directly meeting your gaze or making direct conversation. Always settling with just chiming in when other members talked to you first. Whatever it was, you found it insanely cute that he was this shy even though you should be the one who gets flustered in this scenario seeing how his beauty surpassed yours by a million. It also made you feel quite guilty when your thoughts turned x-rated every once in a while when you caught his shy gaze. He looked too cute and innocuous for his own good. Too pure.

That was, however, to be expected. Having grown up in overseas, there was no such thing as shame and you weren’t exactly the virgin Mary either. The culture in Korea was entirely different and you were certain that Jimin, and the rest of the boys, were not raised in an environment as sexually open and liberated as yours. In fact, you were certain that Jimin was inexperienced, if not a virgin. Keeping that fact in mind, you noticed that you chastised yourself quite often over the coming months.

It was like you couldn’t keep it in your pants. You noticed that all the boys acted cuter than sexy and that seemed to be the case for pretty much any idol. Sure, there were sexy ‘concepts’ but that is pretty much all. The Korean audience always preferred cuteness over sexiness. A lot of it also having to do with how too much sexiness being disapproved and looked down upon by the older generation and you could respect that. However, it was hard not to let your mind wander to the gutter when you saw them perform for the first time. It had taken your breath away to see a completely different side of the boys come out when they were on stage. Once again, you were charmed. Perhaps, the biggest change in aura was a tie between Hoseok and Jimin. Both having a bright, bubbly and sweet personality off stage and being the complete opposite on stage with their sharp moves, fearless expressions and languid body movements. J-Hope appeared to be more fearless with sharp movements whereas Jimin’s dancing had you spellbound and wondering how a human body can move so effortlessly and gracefully, exuding a cool sexiness while simultaneously maintaining his undeniable innocent character that he portrayed to his audience.

These weeks turned into months of keeping in contact with them all through your aunt’s job and you got closer. Your friendship with the hyung line had developed more so than with the younger ones. This was mostly due to your personality being more on the serious side. Though that’s not to say that you didn’t immensely enjoy Jin’s ridiculous dad jokes and even encouraged him on more than one occasion. Talking to Namjoon in English also had a big part in it and seeing as Hoseok’s English was good enough to converse with him as well as Yoongi so you tended to gravitate towards the elders more than the young ones. But this didn’t stop the shouts of ‘Noona’ from the younger boys whenever they wanted to show you something they found to be cool or when Jungkook was simply being the little brat he was. Before you knew it, Producer Bang had asked you to teach the boys some basic conversing English, given that you had graduated college, so the pressure is somewhat lifted from Namjoon’s shoulders. You had happily agreed to it as an informal arrangement because you had started a fulltime Job.

And finally, here you were, finally at the dorms. You furrowed your eyebrows at the unusual silence in the house.

“Jungkook?” You call out, taking off your shoes and placing them on the shoe rack. After hearing silence, you figured that since you were still in the hallway, they just didn’t hear you. Walking further in to the living room, inspecting your surroundings, which had no signs of any of the boys being home as the TV was off and the game console that is usually always on standby, was also off. Sighing, you knew that the older boys were going to be out but having a suspicion that the younger ones weren’t home either.

“Taehyung? Are you guys in your rooms?” You call out as you walk towards the kitchen and to their bedrooms, knocking. After no response, you open the door and as predicted, there was no one in sight.

“Should have known.” you click your tongue, pursing your lips in annoyance because this wasn’t the first time they had done this. Suddenly, you hear a noise coming from further away. Your head snaps up, looking towards the direction of the noise.

So someone was home. Walking out of the room slowly and silently, hoping to figure out what and where it was coming from, soon enough, you hear it again. However, it was noticeably a moan, though you couldn’t figure out whether the person was in pain or not. You notice the noise coming from Jimin’s room and your heart starts racing thinking someone had broken in but that was impossible – they had 24hr security so you calm yourself down.

Walking forward towards the room, your anger returns, waiting to be taken out on whichever one of the boys was in the room. You drove 20 minutes just for these brats to not even be at home? Just as you were about to knock on the door, the undeniable sound of a moan stops you in your tracks. And not just anyone’s; Jimin’s moan? The one that seemed to be the cutest, shyest of the bunch according to you. The sound was utterly scandalous and shocking while your mouth going a bit dry, thinking about what was happening.

It was pretty clear now, at what was going on behind the door. This house was always full of boys. You couldn’t exactly blame them if one of them decided to take advantage of the privacy. You contemplate if you should just leave, or confront Jimin about the plans you guys had made. Give him a peace of your mind and ask him why didn’t he stop the other boys from making other plans when they knew you were coming over.

You being the hothead you were, decide to go with the later. Knocking on the door twice, calling his name more clearly now. “Jimin? Can I come in?”

You hear shuffling on the other end and a stuttered response from Jimin telling you to wait a minute. When he finally opens the door, you are met with a swollen lipped and sweat flushed Jimin. His pupils are visibly dilated; his hair is a mess as if he had run his hands through it a thousand times. You couldn’t think of a sexier picture. BUT, you wanted to stay focused on tearing the brat a new one for having the nerve to jerk off and blowing off your plans like it’s nothing. You especially made time for this.

“Noona? W-What’re you doing here?” He asks looking at you, nervously fidgeting with his hands.

“What am I doing here? You seriously don’t remember? We were supposed to have a lesson today?” You say as you push past him and into the room, exasperated.

Jimin follows you in, with a confused look as the wheels turned in his head. After a few seconds of his looking at you puzzled while you deadpan him, it seems to click.

“Oh shit.” He face palmed himself, looking at you sheepishly. “Please believe me noona, it really did slip my mind.”

“Don’t ‘oh shit’ me you dingus. I had reminded you two days ago and even texted you this morning.” You glare harshly at him, plopping down on his bed and folding your arms under your chest.

Jimin avoids your gaze as he looks down with an embarrassed smile, scratching the back of his neck. The action lifts his shirt up, giving you a peak at his solid V line, dragging your mind back to hell. Jimin had started saying something, though you could barely remember what as you take in his attire. He looked soft, pink and ready for bed and his sweatpants were extremely distracting. When you reach his face, you are met with reluctant eyes that had obviously caught you checking him out. The blush on his face said so clearly.

You sigh for the second time in less than 10 minutes, leaning back on your arms and looking around his room which was somewhat messy.

“You know that I don’t live close by and had to make time for our lesson. Yet you let those two brats go and are having the time of your life here by yourself.” It was a statement and Jimin listened on obediently with his hands in front of him, eyes respectfully drawn downwards.

“Well… i-if it makes you feel any better, I’ve been reading English books?” He says hopefully.

“Yeah? What books?” He goes to look in his bedside drawer and pulls out several English books and sits beside you, ready to be a dutiful student. Though that’s not what makes your blood run hot and saliva starting to pool in your mouth. Definitely not it. It’s definitely not the way his sweatpants hint at what’s underneath, due to him sitting with his legs spread, either. Though it definitely makes you want to fuck him even more.

“Noona?” you noticed that you had completely stilled and not heard, for the second time, what Jimin had been previously saying. Instead, your eyes are firmly locked on the copy of Fifty Shades of Grey beside the pillow. You were guessing he had tried to hide it, though it clearly didn’t work out. You don’t know what had possessed you to do the things you were about to do, but clearly, the lust for this damn boy had finally won. Picking up the book and bringing it in Jimin’s line of sight as well you look him straight in the eyes. Completely composed except the rising heat in your body. He on the other hand, looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Is this your idea of ‘studying’ English, Jiminie?” You quirk up your brow. Beside you, Jimin had gone completely still, breathing hard, trying to look anywhere but at you.

“I-I can explain n-noona.”

“Oh? You can?” you asked in a voice dripping with honey. Sometime between this exchange, you have leaned closer to him, almost feeling his breath on your face. Jimin visibly gulps, desperately trying to think of something to say. Tsking in his face at the lack of his response. Who knew Jimin was into getting off to erotic books?

“I never imagined you to be the one to read dirty books, sweet Jiminie. I guess you have been fooling everyone all this time huh?” your face was even closer to his now. His was beet red, breathing quite firm now while his eyes constantly shifting from your lips to your eyes. Impulsively, you lick your lips at the sight of his plush ones that were currently shiny and swollen.

“I thought you were about to explain yourself? Use your words brat.” You say loudly this time causing Jimin to gasp and back away slightly in alarm.

“I-It has a n-nice storyline?” He says more like a question than his own opinion. Scoffing at his reply, knowing that he was clearly trying to save face you shake your head tauntingly at him. Having way too much fun with his flushed face and furrowed brows that made it look like he was genuinely scared of you.

“Please, honey, we both know that it has little to no storyline. Are you lying to me Jimin?”

“N-No?”

“First I find out that you forgot about your English lesson and now you are trying to make a fool of me?” You almost spit out the words. You are definitely being overdramatic. But the reaction that you are getting from him is worth it. Plus, he did piss you off anyway. This was incredibly hot to you. The fact that Jimin read this filthy book, a BDSM book at that, and got off to it, turned you on to no end.

“No n-noona, that’s n-not-”

“Then tell me the real reason you were reading this.” Jimin looks extremely conflicted, deciding between keeping his pride or letting go in this extremely heated scenario but when you look him dead in the eyes as you nearly spit the words out, he finally speaks

“I don’t have all day Jimin, don’t waste my time more than you already have.”

Then, you heard the faintest whisper – breathless and shameful. You weren’t even sure if you actually heard it at all.

“It’s hot..”

“What was that babe? You read it because you it makes you hot?”

Jimin bit his plump bottom lip, looking up before meeting your gaze and nodding his head. That was all the confirmation you needed to go ahead with this. Believe it or not, you actually were thinking about just leaving, not taking this any further because you were sure no one was going to praise you for bedding an idol who was 2 years your Junior – in Korea at least. It wasn’t much of a difference really. But in the society you lived, it definitely would be as opposed to where you came from.

“Oh Jiminie… you like reading porn? Hm? You liked reading about some rich guy fucking a girl for his pleasure, doing all sorts of dirty things to her? Hm?” You egg him on and he doesn’t move his eyes away from you.

Jimin’s breathing is getting more and more laboured by the passing second. You move your hands from your lap to place it on his thigh. Dragging your fingers slowly up and down as Jimin’s eye follow their movements. Then he nods once again.

“Use your words Jiminie.”

“Y-Yes.”

“Were you touching yourself when I knocked?” You whisper tantalisingly, dragging your hands up to his face hoping he’d let loose a bit, and indulge your filthy desires to have him come undone. He was warm beneath your touch, unusually so.

“W-What if I say yes?” You chuckle lowly against his face at his shaky response. Your forehead was now resting against his as your hand was on his right cheek, keeping him to you firmly.

“Then I guess you’re a dirty little boy Jimin, touching yourself over a dirty book.” You tsked once again. “Tell me, did you imagine it was you getting your cock sucked in the book, instead of the male character?” Jimin lookw completely lost in your words, almost in a trance as he stares in your eyes.

“Yes.” This was the first time he had replied without stuttering. You take that as a good sign – continuing. Though, you are slowly losing control yourself too. He just looked so hot sitting there, completely compelled by you with his eyes now closed, answering you like his life depended on it, skin shining with perspiration and smelling like orange blossom. You close your eyes, willing yourself to be stronger for a bit more, tease him a bit more. You sigh again, for the third time, however this time, due to the heavy desire clouding your brain.

“Did you imagine someone doing it to you? Taking your cock in their mouth?”

“Y-Yes.” Your breath hitched. You had some idea, or maybe it was your wishful thinking, that he thought about you. You had caught him more than once - multiple occasions – staring at you then looking away bashfully.

“Who… who did you think of?” At this question his eyes shoot open, looking into yours as if to decide whether it would be appropriate for him to answer. You laugh inside, knowing that all the barriers of pertinence have been surpassed.

“Y-you…noona.” He whimpers. Actually whimpers aloud and you almost groan out loud at his answer. In a flash you have pushed Jimin back on the bed and straddled his hips, leaning down until your hair fell to the side and face was a mere inch away from his. Both of your breaths were shallow. Jimin looked a bit surprised from being still all this while and then your sudden outburst. Though you definitely preferred this position as it allowed you to feel every ridge of Jimin’s perfectly sculpted body. Your core aligning with his perfectly.

“You’re so bad Jiminie… thinking about noona like that.” You shake your head slowly in mock admonishment, looking into his eyes that were still enlarged with surprise. It seemed like Jimin didn’t know where to put his hands, on the bed or your hips. Even in your compromising position, still, he hesitated.

“I’m sorry noona I-I-” He sounded almost ashamed. To ease his discomfort, you decide to fess up yourself as well.

“It’s okay baby, noona has been thinking naughty things about you too. How can I not, when you look like this.” You bit your lip looking down between your bodies, noticing how hard he was underneath you. Pressing angrily against your clit. This was the great pro of Jimin not being insanely tall, being able to press him directly against your core while still being able to reach his lips. Speaking of his lips, you decided to kiss them. You finally leaned down, brushing yours against his plump ones.

“Jiminie, noona is going to kiss you now, would you like that?” Jimin’s eyes have closed instinctively, anticipating the kiss, nodding his head. And then you pressed down on him lightly, prompting him to be vocal.

“Y-Yes please, kiss me.”

This was all you needed as you crashed your lips against his, moaning as your lips met and tasted his for the first time. It didn’t take long until you felt the first swipe of his tongue against your lips and you both opened your mouths, slipping your tongues and tasting each other deeper. Jimin tasted of strawberry lollipops that he always was sucking on and it made your head spin. His hands were now on your waist, careful to keep them away from your hips until you took his hands pushed them further down. You felt like you were drowning in him as his kisses were getting out of control. Your efforts to keep the kiss slow and sensual were being interrupted by Jimin’s needy ones as he kept leaning up, giving you short but deep kisses as if he would die without them. It was almost getting hard to breath so you broke away to take in a much needed gulp of air. Jimin leaned up, chasing your lips with his eyes still closed. Instead, he settled for your neck, digging his face in, just resting there while he sucked the skin gently.

“Jimin, honey, s-slow down.” You gasped as he grazed his teeth against the skin in his mouth. Irrefutable pleasure was coursing through your body and you had barely done anything with Jimin except kiss. Jimin was truly like a drug. He was fucking addicting. You already knew that this won’t be the last time you touch him like this. And by the looks of it, seems like Jimin won’t either. He was now whimpering, making whiney sounds trying to get you to kiss him again.

“N-noona, please.”

“Please what baby?” You grasped his hair, pulling him back from your neck to look into his glistening eyes.

“Do something.” He moaned out, pushing up into your hips, making you gasp and push down. You grabbed his hands and pinned his arms above his head with a tough tug.

“Don’t tell me what to do brat and do not move until I tell you to. Understood?”

When Jimin nodded his head you grasped his cheeks with your hand, making his plush lips stand out even more in a pout.

“I said, do you understand?”

“Yes. Yes, I understand. But please, d-do something. I-It hurts.” At the sound of a helpless Jimin, your resolve was weakening and you softened your tone.

“Hurts where baby? Tell me, let noona fix it.” You ask sweetly. Jimin rolls his head to the side with a bite of his lips.

“Y-You know where, please.”

“I’m afraid I don’t Jiminie. Tell me. Come on, you can do it.” You coo gently, free hand caressing his cheeks.

Jimin closed his eyes burying his face in your neck and whispering his answer softly.

“M-My dick.”

“What baby?” You ask again with a pitiless smirk on your face, wanting him to be senseless; almost. And god bless, it was worth it considering Jimin was now a moaning, whimpering and whiney mess.

“Fuck, my cock Y/N. It hurts. Please touch m-my cock.”

With a low chuckle, you fastened your hands back up, pinning his to the bed as you started to move your hips back and forth on the hardened length underneath, slowly. As soon as you started, Jimin had lost control over his vocal cords it seemed. You never suspected that calm and collected Jimin, the bashful cute boy, to be this vocal and messy in bed.

“Ah. Yes! yes yes yes noona. Fuck me. Rub your pussy on me Y/N, fuck yes.” His words were burning you alive. Your pace was increasing with each chant from his mouth and slightly due to Jimin’s constant squirming, trying to stay still and obeying your command. To be honest, you didn’t care at this point. The pressure in your lower stomach was starting to build. All that build up from before had you coming nearly to your end. Not to forget that Jimin turned out to be a dirty talker anda moaner. Fuck, he was a moaner. His sounds alone were making you come undone.

“Noona.” Jimin whined in his incredibly sexy, raspy voice.

“Yeah baby?”

“M-More, please, I’m so close.”

You let go of his arms, reaching down to pull his shirt up and over his head, coming in contact with his hard pectoral and abdominal muscles. Jimin had taken this opportunity to push his hips up into you, making you half gasp and moan at the hard length pushing against your clit so deliciously – just right. You brace yourself placing your hands on his chest, breathing hard.

“Jimin, baby, h-hold on a minute. Let’s take these off.” You say as you begin pulling his sweats off him, leaning back to take them off completely. Jimin gladly helped as he looked about ready to burst. You were definitely not prepared for what you saw. Hard, thick and girthy length. He was bigger than you had imagined. Almost disproportionate for his frame. Almost. Jimin’s confidence had seemed to be boosted when compared to about an hour ago when he was a stuttering, blushing mess of a boy. You took a moment to admire him. He looked like a fucking Greek god with his chiselled, golden body, hair a mess, lips swollen, cock hard and ready. And as you were about to get back in to position, you feel his hands tugging at your pants.

“T-take these off noona. Please.” He looked in your eyes hopefully. You bit your lip and placed your hands by your side, silently directing Jimin to do the honours. His face bloomed with a beautiful pink flush as he pulled the zipper down on your jeans, tugging them down. You lifted your hips for him to pull them down further and off your legs. He was staring in amazement at your panty clad hips, your long legs – almost mesmerized. Taking your previous position again, you lean down to get closer to his face once again while you start the grind of your clit on his cock. You abandoned all hope of being slow and sensual as feral need had took over you because it was hard to stay sane and consistent when Jimin was looking at you like you owned his world. Your core being ultra-sensitive, making every brush of his hard length a hundred times more lethal. Not to forget that his length was not confined beneath the constricting material of his sweatpants anymore. You almost cum when you hear a high pitched whimper from Jimin. Speaking of coming.

“Jiminie, did you come before?” You ask, referring to him touching himself earlier. Jimin, being the groaning mess he was, took a few seconds to reply.

“N-No – mm- but I was about to- Ah!” You pinned his hands above his head again, pouting at him mockingly.

“Aw, poor baby. It’s okay honey, noona will make you cum.” He whimpers at your words, thrusting up harshly, battering your clit at this point.

“Noona, f-faster, please, make me cum noona. Please please please” Fucking hell. Jimin was straight up begging you. You knew Jimin might be submissive, but never thissubmissive. It was such a contrast to how he controlled thousands of screaming girls with a flash of his abs. And here he was, a moaning, sweaty mess. Spouting such filthy words.

Your movements had slowed down a bit as your body was getting exhausted. You were about to come even just from this. But this boy’s stamina was obviously higher than yours. Jimin noticing your fatigued body took action. Boy did he take action. In an instant, Jimin had you flipped over, pull you underneath his body, lining his cock with your covered pussy, where a substantial wet spot was embarrassingly visible. You looked at him with disbelief

“I can’t take it anymore, p-please let me?” Jimin asked with a sinful roll of his cock against your pussy. The contact was so close now that you could feel your lower lips parting, nestling his cock between them. You shakily nodded, wrapping your legs around his hips in response because watching his sweaty sculpted body work on top of you – on your pussy – was the biggest turn on of your life. He was lithe but muscled and every roll and every glide had you losing your mind.

“Go ahead Jiminie… U-Use noona’s pussy to make yourself cum.” Jimin whimpered at your words he wasted no time in following your orders, picking up his pace and fucking you into his bed. The bed had started to creak with the force of his thrusts. Each time he dragged his hips, his cock slid against your pussy lips and up to your clit, creating the best friction. All of these sensations happened so fast as Jimin was almost moving too fast for you. Scratch that, he was moving too fast for you.

“J-Jimin, ah! B-baby, slow down. Oh fuck.” His pace was relentless. Grinding his hips in your cunt as fast as he could, moaning like he was almost in pain. It was obvious he was chasing his release and lucky for him, you were right about ready to burst. You could sense it as your legs tried to close despite having Jimin’s slender body in-between them. You could see his abs clench with the force of his thrusts and couldn’t believe that the ever so prim and proper Park Jimin was on top of you, thrusting his cock against your pussy, pursuing his pleasure like nothing else mattered. If someone had told you a week ago that you would be in your position, dry humping the shit out of each other, you probably would’ve slapped them. Though this wasn’t so much dry anymore. Your panties were a sticky mess from your own arousal as well as Jimin’s pre-cum being all over them, creating the most iniquitous sounds as sweat dripped from his forehead. The knot was so tight in your stomach that you almost couldn’t bear it.

“Fuck, fuck baby, I’m coming! Jimin-ah!”

“Fuck yes Y/N c-cum for me.” Jimin’s pace helped you tip over the edge in a euphoric bliss. Your vision had turned white for a few seconds with the force of your orgasm coursing through you as Jimin continued to thrust his cock against you. It felt like you came for a life time. Your pussy had become extremely sensitive from your orgasm and you weren’t sure how much more of Jimin’s grinding you could take. Placing little suckles and opened kisses on his vascular neck, you help him along to his own release.

“Come on baby, you can do it. Cum for noona. Cum all over noona.” Jimin whined at your words, getting on the verge of his release and you couldn’t believe that he had held out this long.

“I’m s-so close Y/N noona.”

“That’s it baby, just a little m-more.” Your words coming out in a stutter at how scorched your clit was now, being already so sensitive as it was after your orgasm. But, you held out for Jimin, letting him use you as a vessel to get himself off and it only made you wetter. His rhythm had become irregular and his cries had gotten louder.

“F-Fuck, I’m coming oh fuck.” Jimin swore like a sailor as he got dangerously close. But what he did next almost made you come again. With a speed almost quicker than a gunshot, Jimin had leaned back, pushed your panties down exposing your swollen pussy. Before you could comprehend what was happening, Jimin worked his hand over his cock until he had let go. Until he came all over your pussy. Sticky hot white ropes of cum landing on your swollen clit and labia. You moaned at the scene unfolding above you because this was the hottest shit you had ever encountered. Of course you will punish him later for this but still. Where the fuck was this Jimin hiding before?

After he had let out what seemed to be an endless stream of milky white cum, Jimin falls forward, resting his face in your neck, panting. You both took this time to catch your breath. Several moments passed as you both laid in his bed, you stroking his hair as you stare up at the ceiling just resting in silence before you speak softly.

“You okay baby?” You whispered, tenderly stroking his hair, to which he replied with a blissful hum.

“Never been better.” He replied with a sweetly shy and sleepy smile, indicating that his usual charming self was back as the lust had settled.

You kiss his cheek softly, savouring the moment with the younger boy and move to get up when Jimin pulls you back again.

“Where are you going?”

“To clean up the mess you made, you brat.” Your teasing tone was obvious which makes Jimin blush again deeply as he bites his lip. But his next request surprises you.

“C-Can I clean you noona?” His request seemed innocent enough considering the context of this indecent scenario.

“I guess you can.” You lay back down as Jimin gets up, sliding down the bed, sitting beside your hips.

“Uh, Jimin? Aren’t you going to get towels?” your brows have furrowed in confusion when he didn’t move from his position, instead moved between your legs, parting them again.

With a lovely sweet smile, dimple visible endearingly on his cheek, he places a kiss on your ankle before speaking.

“Why would I need those when I have a mouth, noona?”

Fuck what you said before. This was the hottest shit you had ever encountered.

a/n: yeah ik its bad lmao. i swear i write better now kjwbjhwqkbfkbf. Thanks for reading!!

#jimin smut #jimin x reader #jimin fanfic #park jimin #trying to keep y'all fed as i write baby baby #im very slow atm #and i dont like it #so this is my apology #a bad one at that lmao

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jdc1717 · 5 years ago

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Thank you all for all the kind things you said for my last fic. It was really sweet.

Basically: Four and Sky find a journal.

-<>-<>-<>-<>-

A hopeful message

Sky and Four were walking around by themselves for a bit. It was dusk and the rest of the group were already at camp doing who knows what kind of chaotic things.

Sky and Four had wanted to escape from the others before the chaos could start. They had seen the energy building up in Wild and it gave promise of mischief.

“This is nice.” Four said while looking around. They were near the ruins of Castle Town. Despite the long destroyed homes and buildings, wildlife grew all around and made quite a beautiful scene.

Sky smiled. “Yeah. It’s amazing how despite all the destruction has come, it can be rebuilt in such better ways.”

They continued walking for a bit before Four pointed to something in the distance. “What’s that?”

Sky held a hand to his forehead and leaned forward to look where Four was pointing.

There was a tree that seemed to have strange markings on it.

“I’m not sure…”

Before Sky could continue any further, Four was heading towards the tree. Sky, also curious as to what it was, quickly started to follow them.

The tree was like any other, tall, large, healthy. The only thing that set it aside were the markings that someone had carved into it.

The two squinted at the markings for a few moments before Sky voiced a thought, “Doesn’t it look like a cucco?”

Four tilted their head at the tree. “Yeah… it does.” He looked to Sky, “Do you think something is buried here?”

“Why would something be buried here?”

Four gestured to the markings. “Well it looks like this was left here for a reason.”

“Maybe someone just really like cuccos.”

Four snorted, “Those devils? I don’t think so.”

