#Love is a powerful seasoning though. A meal with people you care about tastes so much better than a meal alone. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ddaehyeon · 4 years ago

Text

kalopsia; s. wb + reader + k. ty

pairing: seo woobin + reader + kim taeyoung

genre: angst, fluff, hanahaki au

word count: 10.4k

warnings: blood, hospital visit, light cursing, mentions of sickness, death, anxiety, and alcohol/drinking

summary: in each passing day that you grew fonder of taeyoung, more petals would come out of your lips. your heart, a garden of the most beautiful flowers, only that it was also a reminder of your unrequited love. and with the withering petals, woobin can't bear to simply watch.

-- video teaser; story playlist; masterlist; taglist form 🥀

a/n: my longest fic so far! aaaa this is for a fic exchange with the amazing @arieswonjin. ilysm <3 i enjoyed writing this a lot and i hope we can do more exchanges in the future! also, special thanks to @starrycrvty who helped me with the editing process and cheered me up while i was losing a braincell in the development of the scenes. you’re awesome and ily. <3

hope you will enjoy this ride. send me feedback through my ask/reblogs! i’ll appreciate it a lot :>

taglist: @bunnyseongmin

[ will edit this again in the future; ]

regardless of how the day was already ending, flowers seemed to not lose their vibrancy. whenever a gust of air blew by, it would dance along with the wind’s melody. you took a breath, the floral scent easing your body which was probably hugged with nothing but fatigue out of the ruthless writing sessions you gave yourself for hours.

a mélange of colors in the sky; the red hue engulfing the orange tint. it was funny how despite that war of colors, in the end, the sky will turn pitch-black with scattered twinkling stars.

sure, spring was one of the most beautiful seasons. but that small amount of fondness for the aforementioned season will never be enough to make you want to experience it for the whole year. life played favorites though— it was spring for you all year round.

you smiled to yourself, trying to shrug off the thought. good thing you weren’t in your room and the sidewalk wasn’t the quietest place to be at during this hour. it offered a space for distractions. most shops were closing, students were to go home from long hours of studying, workers with a weariness that yours couldn’t match walking to hubs for some sort of leisure activities. if you were in some kind of company work, you’d probably be in the same position. going for a drink or two with friends after working hours. but well, you weren’t.

instead of a bustling office requiring formal attire; you were usually in your pajamas, musing about life and writing about it through means of prose and poetry. a young published author who was known for having a great appreciation for flowers. in a few months, another book will be launched under your name. its spine holding all the papers inked by your love, not for flowers or anything else, but for a childhood friend who seemed to not have taken notice of the flower that began growing in your lungs— a rose.

reaching the convenience store, you contemplated which instant food would serve as your dinner tonight. ordered food seemed to have bored out your taste buds, a little change was needed. and to say, probably a more unhealthy choice. maybe a dosirak would do or a kimbap and peel sausage.

as you were to enter, a call of your name put your feet to a halt. you turned to look at the speaker. “oh hey, woobin?”

a weak smile graced his lips, opening the door for you. he spoke after the both of you had entered the store. “tired of ordered meals?”

“kind of,” you replied, a sigh punctuating your words. you walked up to the aisle of dosirak. the sight of it made you swiftly cross it out of your options. you wanted something else. “how about you?”

“craved for ice cream,” answered woobin who, unlike you, had made his mind in settling with a pint of almond ice cream.

grabbing some triangle kimbaps, you looked at him with a raised brow. “wouldn’t that harm your ever so majestic voice?”

if you made money through books, woobin earned his through singing. it ranged from covers to original song compositions. he was quite popular with all the ballad songs he covered that without a lie was a heart-melter. if home and serenity would be defined using a voice, woobin’s would be the perfect definition for it.

“not really.” a chuckle was heard from him as he watched you grab a cup of instant ramyun. “well, wouldn’t that harm your ever so wonderful brain?”

you shook your head but laughed at the remark. woobin had been your friend for quite a long time, probably one of the closest. light and playful banters seemed to have become a part of your usual talks.

walking towards the counter, you settled your items which the worker scanned quickly. the amount flashed by the small screen, and you pulled your wallet out to pay. woobin followed shortly.

“a healthy alternative after ice cream?” you asked, noticing a herbal medicine pouch being placed in his bag.

woobin hunched his shoulders up, and proceeded to go out of the store.

a soft breeze welcomed you as you stepped out. the sidewalk was no longer as busy as it was earlier and the sky was losing its colors bit by bit as if the flickering lights in the queued lampposts were sucking it all.