“what if it’s a body?” Sky asked.

Four stilled at that. It wasn’t hard to imagine a body being buried around there.

The hero of the four sword sighed, “Yeah, we shoul-“

“What’s that?”

Four saw where Sky’s gaze was and followed it to a hidden crack inside the tree. The two looked at each other before they came to an agreement.

They needed to know what, if anything, was inside.

Four reached their hand inside the crack and pulled out…

“Is that a journal?” Sky asked.

Four studied the small book in their hands and nodded.

It looked old. Years old. The blue cover was worn with time, leaving it torn.

Sky boy his lip, “Should we… should we read it?”

Four looked around and back at the book. “Well, one little page couldn’t hurt…”

Sky’s curiosity was overwhelming. “Just one, and then we put it back and head to the others.”

Four nodded. They sat down and began to read.

XX/XX/XX

This is a journal to my future self. I want to remember what I know about my brother. I don’t want to forget what he is like. Because already the expectations of the world are changing him and I want need to be able to remember him how he was. This may live on pass just me, so it will also be a story for future generations.

Sky and Four looked at each other. They continued reading.

Let’s start at the beginning. As children I remember my brother always being there for me. Our dad was the captain of the Royal Guard and my mother… my mother died giving birth to me. I know my family loves me, but sometimes I think they blame me for mom’s death. They say I look just like her. I’m not even sure how to feel about that.

Because our mom was gone my brother would often watch me while our dad was away working. My brother is an excellent cook, something my dad says he gets from our mother.

However, there were many times when my brother had to leave with my dad. At those times other villagers would come watch me. I never liked them as much as my brother.

For as long as I can remember my brother has known how to fight. With a sword, dagger, fists, anything really. There’s a part of me that hates my father for that.

My brother is kind, he will not fight unless he thinks it is necessary and sometimes I see him and father argue.

My brother always has a smile on around me, but I often wonder if he is just putting on a brave face.

Sky and Four didn’t bother to stop before turning the page.

He was 12 when he found it. No one is sure how he found it, my brother isn’t one to tell, but I can see that it is no blessing. People expect so much more of him now. “You will be just like your father.” They used to say. Now they say, “Our lives are in your hands.”

I haven’t seen my brother smile since then.

Four felt such sadness from within them. To be cursed at such a young age was… horrible.

Sky was sitting next to them with the same thoughts.

The two were too invested in the journal to stop there. They had to know what happened.

A few more entries: birthdays, funerals, weddings, preparations, and then the pages suddenly stopped. They were blank. Four flipped through the book until they found another page.

XX/XX/XX

It’s been a few years since my last writings. I’m not sure why I stopped. Maybe it was my hope that whatever was happening would be fixed and that everything would go back to how it has been.

That was such a stupid hope.

My brother has never seemed so… emotionless. It’s like all his thoughts revolve around just completing his job.

Maybe I’m right…

Dad has retired from his position, although he still has his sword. Not that I can blame him. The world has become dangerous.

Everywhere I go, all I hear is the threat of the calamity, but He will stop it. He and the Princess will save us.

My brother hasn’t been home in months, but that will be alright. After all this calamity business is done my brother will return home and our dad, my brother, and I will all sit at our table and have some apple pie.

My brother will come home. My brother is a knight. My brother is my favorite person. My brother will save me. My brother will save us. My brother is the Hylian champion and he will save us.

My brother Link will come home and we will eat some pie, because he isn’t going to lose. My brother never loses a fight.

Sky and Four stared and stared and, just for variation, stared some more.

“This is…This is Wild’s sister.” Sky said slowly.

“Wild has a sister!” Four exclaimed.

“...had. Wild had a sister.”

Four’s expression crumbled. “Does he need to know?”

“Wild has a right to know.”

“Know what?” The two heroes snapped their gazes to Wild and Twilight who had just appeared. The signs of past chaos showed in the ashes and dirt that covered the two of them.

Both avoided Wild’s gaze while Twilight asked, “What do you guys want to tell us?”

Sky answered, “We found this and… it’s important.”

He handed the journal to Twilight who looked at them strangely before reading. Wild read over his shoulder.

Sky and Four watched anxiously as the two read more and more. They were waiting to see the devastation that the book would bring.

It was surprising to see all the emotion fade from Wild’s face. He took the book from Twilight’s hands and sunk to the ground. “Oh.”

Twilight knelt next to his protege and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Wild, cub, are you okay?”

Wild looked up to his mentor with that blank face, the only emotion shown was the grief in his eyes. “Im… no yeah I’m.. im fine.

The tear that fell from his eye told a different story.

“It’s just another one.”

“Another what?” Sky asked.

Wild looked at the journal in his hands. “Just another hopeful message for a hero to save everyone. Just another person I forgot. Just another person I fai-“

“No.”

Wild’s head snapped to Four.

“You didn’t fail them. You did your best and literally died! That’s all people could ask of you.”

“But she-“

“She’s gone and I’m so sorry, but blaming yourself won’t bring her back.”

That emotionless face that Wild held shattered. Twilight quickly hugged his protege as he sobbed.

Four and Sky moved and sat on either side of the two.

“H..how..how can I..I m..miss someone I d..don’t even rem..re..remember?”

“She’s family, you never truly forget family. Just like the rest of us. We’re here Wild.”

And they were. Even as the night went on, they stayed with Wild. When the others finally found the four of them, they were all asleep. Sky, Four, and Twilight all surrounding Wild, who was clutching a small book over his heart.

#hero of the wild #hero of twilight #hero of the four sword #hero of the sky #wild’s sister #i just love any fic including Wild having a sister #Dani writes

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issantashikibaindr3orndrv3yet · 5 years ago

Text

Danganronpa Kirigiri Sou translation-Part 10

<- Part 9 | Masterpost | Part 11->

A transcript of part 10 of juicedup14 playthrough/translation of Kirigiri Sou, which you can watch here.

Again thanks to @drmedicsgamesurgery for helping me work on the transcript.

“She’s a Rhinogradentia spy.”

“What did you say!?”

“If she is, than maybe she herself is THE Super Galaxy Level Invader.”

“You’re kidding…...you’re one of them!?”

I didn’t know whether I should blame her or what, so all I can do is take a step back.

“I’m a human! You’re saying I’m one of them, than show me some evidence!”

“Kyouka-san, you…...might not have noticed it yourself, but when you blink, your bottom eyelid goes up.”

Kirigiri points out.

When I look closely at her eyes……

“Wha, it’s true!”

When she closes her eyes, it really does blink from the bottom part.

It’s not human!

“Is that so……there was insufficient research then. From the resources that we’ve studied, we did not record the blinking movements……”

“Well then, you really are!”

“Yes, you’re right. As expected of the Super High School Level Detective. I came from a neighboring galaxy…...I am as you say, a Super Galaxy Level Invader.”

Kyouka suddenly becomes defiant instead.

I can’t believe she’s an extraterrestrial……

“What is your objective?”

Kirigiri asks while crossing her arms.

“That is-to protect the Earth.”

“Huh? What are you saying? Wouldn’t it be the opposite, aren’t you trying to take the Earth away from us!?”

I said while getting closer to her.

“No…...listen with your fourth nose-or as how the extraterrestrials say, ‘Hold your hand close to your heart and think’. The ones who are wasting away this Earth are the humans yourselves. Don’t tell me you don’t know, how many trees in the forest are lost every day. You are all the culprits of the destruction of the Earth. We came from a far off galaxy in order to protect this beautiful planet.”

A. “We don’t need your help!”

B. “What you’re saying is right! Can I join your team?”

juicedup14 chooses B

“Just as you say! Let me join your team.”

I say that, and without a word Kirigiri punches me in the stomach strongly.

“Uhh…...nevermind, nothing.”

“Are you prepared to regret your foolishness?”

Kyouka slowly raises her arm to the sky.

And then a shining ball of light appears in the sky.

Is that…...the UFO that I’ve witnessed from last time?

“It was short, but I’ve enjoyed it. Now that you know my identity, I have to kill you. You’ll surely burn to ashes, with a hit from the laser of our mothership.”

A ball of light begins to twinkle strongly.

“Hey, what are we going to do!?”

I shake Kirigiri’s shoulders.

“It’s all your fault, for revealing the invader that this happened! If you would’ve just shut up we could’ve gone home! You have a plan B don’t you?”

“No I don’t.”

Kirigiri said sulking her shoulders, and shaking her head.

The floating light of ball keeps in twinkling.

It’s over……

“Stop it, Kyouka!”

We hear a voice from somewhere.

That voice……

It comes from the shadowy silhouette, that comes close from the mansion with an air of composure is-

Shikiba Santa!

“You’re alive!?”

Kyouka is surprised as well.

Actually does this guy even die!?

“Kyouka! Look at your tree!”

Shikiba points.

Next to the gate was a tree planted there.

“You remember it? That’s the sapling that you planted when you became a recruit. If the killing beam descends, than it would be bad for that sakura tree, wouldn’t it? Can you allow that? I thought you loved plants as much as I do. Now, stop that killer beam!”

“Captain……”

Kyouka blinking from the bottom hesitates, and closes her eyes and looks down.

“Won’t you wait together with me to see the tree blossom? And then…...make more sakura tea for me again.”

“I can’t!”

Kyouka shakes her head.

“It can’t be stopped anymore. Once the killer beam starts…...there’s no stopping it…...Captain!”

“Is that so, well then look over there. Look at how much I love that tree.”

The ball of light is at its maximum wavelength.

Everything’s being surrounded by light……

And then-the killer beam is starting to descend!

“UAAA!”

Shikiba opens his arms, and takes in the whole beam.

It’s as much to scorch the Earth, and Shikiba’s shadow can clearly be seen.

Behind him is a young sakura tree-

“UAAAAAAA!”

“Captain! You’re amazing!”

While squinting I yelled.

“Do you best Captain!”

Even Kirigiri is cheering on. Without expression though.

“Stop it Captain! You’ll die!”

Kyouka scream.

Then the killer beam stops, and everything goes back to silence, and the light in the sky went away somewhere.

What was left was……

A completely blacken Shikiba-a manly hero.

He died while giving a heroic stance……

However the sakura tree is safe.

It was protected by him.

“Captain…...I truly felt the love you have.”

Kyouka falls to her knees, and looks down.

“As long as there’s someone like you, than I can rest easy when I look at this world. We will leave.”

“Kyouka…...are you leaving me?”

Shikiba said turned around.

You’re still alive!?

“Captain…...I’m sorry. I, I……”

Kyouka cries as held by Shikiba.

“Will you come back-for flower viewing season.”

Shikiba said gently as rubs her head.

As Kyouka cries she nods numerous times.

Kirigiri tugs at my sleeve.

“Let’s go. There’s nothing for us to do here anymore.”

“Eh? Oh……”

We leave both Kyouka and Shikiba, as we depart from that place.

We can see the hopeful face of the sun rising from the east.

This is how one man’s bravery, protected Earth’s peace.

Extraterrestrials vs Earth Plants Against Invaders Defense Force Route: Cleared

youtube

((The game starts again but this time it cuts to the choice after nearly running over Kirigiri..))

A. “Don’t walk in the middle of the road, you idiot!”

B. Im sorry, are you ok? Are you hurt?

C. Hey, you aren’t a ghost, right?

juicedup14 chooses A

“Don’t walk in the middle of the road, you idiot!”

I shouted at her.

There are people whose attitudes get worse behind the wheel, I guess I’m one of those. I thought “uh oh”, when I unconsciously shouted. The one who I was shouting at was a meek little girl. It’s me who’s at fault anyway.

I look at the girl with an apologetic expression, but perhaps because she’s startled, her face remains expressionless and calm. Or maybe she’s looking down at me with cold eyes.

“I’m sorry. I dozed off at the wheel.”

I immediately apologize. I lost to her gaze. An absolute knockout.

What is she?

A. I thought she might live here, so I asked for directions

B. “What a weird girl” I thought and closed the window.

C. It would be awkward if she got injured in this accident. I decided to apologize again.

((juicedup14 chooses A, the answer that you were forced to go with in the first run so the text is the same, until he gets to the option of showing his wallet.))

A. I have no choice but to show her my driver’s license.

B. This is a bit suspicious, there’s no way I can show her my driver’s license.

juicedup14 chooses B

Weird. I can’t show her my wallet.

“For what purpose do you want to see my identity? Are you planning something?”

“That should be what I’m saying.”

“What?”

“Do you think I’ll easily pop in someone’s car that I don’t know?”

She takes out her cellphone, and goes to the back of the car.

I think she’s putting the licence plate number. She reads out loud the numbers.

“What are you doing?”

((The same text of Kirigiri doing the background check happens, and she gets into the car while Kohei drives))

“What are you seeing out the window?”

“What?”

“Oh, well…...if there’s any signs or anything it’ll help me out. Like road signs, or billboards…...or houses of light…...or maybe rare flowers.”

“There’s lots of yellow flowers growing alongside the path.” ((It's the Otogirisou/ St John’s Wort from the first game!))

“Yellow flowers?”

“But it probably has nothing to do with anything, let’s just look over and keep driving.”

“What is that, it makes me more curious.”

“Because you dozed off, it makes your driving more dangerous.”

“You might be right. Sorry.”

Just a bad road. I’ll concentrate on driving.

“My driving is much better.”

“......You, you can drive?”

“Of course.”

What does she mean of course?

((This is where kirigiri references DRK4 again, and the same text as usual up until the tree nearly falls on them. Once again juicedup14 decides to pick the same option as the first time so everything plays out the same until they enter the mansion.))

((Kohei asks Kirigiri another question about the tree in the entrance hall))

“Is this tree…...crying?”

“Plants don’t cry.”

Kirigiri says in a voided kind of way, and heads to the stairs.

“I’m going to go look for someone. Should be on the second floor.”

((skipped same text))

((Option choice where phone ringing is coming from tree))

juicedup14 chooses A

“Ah, this truly is mys-tree-ous.”

“What is?”

Kirigiri tilts her head.

“Uh, well, I put tree in front of mysterious-”

“Be quite. I’m trying to listen for the phone.”

“Sorry.”

Even though I gave her an explanation, I got yelled at. I’m gonna cry.

All of a sudden, the phone ringing stops.

((skipped same text))

“Ah……I’m gonna use that phone……”

“What sort of contraption?”

Kirigiri touches the trunk, makes a thinking face and tilts her head.

I can’t believe she’s touching such a gross tree. Probably because she’s wearing gloves. I get away from the flowerbed, because I feel chills from it.

And then-

((skipped same text to see the knight at the fireplace.))

((Option choice with opening the suit of armor))

juicedup14 chooses B

It feels dangerous. I shouldn’t touch it.

I get away from the armor, and head toward the fireplace. Kirigiri’s looking inside.

((skipped same text))

((Option choice where Kouhei questions if he should leave Kirigiri by herself))

juicedup14 chooses B

She’s probably fine by herself.

She’s probably gone through lots of adventures by herself. If not, then she wouldn’t be so confident as a detective.

But…...what is she carrying in those small shoulders.

((skipped same text))

And to be honest…...compared to her I’m actually pretty scared. Being faced with such ridiculous events, makes me unable to move. All I could do was look at Kirigiri.

What would I do if something happened to her?

When I think about it, can I get through the situation by myself?

I wouldn’t be able to get away from this mansion by myself.

Well than I should work with her.

“Wait, Kirigiri? I’m going too.”

((skipped same text))

((Option choice where Kouhei comes back to Kirigiri with the knife, but she’s not there))

juicedup14 chooses B

Even if she has gloves, she wouldn’t be able to get through these roses. I call for her.

“Kirigiri?”

But there was no response.

Could she have gone past here by herself?

I feel like she could.

When I think that, I go ahead.

((skipped text))

((Option choice where Kouhei looks at Kyouka’s note and questions who he should trust))

juicedup14 chooses B

I choose to believe in Kyouka.

“Wait, I need to talk to her about something. Wait here.”

“I’m going too.”

“No, she is threatened by you. I’m going alone.”

“......Okay, I got it.”

I leave Kirigiri there, and head out of the greenhouse.

Where could she have gone?

I go down the stairs.

I see the left door, the entrance is open.

Could she be...

When I go in there, a long, damp, and narrow hallway keeps going.

When I open the back door, a white lit room appears. It kind of smells like a sterile hospital. I thought it was kind of like a laboratory, and it’s not covered by plants like the second floor, this means that this place is kept.

And it’s quite large.

((skipped same text))

And there’s a flowerbed in the middle, with an ominous flower growing.

It looked like a carnivorous plant, but if I look closely-the bottom part is like a human.

The bottom part looks like a corpse growing, and I unconsciously let out a gag. When I look closely, the ends of the arms are rounded without fingers, there’s lots of them around there.

((skipped same text))

“They’re all alive……”

A voice says from behind me.

When I turn around, Kyouka gets closer to me from where she was.

“Is this some sort of plant?”

“No, a person. They are my friends.”

“People? This?”

“Yes……”

Kyouka grabs a chair, and slowly sits down. Her face distorts, as she rubs her temples of the head.

“Are you not feeling well?”

“......I’m fine. Thanks for worrying about me.”

I see a hint of a smile, it’s an expression you wouldn’t see on Kirigiri.

“Where these plants-or your friends, made by combining human and plant DNA?”

“Yes. You know quite a bit. Those them there are actually made with exceptional DNA samples.”

Kyouka looks towards the sterile room, and speaks happily with a smile.

“Exceptional DNA samples?”

“Yeah. There are people who are called talented, right? Those people’s DNAs were taken, and used for research. The more exceptional your DNA is, the higher your survivability rate is. Being as you’re so nice, I’ll let you know that.”

Kyouka takes a file from the shelf, and hands it to me.

When I open it, I see who’s people’s DNA samples were used in research. Students from famous colleges, that are known throughout the world are listed there.

“In the outside world, there’s a school that only enlists with exceptional DNA, isn’t there? From that place we take their samples, and use them in research.”

“......Do you have permission for that?”

“Permission? Beats me……? I think the way its gathered is written down in the notes.

When I look in the notes, ‘Hair taken from’, ‘Samples taken from meals’, is written down. I don’t think they’ve gotten permission, from that.

When I look through the list, a name pops up that I know.

Kirigiri Kyouko-

The date when it was gathered was ten years ago.

#blog shenanigans #kirigiri sou #dangan ronpa #kyouko kirigiri #santa shikiba #kouhei matsudaira #kyouka #kirigiri sou transcripts #kyoko kirigiri #danganronpa #kirigirisou #kirigiriso

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lovelylogans · 6 years ago

Text

lavender for luck: chapter five

see warnings here

art by neil

previous chapter | the timestamp/sequel

“Bit dismal, isn’t it?” Roman asks pointedly, as Logan’s car trundles past the pitiful excuse for a welcoming sign.

“Lots of parking, though,” Logan says dryly, gesturing into the nearest lot that, aside from about three cars scattered throughout, had their pick of spots.

“This is where Virgil grew up,” Patton says, a tone of quiet disapproval in his voice. “Where he lives.”

“I’m starting to see why he was so emo when we first met him,” Roman says in an undertone. “If I lived here I’d be miserable too.”

A pause, as they examined their surroundings, and Roman looks at the map again.

“So,” Roman says. “Do we start at the grocery store, or the tiny excuse of a library, or the gas station? Or whatever number of closed-up shops there are? Or, oh, look, a bed and breakfast—”

“It’s a Sunday in a small town, stands to reason things are closed,” Logan says, tapping lightly at the dashboard. “Could use a bit more gas. Besides, they might have instructions. Maps. Directions. They might even know where he lives, it’s a small enough town—everyone must know everyone here—”

“Gas station it is,” Patton agrees, shifting in his seat. “I could use a good stretch. I hope they’ve got snacks.”

“—then I suppose we’ll check into the bed and breakfast. I have a suspicion that if Virgil ignored all of our calls and texts, he might not be quite so open to seeing us all in person. It may take a while.”

“We’ll just curl up on his doorstep and refuse to leave,” Roman suggests, and Logan lets out a slight huff that might have been hiding a laugh, pulling in to the gas station and parking by one of the two pumps, setting it to fill up before going inside.

A man, their age, or perhaps a year or two older, stared at them, smiling a kind of aggrieved customer-service smile.

“Sorry,” He says, not sounding particularly sorry as he stands from where he’d been sitting and scrolling on his phone. “Not often we get out of towners. Sunday’s normally a slow day—”

“It’s no trouble,” Logan says, and then glances around the small excuse for a gas station. Fridges line two of the walls, and there’s about three aisles worth of snacks, which Roman and Patton are already perusing, and then back at the counter, where the man (whose nametag read JIMMY KAVANAGH in cursive white stitching) gawks at them openly. “If I could pay in here—”

“Yeah, sure,” Apparently-Jimmy says, waving a hand and squinting out to double-check the pump number.

“What’re you doing in Ligerion?” he asks, as he’s punching in the information. “I think the last visitors we had was over a year ago, now.”

Logan tries his hardest not to wince at the use of a singular verb with a plural subject, and busies himself with glancing through yellowed, old maps of the town. “We’re visiting a friend of ours.”

“Oh, yeah? Bet I know ‘im.” He says to Logan, who laughs politely, well-versed in small-talk and all of its intricacies, even if he wasn’t particularly genuine about it.

“Place like this, I suppose you have to,” Logan agrees, setting what looks like the most in-depth map on the counter. “I’m paying for all their snacks, too, plus this—anyways, we’re visiting Virgil. Virgil Fae.”

It’s like saying his name flips a switch. The color practically drains out of his face, and gone is the look, the conspiratorial one that seems like he wants to be first to know the business for the visitors. Now, he looks like he’s seen a ghost—like Virgil’s name alone shook him to his core. Apparently-Jimmy looks around the station, scandalized, before bending his head towards Logan.

“All right, look,” he says to Logan in an undertone, an edge of a laugh in his tone. “I get that you’re, like, city boys, y’all’re new around here. But don’t go shoutin’ it out—guess if you’re seeing a Fae you haven’t got much sense, though,” he adds, and Logan stiffens.

“Beg your pardon?”

His voice is louder than expected, and he can practically feel Roman and Patton’s questioning gazes on his back. The soft padding of Roman and Patton’s feet as they approach the counter, silently putting their things on the counter. Patton’s fingers brush soft, subtle, down the steel of his spine.

Apparently-Jimmy sighs, and looks at them. “Look, bit of free advice?” He says, as he’s starting to ring up the snacks.

“Faes aren’t friends. They’ll do a good job convincing you of it, sure, but that’s the way they are. They’re good at it. That’s how they get you. You’re not from here, I get it. But I am. People in this town… they’ve seen people like you get all wrapped up in the Faes and what happens to them. You’ll think they’re your people, they’re parts of the town, that they’re your friends. They are not.”

Logan did not particularly care what this person thought. He didn’t know Virgil. He didn’t know the quiet, earnest Virgil, the one who made his own garden in their land-locked, green-bereft apartment. The one who grew from snarling and grouchy to someone who tried, all the time, learning how to fit and change and be with people who cared about him.

Because if Virgil had lived his life—in a dark, dismal, small place like this, with people like this who suspected his every motive—Logan could understand why he had been so shut off to them, before.

Because of people like this.

Logan draws himself up to his full height, and feels his best well-bred sneer cross his face, disdainful. He puts down enough cash for the snacks, their gas, the map with perhaps a bit more force than necessary.

“For your information,” and his tone was acerbic and cold, “which I’m not entirely sure will sink into your thick head, Virgil is one of the best men I’ve ever met. And we don’t particularly care about whatever horrid, false warnings you want to give to us.”

“Your funeral,” Jimmy mutters as they finally head for the door, and Patton has to grab Logan’s arm and practically shove him outside, lest he double back and—what? Punch him? He wouldn’t punch someone.

Would he?

He needs to calm down. He needs to keep a level head.

Roman, meanwhile, has stopped in his tracks.

“We’re idiots,” Roman says, and swivels to look at them. “We… we’re idiots.”

“Why d’you say that,” Patton prompts, and Roman gestures down the main road.

“You guys. Cora.”

They all freeze. Cora. Virgil’s great-aunt.

Who owns the only restaurant in town.

“We are idiots,” Logan breathes.

Patton checks his watch, and says, “Early dinner, then?”

They scramble for the car.

It turns out to be barely a minute’s drive, and Logan pulls into the first available spot, before they all head straight for the diner door.

The diner’s small, and neat. It’s kind of… cute, really, with a soda counter and booths, everything done in shades of red or white. Everyone in the diner is staring at them, though, and they swiftly slide into a booth.

“What is with this town,” Roman says in an undertone, stealing a glance towards an old man, who’s squinting at them suspiciously.

“It’s not exactly a hot spot for tourists,” Logan says dryly, and reaches for the menus—pieces of paper put into a plastic holder, as if the menu’s swapped around often, all tucked behind a condiments container.

Patton takes the menu, and observes it, before he pauses, stricken.

“What?” Roman asks.

“I—nothing,” Patton says. “Just—butterscotch milkshake.”

The scattering of butterscotch candies in the care packages that arrived twice a month, the ones Virgil claimed and shoved in his backpack and sucked on when he was studying.

“Well,” Logan says, “at least we know we’re in the right place.”

“Yeah,” Roman says, with a nod to the Auntie Cora’s printed on the window, “there were no other hints, at all.”

“Have you just decided to pick up the snark in Virgil’s absence, then?” Logan asks Roman, and Roman rolls his eyes at him.

“Hey there,” the woman starts, looking at her notepad, and then looks out with a smile. “What can I get…?”

She trails off, staring at Patton, who’s staring back.