“so how is it coming out?” woobin asked as he walked beside you. your apartment and his were only a few blocks away. his apartment was inside a street, away from the main road filled with noises coming from horns and speeding cars, while yours was in a complex near the road. you liked watching people from up the balcony, it was like watching a film, only that everything that was happening was real and only the made-up dialogues of the strangers were sheer fiction.

“minor editings left,” you replied. “also, next week the possible art for the cover will be out. want to check it out with me?”

he didn’t reply right after as if he was mentally checking his schedule, weighing if he was free or not. though his answer indicated that the things he had to do had flexible deadlines. “sure, just tell me when.”

“i’ll call you once they message me about it.” a cough ended your sentence, you covered your mouth as you did so. something smooth touching your palm. it was happening… again.

“are you alright?” concern evident on woobin’s face, he went closer to you. his hand on your back, rubbing circles to ease your coughing.

but he was aware it would not be enough to stop it. a rub or any sort of medicine wouldn’t stop it. like how will those be enough to stop a flower from blooming in your lungs?

it was the reason why even though you admired the beauty of spring, you also disliked it.

flowers were in full bloom during spring. the way each petal was colored was pleasing to the eye. however, such beauty should have just stayed where they were supposed to be. on the ground, decorating the world with its vibrant color. it should only be there instead of clinging onto someone's lungs after failing to get their love returned.

hanahaki, a disease that causes someone to cough up flower petals when their love is one-sided.

there were different stages of it. at first, it was only a mere cough. something one would mistake for a regular cough. until petals come along with it on the next stage. followed by a mix of blood, acute chest pain, and shortness of breathing in the last.

two ways to resolve it. either undergo a surgery which will cost a fortune at the risk of wiping out not only your emotions but also the memory of all people you are close with or have your love reciprocated. inability to obtain any of the mentioned cures will result in the most unfortunate event. no more pain from the flower sprouting in your chest. no ache, coming from the bitter taste of being reminded every single night that your love wasn’t reciprocated— death.

“i’m alright.” it took quite a while before your coughing subsided. you were sure petals were already accumulated on your hand. bringing your hand down, you let go of the red petals. luckily, no blood. but you didn’t expect less. this disease had been giving you restless nights lately, worsening and worsening.

a sigh left woobin’s lips as he shook his head. “that’s not the look of someone alright for me.”

the rest of the walk was silent. woobin insisted on walking you home, to which you had no power to decline. even if you told him no, he still ended up doing so.

by the time you reached the front of your unit, night had already won the clash in the sky. the stars glimmering above at their triumph.

“don’t work up until late,” woobin reminded.

you smiled, wishing you could tell him that it wasn’t the writing that made you get less rest every evening. it was the rose that inhabited your lungs. “i will not.”

“here,” said woobin, handing you the bag of the things he bought earlier.

the ice cream was no longer of its same form as it was earlier. its mist soaked the insides of the plastic bag. “and why are you giving it to me?”

“just take it. you know in movies heartbroken people would eat ice cream as they mope around.”

the lighthearted remark made you laugh. woobin had his ways to make you feel better. “and what about the medicine?”

“you’re probably sad, but that won’t mean that you should not take care of yourself.” he was aware of your feelings for someone else. he was aware of the red roses in your chest. he was aware that your feelings weren’t reciprocated.

“makes sense.” you flashed him a smile, scrambling on your bag to take out one of the triangle kimbaps. the item tossed to his direction which he caught smoothly. “take that at least.”

“well, thank you?” he gazed at the food you gave him before returning the smile. “have a good night, y/n. call me if you need anything.”

you hummed as a response, watching woobin make his way to the stairs, descending afterward. another gust of wind passed by and you rushed to go inside. staring at the now melted ice cream, you shook your head. a laugh escaping your lips as you closed the door.

how long has it been? you thought.

collapsing on the bed, you stared at the ceiling. the coughing had already stopped, yet the burning pain in your chest remained.

what was the flower again?

a rose?

maybe the stabbing ache was caused by its thorns that came to hug your lungs. you sighed as if that would altogether pull out the suffocating sensation— of course, it wouldn’t. it would never.

a curt beep on your phone pulled you out of your cloudy thoughts, reaching for it to read the notification. a message from one of your friends which read,

it’s your debut book’s first anniversary today! congrats, y/n.