“You’re… that nice boy,” the woman who must be Cora says, tucking her pen behind her ear, invisible in her toss of white curls. “Patton, isn’t it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Patton says softly. “And this is Logan, and this is Roman. Thank you for your recipes, I know Virgil—” he falters, and continues, strangled, “I know Virgil really loves them.”

She clears her throat, tries for a smile, and fishes her pen back out. “Can I get you boys started with a drink?”

“We were wondering—” Logan begins, leaning forwards, but Patton’s hand closes around his wrist.

“We’d love to,” Patton says. “I’ll start with a butterscotch milkshake. Rome, Lo?” He says, glancing at them.

Roman meets eyes with Logan, shrugs, and says, “I’ll just get a water, thanks.”

“Water as well,” Logan says, and Patton rubs his thumb over Logan’s hand as Cora notes it down.

“Be right out with those, fellas,” she says, and goes back behind the counter, presumably to the kitchen.

“People were staring,” Patton says, and nods his head to the side, where a child is openly gawking and pointing at them. “Still are. If the way our friend at the gas station acted is any indication…”

“Virgil isn’t popular,” Logan says with a sigh. “Well spotted. I don’t know why I’m so off today.”

“Yes, you do,” Roman murmurs, and puts his head on his arms, letting out a gusting sigh. “Anx—I mean, when Virgil wrote to me back then—I thought he was exaggerating.”

As the meal goes on, and they each try to the butterscotch milkshake, which makes Logan think about Virgil even more, the people turn more towards their own meals and ignore them. The food is hearty and filling and warm; Logan thinks that Virgil’s constant praise of Cora is well-earned.

As they wind down, Cora brings over three plates balanced on one arm, dishes them out, and slides in the booth next to Roman, who hastily scoots aside so there’s room.

She’s brought them jam tarts, and a brownie for Patton. They all murmur their thanks.

Cora nods, gestures for them to dig in with a thin, strained smile, and says quietly, “You know, Virgil was named after my late husband.”

Logan isn’t quite sure what to say—he never is, in these kinds of situations.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Patton says somberly, and Cora gives him the same wan smile.

“It happened years ago,” she says. “Before you were born. We had a good life together—started this diner, moved to Loch Ligerion. Raised Virgil’s mother as our own, after his sister and her husband died. We knew, of course. When she came home from kindergarten all atwitter about the Fae boy in her class. We knew what it meant.”

The other three exchange glances, and Logan says politely, “I don’t think we do.”

Cora smiles, pats Logan on the hand. “Oh, I know,” she says. “He wouldn’t have told you about that. Any of it. Got too much flack about it here, poor thing, I think that’s part of why he went off to school. Didn’t phrase it to us quite like that, but Dee and I knew.”

It takes a while for the name to click, but Roman gets it first. “Dee’s… Virgil’s uncle?”

“Mhm,” Cora says. “He didn’t want Virgil to go at all, really, in his mind the fact that James—Virgil’s father—ever left town is what caused him and Violet to pass away so suddenly, before—” She cuts herself off.

“Before?” Roman prompts, and Cora laughs a little awkwardly.

“It’s… traditional, for there to be two Fae children. Occasionally more, but most commonly two. Virgil’s the first only Fae child in two hundred years.”

Patton lets out a low whistle. “Wow.”

“It’s… unusual, certainly,” Logan says, “but—”

“There are things at play here that you don’t understand,” Cora says kindly.

“Okay,” Logan says. “Would you tell us about those things?”

“It’s not my place.”

“No, but it could be Virgil’s,” Logan says. “Could you—could you just let us know how we could see him?”

She’s visibly hesitating, and Roman adds hastily, “Just to see him. Just… we want to make sure he’s okay. We didn’t even know he’d left, we thought something awful happened—"

Their desserts lay forgotten, and Cora glances nervously over her shoulder, before looking back to them.

“You seem like very nice boys,” she says. “Every time Virgil came home, he smiled more and more, and I know it was because of you three.”

They all brighten, a little, but she holds up a hand.

“But I saw James smile more and more because of my Violet, too,” Cora says. “Boys, I’m sorry, but… I’ll let him know that you’re in town, and that you want to see him. But I’m not going to be part of what leads you to it. He’ll be the one who makes the choice. I think the fact that he left town should tell you what he’s going to choose.” She nods to them, says even softer, “Eat your sweets,” and slides out of the booth, going straight for the kitchen.

“Well,” Patton says quietly, dipping his spoon into the melty brownie, “that’s… something, at least.”

“Something confusing,” Logan says. “I don’t know why she’s acting like us seeing Virgil again would be the end of the world.”

They eat their desserts slowly, dawdling over the last of their meal.

Almost theatrically, the door dings open, and a hush falls over the diner. Logan blinks at Roman, and they look to the door.

A man stands there, and Logan nearly chokes on his last bite of tart.

He looks like an older Virgil.

Except for the part that he’s scowling at the majority of the diner, wearing a cape and a bowler hat, and has unfortunately selected yellow as an accent color, rather than Virgil’s usual purple.

“That’s Virgil’s Uncle,” Roman says in an undertone. “Has to be, right?”

“Has to be,” Logan agrees, equally quiet, and they watch as Cora emerges from the kitchen with a brown paper bag, as the Uncle takes it and leans over the counter to chat with her, the way her eyes stray towards their table, how his grip tightens on the takeout bag.

And he turns around, facing them full on, and by Patton’s poorly-bitten off gasp, the other differences between himself and Virgil are made immediately apparent.

He practically glides over to their table, and unlike Cora, doesn’t slide in to sit next to Roman—he hovers over them, drawing himself up to his full height, glowering at them all with his yellow, snakey eye, a smirk straining the scar tissue on his cheek, the scales catching the fluroescent light.

“You must be the boys I’ve heard all about,” he says, voice quiet and precise and drawling in a way that Virgil, even at his meanest, could never quite manage.

“The boys who’d like to see him,” Patton says politely, and his smile turns even nastier.

“I’m afraid Virgil isn’t at home.”

“Tell us where he is, and we’ll get right out of your way,” Roman says, tilting his chin up proudly.

“I wouldn’t know what to tell you,” Uncle says. “Virgil leaving town, I’m sure it has nothing to do with you three.” He smiles at them, nods, and says, “Goodbye, boys.”

He sweeps out the same way he came, and Logan can see the other diners relax, as if all of them had been holding their breath.

Logan’s usually disinclined towards such metaphoric statements, but it’s undeniable, the sudden release of tension as Virgil’s Uncle leaves.

“Charmer,” Roman remarks quietly to them, and Logan pauses, touching his own cheek.

“Skin condition, maybe,” Logan murmurs. “Not sure which. And the eye… contact, maybe?”

“He looks a lot like Virgil,” Patton says. “Aside from, you know. The weird snakey stuff.”

At last, they pay, and tip, and venture to walk the main road of the town; it’s really not all that much to look at. The grocery store, a tiny library, Cora’s diner, the gas station, a couple other little, tiny shops that probably wouldn’t do them any good.

“Bed and breakfast, do you think?” Roman asks as the sun begins to set, and Patton, very suddenly, gasps.

“Cat,” he says, and moves to approach it. The cat looks to them, meows at them loudly, and trots over, purring noisily.

As the cat approaches, Logan can tell more—it’s an entirely black cat, the only bits of color being its large amber eyes and the twining of flowers around its neck. Logan’s no Virgil, but he can pick out anemones, a single daffodil, and purple hyacinths. Some he doesn’t know—Virgil would, he always did. Does.

Virgil, Logan thinks, and in that moment misses him so terribly he can barely take in his next breath.

And there, a little scroll of paper around her neck, as she lays on her back, showing her belly and tipping her head back, as if to ensure that they’ll see it. Patton takes it, hands trembling.

“Thank you,” he tells her, and the cat blinks slowly at them with their amber eyes, and sits back on her haunches, before licking at her paw and starting to clean her face.

“What does it say?” Roman asks, hoarse, and Patton fumblingly unscrolls the tiny piece of paper.

you need to leave, it says in Virgil’s spiky handwriting, and, I’m sorry.

“That’s it?” Logan says, taking the paper and turning it over. Nothing.

The cat meows, butts into Patton’s leg with her head, and sits back to scratch at the flowers with her hind paw, before giving him a look. Logan knows that Virgil’s good with cats, but he hadn’t known it was possible to train them this well.

“Oh,” Patton says, and carefully pulls the flower collar off of her neck. “Here you go.”

She meows at them, dips her head as if nodding at them in acknowledgment, and stalks away.

There’s a pause.

“Do you think she’s going back to Virgil?” Roman asks.

“We should follow her,” Patton says immediately, slipping the flowers onto his wrist, and without waiting for a response, following the cat towards the woods, Roman hot on his heels.

Logan sighs in exasperation before he follows his two boyfriends, who are following a cat, into unfamiliar woods. There are so many ways this could go wrong.

The cat often looks back at them, too, as if to say could you keep up?! and Logan has to take a second to remind himself that cats are not actually capable of such communication. The woods are dark and smell overwhelmingly of dead leaves and pine; there does, at least, seem to be some kind of path they’re following. Logan wonders how often Virgil walks it, when the last time he walked it was. Had he been scared of something? What had made him uproot himself from his life, a life he’d given no prior signs of showing malcontent with, a life that had been… good?

They break through the trees, and Roman whispers, “Holy shit.” Patton doesn’t even lecture him for language; the three of them are too busy staring.

Virgil’s house—manor?—looks straight out of a storybook. It’s black, dark woods, iron, green glass Logan can only barely see the suggestion of light through—the garden’s extensive, and the bluestone path leading to the back door seems to glimmer in the moonlight. There’s towers and spires arching up into the moonlight, and the cat keeps moving, seemingly ignoring them, and moves to the backdoor, yowling and meowing.

“Down,” Logan says, once his brain starts to work, “Get down, behind the bush—”

Logan shoves them, and they crouch behind the bush in time to see the door open, light spilling onto the lawn, Virgil’s Uncle backlit by the glow of the… kitchen, maybe? He says something undiscernable and gestures for the cat to come in, and she does. He looks out into the yard, squinting, before closing the massive door with a bang.

“That is,” Roman says, “a ridiculous house. You know, I’m starting to get Virgil more now. Dressing in all black all the time just makes sense when you live somewhere like that.”

“D’you think that his Uncle lied?” Patton says, soft. “And that he’s really home?”

Logan and Roman are both nodding before he even finishes the sentence.

“I don’t think we can trust that man at all,” Logan says darkly.

“Whenever Virgil mentions him, it always seems… weird,” Roman agrees. “Back when we were penpals, I remember just kind of feeling off about Virgil’s descriptions of him.”

“He’s clearly not going to let us in to see him,” Logan says with a sigh, and turns to his left. “Patton, what do you…?”

He isn’t there. Roman hits him on the arm, and hisses “Patton!” loudly.

Because Patton’s striding up the bluestone path, straight to the door.

Patton takes a breath to steel himself before knocking on the door, and glances over his shoulder to see Logan yanking Roman back to the relative safety of the bush and turns back in time for the door to open.

“Well,” Virgil’s Uncle says. “If it isn’t… what’s your name.”

“Patton,” he says, and digs in his pocket, before unearthing the cat tarot cards that Virgil had left behind, holding them up for his inspection. “Virgil’s usually the one who does this for me. I was wondering if you’d be willing to give me a reading.”

Virgil’s Uncle stares at the cards, and Patton swears he can see something flicker in his eyes before he smiles. He steps aside, and Patton walks into the house.

The décor’s all dark wood and greenery strung haphazardly through the room, a bit like how Virgil keeps his room at the apartment. Patton sits at the kitchen table, and Virgil’s Uncle clatters about in the kitchen.

“Tea,” he says. Patton gets the feeling it isn’t a question.

“Mint, if you have it,” Patton says, sitting down and glancing into the doorway that leads to the rest of the house, the stairs—Virgil’s room must be somewhere up those stairs. Patton, for a fleeting moment, wonders what would happen if he ran up the stairs while Virgil’s Uncle’s back is turned—but a teacup’s set before him before he can act on it.

“Which spread?”

Patton steels himself, and says, “The true love spread.” His voice is much steadier than he thought it’d be.

Virgil’s Uncle nods, as if it hasn’t affected him, and says simply, “Drink your tea,” as he begins to shuffle the deck.

He knows how this goes—cuts the deck without Virgil’s Uncle prompting him at all. It’s almost familiar, a warm drink, a tarot reading—but the surroundings are entirely unfamiliar. Virgil’s Uncle instead of Virgil, Loch Ligerion instead of the Busy Bean, mint tea instead of hot chocolate.

First and second, under them third, fourth, and fifth, sixth in a row alone at the bottom. You, your partner, what brings you together, what keeps you apart, what needs work, and outcome.

But then Virgil’s Uncle sits back and stares. “Tea,” he says, and sips at his own. Patton finishes it in three scalding gulps and sets down the teacup. Virgil’s Uncle takes it and tilts it, squinting, before looking at Patton, level-eyed.

“I must have calculated it perfectly,” Virgil’s Uncle muses, and Patton frowns at him. The room’s getting darker. Why is the room getting darker?

“I—what?” Patton asks. His tongue feels numb.

“You’ll have a bit of a headache in the morning,” Virgil’s Uncle says, and Patton’s balance faults, as he falls off the chair and to the ground. He tries to sit up.

“What did you do to me,” Patton gasps, head spinning, and tries to sit up again.

He can hear thunder—is it thunder? It sounds like thunder, and then someone’s hand on his face, and he forces his eyes open.

“Vurge-uhhl?” Patton forces out around his numb tongue.

“Jesus Christ,” Virgil says, like his voice is coming from the top of a well, “what did you do to him?”

“Virgil,” Patton tries to say again, blinking, fixating on Virgil’s eyes. His eyes are so pretty. Such an unusual shade of brown—like there’s bits of gold, like amber, like—

And Patton’s sinking, sinking down into the water.

“…hospital, or something, he’s been out for hours—”

“—and where do you propose we take him? The nearest medical help is a vet, which doesn’t seem—”

Patton groans and the voices stop and pick up again.

“Patton?” The first voice says, and that’s definitely Roman, and Patton tries to turn his face towards him, except that it feels like a herculean effort.

A hand on his cheek, a thumb over his cheekbone. “Patton, can you hear us?”

“Lo’an,” Patton manages, and adds, “Ro—”

“Hey there, sleepyface,” Roman says, soft and soothing, and a hand strokes through his hair. “Can you open those pretty green eyes for us, honey?”

With herculean effort, Patton forces his eyes open, trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes.

He sees his boyfriends’ faces above him, crowded together, and he sees the looks of relief blossom across their faces.

“Hey there,” Roman says, and runs a hand through his hair again.

“Do you remember what happened?” Logan asks.

Patton blinks as the memories come back, bubbling sluggishly to the surface of his brain, and he tries to sit up in bed.

“I saw him,” Patton says, and both Logan and Roman push him back onto the pillows. “I saw Virgil, he’s at the house, he was—”

Patton’s cut off by a noisy yowl. They all blink and look to the window.

The black cat from before is scratching at the window, and, to put it bluntly, screaming at them.

“Let her in,” Patton says.

“Patton, your medicine—”

“She might have something from Virgil,” Patton says, and Logan sighs, nudging Roman to go to the window, before going to Patton’s bag and digging out his medicine as Patton pushes himself up onto his elbows.

When Roman opens the window, the cat launches herself at Patton, landing on her chest, and meowing in his face, making Patton thump back against the pillows.

She’s kneading his chest and meowing the cat equivalent of some kind of lecture—it’s a lot of angry-sounding mrorororwwww!!!! Mrrrrow! and occasional poking of claws as she kneads against his chest.

“I—” Patton says, and sneezes into her fur, causing her to make a disgusted hiss and leap a little further down the bed.

Just a little, though. Patton accepts his glasses and allergy medicine from Logan, as Roman coos at the cat, who gives him a Look.

“She has one,” Roman says, and takes the scroll, unrolling it, before frowning.

“What?” Patton asks, adjusting his glasses on his nose. “What does it say?”

“I—I don’t understand,” Roman says, and reads off, “The empress, the hanged man, two of cups, the devil, reversed two of swords, the lovers.” Roman exchanges a confused look with Logan, but Patton softens.

“It’s Virgil,” Patton says, soft. “He read it, he—give that to me, and my phone,” he says, and adds hastily, “Please.”

He’s awful at reading this—Virgil’s the one who knows how to read it. But—

Patton begins googling some kind of tarot card reading site, and Logan says, “Patton, what does it mean?”

“They’re tarot cards,” Patton says unthinkingly, before he flushes and clears his throat. “Um. I mean—”

He tries to think of another excuse, can’t, and sighs.

“Yeah, they’re tarot cards,” he says. “He asked me not to tell you, because he thought you guys wouldn’t believe him, but—you know those fliers around campus advertising for tarot readings?”

Logan’s eyebrows are lost somewhere in his hairline.

“That… was Virgil?” Roman says slowly.

Patton shrugs. “It’s how we met,” he says. “And I asked his Uncle to give me a reading, before he—I think he put something in my tea, but. Virgil ended up doing the reading, and these are the cards. Or at least I think so. So.”

The website loads, and Patton starts to cross-check meanings.

“Virgil,” Logan says slowly. “Was the one advertising his. Tarot services.”

“He’s pretty accurate about them, too,” Patton says.

“It’s all power of suggestion,” Logan begins, and the cat meows at him irritably, before curling up on Patton’s stomach.

He looks up each card. Empress, which is apparently him, represents a nurturing, caring, and supportive person with those around them, which certainly seems nice. But apparently when in a spread with the devil card, it could suggest that he’s causing damage to someone without knowing it, which is much less nice. Hanged man, Virgil, as he’s another person, potentially represents someone who is not who they appear to be, and could very well cause a big disruption in your life, which is… a little unnerving, especially when he sees an illustration of the hanged man. Then the two of cups, what brings them together, apparently means potential for a wonderful relationship in front of your eyes, and for an attached lover, the two of cups means something big will be happening in your relationship in a positive way. He can really only hope so. The devil, what keeps them apart, serves as a warning, and can point to lying or hidden motives, and could show someone whose association with the wrong crowd will ultimately be your undoing. And the reversed two of swords, what they’re meant to work on, could show a reminder that you have all the tools necessary to make the best choices you can for yourself, and you can be sure you are making the right decisions, which is reassuring. And the outcome—the lovers—Patton doesn’t think he has to look, but he does anyway. A resounding “yes!” to having a happy and fulfilling love life, but at the same time, since the devil’s in the spread too, it could mean that you and your romantic partner are not going to work out regardless of how hard each of you work on the relationship. Patton sets his jaw, but he can only focus on one thing.

He sends a text to Virgil, the latest in a long line of unanswered ones, I know you, okay? Any disruption you bring I’d love and sends it before setting down his phone at last.

“So,” Logan says, sarcastic, “what do the cards tell you?”

Patton disregards the sarcasm. “That Virgil probably isn’t what he appears,” he says. “That there’s going to be something positive happening in our relationship soon. A warning about hidden motives, about Virgil potentially hanging around the wrong crowd. That we’ve got all the tools we need to make the right choice. And—” Patton blushes, just a little. “That we’ll have a happy and fulfilling love life.”

He leaves off the warning of the devil and the lovers—he’ll keep it to himself for now.

“So,” Roman says, “What now? Cora’s not going to help us, and if Virgil’s Uncle’s delicate approach shows anything, it means he definitely doesn’t want us to see him either.”

“What now,” Logan says, “is we get some food from Cora’s, give Patton a filling breakfast, and let him rest. I’ll go to the library and research—maybe there’s some kind of house plan on record, or family history that’ll give us some kind of leverage.”

Roman groans.

“You’re welcome to stay with Patton,” Logan sniffs. “Or conduct some of your own research. Subtly.”

He pulls on his coat and leaves.

When Logan enters the library, his eye’s immediately drawn to the warped, twisted metal of some of the shelves, the dents in the walls, how small and outdated it is.

“Oh, wow, you’re one of those newcomers, aren’tcha?”

Logan turns and nods at the girl at the front desk.

“Would you be willing to point me towards some kind of archive?” Logan asks politely. “Newspapers, city hall meetings, something.”

She gives him a knowing look. “You’re looking for stuff about Faes, right?”

Logan hesitates, but figures it wouldn’t exactly hurt. He nods.

“They’ve got their own section,” she says dryly, hopping over the desk. “Ruth,” she adds, nodding at him, and leads him over to a beat-up little corner, with an uncomfortable-looking chair, a collection of filing cabinets, and several old journals.

“Microfiche is against the east wall,” she says, and turns to go. She pauses, before she turns back.

“I was in Virgil’s grade in school,” she says. “Went to school with him for eleven years. Is he really as weird as they say? He was mostly just quiet, round me, but by the way Jimmy Kavanagh talked, he’s the devil incarnate. Plus, well,” she says, and points to the warped, twisted metal. “Margot never really talked about it, but the whole town knew it was him, so—”

Logan blinks. The damage doesn’t look like it’s even natural—it’s as if it was left out in a storm, torn asunder by wind and rain, or maybe some kind of sculpture.

“Virgil’s one of the best men I’ve ever known,” Logan says honestly. “Excuse me.”

He turns to the file cabinets, and, after some meddling, pulls out the file of the oldest information—dated back to the 1800s.

He braces himself for a long day of research.

Logan’s deliberating going to get lunch and checking in on Patton and Roman when someone’s boots thunk down on the table, dangerously close to the Victorian-era excuse for files.

Logan looks up to glare and sees an only slightly familiar face grinning at him.

“Heya,” the woman—Gillian, he remembers—says to him. “What’s your name?”

He’s about to say it, when he remembers Virgil telling Gillian that Patton’s name is Puck, for whatever reason. Maybe she uses personal information for fraudulent purposes?

“Logic,” Logan says instead, and Gillian snorts, rolling her eyes.

“C’mon, I only used that trick to rile up Virgil,” she says. “You can tell me. Too much work to steal a name, anyways.”

Steal a name? Steal his identity, most likely.

“I trust Virgil’s judgment,” Logan says coolly.

“You’re looking through the family history,” she notes. “Where are you at? Maria, or have you gotten to Regina? Ida? You’re definitely not up to Cecelia yet.”

This was an interesting thing too—the Fae line’s matriarchal, rather than patriarchal. It seems to be, entirely, a Fae quirk, amongst the period-typical misogyny of the rest of the town.

“Got any questions?” She asks, and Logan looks at her. The combat boots, paired incongruously with an ankle-long skirt, ripped around the hem with tears going up to her thighs, the even more incongruous glittery top, her hair chopped messy and short, like she did it herself.

“Why should I trust you?” he says, and she hoots with laughter.

“Hey, you got the townie attitude already! Or, wait, did Virgil warn you about me? Say he did, it’d be the sweetest thing he’s said ‘bout me since he was six.”

“He never spoke about you,” Logan says. “Before or after you visiting our apartment, unannounced.”

She pouts. “You’re no fun.”

“You’ve got the usual attitude surrounding me already,” Logan says dryly, sifting through wills and town records (apparently Virgil’s ancestors were quite the delinquents, though at least half of them tended to be targeting them for being women, as most of the accusations were witchcraft, though there were a few concerning parallels between Faes and the mysterious deaths of those around them) and adds in a monotone “Ha,” just to clash with her laughter from before.

“Seriously, though,” she says, knocking her ankle against his, “no questions? None?”

“No,” Logan says.

“Not even about what Dee put in your friend’s tea?”

Logan pauses. There must be something on his face that gives off his hesitation, his curiosity, because she grins.

“You want to know that, don’t you.”

Logan gives her a level look, and says, “Do you know?”

“Course I know,” Gillian says. “Virgil’s not the only one in the family who understands plants, you know? Plus, where d’you think I’m staying? The B&B? You’re in the only room.”

Logan pauses, and says, “Will there be any ill effects?”

“Nope,” she says, cheerful. “Should just make him sleepy, a bit out of it. Should be wearing off by now.”

Logan lets out a soft breath, before he nods, and turns back to the old files.

“What, that’s it?” Gillian says, and she’s definitely irritated now. “Nothing about what Virgil might be hiding from you? I saw the cards—hanging man, devil, and lovers in one—”

Logan closes a journal with a crisp snap and a roll of his eyes. “Great,” he says. “The superstition’s hereditary.”

She laughs at him, then, conspicuously loud in the desolate library.

“Superstition,” she says, and cackles louder. “Superstition?! Wow. Wow, Uncle told me the gist of things, but I can never really be sure if I’m right with things with him—but wow. You really have no idea what you’re walking into, do you?”

Logan pointedly opens the old journal. Not by a Fae, by someone named Kavanagh, like the rude man in the gas station. He’s not going to engage with her anymore. He starts reading about Kavanagh accusing Maria of witchcraft, which seems fitting for the time period.

But then she starts shuffling a tarot card deck she pulls from her bra, and Logan lasts about five seconds.

“Is it a family tradition, or something?” Logan says irritably.

She grins. “Or something.”

“You know, this Kavanagh man accused your ancestor of witchcraft,” he says.

She grins wider. “A tradition that’s continued through the years,” she says, and offers him the deck. “I could do a reading for you if you want.”

Logan wrinkles his nose. “I’d rather not.”

She shrugs and stands. “Fine,” she decides. “I may as well tell you all the warnings. Virgil isn’t gonna break down and see you, because he’s terrified of what’s gonna happen if he does. And Uncle’s more protective over Virgil than he is anything else. If you keep trying to get to him, Uncle’s gonna put worse than those herbs into your system,” she says. “Because Uncle’s capable of some dark shit that you clearly wouldn’t understand.”