for a moment, your lips curled into a faint smile, so weak that it didn’t even last for a minute. sending a quick reply to show gratitude over the thought, you allowed yourself to drown over the same thoughts.

that book with inked poetry all meant to deliver a single message— your feelings for taeyoung. the words laced in each rhyme was a cover of the affection you had for him, and the petals you cough each night was his answer.

a childhood friend who you used to be neighbors with. he still lived under the comforts of his parents’ home, while you moved to live alone in an apartment, desperately seeking independence.

or maybe seeking for a way to not see his face every single day and be reminded that his favorite flower, a rose, had been blooming in your lungs.

the brightness taeyoung had never seemed to fade, his smile still carried sunlight of its own. a contagious one that would make anyone have the same smile (but maybe not as bright). his bubbliness was a comfort. whenever around him, the butterflies causing chaos in your stomach would make you forget about the evening ache he was subconsciously bringing.

taeyoung, ever since you were young, loved books and flowers. you preferred other things though, but somehow you found yourself conforming to what he liked. being the person you spent most of your time with, his interest became yours. whenever he would tell you about something he became inclined to, you would check it as quick, forcing yourself to like it. it was a repeated action that was implanted as a habit. in the process of trying to be his ideal person, your own identity was thrown away. a trap filled with nothing but thorns of his favorite flower.

shifting to your side, your eyes landed on the wall just above your working table. photographs of roses were stuck on it, along with verses other people might find painfully beautiful. you knew your words better though. its beauty was a mere delusion. hiding behind the pretty words were ugly cries— your reality.

another cough, a petal escaping from your lips. it danced in the air as it was freed, only to meet the cold floor of your room. with flowers blooming in the chest, you closed your eyes drifting to sleep. the pain no longer mattered as it was the usual sensation.

a soft instrumental had taken over your apartment. the sun was already up, its light filtering through the blinds. your potted plants were probably thankful for its generosity. you took a sip of your coffee, staring at the few words written in the new document reserved for a new manuscript. writing, or at least conceptualizing the main theme, of your next book was your top priority today. however, the continuous notifications coming from your close peers dragged you out of your bubble every single time.

with you celebrating the first anniversary of your debut book (which basically marked the day of your debut as a published writer), receiving messages was plain inevitable. your editor even asked if you’d be up for a drink later this night. an offer you turned down. silence and alone time this evening were everything you craved for.

putting your laptop on rest, you grabbed your own copy of withered roses, your book. it was silly how you decided to have perfectly blooming and lively roses as its cover when it contained the very title, your own withered roses hiding through beautiful verses.

flipping through the pages, you stopped on a certain poetry. undeniably, one of your favorites. it was one of the first poems that you wrote for this collection. grabbing a paper and a pen, you scribbled the words down, the same words still describing your situation perfectly. and maybe that was the reason why your condition was worsening.

you stuck the paper on the wall, just beside a photograph of a blue rose. for a moment, you stared at it, smiling at the words as if those were some kind of lost friends who rekindled with you. you smiled as if those were something that you should be smiling at.

three doorbells and a few knocks. a heavy sigh came out of your lips, tearing your eyes away from the poem. slow steps towards the door, the person on the other seemed rather impatient for the doorbell continuously made a sound. it was enough for another breath to escape the confines of your mouth.

swinging the door open, your eyes widened. the sight penetrating quickly to your senses and the sensation you hated the most overpowering you, your heartbeat loud. really loud. “taeyoung?”

for him to be able to give you the most wonderful feeling of warm cheeks and butterflies and still be able to poison you using his favorite flower lethal to your body, you wondered when it would end.

“it’s withered roses’ first anniversary!” his smile was a band-aid, too fleeting of a cure for you. he lifted a pot of cycnoches orchids, something that was probably from his parent’s flower shop. “here’s a gift for you.”

“thank you.” as he handed you the pot, you gave him enough space to enter your unit. placing it just beside the other plants you had, all coming from their shop, you turned to look at taeyoung. a pout appearing in your countenance. “you should have brought food.”

taeyoung scratched his head at your sudden words, a sheepish smile curving on his lips. “well, we can order.”

at the sight of a slightly flustered taeyoung, a string of laughter became your immediate response. “i was kidding.”

you went back to the couch to sit with taeyoung following you shortly. the music playing in your room had long ago stopped, something you only noticed after taeyoung came. after your awareness came to hug you once again.

his eyes wandered as if it was his first time in your unit. it was definitely not his first visit, to count how many times he’d been there was also impossible. just like how you frequented their flower shop, he was usually in your unit as well. maybe it was due to him being used to your company. childhood friends, former neighbors— inseparable, but in a manner that went nothing beyond romantic feelings. at least to his side.

glancing at him, you followed where his gaze was fixated on. it was focused on the wall that held photographs of roses and the poem you scribbled earlier from your book.