“Warning heeded,” Logan says coolly, “and disregarded.”

“Your funeral,” she shoots back, and strides out of the library. The girl who’d showed Logan around before—Ruth—peeks hesitantly out from the desk, once she’s safely gone. And Logan can’t help but overthink.

What is it with the people in this town, Logan wonders, but then his mind turns to Gillian’s warnings. Uncle’s gonna put worse than that into your system.

Logan frowns. And frowns some more. Before he shuts the journal again and picks up his coat, heading straight for the bed and breakfast, mind whirling.

“This is going to sound crazy,” he prefaces immediately, “and I’m still trying to piece together the whole of the theory.”

Patton and Roman look over at him, from where they’ve cuddled together on the bed, laptop balanced on both their laps.

Logan sits on the bed, takes a breath, and says, “I think Virgil’s Uncle, and thereby the family business, is in organized crime.”

Roman and Patton share a glance, and Logan winces—because him and Virgil are usually the ones sharing that glance.

“I know how it sounds,” Logan adds. “And I’m not saying it’s certain, but—but look. He put something into Patton’s tea to knock him out, and no one seemed fazed when they saw us walking back with him. The whole town is terrified of him. Virgil’s cousin—Gillian—she was at the library, and she told me that if we continue to meddle, Virgil’s Uncle would, and I quote, put something worse than those herbs into our systems, and that he’s capable of dark shit I clearly wouldn’t understand, and that if I disregarded the warnings it would be my funeral. Gillian told me outright that she’d steal my name if I gave it to her, which I can only assume is some kind of shorthand for stealing my identity, and—look, the crime counts for Virgil’s ancestors are ridiculous, I’ve barely made it through two generations without fielding several counts of mysterious deaths surrounding their lovers and those who are noted to have wronged them, and dozens of accusations of witchcraft.”

“Okay,” Roman says, “can we back up to the part where Virgil’s cousin threatened you? Like, outright told you it would be your funeral?”

Logan waves a hand irritably, and says, “I’m fairly certain she was just posturing.”

“You just mentioned the mysterious counts of death, though,” Patton says thoughtfully.

“In the eighteen hundreds—I haven’t gotten much further than that,” Logan admits, “I was going to see if you two wanted lunch before I went back to it, but then Gillian came.”

“Aw, Archi-nerd-es,” Roman says, grinning, “you took a break from research for us? We’re flattered.”

Roman ends up going to grab the easiest thing possible from Cora’s, and Logan takes Roman’s place, curled up against Patton’s side, and he runs a hand through his hair.

“How are you feeling?” Logan murmurs, and Patton snuggles into his side.

“Better, really,” he says reassuringly. “I took a bit of a nap while you were at the library, fixed me right up.”

Logan breathes a sigh of relief, and pets Patton’s hair again, because Patton enjoys such physical, comforting contact. “Good,” he murmurs. “Gillian said that would likely be the case, but. I wanted to be sure.”

“Meeting Gillian really didn’t bother you?” Patton asks, and Logan pauses.

“She seems like a difficult person,” Logan admits. “She tried goading me, I think. It didn’t really work for her. She mentioned—”

Logan pauses, and what Gillian said about Virgil finally catches up.

“What?” Patton asks, squinting up at him.

“I,” he begins, and sighs. Keeping this from either of them would likely poorly impact their approaches to Virgil. “She said that Virgil… that Virgil was terrified of what would happen. If he saw us again.”

Patton’s arms squeeze tighter around him, and he whispers, “I’m so worried about him.”

“I know,” Logan says.

“Why do you think he’s scared?” Patton asks plaintively, and Logan can only shrug.

“We can theorize,” Logan says. “Maybe Virgil’s Uncle dislikes the fact that he’s gay. Maybe the family business is something relating to organized crime and Virgil wanted to go clean, which the family didn’t like, and he thinks he’s protecting us by staying away. Maybe Virgil’s isolating himself and his family’s falling in line to support it, even if it isn’t entirely healthy behavior. Maybe it’s something entirely different. We don’t know. We can only continue to reach out.”

“What if,” Patton says, and he takes in a shaky breath. “What if we see him, and he says he never wants to see us again?”

Logan fights the instinct to say that wouldn’t happen, but he lets out a long breath. “If he does—which I believe is unlikely,” he adds. “Then I suppose all we can do is accept it. Go back to school. Move on.”

“What if I can’t,” he says in a whisper, and Logan tightens his arms around Patton, because Patton clearly needs comfort.

“You can,” Logan says. “Not—it’s not likely that he will. But if he does, you can. Roman and I will be there. Okay?”

He’s bad at this. Not debatable. He is bad with emotions and emotional confrontations.

Patton turns his face into Logan, and essentially maneuvers them so he’s practically laying on top of Logan, nose pressed at the juncture between his neck and his shoulder. Logan, fumblingly, places his hand on Patton’s hand, scratching at his scalp, doing the best he can. Roman’s better at physical contact than he is—

When Roman walks in with two takeout bags, Patton’s breathing is snuffly and soft and evened out against his skin, in a way that kind of tickles.

“Hey,” Roman says, soft, setting down the takeout bags and nudging off his shoes, before he carefully clambers onto the bed, against Patton’s other side. “He okay?”

“Napping again,” Logan murmurs softly. “And—well, he got a bit upset, because I—well. To put it bluntly, Gillian said that Virgil’s terrified of what’s going to happen if he sees us again. Which was upsetting to Patton, who seems to think that Virgil will decide he never wants to see us again.”

“Aw, Pat,” Roman says, spooning up to Patton’s side, and Patton makes a contented humming noise, buzzing against Logan’s skin.

“Logan,” Roman mumbles.

“Yes?” Logan asks, and Roman twines his fingers with Logan’s, so their hands rest on Patton’s back.

“I just,” Roman begins, and falters, closing his eyes before he opens them again. “I don’t want you to get hurt, okay?”

“Roman,” he murmurs, and Roman squeezes his hand.

“He drugged Patton, Logan,” Roman says, and there’s an undercurrent there, an undercurrent of Roman’s voice shaking with rage. “He probably knew we were right outside. What—if he treats us like that knowing there’s a witness—”

Logan’s already squeezing Roman’s hand back, shaking his head as much as he can without dislodging Patton.

“You know what Cora and Gillian said,” Logan says, soft. “He’s protective over Virgil. I—I wouldn’t think he’d hurt him. Hurt us, maybe, to keep us from potentially hurting him. But Virgil’s okay.” He has to be.

Roman pauses, and lets out a shaky breath, before his eyes focus on Logan again. “Do you want me to log into my old email and show you the stuff Virgil said about his uncle and the family business? If there’s some kind of hint I missed when I was twelve?”

Logan rubs his thumb over Roman’s knuckles. “That would be helpful, thank you. If you or Patton would like to go over those while we’re in the library, while I read through Fae records—"

“Ugh, just me, I think,” Roman says, and shudders theatrically. “Twelve-year-old me. There was… an abundance of copy-paste emojis.”

“Why am I not surprised,” Logan says, and Roman shoots him a playfully injured look.

After Patton wakes up, and they eat the lunch Roman brought from Cora’s, they all go over to the library. Patton takes over reading some of the journals as Logan sorts through city records; apparently, the massive house of Virgil’s is the house Faes have been living in since they came to Ligerion. The counts of witchcraft only fade slightly with the entrance into the twentieth century, which surprises Logan; history, admittedly, is not his main area of interest, but he’d thought the counts would fade in historical comparison to Salem.

Patton frowns a lot at the journals, likely because someone’s ancestors are writing mean things about Virgil’s ancestors. Roman’s scrolling constantly through his laptop, often wincing or putting his face in his hands before he continues reading. There’s the occasional break as they read something interesting, mostly Roman, but Patton does read in the journals about how Virgil’s ancestors could, apparently, appear from out of nowhere, and morph their faces, and more.

Mostly the city records are accounts of crime. Apparently, Virgil’s ancestors got up to some stuff; they apparently just outright ignored prohibition, and there were several counts of public drunkeness, lewdness, and the like, along with the continuous deaths of spouses. By a variety of very odd ways that just provide more evidence towards the organized crime theory. Drowned in the well, lightning strike, freak horse accident. One dropped dead in the midst of the town square.

The librarian introduces herself to Roman and Patton, eventually, and tells them much o the same spiel she told Logan—that she went to school with Virgil, if they need any help or have any questions—

Patton looks up from the journal, and asks, “Why do the Kavanaghs hate the Faes so much?”

Ruth grins, sudden, wider than Logan’s seen in his two days at the library. “Oh, that,” she says, almost gleeful, before she looks around and sits down at the table.

“So, like, Maria Fae was one of the two women of the thirteen founders of the town, right?”

“Right,” Logan says, because he’d read that. She’d been a woman with a baby and no husband, dressed in black, who wore sapphires until the day she died, commissioned nearly all of the capable people in town to build the house.

“So was a Kavanagh,” she says. “And, like. Maria was an unmarried woman with a baby, super scarlet letter, but she dressed in black, so I think a lot of people assumed she was a widow. Anyways—” she leans forwards. “John Kavanagh tried to instigate, like, a punishment for adultery, because she couldn’t prove that she’d been married, and it could’ve been adultery. So he moved the townspeople to try to shut her in the pillory.”

Roman frowns. “Pillory?”

“More extreme version of the stocks,” Logan says in an undertone. “Usually they were standing, on a platform, so they’d be publically humiliated. Please continue.”

“The day came, and they rushed the house,” Ruth says. “And, well, sexism, so it was supposed to be brutal. Throwing rotten food and dead animals and mud and… excrement, and stuff. A few theories think they were going to try to stone her. Maybe even whip her. But they tried to lock her in—and John Kavanagh got locked in instead.”

They all blink at each other, and Logan says incredulously, “How did they make a mistake of that magnitude?”

“It gets worse,” Ruth says. “So Maria walks away, home free, and Kavanagh’s just screaming after her. And all the townspeople try to unlock Kavanagh—but the device broke. So he was stuck in.”

“Stuck,” Logan repeats.

“Mhm,” Ruth says. “One of the town founders, locked into the pillory with no way to escape. Outsmarted and tricked by a woman, shame of all shame, and the town was ready to stone someone. So they try to get him out but realize that, one, the mechanism’s broken, and two, they can’t exactly cut him free without endangering him by a lot.” Ruth takes a breath.

“So he stays there for days. Stuck. Can barely eat broth, can’t excuse himself to go to the restroom, screams until he’s hoarse, threatens anyone and everyone into getting him to go free. It’s awful, but there’s some accounts in the old newspaper if you want the grisly details. Eventually, though, Maria wanders into town again, to get some supplies. The story goes, she walked up to the pillory, and didn’t say a word. Just stared at him, square in the eye. Those amber eyes of theirs—Faes, I mean—apparently, she just stared at him. And he died. And suddenly they could unlock it again, to take him away and bury him.” She leans back in her chair. “And everyone in the town started to learn that messing with a Fae was a horrible, horrible idea. Especially for a Kavanagh. But they do it anyway, and it never ends well for them. I’m surprised Jimmy’s only gotten spiders, really—”

“How did she do it?” Logan asks. “How did she manage to get John in the pillory instead—and lose the key? Break it so that he couldn’t get out until he was dead?”

“Spiders,” Roman says, at the same time, and types intently on his laptop.

Ruth shrugs, and spreads her hands. “Magic.”

Logan scoffs.

Rather than laughing it off, as if it’s a joke, Ruth shrugs, grinning.

“Yeah, I know how it sounds,” she says. “But I’ve been around this most of my life, so I’ve seen Virgil do some weird stuff, and those cousins of his are super obvious about it. Anyway, I should probably check the desk, but—if you wanna know more town history, let me know, that’s kind of my thing.”

“Magic,” Logan says dismissively, already standing. “I’m checking that microfiche. There’s a logical explanation that must have gotten tangled up in the superstitions of the time—”

“Wait,” Roman says. “Spiders. Virgil told me about the spiders—”

Logan pauses, and reads the email over Roman’s shoulder, Patton on his other side.

—i mean, I guess I’ve done a couple pranks. my cousins are way better at that kind of thing, though, but my older cousin g helped me flood gaston’s house with spiders once because his family and mine have hated each other for YEARS—

Roman scrolls over, to his own question in the next email, how did you flood his house with spiders???? that’s so scary, omg, I’d be terrified, I’m sure he deserved it though ⊙﹏⊙

I was six, it was really mostly g, she’s good at that kind of thing, was Virgil’s evasive response.

Logan glances, nods, and says, “Microfiche, then. You two, keep doing what you’re doing. Please don’t get into trouble.”

“How dare you,” Roman says, straight-faced, as if he and Patton have never gotten in trouble in their lives.

Logan manages to find the article in the microfiche, but it’s just a little snippet, mostly with the brutal, grisly details; nothing about Maria Fae, herself. After reading it, Logan can see how it’s a point of a family feud. Though in his memory, Logan can’t recall Virgil mentioning Jimmy Kavanagh at all.

He returns, and digs slowly through the journals, working slowly up until present day, until there’s the last one, that’s the most recent. Logan traces the embossed name on the front.

“Is it another Kavanagh,” Patton asks wearily.

“I—no,” Logan says. “No. It’s—it’s Virgil’s father.”

This had been what he was after the whole time—a source from a Fae, not from the townspeople observing them. And Virgil’s father, his Uncle’s brother—

“Oh,” Patton says. “Oh, wow.” Even quieter, “do you think Virgil’s read it?”

Logan hesitates, and Roman says, “Maybe. This section kind of seemed… untouched, though.”

Logan takes a breath and opens the journal.

It starts approximately, according to Virgil’s timeline, five years prior to Virgil’s birth; it’s a thick journal, and not a daily one, and Logan wonders if it’ll go to that point.

For the first couple years, it isn’t exactly scintillating material; he is, after all, a fifteen-year-old boy, even if he is a fifteen-year-old boy in a potential crime family. There’s complaining about school, and chores (even if the chores seem to be a bit unusual; Virgil’s father spends a page or so talking about how he’d had to trap a crow or his mother, which seems… unusual, to say the least. Perhaps the crow was a pest?)

But he talks about how much time he spends at Cora’s, though, and about the girl in his grade, Cora’s niece, Violet, his eventual wife.

—D seems to think that Violet’s just awful, though, so I tend to sneak off whenever he’s in the garden with Mom, which is really the only time she pays attention to us, whenever we can do the work for her with family stuff. I know the curse took dad away, but we’re right here, you know?

Logan frowns, reads that line again. I know the curse took dad away.

Fifteen’s a bit old to believe in curses, isn’t it?

“What’s that face?” Patton prompts.

“Oh,” Logan says. “Just—fifteen is too old to believe in a family curse, isn’t it?”

Roman’s head snaps up, and back down again, as he furiously starts to type.

“What?” Patton asks him, then.

“It’s just—I asked Virgil why he never talked about his friends, once,” he says. “And…”

He spins his laptop so they can see.

you asked about my real life friends. to be honest, I… well I mean I have auntie c and my uncle but they’re family so they don’t count. my friends are mostly the cats, haha, most of the other kids in town on’t like me much. it’s a pretty long story but basically I’m kinda like. stanley yelnats? from holes? except instead of just affecting me and uncle, it affects the whole town too. but also kinda zero too. it’s a really really long story, but basically most of the town hates me. hates us, I should say, my dad’s side of the family. I think the main reason we aren’t, like, chased out is bc they need the family business, otherwise we’d be like. super gone. plus I guess they’re kinda scared of us, that too. but, uh, I guess to answer your question—I don’t talk about real life friends because I don’t have any.

anyways, I’ll talk to you later, or whatever. tell me more about the backstage drama.

-anx

“Poor Virgil,” Patton murmurs, once he finishes reading.

“They need the family business,” Logan reads aloud. “People have mentioned going to Fae house, but they never talk about what they actually get there. Even Virgil—the closest he’s ever gotten is anything anyone needs, we can provide, for a price. Which—” He scowls.

“Is vague,” Roman fills in helpfully.

“Is vague,” Logan agrees, cracking open Virgil’s father’s journal again. “What business needs a teenage boy to capture a crow, and grow a garden of that size, and has available the drugs in Patton’s tea?”

A couple passages later, it reads, that Kavanagh girl’s accused me and D of witchcraft. I mean, it’s tradition, I guess, but all we did is curse her ears to fall off, and not even permanently! They were back in a week! D says we should have made it permanent but Vi said it probably wouldn’t be a good move. I think D’s gonna try to sneak something into Violet’s water bottle at school or something as revenge, but 1. He’s tried that a dozen times now and 2. she’s got a good eye, she’ll catch him.

Logan reads this passage aloud, incredulous, and Roman shrugs.

“Maybe ears falling off is some kind of slang?” He offers.

“For what?” Logan grumbles. “I’m more concerned about the potentially dozens of times Virgil’s uncle tried to poison Virgil’s mother.”

“There’s also the point of Virgil’s Dad never using Virgil’s uncle’s full name,” Patton points out, from where he’s contorted himself in his armchair so his legs stick in the air and his head tilts back to the floor. “The closest we’ve got is Dee, so.”

Logan shakes his head and mutters, “I’m starting to think Virgil’s the only normal person in this town,” before he turns back to the journal.

That is when things go from slightly odd to very strange.

Violet asked me out on a date today, is the only sentence written, the rest of the page blank. By Logan’s calculations, he must have been sixteen—and he turns the page to be confronted with cramped handwriting.

She’s beautiful, and she’s my best friend. I can’t do this to her. But God, I want to, I want to so bad. D’s running interference, for now, because he’s really the only one who gets it more than me. I don’t know what to do now. Do I avoid her for the rest of my life? Violet would never stand for that, she’s gonna march right up the tower to demand an answer from me. Do I turn her down? She knows how much I care about her, she’d know I was lying, and Violet doesn’t want to be protected from herself. She’s young, we both are, I can’t—I can’t let her do this to herself. Loving a Fae is a death sentence.

Logan reads that line again. Loving a Fae is a death sentence. Is this what Virgil thinks? Is this what Faes are raised to believe?

Mom’s no help—she’s actually talking to me for once, but it’s just all about Dad and how she had the best times of her life with him. I might have yelled at her, a bit. Okay, a lot. But she gets that I’m not like her, she has to. I don’t want to do this to Violet. I can’t do this to Violet. I don’t want to know how the curse is gonna get her. The well? Lightning? Car crash? Something entirely new? I don’t want to know. I never want to know.

Logan closes the journal crisply, looking over at Roman and Patton, before he asks, “Dinner?”

As they leave the library—Logan isn’t sure why—but he puts the journal in his bag and smuggles it out.

He can’t stop staring at the wall beyond his boyfriends.

They’ve all crammed into one bed, that night, all crowded around Roman, who’s laying on his back with an arm around both Patton and Logan. Judging by the snuffling noises, the inhaling and exhaling, his boyfriends are both fast asleep.

Logan isn’t. He can’t.

And he’s about to try to do something incredibly stupid.

He slowly extracts himself from the bed and puts on the clothes he’d worn during the day, glancing at the bed periodically as he tugs on his boots and writes a note.

Roman and Patton—

Couldn’t sleep. Went for a walk.

-Logan.

It suffices. He shrugs on his coat, slings his satchel over his shoulder, grabs one of the sets of keys, and walks out, treading softly outside.

It’s cold here, and even colder at night. Nowhere is open at night, either; well, Logan wagers the gas station might, but knowing what he knows now, he’d doubt a Kavanagh would welcome him back in, lest Logan transmit the Fae cooties by proxy, or some such ridiculousness. He wonders distantly about doubling back, holing up in his warm room, reading the journal he’s brought along with him.

Instead, his feet turn him to the woods.

He does, of course, understand how some people become afraid of the woods, especially at such a time of night. But such a thing would be foolish; the town’s high crime rate had been, after all, primarily due to Fae outliers that shouldn’t have been counted.

And then stupidly, stupidly, he starts to walk down the bluestone path.

Logan raises his hand and knocks on the door.

Almost immediately, despite the late hour, the door opens.

Virgil’s Uncle grimaces. “I was so sad to think you’d left town,” he sneers, before he steps aside, offering Logan a path in. Logan walks in, and says brusquely, “You’ll understand if I deny your offer of a nightcap.”

“I wouldn’t, actually,” Virgil’s Uncle says, and sits at the kitchen table. Logan sits across from him, back to the rest of the house. He wonders, only for a moment, if Virgil’s awake too.

Logan pauses, staring at him, before he takes a breath in.

“I know the appearance of your face is likely a skin condition coupled with either an ocular abnormality, or you decided to lean into the snake metaphors and added a contact,” Logan says bluntly. “I know that you have, quite literally, locked Virgil up into a tower for most of his life to prevent him coming to any perceived harm. I know that for whatever reason, tarot cards and similar occult activities are part of the family history. I know that you,” Logan says, and fluidly removes Virgil’s father’s journal from his satchel, even as he sees Virgil’s Uncle look as if the air’s been knocked out of him, eyes widening. “Apparently the curse keeps him from saying anything he actually means, but I get him pretty well. The rest of the world, however, does not.”

“Where did you get that,” Virgil’s Uncle breathes, fists tight. Logan ignores him.

“So I understand that I cannot trust a word out of your mouth,” he continues. “However, the repeated application of curses, and witchcraft. That’s what I don’t understand. Cora has seemingly decided to leave things up to you. So I can’t ask you, clearly, because you will lie to me. I can’t ask Gillian, because I don’t trust her. There is only one Fae who I actually trust. I figured I would start with the polite route. I would like to Virgil, please.”

“This is your attempt at a polite route?” Gillian snorts, from the cover of darkness, emerging just enough so the light could hit her red hair.

“Your attempt at a polite route was attempting to steal my name, telling me my boyfriend had been drugged, and minimalizing my efforts to understand,” Logan says. “If we’re going based on comparison—”

“Harsh, braniac,” Gillian says, and glances at Virgil’s Uncle. “You want me to, ya know.” She wiggles her fingers.

Virgil’s Uncle surveys Logan, tilting his head. “You said he’s—”

“Yeah, I know,” Gillian says. “Your empathy’s pretty low there, Logic. Might just max me out to make you feel something. Hope you appreciate it.”

Logan frowns. “What—” he begins, but he can’t say anymore when Gillian’s icy cold fingers brush against the back of his neck.

Roman’s woken up by the sound of sobbing.

It’s enough to immediately strike out any sense of sleepiness that he could have had, and he sits up immediately, and blinks.

He’s never seen Logan’s face get that blotchy before.

He’s never actually seen Logan cry before.

“Whoa,” Roman says, scrambling out of bed, which is enough to wake Patton, “whoa, whoa, hey, Logan, Lo Lo Lo. Are you okay?”

“I,” Logan chokes out, and gasps, “I don’t know what she did to me,” and bursts into a fresh round of tears.

“Can I touch—”

Logan’s already yanking Roman in, though, burying his face into Roman’s bare chest as Roman wraps his arms around Logan tight, exchanging a panicked look with Patton. This was never how it worked. Patton or Roman were the big criers in their relationship, he had never, not once, seen Logan admit that he was feeling any emotion other than frustrated or stressed. It feels downright unnatural, hearing Logan cry, cry genuine and deep, crying with his whole heart.

Logan’s hugging is clumsy, just like how his sobbing seems to be clumsy—like he doesn’t quite remember how to cry and breathe, so there’s sobbing jags which ends with him gulping in a desperate lungful of air. He chokes on it, a couple times, and can only cry more.

Roman hates this. He hates Patton crying, and he’s only seen Virgil cry once, sulky and self-loathing and furious at himself, and he’d hated it then too, even when he’d still half-hated him. Logan’s upsets were small and difficult to see, sometimes exploding into outbursts, but never outbursts like this. He can only lean to pick Logan up and distribute him gently onto the bed, where he immediately clings to Patton as Roman slides in behind him, as Patton makes nonsense shushing noises coupled in with it’s gonna be okays, scratching gently at Logan’s scalp, and Roman presses himself against Logan’s back (cold) and wraps his arms around his waist.

The only things that move are Patton’s hands through his hair, his mouth with the soft murmurings, and Logan when his body’s wracked by sobs, coming in irregular and intense, like tremors, shaking Logan all up inside so that he couldn’t even speak.

Roman’s grip tightens around Logan’s waist, and he presses a kiss against the back of his neck.

And, all at once, Logan slumps, spent, and Patton asks “Logan?” panicked, shoving his hair out of his face.

“That’s exhausting,” Logan says, hoarse. “I hated that. How do people actually enjoy emotional release?”

“Because it’s an emotional release,” Roman says, propping himself up on his elbow and looking closely at Logan’s face as Logan scrubs hastily at his face with his sleeve.

“Are you okay?” Patton asks, soft and concerned. “Did something happen?”

Logan hesitates, and says, in the same hoarse voice, “I don’t know how she did that.”

“Who?” Patton asks. “Gillian? How did you run into Gillian?”

Logan curls up tighter, and Roman tugs the covers over them, thinking of how cold he’d been.

“Well,” Logan says, weakly. “I didn’t exactly. Run into her on accident.”

It takes a couple seconds to click.

Patton gasps. “You went back alone?!”

“I didn’t eat anything,” Logan continues, the same weak, thready, exhausted undertone in his voice. “Or drink anything. I tried to… I tried to talk to him. Virgil’s Uncle, I mean, I brought the journal, but she—” he shakes his head. “I don’t know what she did to me.”

“Go back to the start,” Patton advises.

Logan shudders, but he speaks.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he says. “So I decided to go for a walk. And I ended up… well, I ended up going down the bluestone path. Knocked on the door. He was up at this hour, for whatever reason, and he let me in. So I started… addressing him, I suppose. I told him that I knew he’s a pathological liar—there’s something accounting that in Virgil’s father’s journal—and… a couple other things. I brought out the journal, to show him. I don’t think he knew the library had it. And Gillian came out of the darkness, and she said—” He takes a breath. “She said, your empathy’s pretty low there. Might just max me out to make you feel something.”

“Logan,” Patton murmurs, but Logan shakes off his attempts at comfort.

“And then she… she put her fingers against the back of my neck. Like this,” he says, and reaches up to brush against Patton’s nape with his fingers. “And I just… I couldn’t stop crying. I couldn’t—” he shakes himself, and says in a hoarse whisper, “How did she do that?”

“I don’t know,” Patton says. “A drug wouldn’t do that, would it?”

Logan’s already shaking his head. “Not with the sudden come down I had,” he says, and twists his head to look at Roman. “I think it’s because…” he grimaces. “I know how this sounds, but I think it’s because you kissed my neck. Something about the affected area.”

“What, like true love’s kiss?” Roman asks, and immediately kicks himself. True love’s kiss, they’ve barely been dating for not even a month, it’s way too fast—

But Logan’s cheeks tinge pink, and he turns his face into Patton’s chest.

Roman grins, despite the fact that Logan had been sobbing hysterically just a few minutes ago and leans to press another kiss to the nape of his neck.

Eventually, Patton’s gently coaching Logan into trying to sleep again (“crying drains you out, okay? trust me, I’d know”) and Roman slides out of bed.

“I’ll grab something to eat, if you want,” Roman says. “After Logan’s nap.”

It’s a sudden swap of how it’d been a couple days ago; Patton had been the one snuffling into Logan’s chest, and now it was the other way round.

“Not tired,” Logan mumbles into Patton’s chest.

“Sure thing, nerd-coleptic,” Roman says, reaching over to rub his back. “I’ll get something that’ll taste good even if it has to wait a while to be eaten. Keep an eye on him, Pat, okay?”

Patton winks at him, and says, “Eye-eye, captain.”

Logan groans, and Roman chuckles, tugging on a shirt and his coat before heading over to Cora’s.

Only to stop in his tracks.

“You,” Roman declares furiously, storming up to the counter Gillian’s leaning against. “What did you do to him?!”

Gillian rolls her eyes, and says, “Did either of you figure it out yet?”

“I kissed him on the back of the neck,” Roman snaps, “What did you DO?!”

“No need to get shouty,” Gillian says. “You look less hot when you’re shouty. I’m an empath, theater-for-brains.”

The wires in Roman’s brain shorts out. “What?” He says, frowning, and Gillian rolls her eyes.

“Here’s the—” Cora falters, and glances at Roman, before she tells Gillian, “Here’s the food, Gillian. And the receipt.”

Gillian frowns. “No Fae discount?”

“That only applies to my favorites,” Cora says. “Which you ain’t.” She turns to Roman, and says, much warmer, “How can I help you, honey?”

Roman can’t help but shoot Gillian a smug grin.

“Yeah, yeah,” Gillian says, and reaches out, cupping his face. “Laugh it up.”

She strides out of the diner as Roman finds himself bent double, laughing so hard it doesn’t even make a sound anymore.

Cora quickly reaches over, brushes a hand against his cheek, and Roman stops.

“What,” he gasps, trying to gain his breath, wiping under his eyes, “was that.”

“Leave it to her to let the cat out of the bag,” Cora says. “She told you, hon. She’s an empath.”

“That’s—” Roman begins, before it hits him.

That Kavanagh girl’s accused me and D of witchcraft—

“—Look, the crime counts for Virgil’s ancestors are ridiculous, I’ve barely made it through two generations without fielding several counts of mysterious deaths surrounding their lovers and those who are noted to have wronged them, and dozens of accusations of witchcraft—”

“—Magic,” Logan says dismissively—

“—I didn’t know you knew coin magic too.” Pearl’s piping voice echoes down the hall.

“I know all kinds of magic,” Virgil says—

“Okay. All right, hon, that’s it, right on the barstool, there ya go.”

Roman looks at Cora, and says hoarsely, “Magic?”

Cora worries her lip between her teeth. “Yes,” she says, at last. “Magic.”

Roman gets out his phone, and he makes a call.

Cora explain it to tell Logan at least fifteen times before he accepts it, but the more and more Roman thinks about it, the more it makes sense. The tarot cards, the weird spacing out, the family business, the way Virgil’s coffee never seemed to get too cold and the cats seemed to love him and Virgil knew exactly what to do with the cat who gave birth in his bathtub—the boy he loves is magic.

And cursed. That part… makes more sense of why he ran away from them, now. Roman couldn’t imagine living with that kind of fear.

“We have to tell Virgil we know,” Roman says immediately, once they’ve taken lunch and grabbed a booth.

“How,” Logan says, irritably. “Gillian’s there, she’ll—and Virgil’s Uncle—and if they really are magic—”

Roman takes a napkin and starts to sketch.

“Okay,” Roman says. “Here’s what we’re gonna do.”

Virgil’s starting to lose count of the days.

He’s eating because Uncle shoves bags of food from Cora’s at him. He’s sleeping because he rarely leaves his bed. Most of his social communication comes from Crow, who rarely leaves his room and has formed a semi-permanent rumbling warm spot on his stomach.

It’s night, that much is clear. The candles in his room are lit. He’s not sure if he did that with a wave of his hand or if Uncle came into his room while he was napping.

Virgil only lifts his head when there’s a crash that comes from downstairs, but only slightly. Virgil frowns, hesitates, and lays his head back down in his pillow.

“Do you want me to check?” Crow asks, leaping softly down from his bed and stretching.

“Please,” he says hoarsely, and she jerks her cat-chin towards the glass of water on his nightstand before she slinks out of his room. He takes the glass, and takes a sip, and then starts to gulp it down when he realizes how dry his throat is.

He wipes his face with his arm, and frowns at the empty glass, before he starts to rifle through the latest (cold) bag of Cora’s food. She’s sent him extra sweets instead of extra vegetables, which is truly just a sign of how bad she feels for him. And little written updates about when any of them step into the diner (usually Roman.) He can bear to read them sometimes.

He might even shower, soon. The world’s his oyster.

There’s a banging at the window, and Virgil frowns, before looking back at the food. Probably the wind.

More banging. Virgil sighs, before he heads over.

Immediately he gasps and throws open the window.

“Roman, you idiot,” Virgil says furiously, “what are you doing?!”

Roman looks up again. “The magic boy, all locked up in his tower,” Roman said, trying to smile like none of that sentence affected him at all. “And you teased me about being too overinvested in fairytales. I don’t wanna hear it from you ever again, Eugene Fitz-hurt-bert.”

“I—” Virgil says, before he reaches down and grabs the collar of Roman’s shirt, hauling him inside. He might be trying to separate himself from them, but magic help them, Virgil still loves him.

“Woo,” he says, shaking out his hands. “Thanks, it’s chilly out there.”

“Roman,” Virgil says, and his voice breaks. “Roman, what are you doing here?”

Roman licks his lips, hesitates, and says, “You said you wouldn’t do this again.”

“What?”

“Leave me without an explanation.”

Virgil closes his eyes, and turns away, wrapping his arms tightly around his middle, trying to defend against the wave of emotion that washes over him just then. God, being in love sucks.

“Virgil,” Roman says, and he coos, “Virgil” and steps back into his line of sight. “Virgil, it’s okay, I—we know what’s going on now, okay?”

Virgil snorts.

“That you’re magic,” Roman elaborates. “And that you have a curse on you. We know. Okay?”

“Then you have your explanation,” Virgil says hoarsely. “That’s why I left. That’s why you have to stay away.”

There’s another, louder, crash from downstairs, and it suddenly clicks.

“Oh my God,” Virgil says. “Oh, my God, are Logan and Patton wrecking my house?”

“I actually don’t know exactly,” Roman says cautiously. “They’re just supposed to distract your Uncle and Gillian—”

“They’re going to kill them,” Virgil says, and flings open the door, and steps straight into the living room, nearly running straight into Patton’s chest.

“Virgil!” He squeaks. “Oh, Virgil—”

“Wait, this is—this is downstairs, your house is magic too?” Roman demands, stepping after and shutting the door behind him.

“Logan’s right behind me,” Patton pants, “I—”

Patton is nearly knocked over by the force of Logan running into his back, and Virgil has to catch him.

Logan looks at him. “Virgil,” he says, and falls immediately silent.

“Hi,” Virgil says hoarsely. “So, um. How did that. How did that realization go over?”

“Honestly,” Logan says, “it wasn’t until your Uncle sicced the snakes on us until I actually believed it.”

Virgil has to bury his face in his hands again, and groans, before uncovering his face.

“You guys need to leave,” Virgil says weakly. “I—I get that you might have been… concerned, but you guys realize I have good reason now, right? So you need to go. Right now.”

“Have you been eating?” Patton says, disregarding him entirely, and Virgil drags his hands down his face.

“I’m fine,” he says. “You three will continue to be fine if you get out of town. I—go back to school, I’ll pay my share of rent, you can find a subleaser, but—”

“You are not fine,” Logan says, frowning, “the bags under your eyes are much heavier than usual.” “Will you three listen to me?!” Virgil explodes, and there’s a knock at the door, and he turns to see his Uncle, expressionless.

“Should I,” he begins, and falls silent.

“I was just telling them to—” Virgil says.

“Sorry, but that’s not happening,” Roman bursts in. “We’ve had this conversation before.”

“You don’t get it,” Virgil says.

“Could we have some privacy, please?” Logan asks lowly, and Uncle turns to Virgil.

“I—just for a bit,” Virgil says, at last. “And if you see Crow, send her here. Please.”

Uncle frowns. “Don’t remember your history,” he says at last, before he steps away, closing the door behind him.

Virgil takes a deep breath and looks at them.

“I’m going to kill you,” Virgil tells the three of them, voice only a bit watery.

“That’s not true,” Patton says, soft.

“It is,” Virgil says tightly. “Back to the nineteenth century. I can’t—I can’t stop this.”

“Has it ever affected three people at once?” Logan says fairly, and Virgil swallows.

“It might if—” Virgil hesitates, but plows forward. “It might if a Fae did a true love spell.”

Uncle had been furious when Virgil had gasped out the explanation when he’d gotten home. The yelling had nearly shaken the dust from the rafters.

They look at each other. “True love spell?” Roman says.

Virgil takes a shaky breath. “One of the only rules growing up was not to do a complicated spell,” he says. “I ignored it. I found a true love spell when I was seven, and I—I tripled the ingredients. I thought I was putting in things that would contrast in just one person, but—” He gestures feebly to the three of them.

They look at each other, surprised, before they turn back to Virgil.

“You wished for us,” Patton says, sappy.

“I made you,” Virgil says. “I twisted you into creation, I doomed you to—”

Logan frowns. “There’s records of our existence before we were seven.”

“Magic is powerful,” Virgil says, hoarse. “Maybe I put those memories in your head. How would you know?”

“You might have power, Virgil,” Logan says, “but I highly doubt you were that powerful at seven.”

Virgil’s shaking his head, though, because Logan doesn’t understand. Logan’s smart, but he wouldn’t understand. Faes understand Faes. No one else.

“Okay,” Patton says. “I—Virgil, staying away from us isn’t going to make you love us any less. It isn’t going to make us love you any less. It’s just going to make everyone miserable.”

“We won’t know unless I try,” Virgil says, hoarse.

Patton reaches forwards, but Virgil steps hastily out of his reach. If Patton tries to touch him or hug him right now, he’ll fold. He can’t do that.

“Virgil,” Patton says. “Trust me. I would know. Staying away from someone does not make you love them any less.”

Virgil’s eyes close, and he wraps his arms around himself again.

“Virgil,” Roman says, his voice soft. “We’re out of balance, without you. We were right last year. We work, but not as well. I—we can’t—” He breathes, deep, and says, “Please come home.”

Virgil squeezes his eyes shut. He resists the urge to clap his hands over his ears.

“Please come home,” Logan repeats, soft. “I—it’s impossible to run herd on them alone, Virgil. We miss you.”

“Plus,” Roman adds, “you know how stubborn we all are, we’re just going to keep having this conversation over and over and over again.”

“How would I—” Virgil says, and shakes his head. “No. I’m not giving in. You will die if I give in. I couldn’t—” There’s a lump in his throat. “I couldn’t survive that. My first three friends in the world, I can’t—you can’t make me be what kills you. Please don’t make me be what kills you.”

“Virgil,” Logan says, voice soft. “We’re different. The curse has never worked on anyone gay, let alone anyone with multiple partners. If it truly is a curse for your true love, singular, then—then the fact that you used a spell to make yourself have three might have outsmarted it.”

Virgil’s shaking his head. “You can’t outsmart it,” he says. “You can’t. That’s how my father died, you can’t—”

“We’re not suggesting outsmarting it,” Logan backtracks. “We’re suggesting… circumventing it. Do you know how the curse was placed?”

There’s something absurd about Logan using his usual scholarly voice to talk about magic, something in Virgil’s brain thought, but he’s too upset to acknowledge it.

“No,” Virgil says. “Great-great-whatever-grandma took that secret to the grave. And some Faes have skills inclined towards necromancy, but no one’s—no one’s managed to contact her about it.”

“Necromancy,” Logan says blankly, before he shakes himself. “Right. But—if you don’t know—it could have had terms. Singular true love. Opposite sex true love. Your family operates in the gray area, doesn’t it?”

Virgil grimaces, because, well, it’s true.

“Virgil,” Patton says, eyes at full puppy power, “please. Please. Can we at least… try? We don’t know if it’s true love. Not yet. Can’t we just try?”

Virgil’s eyes close. He knows, though. He knows it is. The spell says so.

“Anx,” Roman says, and Virgil’s eyes swivel towards him. He steps closer. This time, Virgil doesn’t back away.

“Please. Please, it’s hurting all of us if you stay away. If you stay with us, at least—at least we can be happy now.”

Virgil looks away, and blinks hard, and at last there’s the tears coming down his cheeks.

“Can I kiss you?” Roman whispers, and Virgil’s eyes snap to him. Barely, imperceptibly, he nods.

Roman’s hands cup his cheeks, and he uses his thumbs to wipe away Virgil’s tears, before he leans in.

It’s soft. Gentle. Nothing like what Virgil imagined Roman would kiss like—his lips, soft and lush and a bit cold against his. He pulls away, and Logan steps forwards next.

“May I kiss you,” he says formally, and Virgil chokes on a laugh, but nods.

Logan tips his chin up a little, before kissing him the same way Roman kissed him—soft, and gentle, and his lips are just a bit chapped, but warm.

Patton, last, and they both laugh wetly at each other, Virgil at last reaching up to wipe at the tears on his cheeks.

“Can I—” Patton begins, before he rushes forwards.

This is, however, exactly how he figured Patton would kiss—eager, and fullhearted, all clashing lips and feeling the curve of his smile against his mouth.

They pull back, and Virgil laughs a little.

“Okay,” he whispers, before he nods. “Okay.”

There’s still a question, though, and one Virgil won’t be able to answer for all the long, happy years to come.

He has no idea which one of them got the good kisser part.

#my post #text #lfl #my fic #my fanfic #ts-storytime #ts storytime

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iamsonyeondone · 6 years ago

Text

heir!svt // kim mingyu

♥ fluffy and just a teensy bit angst if you squint

♥ 2.1k words

♥ summary: your inability to cook managed to get yourself a chef as a boyfriend

mingyu was a natural model - photogenic even with whatever he was doing

eating a bowl of ramen?? gorgeous

even he sneezes so charmingly

except the fact that he covers his mouth with his hands and continues touching up wonwoo's hair

and jun just looks at him with this disgusted look on his face

and somehow no one has the guts to say it to his face that he's sometimes really unhygienic

anywAYS

everyone in the school would agree that kim mingyu would still be able to make it into the fashion industry even if he wasn't the heir to his mother's modelling agency

although his mother's agency was ranked one of the best, mingyu has never spoken a word about his background

he didn't have to either because everyone already knew

who wouldnt know him if his mother was one of the most famous models in south korea during her time??

but even with all the attention he received, he was stil a humble bubby who loves his friends and cares for them

even if the 12 of them had maids and chefs to cook their meals, they all agreed that mingyu's cooking was one of the best

it just had the warm homey feeling yknow

and that warm homey feeling is like a tight comfy embrace whenever he sees his friends enjoy his food

and after some time, cooking for them and feeling like he was on cloud nine whenever they made those surprised and happy noises with mouth full of food

it clicks that maybe mingyu didn't want to continue the legacy of being the next top model of south korea

maybe he just wants to own a restaurant where he can cook food that makes people happy

but whenever he tries to bring up the subject, he just sucks it back in and never mentions it

because he knows how much his mother cherishes her career and his possible one if he wants to continue her legacy

and making his parents upset is the last thing he wants to happen

so for all his years up to high school, he never mentions his actual dream and keeps it to himself

that's until he meets you

in the kitchen room alone with a very messy apron and a very bad attempt at cooking spaghetti bologne

and mingyu was just passing by to get his home econs book because he needed to study for an upcoming test

but seeing the frustrated look on your face

and the way your fingers gripped the edge of the table

pushes him to greet you softly and offer help

and your just stunned because kim mingyu is talking to you

even if you guys share at least 3 classes, the both of you never really exchanged words because you guys have completely different friend circles

you preferred to blend in with the crowd than unintentionally stand out which the 13 boys became accustomed to

but mingyu pulls you away from your thoughts as he throws the burnt pasta into a bin and start everything afresh

even if you wanted to feel hurt from seeing your hard work in the trash, you couldnt help but accept the fact that it was literally inedible

"you dont mind if i see the recipe you're trying out?" mingyu questions you with a smile while you show him the page you had been staring holes through

with one look, mingyu nods and begins fetching out some ingredients and placing away others you had used

and youre just like?? but the recipe asked for butter??

and you dont realize you had asked aloud when mingyu chuckles and points to the next page, which was a completely different recipe of spaghetti carbonara

and you turn bright red from embarrassment but mingyu rushes to say that its okay to make mistakes!!

and slowly but surely, as the both of you are cutting ingredients, stirring the sauce while mingyu occasionally gives you tips which you write down

it doesn't feel as awkward

especially when he almost flips the pan onto the floor from accidentally hitting the handle

which nearly burned the both of you

but you brushed it off and burst out laughing, mingyu following suit

because kim mingyu, the model student and an actual model, is actually just a really clumsy yet talented puppy

and after 30 minutes, you place the sauce onto the pile of spaghetti on the plate and mingyu finishes it off with a parsley leaf and some cheese sprinkled over

"we did it!!" you exclaimed, heaving a sigh of relief as you stared at it in amazement

"no you did it, i just helped you prep the ingredients," he chuckled washing his hands and just flicking his wrists into the sink

and not even putting on some soap

wth mingyu you giant full of germs

"nononono put that fork down and use some soap. otherwise the whole plate is for me,"

"but im hungry :(("

"being nasty and using your hunger as an excuse wont work on me- doNT even thINK about giving me puppy eyes"

and after the whole argument, mingyu has his hands squeaky clean and dried and the both of you are just feasting on that one plate of spaghetti

because you made it?? and its edible?? and tastes so good??

"i just need to copy whatever we did today for tomorrow's practical and I'll actually be able to pass," you giggled, washing up and cleaning your counter

while mingyu stashed the ingredients back into their respective places

"i guess you're lucky that i left my home econs book or you would've been doomed,"

"UHMMM speaking of doom,,, do you think you could help me with dessert next?? i was trying to make soufflé but it,,somehow exploded in the oven,"

at this point, mingyu isnt even surprised and simply offers his help once again

but because he had tuition to attend to in the next half an hour

the both of you decided to meet up on thursday at the same room and at the same time

as the both of you walked out of the school grounds side by side, the school's vicinity nearly empty since students were either already left or busy studying,

it was time to split ways by the gate as you thanked him once more

"thank you so much for the help again! I'll promise to treat you to a better meal," you joked, waving goodbye while he mimicked your actions

"you better hold on to that, y/n" he smiled as he chuckled, before turning his heel

but that smile never fades away, even if he wasn't facing you

and somehow thursday seemed so far away

while there you were, patting your rosy cheeks to settle down as you rushed to catch your next bus

thursday comes and mingyu arrives before you, his own apron over his broad shoulders and everything is prepared

from the ingredients to the appliances and,,, does his hair look a lot more neater than usual???

"You're earlier than i expected," you joked, slinging your bag off your shoulders while he showed you that irresistibly adorable smile

damn it why is your heart reacting so much

you only started talking to him a few days ago

"soufflé is a pretty sophisticated dessert yknow. and well,,, its also because i just ended home econs class," he rubbed the nap of his neck shyly

you flipped your recipe book to the soufflé page and picked out a pen to take your notes

"shall we start, chef?" you inquired, tying your apron until a pair of hands surround yours

"not until we secure this in place," he mumbled, gently tugging the ropes from your grasps and tying it tightly around you "lets get started then!"

and youre just standing there, all red in the face and unsure of what you're supposed to do next while mingyu preheats the oven

but you snap out of it when he nearly hits the ceramic bowl off the counter

and you're lucky enough that it falls into your palms just as you reached out for it

"maybe i should've asked someone else to teach me..."

"stOp huRting my feeLingS :(("

"I'll stop when you stop trying to break anything around you,"

and he just hmphs and gives you the side eye but eventually burst out laughing when you're veryyy confused on what you're supposed to do next

and you look so adorable with your brows furrowrd from concentration and the way your lips naturally pout

and his heart unknowingly swells

"I'll prepare the next few ingredients while you continue stirring, and make sure not to overdo it either,"

and you follow his instructions closely and once he was done, mingyu has this proud smile on his face and he's,,, radiating sunlight

how can someone look so endearingly towards you??

"you'll be as good of a chef as i am once we're done with this soufflé!!"

"oh! you wanna be a chef?"

and when the subject suddenly takes a turn towards ambitions, his smile falters and it feels like the weight of his visible sadness is falling on you

and your chest tightens at the sight of him, no longer smiling as wide as he did seconds before

"I'm sorry mingyu, i shouldn't have brought it up i-"

"n-no dont apologize, it isnt your fault at all. i shouldnt have gotten so emotional in the first place"

and as much as he's trying to replicate that shining smile, it just,,, doesnt seem as sparkling as it did

“i know we’re not that close but i was told that im a pretty good listener. if you want to tell me that is,”

mingyu looks at you and the sincerity in your eyes urges him to spill every word out of him

“I’ve liked cooking ever since i was allowed in the kitchen, cooking with the maids and helping them with whatever step i could do. but the thing is,,, i’m not sure if my mom would allow me to pursue such a thing,”

“why not?”

and the questions throws him aback a bit because he’s never really asked his mother about his dreams

and it didn’t seem like she was very persistent on getting him into the modelling industry

so why didn’t he tell her?

“i guess,, i was just a coward.” he chuckled nervously

you placed your hand above his, hoping in some way that you’re presence comforts him

“maybe you should try and discuss about it with your mom soon. we are going to graduate soon afterall,”

and mingyu’s heart is about to leap right out of his chest

because he’s never met such a person who’s so caring towards him and genuinely worries about him even though you guys just barely met

and his toothy grin crawls back onto his lips and it feels like everything is back to the way it is

“let’s finish this up before we break another bowl,” you joked as mingyu guiltily agreed

the end product of the souffle melted in your mouth like fluffy clouds

and your hopes of actually getting a good grade for home econs is stronger than ever

and that meant that you owed mingyu a whole lot, especially with the numerous tips he had given you

“you don’t have tuition after this right?”

“mm no? why did you ask?”

“let’s go then!!”

and you grab him by the hand and miraculously drag his tol bod to your favourite restaurant

as the both of you stood in front of an average food stall, unlike the one that mingyu frequented with his mother

you shone a bright smile towards him and grab two seats for the both of you

“this place has one of the best dishes and at such an affordable price?? it’s crazy how it’s not packed with customers!” you shook your head as a waitress hands you their menu

but it doesn’t even take you a minute to start ordering

and you order a bunch of dishes

and when i mean a bunch, i meant like 2 whole tables covered in food

“y/n, i dont think the both of us can finish this up on our own...”

“dont underestimate me you giant >:[”

and the both of you magically finished the whole thing

but like you guys are about to sleep for a whole week because of the food coma and now the two of you are at your seats, dazed and sleepy

“next time we come here, we’re NEVER getting more than we can chew,”

“there’s a next time?”