“wasn’t that the eighth poem in your book?” intrigued, he looked at you with a brow raised.

you didn't have to meet his gaze. a smile slowly crept out of your visage. it didn't hold an emotion though, more like a simple forced curve. "it is."

"i love it." it was a genuine remark, but somehow, instead of giving you a warm feeling, it did the opposite. standing up, he reached for the paper, detaching it from the wall. the words slipping out of his tongue as he read it out loud.

heat-haze; sunrays visible at the nighttime daydream under the cloud of deep distance built a sensation of unrequited affection innumerable actions-- satisfied, captured by mere existence. nevertheless, the heart was jinxed in a presence, a love, i cannot withdraw from.

as the final four lines were uttered, he looked at you in the eyes, a hint of gloom clouding his misty orbitals. he had the poem memorized, but it was only the words he had carved in his mind. the feelings sealed with it, unnoticed.

taeyoung was the reason why you began writing. a simple comment of his saying that you would make a good author and your words were all prettily laid out made you want to write.

or perhaps it was not the writing you were chasing for, rather the speaker who told you that he wished to see more of your writing.

for others, writing could be a form of escape. to be under a little spell that would pull someone out of their reality. you wished you were the same. you wished your writing wasn't your reality.

anywhere you go, you were surrounded by your reality. the potted plants you should not be taking care of if it wasn't for his interest in plants and flowers. the book that was published a year ago and the soon to be published one. the colors that accented your unit which he said was such a relaxing palette. the words in your head. the flower in your chest. it was the reality made out of nothing but the person you loved.

“wait.” taeyoung’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. he was peering over petals of red roses that were on your table.

it seemed like you forgot to clean it up earlier. well, you didn’t expect anyone to actually go to your house. such a realization was thought late.

“were you playing with roses?” taeyoung asked, frowning as he looked at it.

you’d consider that a stupid question, but taeyoung didn’t know a thing about your condition so you let it pass. there was no way in hell you’d tell him about it now. not yet. “yes.”

“so how was it?” the excitement and giddiness leaking in his tone as he plopped down next to you on the couch didn’t help. what was he even referring about? your hanahaki disease? what? as if hearing your question, he clarified his query, “does he love you?”

ah, the popular he loves me, he loves me not.

there was no need for that though, the petals you vomit each night was a clear answer. you smiled, leaning back to get seated more comfortably. “he doesn’t.”

the way those two words left your lips surprised you. no hint of hurt, sadness, or anything— it was laced with a calm tone as if retreating, surrendering, accepting. will it really be your fate?

taeyoung sighed, the smile he once had melting away. “don’t worry, it’s just a silly game anyway. the person you love probably loves you too.”

you turned to look at him. a mistake. kind eyes met yours, reassuring you of something you had already known for so long was false. there was no need to hang into that ray of hope when you were aware that it was not the case.

eyes glossy with the tears that never dared to fall, you offered him a tight-lipped smile. “thank you.”

he grinned, which you assumed was out of relief before he looked at your wall once again. “why use roses though? there are other flowers out there.”

“well, isn’t it the first flower you’d think of when you hear the word love?” you replied. “it means a lot more depending on its color, but in simple terms, it just means love and romance.”

“you seem to know a lot about it,” he remarked, not tearing his gaze away from the photograph. “why blue out of all colors?” he asked referring to the photograph you had on your wall.

“it stands for an impossible miracle.” a clear depiction of your situation. no word followed that sentence, and good thing taeyoung didn’t ask any further about why. maybe it was due to his perception that poetry writers had other symbolism hidden behind their verses, even when there was nothing and the message was just in front of their readers.

“roses are wonderful, aren’t they?”

not when they are blooming in your chest. not when its thorn embraces your lungs. not when it suffocates you. your thoughts were loud in your head. but you knew you can’t blame it for inhabiting your body. you can’t even have taeyoung blamed for it either. it was the universe’s fault for laying such a disease in humanity. “they truly are.”