“yeah you owe me two times-”

“it’s a date then, giant,”

maybe if it werent for that food coma, you would have been a little more careful with your words

but at least now you got a super good looking, talented boyfriend ;))

#kpop #writing #imagine #scenario #fanfic #fanfiction #svt #seventeen #hip hop unit #mingyu #kim mingyu #x reader #reader insert #reader #au #heir au

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teenwolfhot · 6 years ago

Text

Scott McCall imagines part 4

Inspired by ariana grande " break up with your girlfriend...bored "

You and theo were trapped completely surrounded by these people until

This shit always happens to me (Yeah)

Why can't we just play for keeps? (Mmm-mmm)

Practically on my knees "

The lyrics of the song was loud theo sighed and looked at you while " i can hear a faint heartbeat sister " the voice said " nevermind Elijah we have to go nik will have our heads with we meddle " as the footsteps were suddenly disappearing

Theo grabbed you " go ahead and maybe get us killed " you nodded still in shock " who was that ?" Theo couldnt scent them out " i dont know whoever they are definitely aren't from here that's for sure "

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

Ever since you were little girl a slight obsession with a certain boy and well it started since that very summer day back in kindergarten

" thats my doll give it back " a tall girl with pigtails wrapped in red ribbons snatched your favourite doll away from you " well its mine now ...hahahaha " the girl stuck her tongue out while another kids watched afar was scott meeting his long term best friend stiles

He wasn't listening to the young boy in front of him as he saw you got pushed he immediately ran over " stop .... give back the doll " you looked up to see a boy in front of you wearing blue and white stripe polo shirt and a dirty jeans with converse on " why she your girlfriend... nananananan " scott pushed the little girl " shes my firend " snatched the doll away from the girl and turned to you " here i think this is yours " he smiled while handing it to you somhow your knee got scraped " here... for ummm... your knee "he pointed

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

Lydia was unable to read kira " soo what's up with you and scott lately... i want the juice " looking puzzled at the girl " lately his been well ummm his been avoiding me recently... i try to help but .... " she looked malia

" why do i get the feeling something happens between you two " pointing to malia and kira " we discuss some .... well ... scott ..... ummmmm isaac ..... uhhhh " kira didnt feel like talking about the situation about isaac and malia even scott its like a plague

" malia ???" The girl simply zoned out unfortunately " it will eventually come out im telling you

Hearing liam and stiles argue about the jeep and the adjustments liam made to the jeep

" i said you can have the jeep not redesigned it " lydia walking towards the two boys " well its my jeep ... you gave it to me .... well i simplify the jeep to my liking " liam looked at stiles and all the boy did was sigh " is okay I've got a new car or jeep " stiles said with dignity

" yes stiles we all know the FBI gave you a Land Rover " lydia rolling her eyes when suddenly theo's car pulled into the McCall drive way "we all need to talk " rushing out of the car

As you step out of the car you never been to McCall house before this is your first time " i should... probably. I'll wait in the car " as you headed back isaac grabbed you by the arm and dragging you inside

" whats the problem raeken couldn't it wait till tomorrow?" Stiles squinting his eyes " well no ... me and (y/n) were at the library earlier and well .... three people broke into the school and they were searching for something " scott looked at theo " i don't think is supernatural related theo " scott said quietly while everyone else got it " well .... i can smell them and they aren't from here scott ... especially at a time like this ... what are they thief I'm sure parrish is on patrol ..." which made everyone think

" well of theo is right what do they want ?" Lydia looking at you" are you okay (y/n)?" Just then stiles smacked the back of theo's head " you brought her .... her seriously " looking at you "isaac dragges me in i wanted to wait in the car .... anways I'm intruding i should go .... either way we dont hang out anyways... " smiling at each of them before leaving

As you were making your way to the door " hey ... about stiles ... is going to be fine ... we should hang... " the strawberry blond smiled " im lydia martin ... im ..." you intrude " i know my teacher talks highly of you " you said to her " thanks well I'll lead you out then

Isaac felt the need to follow after you " wait "(y/n) .... (y/n) " isaac walking up to you before lydia walks back in "im sorry ... i thought you .... " you rolled your eyes " really lahey thats how you want to play out ... the I'm sorry to drag you into something you shouldn't be there for .... i know we're friends but i don't think.... they like me .... martin sure made some.... kind of gesture or something to get me involved "

" you know what lahey ... stop ... just stop caring.... yes I'm a little bit insecure and sensitive but at least i don't draw attention to myself ... so save me the pleasure of acting like i belong in your group "

Walking away

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

Meanwhile " i supposed you know who i am then ?" Chris was hanging like an X arms being held down with cuffs while spikes on this inside the cuff diggs in " slowly your bleeding " the voice simple said " now ... do you know us ... do you know what we are ?" The strange man asked again this time digging into argent chest and blood soaking through the black shirt " yes ..... yes .... yes ... i ... i ... DO !!!"

the man removed he hand from argent chest " well thats great news ..... so where are the rest of your groupies " the man looked deep into argents eyes " i said i know what you are .... i definitely can't be compelled " Chris laughing

" well i just have to ...... bleed you some more then .... until you're able to be compelled Chris "

The blond walked through the door and ran to chris " you lied ... hunter you lied ..." as the blond reached into chris chest he started to have a short breath " i can hear your heart beating fast " sister... sister ... sister ... toture should be fun.... " another young fellow with a metal baseball bat at hand and wacked it on the side of argent chest " did i hear ribs being broken " the young man laughed

" all of you are interrupting my interrogation.... really so much blood " as the blond release her hand away from his chest heavily breathing " blood of hunter " dragging her fingers over his arms that are in blood " i wouldn't taste his blood ... his on vervain "

As the blond wiped it off " we just have to continue till you talk then "

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

5 days after the event

Walking to school you've been avoiding every single one of isaac friends like a plague " sooo.... you're alive " it was isaac looking at you and smiling you pushed passed him " why do you care suddenly... lahey its not like you care in the first place anyways "

Continuing walking while lydia and malia catched up to the curly boy " soo anything... nope ... she wouldnt talk .... it seems she closed herself up again" lydia started to smirk " what if ... scott ... im mean scott could get her to talk right ?" Isaac was sceptical about this

" well yeah but they've had brief conversations but not a full one ... im telling you its a bad idea "

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

Taking out your biology books and writing down the extra writing on the board scott took tbe opportunity to seat next to you " hey " you didnt pay attention to him kept writing down the notes till " oh man ... i forgot my biology books ..... i swear " you turned into your bag " here this is yours ... ms martin gave it to me to give to you ... i was gonna give it to you somehow but " yours and his hand slightly touched as he grabbed the book

" thanks ... " smiling

You were happy that you managed to give the item back to him but still you wanted to know everything... especially his relationship with malia and kira

You didnt like kira you had no problem with malia is that asian girl you didnt like .. she somehow inserted herself into scotts life without even knowing him

You were furious when you found out that scott was dating her , it was a stab in the heart one way or another your going to make scott McCall yours

Thinking of ways to be in his life you didn't realise that the teacher was calling you " (l/n)...(l/n).... (y/n)" you paused and heard your name being called

" im sorry miss (y/t/n) i was elsewhere... i do apologise " the teacher rolled her eyes "what i meant was ms martin would like to see you " she gave you an orange slip for you to leave class " right now ?" Yhe teacher stop in her tracks "yes right now .. unless you want to stop her orders or you willing to tell the principal why you aren't obeying one of " you shake your head " I'll go " picking your stuff up you rushed out

Thinking why would ms martin see you now what possibilities could she be thinking pulling you away from class especially AP BIOLOGY

-------------------'

Seeing two people in ms martins office you sighed and opened the door " ms martin you wanted to see me ?" The much older strawberry blond woman smiled " yes i do ... actually i wanted to discuss your career future college " as she points to a chair " i hope you don't mind I've took the pleasure of asking your parents to come by too "

As you took a seat next to your parents " well we 100% be involved in whatever our daughter decisions today " as ms martin smiled and sitting behind her desk

" mr and mrs (l/n) your daughter records are outstanding she will be graduating with honours " ms martin smiled while your parents looked like their on cloud nine " we are very pleased to hear " your mother said with joy in her voice " i must say (y/n) since you've not give in your final recommendation on the career path we will have to submit it today " your parents were shocked " very well "

"( y/n) what is your career goals " ms martin looking at you "- ummmm uhhhhh ummmm ..... biology.... i want to do something with biology " you started to gain confidence " biology is your main career point ?" Ms Martin writing it down "yes it is im very passionate about biology and i would like to study furthermore into the subject if i can ... im also looking into go apprentice in a laboratory on biology something like genetic or microbiology " you said while looking at her

Your parents were surpised you wanted to go that way becuase generally you talked about veterinary and medicine about the well being of animals this is sort of different types of research

" very well... i see you've made your research I'm pleased on that "ms martin smiled

" also theres three apprenticeships round the areas including here at school and some at local biology department in the science community " pausing " the only i like is not in this town but in mystic falls " your mother gasped

" well you certainly did your research on this subject then .... i will see to it your application form has been sent to all of these locations... in the meantime please keep your grades to these standards "

Walking out of the offcie the whole interview along with your parents exhausted you completely " so ... what did lydia mum want ?" Isaac putting his arms round your neck my career choice " removing isaac arm " plus i think i might have a chance of leaving this place lahey "

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unhingedthinking · 7 years ago

Link

Strap yourselves in guys, I’m about to analyse the shit out of this argument™

Just for those of you who took one look at the title and went nope. here’s some tl;dr.

The author

The author is a rector for an Anglican church and holds a PhD in theology. Now this article was written a couple of years ago, but has resurfaced in the wake of our shitlord extraordinaire™ government deciding that the best life decision (rather than you know, do their actual job) was to hold a non-binding plebiscite to see if the Australian public thinks LGBTIQA+ people should be allowed to be married with that actual terminology.

How he positions support for same sex marriage

Now the argument that is being made here is that the current debate at the time (and let’s be frank, still is) is that the major argument for the yes vote is that “well all of our countries that we’re pals with (and some we’re not so chummy with) have passed it, so it’s about time that we passed it too.” Basically the en vogue argument. It’s apparently fashionable to give equal rights to people so we should totally hop on board for that reason alone. The dude actually defends the government not passing it by comparing a survey saying “hey, same sex couples should have the right to marry and the majority says so” to a survey that says “hey most people want capital punishment.” I mean, both are technically a death sentence if you squint really hard, just the fact that one’s a little more permanent and the other is ideally far more amenable to a happy and sustainable life. He basically makes the argument that the only reason you haven’t heard the argument for against same sex marriage is that those who are pro are lobbying and shouting too loud for sensible no arguments to be let through.

And here’s his argument

His main argument (and I’ll give credit, it’s a well reasoned argument), is that we shouldn’t support marriage equality because it simply isn’t “marriage equality.” It’s something that’s entirely different.

In order to offer the status of marriage to couples of the same sex, the very meaning of marriage has to be changed. In which case, what same-sex couples will have will not be the same as what differently sexed couples now have.

It will be called marriage, but it won't be marriage as we know it. It won't be "marriage equality": it will be an entirely new thing.

Getting in a side dig at Bill Shorten (because that’s apparently still something cool for conservatives to do as well). This is how he defines marriage:

As we now understand it, marriage is not merely the expression of a love people have for each other. It is, or is intended as, a life-long union between two people who exemplify the biological duality of the human race, with the openness to welcoming children into the world. Even when children do not arrive, the differentiated twoness of marriage indicates its inherent structure.

Now, I didn't pluck this definition from the sky, nor is it simply a piece of religious teaching. It is the meaning of marriage that emerges from all human cultures as they reflect on and experience what it is to be male and female. It is only in the last 15 years that anyone has seriously thought differently.

According to this guy, a child is the “tangible expression of our two sexedness”.

Now if you’ve been following along with my general blogging regarding gender, sexuality, queer, or post-queer theory (yeah, i’m deliberately separating them because the academic in me needs to), you’ll have already seen that I’ve already talked about the whole limitation of seeing biology as “two sexedness”. But that’s not really what I want to choose to focus on for the purpose of his argument, as that’s not the crux of his stance.

The stance in which his argument falls within the notion that marriage is simply a signification of two people (in his argument of opposing sexes, utilising essentialist constructions), life-long commitment to the rearing and nurturing of children. He then uses this notion that because of this, the argument for same sex marriage has no standing as by revising the meaning of marriage to be one that does not include the “two sexedness” and having the goal of a “tangible expression of our two sexedness” in that marriage, same-sex couples are only ‘married’ in the name of it, rather than the act. It’s simply a choice of word rather than an official commitment.

And my favourite part, here’s why that particular argument is outdated (and, quite frankly in my opinion, wrong)

This discourse is particularly interesting if you place it within a Focauldian lens falls within the power relations surrounding the exercise of bio-power, or in layman terms exercising power over the practices of reproduction and life. The author only deems a marriage legitimate if the couple are having the intention to copulate and rear children in the understanding of heteronormative idealism. It is playing into the morality clause that children are only able to be sufficiently raised with both a mother and father figure who fulfill sufficient masculine and feminine roles in the development of the child.

Now let’s break that apart. If we forget the whole religiousness and “two-sexedness” sections of the argument for a moment (I’ll fold them back in in a minute I promise), let’s look at the other factors:

The structure of the family unit is quite a bit diverse from what it was deemed 15 years ago as by the author’s statement of the argument for redefining marriage. The nuclear family is no longer the sole viable option for people in contemporary society. Single parent families, same-sex families, foster carers, legal guardianship between family friends, polyamourous familial structures, groups of people raising children together, the list is pretty much inexhaustible.

Considering the fact that technology has significanlty improved to the point where we can have IVF, stem cell research, donors and surrogates as viable options for same sex couples to have biological children, they still have the ‘intent to begin a family’

Research actually demonstrates that there’s not really a discernable difference between children raised in a heterosexual coupled relationship to that of a homosexual, but then again, that depends on how you interpret the data of the study.

If we go back to contemporary understandings of gender theory, all individuals interpellate and enact various constructions of masculinity and femininity in their everyday lives, and therefore having both cisgendered male and female essentialised constructions of masculinity and femininity are not necessarily required within the rearing of children, as these constructions are also interpellated through socialisation within institutions such as schools and the wider societal interactions.

Adoption and foster care is literally a thing (albeit some structural and functional barriers within the institutions that manage such services still prevent nonheteronormative couples from accessing such services successfully - but that’s another matter entirely).

To put it in a simpler way, understanding the intent to start a family as solely biological between a woman and a man having sex is quite frankly antiquated in its construction and does not reflect the contemporary understandings of familial structures. In fact, it’s a limitation on children as it doesn’t allow them to experience or perceive the diversity of relationships outside of their own familial unit, which can generally lead to them being more accepting of difference and being a less shitty person in general.

Let’s move back to the religious side of the debate, which is that marriage is defined similarly in “all cultures” - despite there being evidence of those of a third sex (agender or intersexed) in many civilisations and cultures that defies the “two sexedness” argument. By religious standards, sure if you want to define marriage as being between a man and a woman, by all means that’s your own perogative. I’m an atheist so it does not bother me either way. However, as the author actually defines in his argument, this is legislation we are talking about. Legislation refers to the state, which is separated from the church (and therefore religion). It is state marriage that we are referring to. If a church does not want to marry two people because they are same sex, that’s their issue. We’re talking about defining marriage between two people (regardless of sex) as a legal right for all. Yes civil union is similar in its construction to state marriage, and yes they are recognised as such in many situations. But here’s the thing. We’re not fighting for something that is similar.

The word marriage itself has power.

It has a status within society that a civil union is just not on par with. “My husband/ my wife” are revered in our monogamously centric society as a life goal that everyone should strive to attain. It opens a door to a social standing that you’re perceived to be in a stable, committed relationship that is accepted by society. You are in a position, like the author states, to have children and raise them to be decent and well intentioned active citizens. The fact that it is a man and a woman or a man and a man or a woman and a woman (if we’re being essentialist here and ignoring the existence of intersexed and nonbinary individuals like much of this debate seems to do) shouldn’t really matter in this day and age if we’re basing our definition of marriage on the notion of the intent to raise children. If they want to do it, then who gives what’s going on between their legs or in between their sheets. Quite frankly, they’re not going to make their children gay, like how every heterosexual couple only raises heterosexual children *cough*.

Finally, let’s consider the fact that the author is opposed to the notion that a lifelong commitment without the intent of raising children is an empty promise. I’m sorry, but why isn’t the act of willingly committing yourself to one person for the rest of your life not enough? Why do we have to bring children into the matter? Is it really so bad that some people decide that either they don’t want to have children or do not perceive themselves to be capable to raise children to have that commitment to one other person recognised by the state within the eyes of the law? I don’t think so.

Let’s wrap this ramble up

Basically whilst his argument is logical and has an academic merit to it, he is basing his evidence in outdated models of the familial unit, and blurring the lines between the state and the church in order to define his points, particularly by bolstering his viewpoint from a westernised religious standpoint on the definition of marriage. Asking for marriage equality, whilst on the surface, only appears to be wanting to have equal rights to something that is not possible under the current definition of marriage is senseless. Language is constantly evolving and changing, and redefining the word to suit contemporary understandings of how relationships and the commitments within those relationships are perceived and valued is not only a good thing, but something that should be at the core of the foundation of being a decent human being to those who live a life that is diverse from your own.

So I’ll agree that this guy is not being a bigot in his approach to the debate (as it is rather civil I have to say), it’s just that his information and perception of contemporary discourses of social reality are being ignored in favour of his own ideology of what marriage should be.

#auspol #same sex marriage debate #not going to lie i did enjoy a little bit of foucauldian analysis #you could also do the same with pastoral power #but biopower works better for this argument

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gastricpierrot · 7 years ago

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Title: When Stars Align

Series: Daiya no Ace

Pairing: KuraRyou

Rating: T

Summary: Nothing good ever comes out of an intimate relationship between a human and a youkai, Ryousuke knows. He’s heard more than enough stories on betrayal, on disasters, on families being shunned. And being an onmyouji, he knows better than anyone else.

And yet, he lets himself fall.

Note: im late aGAIN AHAHAH im gomenasorry

Also on AO3

[Ch.1][Ch.2][Ch.3]

[Ch. 4]

As per usual, Ryousuke’s greeted by the foulest mash of aura to ever grace the land of Japan before he even sees the first signs of the Capital city.

He squints towards the distance as though to judge the night itself, chanting a spell under his breath to strengthen the layer of barrier between himself and the abomination of the Capital’s presence. Really, he fails to understand how anyone with even the slightest spiritual sense would be able to remain there for even a week. Ryousuke could feel malice pressing against himdespite being this far away; nauseating, making it difficult to breathe. It’s another reminder of how baffling human adaptation could be, he supposes.

He turns back to poke at his fire, exhaling a slow breath through his mouth. He’s high-strung. The Nine-tailed Fox; the overbearing city; him being so far away from familiar territory—it all builds up as pressure in his chest. That’s not good. He can’t let it affect his performance, can’t let his guard down for even a second if he wants to come out of this with minimum setbacks towards his own wellbeing.

They’re watching. He can sense youkai practically surrounding his campsite; curious, wary. Ryousuke keeps his gaze towards his fire, having learnt by now that it’s always better to ignore them as long as they don’t stir up some kind of trouble. Stay away, he makes sure the message’s extra clear anyway because he really doesn’t have the mood to spare dealing with them at the moment. If you value your life, I’d suggest for you to keep that distance.

Fortunately for him, none of them are stupid enough to test him, and he manages to find some sort of rest through his final night of travelling.

Despite the overwhelming youkai energy infesting it—so much so that even Ryousuke has to pause before strolling in past the layer of barriers—the mortal side of the Capital is lively as ever when he arrives. It’s late afternoon and the streets are packed with people; parents trying to keep their children from wandering too far off, errand boys shouldering bulking sacks as they hurried to their destination, people leading their horses by the leash, carts transporting goods and the higher class. As he makes his way further towards the city centre, canvas stalls and wooden houses are gradually replaced by solid buildings and stores, unnamed lanes to developing districts.

Unsurprisingly, youkai are also everywhere.

Ryousuke sees them everywhere he looks. In the urn at the entrance of that restaurant, perched on rooftops, lounging on people’s hats and shoulders, peeking from alleyways. There seems to be even more of them than Ryousuke remembers, both in number and variety. The barriers have no doubt worked to keep youkai out, but it’s also trapping those who manage to slip in from exiting. Most of them look harmless, but it’s not unusual for even insignificant youkai to manage something bad if they had enough numbers. What was the Bureau doing, letting it all progress to this point?

“Ryousuke-san!”

Ryousuke focuses towards the direction of the voice, taking a moment to spot its owner among the loose crowd of people around him. A young man in the Bureau’s standard uniform wades his way towards him, features set in a grin brimming with underlying mischief.

“Kazuya,” Ryousuke greets, “skipping out on your job again?”

“Straight to the point as always,” Kazuya winces slightly. “But nah, you were taking a bit of time to arrive so I volunteered to come escort you in case you got lost or something.”

“If you had that much free time, you could’ve done something about this place.” Ryousuke makes a vague gesture around them. “You guys are probably used to it, but it reeks here.”

“Oh, believe me, we tried,” Kazuya says, falling in step with him. “We’ve done our best to keep the larger and stronger ones under control, but the small guys are just endless and plain stubborn. With all that’s going on recently, the Head eventually decided to ignore them and focus our efforts where it’s needed more.”

Ryousuke hums, peering towards the first signs of the Imperial Palace. He knows better than to voice it there and then, but the timing of it all is too suspicious for it to be a coincidence. It’s not difficult to guess that the Fox’s presence is what’s causing this sudden influx of youkai everywhere; the malevolence is so profound this close that Ryousuke could almost feel her physically behind them, watching their every move. He clenches his fists, fighting to keep his sudden wave of irrational fear in check. Stay calm. I’m still in control, he reminds himself firmly. I’m still in control.

“Come to think of it,” Kazuya continues, though Ryousuke senses the growing discomfort in his tone. They had never gotten along all that well, so having their conversations die down after some quick exchanges have never been rare. He guesses Kazuya must be pretty unnerved himself, to make the effort of keeping it up this time. “How’s my dumb cousin doing?”

“Knowing your kind, you’d have to specify which one you’re referring to,” Ryousuke remarks, chuckling his apology at Kazuya’s subtle expression of long-suffering pain before going on. “But if it’s Eijun we’re talking about, all I can say is that he still hasn’t quite grasped the concept of an ‘indoor voice’.”

“I’m surprised you still haven’t exorcised him after this long,” Kazuya observes, to which Ryousuke only shrugs. “Did Haruichi ever end up making him his familiar?”

“I don’t think he’d want to even if he could,” Ryousuke says, “though it’s not like their relationship would change much even if he did.”

“Nothing less to expect from Ryousuke-san’s brother, huh?”

Ryousuke smiles, otherwise making no further comments. Fortunately, he doesn’t need to. He nods his greeting at the guards on duty at the gates of the Bureau as he passes through, finding himself subconsciously taking comfort in the familiarity of his surroundings. The Capital City may be a madhouse compared to the tranquillity of Ryousuke’s village, but at least his workplace pretty much has the same vibes wherever he goes.

“I expect you should know your way from here, so I’ll be leaving first.”

Ryousuke doesn’t even flinch when he turns and faces a completely featureless Kazuya. “Sure.”

Kazuya’s expression is one of exaggerated disappointment when it blinks back into existence. Ryousuke doesn’t know why he even tries. That trick has long gone stale for him, after all those years of trying to console and convince a much younger Haruichi that no, Eijun’s face isn’t gone for good he’s just kind of terrible at transforming. At least Eijun’s improved a lot on maintaining his human form now; Ryousuke’s had enough of all the times he’s called to investigate a place for a noppera-bo sighting only to have Eijun running over a bit later to apologize for his carelessness. He’s in fact mastered it to an extent that it’s easy to forget he’s a mujina at all, since he barely ever reverts back to animal form now.

Ryousuke takes a deep breath only after Kazuya leaves, putting the thought aside as he heads to report his presence. Now’s not the time for reminiscence; it’ll only make his situation feel more dreadful than it really is, more final. He’s got to focus.

It’s far easier to focus on what he has to do than what might happen to him in the process.

xXx

Haruichi winces at Eijun’s fifth sneeze, silently hoping he wouldn’t return his handkerchief until he’s at least given it a rinse.

“I’m okay,” Eijun declares before he can ask, running the cloth messily under his nose after taking a huge, messy sniff. He mutters his thanks when Haruichi passes him a glass of water, gulping it down with a sort of comical exaggeration his almost every action always carries. All his life, Haruichi has arguably not seen anyone as extra as Eijun when it comes to… well, a lot of things. He supposes he’s partly responsible for that; Eijun’s somewhat grown into the overly boisterous image of himself he’s tried to project for his sake when they were younger despite knowing how risky it is for him to attract so much attention. They were fortunately able to cover up for all his misses over the years; it’ll be a pain if people were to discover that one of Kominato Ryousuke’s younger brother’s closest friends is a youkai himself. Though with their lineage, Eijun being a youkai in disguise is the least they’d feel scandalized over, honestly.

“Is it because of the dust, I wonder?” Haruichi muses aloud as Eijun works to clear his nostrils. Eijun shrugs, trailing behind him towards one of the shelves in Ryousuke’s study. Haruichi scans over the neatly lined books, picking out the few he thinks would contain the information he wants.

“Are you looking for more stuff about the Fox or whatever that onii-san’s gonna face in the Capital?” Eijun asks, squinting at a title on a book spine with words even Haruichi can’t read. Haruichi hums, adding one last book to his stack and making his way back outside and to his own room. “You sure you want to know more, though?”

Haruichi knows he means well, asking that. Even if he doesn’t have the ability to change anything, he wants to at least be prepared for any worst case scenarios. Ryousuke might try playing it off as the usual, but Haruichi is aware that the match-up this time could not be worse.

“Say, Harucchi?” Eijun speaks up a bit after they’ve settled down on the floor. Haruichi makes him wait until he’s finished the sentence he’s reading before glancing up at him, prompting him to go on with a slight raise of his eyebrows. “I know I’m probably not in the position to ask, but is there something wrong with onii-san?”

He shifts uncomfortably when Haruichi straightens to face him properly, reaching to rub the back of his neck. “How much did you overhear the other day, exactly?” Haruichi asks, already contemplating over how much he should reveal. There are some things he simply doesn’t have the right to tell, not if he respects his brother.

And he respects him a whole lot.

“Uh, everything, basically,” Eijun admits hesitantly, tensing in expectation of a few sharp words from his companion. “I remember you mentioned about something acting up?”

Haruichi falls silent to that. They’ve always managed to keep Eijun away whenever Ryosuke’s episodes happened, haven’t they? Eijun hadn’t been close enough to him yet for frequent sleepovers during the times when Ryousuke would still spend entire nights alone somewhere in the mountain forest, working himself to the bone learning how to tap into the powers of the entity residing deep within himself while keeping it from taking over his body. He’s never seen the numerous times when Ryousuke’s impenetrable composure could still falter because of the monstrous effort it takes for him to maintain control. He doesn’t know how when Ryousuke first started his training he merely had the abilities of an average person, and how people used to look at him with faces ranging from pity to utter doubt when he used to declare he’ll one day be one of the best onmyouji that’s ever lived despite his stature and the fact that he couldn’t cast a single spell until his early teen years.

Eijun doesn’t know that part of the reason why their parents are never around is because of Ryousuke.

“It’s okay if you can’t tell me,” Eijun quickly amends when Haruichi’s silence stretches out for a tad too long. Haruichi is honestly at loss over whether he should tell him anything at all. There doesn’t seem to be any merit to it; Eijun could accidentally mention it in a conversation and possibly cause some sort of uproar. Onmyouji with youkai relations aren’t exactly the newest things around at this point, but the stigma around it still persists. Ryousuke most likely wouldn’t want him to know due to more personal reasons as well; he’d loathe it if he’s going to be treated differently just because someone knew the truth—especially if that someone chooses to feel anything besides a certain level of healthy fear towards him.

“I’m sorry, Eijun-kun,” Haruichi decides, absently thumbing the page corner of the book on his lap. “I don’t think I’m in the position…”

“No, no, like I said—it’s all fine!” Eijun assures, gesturing wildly with his hands. “It’s not really any of my business in the first place.”

Haruichi flashes him a small, grateful smile. “If you’re really curious, I think it’s best to hear it from aniki himself.”

Eijun nods, reaching over to fetch the topmost book out of Haruichi’s stack. He opens to a random section, absently flipping the subsequent pages over. “So. You’re looking for things about kitsune, yeah?”

“Nine-tailed ones, to be exact,” Haruichi corrects, focusing on his own book once more. “I want to see if I can find anything besides what I already know.”

“If it’s a weakness or something, wouldn’t onii-san have already read about it by himself?” Eijun asks, stopping at a page with a particularly striking illustration. Haruichi stares at its title, trying to decipher the upside-down characters but to no avail.

“Well, yeah, but…”he can’t seem to say the rest of it, fearing that if he does they’d inevitably come true. Ryousuke’s strong and he’s not working alone this time and yet it’s because of who he is that Haruichi feels a new wave of nausea at the sudden concern that seizes him. Foxes have a fierce sense of connection with their own kind; if there’s anyone who can possibly influence Ryousuke by sheer will, it’d be a nine-tailed fox spirit. And even if she doesn’t get the chance to do anything to him, what consequences would the potential public revelation bring? How would the Bureau react?

“Harucchi.”

At the sound of Eijun’s voice, Haruichi jolts out of his thoughts.

“Onii-san will be fine,” he assures, grinning with a confidence that doesn’t waver like Haruichi’s own. “It’s him we’re talking about, after all.”

“He’d be severely offended if he finds out we’re worrying over him like this, huh?” Haruichi manages a slight laugh, reluctantly allowing himself to take in some of Eijun’s positivity. Still, it doesn’t change the feeling of helplessness that comes with only being able to wait. “It’s frustrating, but I suppose all we can do for him now is pray.”

He blinks at him when he sees him stiffen visibly, very obviously hit by some sort of idea. Eijun steers their conversation away before he could ask, though, proceeding to launch into an animated recollection of his experiences with the kind of youkai described on the page he’s stopped at. Haruichi finds no further will to question him, deciding that some things are still best left to Eijun and his own devices.

He just hopes he’s not going to do anything overboard. Again.

xXx

“You want me to what.”

Youichi thinks it’s probably about time for him to clean his ears because he’s pretty this brat just asked if there’s any way he could check on Ryousuke for Haruichi.

Was it something he did? Had he done something lately that gave him the idea that he doesn’t value his life? Because Eijun might as well have asked him to exorcise himself first to save Ryousuke the trouble of kicking his butt for hijacking his mind. Unlike actual gods, Youichi isn’t omnipresent, so the only way he’ll be able to more or less “see” how he’s doing is by entering his consciousness. Ryousuke was merciful the last time, but Youichi isn’t sure he’ll be as lucky right now. Or ever again in general, really.

Though, he does have a pretty good guess that Ryousuke’s extremely distracted by something at the moment. Against his better judgements, Youichi’s left a miniscule remnant of the short link he’d formed with Ryousuke the other day, also with the subconscious intention to make sure he’s at least still alive. Ryousuke would no doubt have already noticed and gotten rid of it if he’s his usual self; he either can’t be bothered now, or he hasn’t realized yet. Whatever it is, Youichi can tell he’s ridiculously stressed at the moment. He could feel his tension even through the slight, negligible link between their minds; he’s like a rope pulled taut for so long that the edges at the centre are already beginning to fray before it eventually snaps. Youichi can’t help marvelling at him for being able to function despite bearing that sort of weight on his shoulders. What he’s feeling is merely a fraction of the real thing, a second-hand sensation of sorts—and he already feels slightly queasy.

But even more than his borderline inhuman drive to keep going regardless of his inner turmoil, Youichi ponders more over the root of Ryousuke’s anxiety. They’re talking about a person who has the power to even stand up against a minor god here; what’s there about the nine-tailed kitsune in particular that has him so tensed up and on guard? Sure, she’s been impossible to beat for a century now, but Ryousuke would still have enough confidence in himself without lowkey fearing for his life, wouldn’t he?

Or has his every confrontation with youkai actually been like this? Was it just that Youichi never noticed because Ryosuke has simply achieved that level of skill when it comes to hiding it?

“Who do you think keeps this place safe while Ryou-san’s off doing his thing, huh?” Youichi sighs wearily when Eijun repeats his question with a volume about a solid hundred levels louder. Really, just because mujina are good at projecting their voices doesn’t mean Eijun has to do it when they’re just two metres apart.

“Can’t you spare some time during the day or something? You spend most of your time just lazing around anyways,” Eijun argues, and Youichi just about to explain that there are very important reasons to his lazing around when he decides it’s not worth the effort.

“Look, I know you’re doing this for Haruichi’s sake, but you have to understand one thing—“he proceeds to tackle Eijun into a headlock and grind his fist against his scalp—“Ryou-san would probably flay me alive when he comes back if I do that, and you’re an idiot.”

“Isn’t that already two things!” Eijun protests, thrashing violently until Youichi releases him. “And only idiots call others idiots!” he accuses, jabbing a finger at his direction.

“Yes, yes.” Youichi makes a dismissive wave before crossing his arms. “If you’re thatkeen to know, though, why don’t you just turn into a bird and fly there or something? I don’t think it’ll take that long by air.”

Youichi braces himself for more yelling when Eijun opens his mouth, but he clams up without saying anything in the end. Huh. Did Youichi accidentally thread on a sensitive subject?

“Don’t tell me,” Youichi raises his eyebrows, “you’re bad at transforming?”

“’Course not!” Eijun denies, and Youichi could practically feel every sentient being within a fifty-meter radius wince simultaneously. He hesitates a bit before speaking again, mumbling under his breath as he does so. “It’s just that I promised onii-san that I’ll take care of Harucchi while he’s gone.”

Youichi takes half a minute to process that. Then oh, the implicit message behind Eijun’s words dawns him. It must be the Capital City that he has issues with. Youichi can’t exactly criticize him for that; he isn’t that fond of it himself. He’s passed by a few times during some journeys with his master, and the impression he immediately got was along the lines of ugh no thanks. To put it crudely, the smell alone reminded him of his master’s feet—which reeks like a pile of rotting fish—only about fifth times more pungent. He remembers being sourly told not to involve himself at all with the gods residing there if he could help it too because they’re all pieces of work who think they’re better than everyone else.

Frankly, Youichi always thought his master’s always been a little overdramatic, but he figures he has nothing to lose listening to him when it comes to deities. They’ve never been fond of youkai, and the feeling’s mutual.

“Well, sorry to break it to ya,” Youichi sniffs, “but I’ve been asked to watch over him while Ryou-san’s away too.”

“Then doesn’t that mean you’re already multitasking? What difference would doing one more thing make?” Eijun demands, and dear lord Youichi can’t tell if he’s seriously that dense or if he’s simply refusing to listen. He spends a moment to study him; spotting the telltale furrow across his brow, the tension in his jaw, the way he’s clenching his fists—and feels something in him soften. He’s genuinely just trying to support his friend in whatever straightforward, albeit slightly outlandish way he can, isn’t he? As much as Youichi hates to admit, he’s a sap for stuff like that. He can’t dislike him for doing his best to look out for someone he cares for.

Youichi exhales a long breath, deciding he’s probably going to regret this. A lot.

“Okay, listen,” he begins, holding up his palms in a sort of placating gesture. He sends a quick prayer to whoever’s kind enough to bother listening for Eijun to not start freaking out. “If it makes you feel any better, I am still maintaining a tiny link with Ryou-san’s mind right now. What I can deduce through that is extremely limited, but at the very least—“ he shoots Eijun a stern glare to shut him up before he can speak—“I’d know if he’s dead or alive.”

For a second, Eijun looks like he isn’t able to accept that. Then as Youichi watches, the fight seems to leave him all at once, and he averts his gaze, slouching his shoulders. So even he can look like that sometimes, Youichi muses. Even someone as aggressively stubborn as him could finally realize when to give in.

“I’ll definitely let Haruichi know if anything happens,” Youichi assures, doubting his own words the moment he voices them because can he really tell he boy if there’s a chance he won’t ever see his brother again? “Though, I’m sure Ryou-san would have everything under control somehow or another.”

When he realizes that isn’t enough to get rid of Eijun’s pensiveness, he does the only thing he could think of. He trudges behind him, and kicks him at the back of his knees. Eijun yelps, promptly proceeding to demand what that was for and accuse him for being a horrible guardian deity because people in his position shouldn’t be needlessly harming other youkai. Youichi merely answers with a trademark cackle and some snarky retort, hoping to keep this front up until Eijun leaves. Call him superstitious or whatever—it’s always foreboding when the boisterous ones become quiet. Youichi has his own unease already; he doesn’t need Eijun to make things worse.

Because surely, Ryou-san knows what he’s doing and getting himself into, right?

xXx

There’s a blanket of tense silence settled over the group of onmyouji entrusted with the task of aiding the holy ritual.

Ryousuke moistens his lips as he moves with them towards the designated hall in the Imperial Palace, willing his heartbeat to find its calm already. It doesn’t help that the summer heat is extra overbearing that day; harsh sunlight beating down on them in the exposed hallways, their robes doing more to trap the heat in than keeping it out. The only good it’s doing is making Ryousuke’s sweat less conspicuous since practically everyone’s mopping their faces every five minutes or so.

They’re led by the main person in charge of casting the spell, a man said to be a descendant of Abe no Seimei named Abe no Yasunari. He’s skilled, yes, though not to the point of being “spectacular” per se. Definitely not as prominent as his predecessor, but since Abe no Seimei had direct blood relations to a youkai it’s not much of a surprise. If anything, the fact that Yasunari is as good as he is now proves that he’s a person worthy of carrying the weight of his family name. Ryousuke’s seen him work a few times firsthand; his methods are highly efficient and effective,albeit slightly orthodoxical. Just because he doesn’t particularly stand out like his grandfather or the few among them including Ryousuke himself doesn’t mean he isn’t amazing in his own right.

They eventually stop before a set of sliding doors, Abe no Yasunari exchanging a few words with the men standing guard before they’re granted access. At this point, the tug in Ryousuke’s gut that’s been building up ever since he entered the city has morphed to something resembling an intense burn. She’s close, and it’s starting to react to her presence. Ryousuke takes a deep breath, swallowing thickly. It’s alright, he’s trained enough to handle this. He’ll be fine, he’ll be fine.

He then steps in through the entrance of the hall, and meets the gaze of the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

*to make things clear, miyuki's a tanuki and eijun's a mujina!

#kuraryou #kominato ryousuke #kuramochi youichi #diamond no ace #daiya no ace #i wanted to put this up a week earlier but then i discovered that my phone doesn't support copy pasting formatted text so??? welp #fanfiction

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kpopscenariosforu · 8 years ago

Text

Title: Baby big bum

Word count: 2400

Group: Got7

Pairing: Jaebum X reader

Genre: sad, a bit fluffy

Trigger warnings: a lot. Suicide, slight bullying, character death, food

Description: when your phone buzzing interrupts your lecture you turn your phone off not realising that the calls you were missing may have been the most important calls of your entire life.

The buzzing of your phone interrupted your speech and heads turn towards the rectangular shaped object that now was lit up with the a name written across the top. As everyone leans over to check the name you pray it isn’t who you think it is. But as giggle start dispersing in the crowd you sigh realising that it really was who you were praying it wasn’t. Slowly with your head hung you walk over to the screen reading ‘BABY BIG BUM’ with a kissy emoji and deny the call request only for it to pop up again once more. Embarrassed and slightly angry you decide it would be best to simply turn your phone off and continue the lecture as if nothing happened.

“You see it isn’t hard to connect past to present or even future,” you continue as the student settle down for now, some giggles still bouncing off the giant seminar room walls “Not knowing the past of a place or even a person can make it harder to predict the future.” one of the more pretentious students’ hand flew up and you help back the want to roll your eyes simply wondering what it could be this time

“Why do we need to predict the future? I don’t understand the need to know everything about someone or somewhere past.” The kid asked after you welcomed their question. Thank god this was an easy question.

“Great question.” You begin forcing the words out even though what you wanted to say was ‘what don’t you get? Did you not read the text?’ “being able to predict the future based on past is very important for people who have a known streak of rage outbreaks or suicidal actions, seeing these in the past and knowing they happened allows for us to prepare for the future.” taking a breath you continue “If a building is built on land that is known to be rocky then the builders have the knowledge to properly build so that the building will not fall. In the same aspect if a building is built on land that is unknown whether it is smooth or rocky then the builders have a harder time building the foundation and the risk is it collapsing, maybe even taking casualties in it’s fall.”

The class was silent and a smile grew across your face as you watched the student’s mouths drop open and even some of their eyes glisten with respect. You knew you had winned them back from the incident earlier with your phone ringing.

Taking a seat and crossing your legs you call out asking for any more questions. Expecting nothing to come up you look at the students as they whisper. But in the crowd you see one kid, who is seated in a chair you had sworn was empty before, seems to be debating whether to ask his question or not; seeing the opportunity you look into his eyes until his catch yours and you nod signalling for him to ask. While he holds eye contact you suddenly feel as though you had seen him before, had he been in one of your other classes? Why did it seem as if you had met him before? The colour, the shape, even the emotions held in his eyes reminded you of someone.

“Are you saying that everything that happens in the past can predict the future?” the boy’s eyes drop right after asking but as they fall you catch a little bit hurt and curiosity in his eyes.

“Not everything will be repeated as we do learn from our mistake -one of the very reasons why it’s important to make mistakes- but yes there is a possibility that things will in fact repeat even if it is in a different way.” you answer still wondering the exact scenario the boy is thinking of. “Would you like to give me an example and I could try to map out how it may repeat?”

The boy doesn't look up but nods and his voice carries to your ears, broken and hurt. “What if they’ve tried to commit suicide before in the past multiple times but they are happy now? What if they still have those thoughts even though they are happy and in love?”

The question stunned you. What had this boy been through? What had hurt him so much? A couple giggles arise from the class and anger fuels you.

“This is not something to laugh at. Someone just shared an example and that is all it is; if you find this situation or example funny then I request you take a cosmetics class instead. Maybe then you will be pretty on the outside to make up for your ugly inside”

A couple ‘ohh's arise from the students but you brush it off and continue answering the question, thinking of the nicest way to say it.

“Looking at it both scientifically and emotionally, yes, there is in fact a possibility that they will wish to repeat the action even if the main emotion they feel is happiness. Though this is more of a psychology question that is another course I teach and so I am willing to explain further.” switching your mind to a psychological state you continue; “People who experience suicidal thoughts -or tendencies- do not only experience these thoughts while sad but rather all the time and if given the opportunity they may in fact repeat the behavior.”

The buzzer finally chimed and the sound of shuffling paper could be heard as the students packed up for their next class. The students file out some giving you strange looks and other whispering to each other just loud enough for you to catch little fragments of their conversations. The occasional “She’s crazy” or “what was that last one about?” floated through the air but you didn’t mind you were to busy looking for the boy but he was nowhere to be seen.

Dropping your head and converting your gaze back to the work spread in front of you in a messy manner you don’t even notice the footsteps coming closer to you until a small voice asks

“Can we talk?”

You look up to meet the eyes of the boy who had asked the last question. Nodding quickly you pull a standard blue chair up beside your desk and the boy sits down. Just as you are about to offer that he can place his books on your desk you realise that he doesn’t have any books, not even a book bag. Though it’s strange there are students who may be too poor to afford the text and so you keep silent and instead study the boy. Though the students are very young compared to you this boy seemed to be no older than ten years old maybe twelve… what was this? You hadn’t heard of any special exceptions for brainy kids yet this year?

“So what’s your name?” you ask and the boy focusses his eyes on your face, squinting as if he can’t see you very well.

“Jae..” he responds and looks down at his hands, studying them as if he had never seen them before. “Jae.” he says again this time more confident.

As you are about to answer you hear a sharp knock on your door and one of the other professors -Choi Youngjae- pops his head in and looks around the room, not once acknowledging the boy.

“Are you busy?” he asks, only looking at you. You wonder why he is bothering you when you are busy with a student but he obviously wants something as you can almost see the excitement swimming in his gaze.

Making an awkward head movement to point out the student you reply with; “Yes i’m busy but maybe give me ten minutes and we can chat?”

His smile drops but he nods understandingly. “Work sure is piling up these days.” with a long sigh he waves and makes his hands look as if he’s eating a hamburger to signal that he’ll be in the cafeteria and you nod with a small laugh.

Turning back to Jae you notice he seems to be a lot more into a day dreamy state than before and you feel your stomach growl signalling that this little meeting needed to be over soon. But before you can apologise the boy makes eye contact with you and whispers, “You should have picked up your phone… be careful cars are dangerous” before walking straight out the door and not looking back.

Remembering your phone you turn it back on not only to see 14 missed calls from your boyfriend but also 5 from his mother and 15 texts from both combined. Unlocking the phone with shaky hands as the worry starts to rise in your body. Reading the messages the first thing to catch your eyes is the word ‘hospital’ and ‘may be his last few minutes’

Grabbing your jacket adrenaline flows through you and you forget the strange boy and Youngjae’s invite to lunch. Only focusing on your boyfriend, the man you love, being injured.

Everything just seems to happen automatically as your mind wanders as to what could have possibly happened to him, to your lovely Im Jaebum. Did he get into a fight again? It did that quite often these days and it scared you but he was so cute that you would forget about it. He started giving you his jackets and sweaters and giving you little gifts that you knew were things that meant the world to him.

“Please be okay Jaebum…” you whisper to no one as the hospital comes into view. “Stay alive for me”

As the hospital doors open and you feel your feet hit the hard floor and the pressure builds in your lungs you can’t help but think of everything that had built up to this point, how you could have simply picked up the phone during class, or even understood that he wouldn’t interrupt you if it hadn’t been really important. What if you had picked up? Would he have been okay? What happened to him?

“You’re here!” Jaebum’s mother greeted wiping tears out of her eyes and pulling you into the hospital room where Jaebum was sprawled out on the stretcher, white sheets laying peacefully over his long limbs. With the sun pointing onto his face he truly looked like an angel, like something out of a dream.

“What happened?” You asked,eyes never leaving Jaebum as you took slow steps forward almost worried you would break the peaceful spell that seemed to surround him.

“He doesn’t have much time, I’ll tell you later but for now maybe it’s just better you say…” She didn’t need to finish what she was going to say. You knew what she meant. It was time to say good bye.

“Jaebum…” you whispered and his eyelids fluttered in the slightest acknowledgment. “Jaebum I don’t want to-” cut off by your own throat choking up while you denied the tears from falling. “I don’t want to say goodbye… I-i love you too much.”

“I love you too y/n…” Jaebum croaked, trying to move his head to face you but the pain was evident as his face scrunched and his eyebrows furrowed, leaving lines of pain on his perfect face. “I love you more and more each day… I know you’ll do good without me…” the words stung, he knew this was the end. “Take care of yourself, I love you…” just as he finished his words a flat tine appeared in an almost comically stereotypical manner. Jaebum’s mother burst out in tears but the water works just couldn’t make it to yours eyes.

It was as if the world had numbed to a point where nothing was real anymore… nothing was real without Jaebum. Turning to look around the room you’re not sure exactly what you are looking for… maybe something to make this all feel real? Something to make this reality feel less like a terrible dream and something to bring you back to real life… anything.

“I’m so sorry Jaebum…” Jaebum’s mother whispers and you notice she’s holding a picture frame, old with a fake wood boarder and a picture of a young boy. A young jaebum. As she whispered little apologies and promises she wanted to keep into the frame while tears rolled down her face you take a closer look at the boy in the frame.

As you walk closer your heart seems to beat faster and your eyes clear up, getting a clear look at the boy but even while looking into his eyes your brain denies it… it can’t be… it is. The boy in the frame, the strange boy in your class…

“It was him the whole time.” the boy, his warning about history repeating itself, the warning about cars… the whole time it was Jaebum. The whole time if you had simply picked up the phone maybe you could have made it earlier… if you had recognised your boyfriend as a child you would have been able to say everything you wanted to, been able to tell him how much you love him and how you couldn’t live without him.

Finally the world set in and the tears flowed leaving you a living puddle of human tears and a mess over your boyfriend's dead body that laid still and cold. Suddenly your phone buzzed but no words showed for the only person you wanted to be calling you was lying lifeless under you, body cold and eyes dead.

Looking down at your buzzing phone you watch as Jaebum’s caller id shows on the screen but instead of his normal photo you had set when you two had first started dating,the boy from earlier showed on the screen.

Hung and crying.

#got7 scenarios #got7 fanfic #got7 stories #got7 #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop story #kpop scenarios #kpop #fanfic #scenario

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minniesugakookies · 8 years ago

Text

Betrayed

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 2,765

Pairing: Jaebum x Reader

“Wait you actually thought I liked you? Wow, you’re more stupid than I thought.”

Masterlist ♥︎

Requests ☾

Part 2 ✧ Part 3 ✧ Part 4 ✧ Part 5

A/n: I had my last final today omg thank the lord 🙏🏻.

Walking into the school, taking off my glasses that had gotten foggy from the freezing weather outside, cursing at myself for not wearing the contacts I had gotten yesterday. The warm air inside enveloped me in heat as I shrugged off my jacket and started to make my way to my locker. No one had acknowledged me as I was walking, seeming normal as I was the quietest person in most of my classes, not making much friends, only a few close ones that I met in my old school, that of course had moved away or graduated already. I felt so lonely all the time, like everyone felt sorry for me in a way, but it felt like they were also laughing at me.

I put my head down as I approached my locker, putting the combination into the lock then pulling down and opening it revealing my almost empty locker. I sighed and put my jacket and my already drank coffee mug inside, closing it with a loud bang then locking it again, attracting some people around me. “Yah! Keep it down over there would you? Some people are trying to study.” A familiar voice shouted, creating more noise than I originally did.

I look over and saw the oh so popular Im Jaebum surrounded by his 6 other friends, Mark, Jinyoung, Jackson, Youngjae, Bambam, and Yugyeom. I always questioned Bambam’s name, wondering if that was his real name or just a nickname the young boy had, I always hoped it was the latter, being sorry for him if that was his real name. I looked back at Jaebum who was smirking at me with a notebook in his hand and a binder beside him, open to a spot that I’m guessing was science based on the diagrams.

I remembered that I used to tutor him on the weekdays. I wasn’t the best student but the teacher had begged me to do it since most others were busy studying or doing something else. We were both in same grade and I had most of my classes with him so I agreed after some persuasive moves from the teacher.

Whenever I would tutor him, he would always smirk and wink at me, and soon enough I just got tired of it and stopped waiting for him to meet me in the library, he never bothered me or talked to me after that.

It was the beginning of this year and I was ecstatic to finally be in my last year of high school. However Jaebum had started to bother me more, making fun of me whenever he could, bumping into me on purpose when we were passing down the halls. I was confused, why was he bothering me all of a sudden? It was now almost end of the year and he didn’t show any signs of stopping.

I’ve always told myself that he wasn’t attractive and tried my best to find something that was unattractive about him, but it felt impossible. To say the least, yes I did have a crush on him, but the way he treated me I’m guessing he didn’t like me back.

I continued to walk past them trying not to acknowledge them as I did. His friends stared me down as I walked by, looking at me like I had just killed one of their relatives. “Yah! He was talking to you.” Mark said. I stopped and sighed, turning around I faced the 7 boys. “I’m sorry for being so loud.”

He put his hand up to his ear. “Sorry didn’t hear that princess you have to speak louder.” His friends laughed along at what he said, but I didn’t understand what was so funny about that. I awkwardly stood there as they laughed and waited from them to compose themselves. “I said, I’m sorry for being so loud.” I uttered a little louder than before. I turned on my heel to leave but bumped into someone as they were walking in my direction.

I heard the group of boys behind me try to stop themselves from bursting out laughing. I picked up my binder that I had dropped from being slammed into the person that was now in front of me apologising. “Oh I am so sorry! I’m new here and I couldn’t find the front office, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going and-” I cut off the person who I now found out was a girl from her high pitched voice. “It’s alright. It happens a lot more than you think.” Her face gave me sort of a sympathetic look but I shook it off before continuing.

“What’s your name? Did you say you were new?” I asked, straightening up my posture. I took in her appearance after I had asked that question. She was very pretty with long brown hair and brown eyes and slightly tanned skin. She was flawless to say the least, her figure was slim and she had sort of a puffy face but also it was also slim, showing off her jaw line she had.

She smiled and nodded. “Yes, I’m new here. My name is Jennie.” She gave a cute smile showing off her perfect teeth, her eyes squinted almost completely shut as she did. I smiled at the beautiful girl in front of me. “Why did you move schools when it’s almost the end of the semester?” I questioned. Her smile faded slightly at my question. “My mom had died a couple months back, my dad couldn’t pay for the house so we had to move to a cheaper spot and now here I am.” Her smile was back after her small story but it wasn’t quite reaching her eyes.

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” the bell cut me off before I could continue and the girl across from me widened her eyes. “Oh no I still haven’t went to the front office!” Before I knew it she was racing down the halls and up the stairs.

I heard Jaebum snicker from beside me. “You’re not a people person are you? That girl literally just ran away from you.” He smacked your back like you were old friends. “Damn what did you tell her?” I looked up at him to see him very close to my face, of course smirking. I pushed him off before he could see my red cheeks and made my way to my first class. Before I could be out of hearing range from him I heard him say “You sure this will work?”

School was finally over and I thanked every god that it was Friday. I basically dragged myself back to my locker, putting in the lock combination then opening my locker, taking out my jacket and replacing it with my binder then shutting the locker, almost screaming when I see Jennie standing next to me.

“Oh my god! You scared me.” I clutched onto my chest as the girl laughed and apologised. “I just came to ask you what your name was, since you never told me this morning.” She gave me that pretty smile again. I giggled while putting on my jacket. “My name's Y/n.” She smiled again. “That’s a pretty name.” I thanked her looking away feeling myself blush slightly.

We both stood there talking for a bit before Jaebum came up to us and put his arm around me, surprisingly his group wasn’t following behind at all. I looked from him to his arm before trying to push it off but because he was so strong it stayed in place. “What do you want Jaebum.” He was eyeing down the girl in front of me who was now just standing there awkwardly looking around, not wanting to look in our direction.

“I just wanted to see you.” He smiled down at me before kissing my temple, taking me by surprise. “What the hell are you doing?” I yelled at him trying to push his arm off again. Jennie noticed my struggle and tried to help me out. “She doesn’t like your arm around her.” She said puffing out her chest a little bit to make herself look tough. Jaebum just scoffed at her.

“Mind your own Business.” He laughed and turned me around and walked away from Jennie. With his arm still around me we walked out the door and to the bus stop. He finally he let me go after we crossed the street.

“What’s your problem? Why are you acting like this?” I shouted lightly at him, trying not to get attention from the other people. He merely looked at me before moving closer grabbing onto my waist, our faces centimeters apart. Oh my god what is going on? Why is he acting like this all of a sudden? Why is he so close to me!?

“Y/n will you go out with me?”

I stood there frozen, putting together what he just said. “But you-” He nodded. “I know I’ve been a dick, but that was just because I didn’t know how to act around you.” He confessed. “After you stopped torturing me and we didn’t talk for awhile I thought that maybe this way I’ll still be able to talk to you.” He smiled down at me. “By the way, I didn’t learn anything from those lessons because I was only paying attention to how beautiful you were.” He just stared at me as I had my mouth open and eyes wide. “It’s also really hard not to kiss you right now.” He laughed, his breath blowing onto my face lightly.

I smiled at his small confession. He’s liked me all this time? Unbelievable. “You could’ve just came up and talked to me you know.” He nodded and laughed. “Yeah I guess I could’ve done that, but this seemed more fun.”

Months went by after Jaebum had confessed his feelings for me at the bus stop after school. Me and Jennie had become pretty good friends. It was nice to have someone to tlak to once in a while but I felt like she was always planning something of some sort. I would always catch her and Jaebum glancing at each other and nodding like they were having a secret conversation or something. But I started to ignore it after nothing happened for a while.

It was now graduation and me and Jennie were chilling together in her apartment watching some tv waiting for Jaebum to come pick us up so we could go tour graduation ceremony. I was wearing my gown already whereas Jennie still had to change into her’s.

“Jennie you should start getting re-” The doorbell rang interrupting my train of speech. ��Shit!” Jennie shouted softly putting down her phone before racing up to her room to put on her gown I’m guessing. I laughed getting used to her basically running everywhere.

I walked upstairs from Jennie’s basement and opened the door revealing my lovely boyfriend and his 6 other friends all dressed in their gowns. “Ready?” He smiled at me. I smiled back but I had this weird feeling in my stomach, sililar whenI used to think Jennie and Jaebum were planning something but I pushed it down, telling myself that I was just a little sick from nerves. This is my graduation, the best day in my life. Nothing bad is going to happen.

We made our way to his car once Jennie was done with getting changed. Everyone was laughing and having fun while we drove to our destination, that was a big auditorium the school had rented out for the grad.

“I have a surprise for you when we get there.” Jaebum whispered into my ear. I turned my head to look at him, my cheeks were bright red. He winked at me while biting his lip. I started blushing even harder and looked away from him, looking out the window instead.

We finally arrived and all of the boys stumbled out of the car racing to the entrance. Once we got inside I took in the surroundings. Everyone looked so pretty and fancy. There was yellow and white lights hung around the facility with blue and silver ribbons. The place was crowded with people and it was loud with music playing. After we got some food and sat down someone went onto the stage. “Can I have your attention please!” The principle on the stage announced. Everyone’s attention was turned to the principle who was about to make his speech.

“It was such a wonderful experience to have you in our school and I’m sure all the teachers including myself will miss you all so much and hope you will do a great job in your future careers.” Her speech went on for another 5 minutes before she asked if anyone else would like to make a speech. From beside I could hear Mark and Jaebum laughing then Jaebum stepping forward. “I would!” He yelled. The principle clapped and told him the stage was all his.

He made his way up there, pushing some people lightly to the side as he walked past them. He looked behind him and made eye contact with me before winking, causing me to blush. He finally got up there and positioned with the mic, clearing his throat he started to speak.

“First of all, I just want to thank all the people I’m close too. Without you all I think I would’ve dropped out of school or failed every class to be honest.” Everyone laughed at his comment. “I want to start with my 6 best friends, you guys are the best.” They all yelled and put a thumbs up, Bambam and Jackson dabbed. He started naming off other people I didn’t know. I was starting to get sad as he wasn’t saying my name. He cared about me right? But then it happened, but not in the way I was expecting.

“I’d like to thank my girlfriend who had made this year the best year ever.” This is it. This is his surprise. I smiled while biting my lip trying not to blush. “Her name is Jennie.” My smile fell as he finished the rest of his speech. I didn’t care what else he had to say, he lied to me.

I felt someone tap my shoulder and I turned my head and was met with a smiling Jennie. She gave me an evil smirk before handing me some sort of note before walking away towards the stage as Jaebum was now done his speech. I unfolded the note and started reading it.

Wow this was a lot more easier than I had thought. It was a plus since you actually had feelings for me. If you don’t get it, this was a bet. I was bet by the one and only Jennie to see if I could date you for more than 3 months, if I did I would “break up with you” on graduation. It would’ve been a plus if I got in your pants but you never let me. It was a simple dare that I wanted to complete it. No hard feelings I hope. Of and if you’re confused, Jennie is an old friend of mine that just moved back here, we hung out on the weekend and that’s when she gave me this amazing idea.

I couldn’t believe it. My heart felt like it had been ripped out of my chest, stabbed, and then put back in. There was tears rolling down my face before I knew it. I felt broken, alone, betrayed. How could they do this to me? I was just staring out at nothing when Jaebum came up to me with his arm around her.

“I thought you felt the same.” I choked out. He just widened his eyes dramatically then looked at Jennie then back at me. “Wait you actually thought I liked you? Wow, you’re more stupid than I thought.” Him and Jennie laughed together. I just started crying more after they kept laughing at me. “What did I ever do?” They didn’t answer, probably not hearing me.

I had enough. I got up and stormed out of the auditorium with tears streaming down my face, wrecking the make up I had spent hours on. Some teachers were confused but probably mistaking them with happy tears because they didn’t say anything.

I ran out of the front door and down the street to my house. Not wanting to see that place or their faces ever again.

#Jaebum #Got7 #Jaebum imagines #got7 imagines #got7 texts #g7 imagines #jb imagines #jb texts #Jaebum texts

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candy-corps · 7 years ago

Text

Lonely Hearts Club

Bahadir belongs to @bahadir-wintergreen

"So .... you're friends with Amelia" Dae said in an accusing tone, speaking up in the very second the poor elf opened the front door. With arms crossed, he glared at the man, squinting as he stared into the other one's eyes. He looked kinda ... ... innocent. "Hey, I'm Dae" he added more friendly all of a sudden, reaching out a hand in greeting.

Bahadir had almost expected somebody, who wanted to sell something or who wanted to convince him to join a religion he didn´t know. But this guy wasn´t anything of this. Friends with Amelia? This guy seemed to know her as well…Bahadir straightened himself and lifted his chin, arms akimbo. At last, the guy had been polite and used the doorbell insted of hugging and kissing im from behind. Surprised the elf looked down at the offered hand when the guy´s tone of voice went more friendly.

“Yes I am,” Bahadir replied still not sure, if he should take the hand to shake it, “Hello Dae. I have the feeling, that you also know already my name.”

“B. Wintergreen” Damien replied, sure of himself, a smirk growing on his face that he tried to hide half-heartedly, tilting his head aside. “ - the doorbell says so” he revealed, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking down as he stepped back from the doorway.

So he man didn’t mistake him for his father … that was good. Damien assumed they hadn’t met yet … personally. The hood of his jacket hanging loose on his shoulders, Damien didn’t make a secret out of his origin, bat ears well visible, just tail and wings covered by clothing.

Bahadir followed Damien´s glance to the shield and rolled his eyes. Sure, his name stood there, how could he forget? Turning back to Dae, the elf looked him over. “Right, Bahadir Wintergreen,” he said and repeated again, “Yes, I´m friends with Amelia. And you seem to know her as well.” It was strange. Hadn´t Amelia mentioned, that she barely had friends? Dae must be despite one. And there was something familar. Bahadir wondered, if he was related to Bruce, the bat-like man he had met only a few time ago.

“I do” Damien affirmed, taking in Bahadir’s appearace. “But I do not know you… Which is strange. May I come in side for a moment?” he asked, not eager to talk about this here.

Bahadir, hen. Strange name. One he would remember, had he heard of it before. Something about this was strange … very, so.

Bahadir tilted his head. The man seemed to harmless. Harmless approximately. The elf nodded at Dae and stepped aside and opened the door a bit more, to welcome him in.

“You can leave your jacket here at the hallstand. My landlady went out to play bridge with her friends and won´t be back so soon. So we can talk without ruffle or excitement. Let´s go to the living room…this way.” Bahadir pointed to a door at the end of the hall.

“Nice of you” Damien had to say. He wasn’t quite sure yet whether or not he liked that on Bahadir. Coming inside, he stripped off his jacket, glad he could stretch his wings. When he was little, they didn’t bother him too much … Now, though, it got bothersome to hide them all the time. “There.” The possibility to hang up his jacket all by his self seemingly not even crossing his mind, he reached the jacket to Bahadir and walked down the hallway while he took in the surroundings.

Bahadir glanced at Dae´s wings. There was something familar and now the elf knew of who the visitor remind him of. But he would ask him later about the circumstances.

Bahadir took the jacket without any comment. He was too polite to let his guest hang up his jacket by himslef. Then he opened the door to the living room and lead Dae in. ”Take a seat, please,” Bahadir said and offered, “Coffee or tea?”

Oh god, he landed in an old people’s home. Dae walked into the room, taking a look around and studying the pictures hanging on the walls.

“Uuum … Water, please” he said, seemingly absent-minded.

“Alright,” Bahadir said and rubbed his hands. He was kind of glad, that he didn´t have to prepare coffee or tea, because his creations always went way too strong and bitter. He just hadn´t a feeling for how much to use and how long to brew. That was also the reason, why the elf did his best to avoid making potions by himself and bought them instead….they always turned out to be a big failure…Same with cooking, which he never really tried because of the same reason.

“I´ll be right back. Just a second….Uhhh, fizzy water, medium or …still…pure,…I mean,” Bahadir knew that a lot of people prefered different kinds of water. He himself the fizzy version, his landlady still, but they had medium in the kitchen as well….And the elf remembered, that there were some snacks in the cupboard…

Bahadir left Dae alone in the plushy, old-fashioned living room and rushed to the kitchen. If he had known about Dae´s perceptions about old people´s homes, he would have chuckled and kind of agreed, though his landlady´s taste of interior concured with his own. But fact was, that the elf was even older than his landlady though he didn´t look like and was considered as still young among his own people.

After Bahadir had found everything, he went back to the living-room, a bit scared, that his visitor might have touch or made things dirty. The living-room was kind of a sanctuary for his landlady. She would freak out completely, if something might have gotten damaged there….Well, old ladies….

But by the time Bahadir was back, Dae actually took seat on one of the armchairs, waiting for Bahadir to return.

“Thank you” he said, finding some of his manners back as he reached for the water.

Bahadir returned and placed a carafe filled with water and an old fashioned art nouveau chalices made of heavy carved lead chrystal glass on the table. He poured water in both and handed one to Dae.

“Please be careful with the chalice, it´s ancient. Russian from the era of the last tsar. They were owned by the tsar himself as far as I heard. Would be a pity, if they got damaged,” Bahadir said and watched Dae taking the chalice.

Dae looked suspicious from the chalice back to Bahadir. Simple glass had been enough for him … but anyway. “I’ll take care” he promised, drinking from it first before he raised it higher up to study the object.

Tsar himself, huh … Oh, such a shame he gave up on stealing …

Bahadir tilted his head and poured water into the other chalice. The elf lifted it up and looked at Dae.

“Cheers,” he said and took a deep sip. The elf swallowed the water and put the glass back down on the table.

Dear God, where did he end up here? “Thank you” Dae said, not putting his the chalice back on the table, but keeping it in his hands. He adjusted his wings behind him so could sit somewhat comfortably in the armchair, and began to talk.

“So … You know Amelia” Dae repeated, coming back to the reason for his visit.

“I do,” Bahadir glanced suspiciously at Dae, “Why do you want to know this and where did you met her?” The elf folded his hands into his lap and waited for his reply?

Dae did not know that he couln’t lie from here on out, but he actually didn’t intend to. For now. “Because I know Amelia. I knew her for years, I … grew up with her.” Or would do so, in this time-line, at least. “But I do not know you. And that is … strange.” To put it mildly. He tried to skip the time travel part for now, not wanting things so be overly complicated. Also, to not make this universe implode.

Surprised, the elf looked up. The boy wasn´t able to lie anymore, thanks to the chalice that had already been pretty usefull for the tsar back then. What did Dae just mentioned? Growing up with Amelia. The elf suddenly noticed, that she had never told him about her family. As if this simply wasn´t important for her anymore. …Probably it wasn´t.

“Excuse me, you grew up with Amelia? She never told me about you,” Bahadir said and took another sip from the chalice, “are you something like siblings?” Of course, that was unbelievable, too. But who knew.

“We’re strangers” Dae said right away, not even getting yet he didn’t say ‘friends’, like he meant to. “I knew her since I was … ” he reached out, trying to guess how tall his 10 year old self was and show Bahadir the height he had. “… ten, I think. But I’m not important. The question is not, who am I, the question is, who are you? And what’s your deal with Amelia?” he returned the question.

“Strangers? You mean no siblings. Not part of the same family,” Bahadir kept on asking and looked Dae up and down, “I doubted a family connection anyways, to be honest."

The next question baffled Bahadir a bit. What actually did the stranger want from him? And why was he so interested in his relation to Amelia? He needed to find out.

"Well, Amelia and me are friends,” Bahadir said and faint but sad smile appeared on his lips, “Just friends. Nothing more. We spend a lot of time together. I take care of her the best I can.”

‘Then why stopped you to’ Damien thought, but kept that to himself. He looked at Bahadir as if that mystery would solve itself after doing so long enough, but shrugged it off, eventually. Some friend he didn’t know about. Maybe he wasn’t too important … but he won’t take any chances. Besides, not that he had anything better to do in his free time at the moment than annoy random strangers.

“So, I see.” He took another sip of water. He didn’t intend that they’d be something else than friends, so Bahadir pointing that out did not get missed.

“She used to be with my dad, but that was before I met her, for the most part at least.” Someone else who never mentioned someone called Bahadir, now that he thought about it.

Bahadir glanced at Dae when he heard him mentioning Bruce’s name.

“I know that,” he said and smirked, “Your father threatened me to throw me off Metro Tower because he thought, I would do Amelia any harm. I guess he thought I was seeking after hurting Amelia."

The elf shifted his position and folded his hands. “And you? Are you here to threat me as well?”

Dae shook his head at that. "Nah” he denied. “I don’t treat her like a little girl. I’m here to figure something out - and because I love her.” Dae coughed once he catched what he’d said, trying to cover it. He meant to say ‘is all’, but that was not quite what left his mouth.

“Sorry, I meant I love her. Love her. Love - ” What… the… ever loving fuck? Was that some kind of Magic Anon? Why did it have to hit now, all of a sudden?

Bahadir looked at Dae and remained silent for a while. Dae wasn´t able to lie. A result of the chalices. They were magic and made the person who drank from them telling the truth. That was helf the battle during conferences or even questionings for a ruler like the tsar.

Did the young man just say that he loved Amelia? Bahadir felt a slight sudden stab in his guts. A small sighn of jealousy? Or was it completely harmless. Love…like love between …well siblings? Familistic love? He needed to find out.

Bahadir cleared his throat. The elf was aware, that if it came to questions from Dae´s side, he was forced to say the truth as well. But at the moment, he was still in the position of the questioner.

“And what are you trying to figure out?” Bahadir wanted to know and tried hard not to let his voice tremble.

Dae rubbed his forehead. Okay, what now … He had to find out what kind of magic he was under. Maybe he should come back later ….

Bahadir was quiet, but continued then as if nothing strange happened. Either he was used to strange behaviour like he seemed tostrange people… or … something else.

Should he trust Bahadir? Dae looked at the older man for a moment, and continued their conversation, playing along. “I’m one of the good guys. I try to undo something awful. And for that, I need to figure out who she’s in contact with. I don’t have … the full picture just yet. Would you tell me some things?” he asked, turning the tables.

“If you say this?” Bahadir chuckled. Dae was a good guy, he couldn´t lie…at least some kind of a good guy…probably with some mistakes though. Despite the elf himself was still not sure, if he could trust the young man. But they need to continue to clear everything.

Since Bahadir had drank himself from one of the goblets, he had no other choice to tell him the truth as well. And now it was the elf´s turn to answer questions.

“Well, I guess, undoing these aweful things is very important to you,” Bahadir looked up and smiled, “Feel free to ask me about what you want to know.”

It was relieving Bahadir cooperated. “Indeed” Dae affirmed. Not thirsty anymore, he put the chalice back on the table and leaned further to Bahadir, arms folded in his lap. “First of all, how did you meet?”

“How I met Amelia?” Bahadir looked up. That was kind of harmless. “Well, we literally ran into each other. It was late at night, midnight, when I was on my home from…an observation of an object. Amelia was on her way in the city, in her ghostly form. I ran right through her just before she turned into her living form. Wasn´t very comfortable…this frostiness… She wanted to buy something to drink and we agreed to keep each other´s company. We had a drink, danced tango and later, we watched some movies at my place.” He couldn´t help but knitting his eyebrows slightly wistfully at the memory and hoped, that Dae hadn´t noticed.

Everything sounded so innocent. And it was the truth. Bahadir had no other choice to tell the truth as well. And on the other hand there was no reason for the elf, to provoke Dae with invented stories even if Bahadir hadn´t drank from the goblet.

“Anything else?” Bahadir wanted to know and smiled bravely.

Dae sighed and leaned back in the amchair. His small wings curled over his shoulders automatically. Innocent, was what he thought, too. He knew best she could be a little … clingy, at times.

“You’ve been dating?” he tried, drumming with his fingers over the armrest.

Bahadir looked nervously to the left and to the right. “Hmmm, …kind of,” he admitted, “Well, we haven´t gone out so far, not to clubs and restaurants or so. We just met for several times. She visited me and I visited her at our places and …talked and spend time together. I …comforted her, when she was down,”

Bahadir fiddled nervously with his fingers. “And if you want to know if we had sex? We hadn´t. …I can tell you, that she wanted to sleep with me and tried to seduce me …but I didn´t want….I had reasons for it. Not because I don´t find her attractive. Not at all. She´s so beautiful….,” the elf looked away, a faint, dreamily smile appeared on his lips but then his face expression went slightly melancholy again and he shook his head, “I´m a fool, I should have done it,” he said bitterly and paused for a while. Then he continued, “I haven´t met her for a while….I don´t know, but I´m afraid she doesn´t want to see me anymore because of this…I don´t know…I may be wrong ….I have no idea.”

He knew Amelia just broke up with his dad, so dating someone new was rather unexpected until it turned out rather … undating. At the question if he wanted to know if they had sex, Dae raised his hand defensively - too much information. But Bahadir aleady talked on and well … it was good to get all the details, in a way. Dae sighed. Slightly emarassed, he listened to what Bahadir had to say.

“You’re lovesick” he said, matter of fact, his head resting on his elbow by ow. It was more than obvious. He’d have to talk to Amelia to find out more. Didn’t she feel like that for Bahadir in return? And was that the reason they stopped seeing each other? “Sorry to waste your time. That would be all.” Dae nodded and got up from his seat.

Bahadir knitted his eyebrows. He still didn´t know exactely what kind of relationship Dae and Amelia had. The young man had said, that he loved her….and Bahadir had thought, that it was important to Dae to know, who else was there beside his father. And yes. The elf had admit, that he had grown feeling s for Amelia. But it seemed as if it was only one-sided.

The elf looked surprised up when he heard Dae´s comment. The young man had hit the nail on the head. He was indeed. And he felt kind of helpless because of this.

“I am,” Bahadir admitted quietly, “I love her. I can´t help it.” For a moment he went silent, “It seems as if Amelia is loved by many people and sometimes I have the feeling, she has no idea how much she´s loved….Or it scares her."

Looking up again at Dae, when he said his las words, the elf stroked his hair back on his shoulders and got up as well. “Was it that, what you wanted to find out?” he wanted to know and bit his lip, “Well, then….Would you do me a favour? Would you tell Amelia, that I miss her? And that I respect her wishes and needs. That´s all.” Bahadir starighten up himslef and reached out his his hand. “And may I ask you a last question before you go? What did you mean with that you love her, too?”

"Well, I didn’t mean it like that. Just that I love her, too” - and again, the fact that he couldn’t lie hit. How annoying. He sticked out his tongue as if he tasted something bad. Magic Anon, definitely. He sighed. “You do me a favour? Do tell her yourself. I’m no phoneline and I’ll be here for just so long. Get your stuff together by yourself. I’m no relyable guy” he excused himself. He’d probably tell her, but Bahadir didn’t have to know. Better to improve his ability to handle things himself.

In no rush, Dae waited for Bahadir to escort him outside.

Bahadir huffed about Dae´s seemingly rude comment. But then he realized, that he was right. He couldn´t demand this from the young man so he smiled and nodded. “The just say hello from me to her if that´s ok….or no. Say nothing at all. You´re right, that´s my issue and I don´t want to drag you into my stuff. It´s ok.”

Still a bit puzzled, the elf acompanied Dae to the door and opened it. Again, the elf reached out his hand and nodded at the young man.

“Goodbye…or shall I say Farewell?”

“We’ll see about that” Dae said, taking a step outside, before he made a turn to face Bahadir again. He seemed to be an okay fellow. “You give me my jacket?” he asked, reaching out his hand.

“Oh, sure. Sorry, I forgot,” Bahadir went back to the hall and got Dae´s jacket. Back at the door, he handed it to Dae and nodded. The young man seemed to be ok and he had no worries about him, despite he wanted to know more about the relationship between him and Amelia. The elf would ask her about Dae, if they´d meet again, which he wasn´t sure about.

The elf leaned at the doorframe, still a bit puzzled. The goblets hadn´t been a real help this time. He hoped, to see the young man again so that everything would get clearer. But not this time. This time Dae left and let a lot of questions open.

“Goodbye Dae. Good luck,” Bahadir said and looked at the young man again.

“Thank you. Will need it” he said, still under the goblet’s curse. He took his jacket from Bahadir and threw it over his shoulders, just wanting to cover his wings from the public. His tail, he did not care much about, but his wings … something else. Call it a tick.

“Goodbye. Bahadir.” With that, Dae turned, and walked away. He just hoped that M!A would wear off soon …

#Dae RP #Dae and Bahadir RP

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