“it’s my favorite,” taeyoung mused.

there was a smile that sat on your lips, a peck of gloom decorating its corners. “i know.”

how could you not when its petals were the ones that kept on coming out of your lips every evening?

a ringing coming from a device shattered the silence in your apartment. but this time, it wasn’t from yours. it was from taeyoung who was now about to leave your unit, his parents had called him to go and do his tasks in the flower shop. seemed like he had forgotten about it, considering that he’d been with you for almost an hour.

“take care and have fun for the rest of the day!” taeyoung ruffled your hair and left. his touch lingering.

your room suddenly felt empty. as if taeyoung had taken all the vibrancy it had after stepping out of it. taeyoung was your paradox— a home that housed nothing but emotions you shouldn’t regard as home, but you did. he was your home.

you coughed, a petal threatening to escape. the windpipe blocked, your chest tightening. a sorrowful smile was your only answer to the ache that was resurfacing. your gaze didn't falter, still locked on the photograph of the blue rose. to no one in particular, few words were whispered, “they are beautiful.”

“remind me again why i’m here with you?” woobin looked at the almost empty store; sleepwears displayed from the first showcase up to the last rack. it was a week after the first anniversary of your book, things had seemed to tranquil much more.

shopping during the working hours on weekdays was certainly one of the best things. the absence of people led to different advantages like having no long queue to the cashier, no people to deal with as you browse the clothes, and overall just serene shopping.

you didn’t mind it when a salesperson would go and ask you about what type or design you were looking for, they were probably getting bored having to stand for a long time and entertain just a few passing potential customers. the mall’s theme song was playing from a distant speaker, almost inaudible and muffled by the sweet piano music playing in the shop itself. keeping it up to the theme of the shop, if there was a bed in there, you’d probably be brought to sleep right after. something you weren’t sure to consider as a good aspect or bad aspect of the clothing store.

“well, you just finished posting another wonderful cover which hit a hundred thousand views in an hour, we must celebrate, right?” you replied as you picked up a pair of pastel plaid pajamas, checking the fabric quality to which you quickly marked as spandex.

woobin reached for the design next to what you picked up, eyeing it with less interest than you had. “but why are we buying pajamas?”

“because i need it.” a chuckle was heard from you after he let go of a sigh at your words. you stepped closer to him, peering over his shoulder to check the design he was checking.

“by the way,” he began, not wanting to ask more as he was aware of your love for comfortable clothes (pajamas being the top of it along with sweaters and hoodies). “i’m applying for a job in this pharmaceutical company located in another town as a medicinal chemist.”

“oh? the one you mentioned before?” you watched him go through another set of sleepwear.

it was a sudden reminder that before being known as the seo woobin who sang various songs in innumerable gigs and had built a name in the music side of youtube, he was the seo woobin who excelled in his major, organic chemistry. for years of him not applying for an actual job as a chemist anywhere and pursuing his dream career, that fact was swept out of your mind.

you met woobin in one of your electives— a chemistry class that you would probably have to retake only if he didn’t help you out. the limited slots in language classes were the ones you put your blame on, but it wasn’t completely that bad. after all, you had ended up making a good friend in the class you despised the most.

“are you going to quit singing?” worry was painted all over your face which earned a soft amused laughter from woobin. you adore his singing a lot, the comfort his mellifluous voice could bring was distinct, something you’d grown ever so fond of.

“you know, i just want to put my degree into proper use.” woobin smiled reassuringly as he tossed you a set of pajamas with the design he guessed was what you were searching for, the one with doodled roses decorating it from bottom to the top. “kind of had the urge to get a secured job.”

the clothing dumped to you went unnoticed as you fired off another question. “what about the album deal? i thought you already had one. what’s going to happen with that?”

“i will still sing.” there was no need to doubt woobin’s calm tone as he said those words. “don’t worry about it. i love singing and i’ll not stop doing it.”

“make sure to.” you walked towards another rack, finally noticing the pajamas woobin had thrown in your way earlier. staring at it for a moment, the initial thoughts about the flower easily came into your head. “this one’s cute. i’ll take it.”

unconvinced, woobin raised a brow at you. “are you sure you found it cute or there’s another reason behind you liking it?”

the other reason he was pertaining to was clear, enough to become a slap rather than a mere reminder. do you really like it or do you simply want the person you like to notice you for having something close to their favorite thing?

feeling lost to your own set of likes seemed like a normal thing. mind plagued with taeyoung’s interests that it mattered more than yours. at this point, you weren’t sure if you were doing it for him to like you back and finally get the fuzzy feeling of being loved back or you were simply desperate to stop the flowers from budding in your chest.

“i like it,” you answered after a long while of spacing out. you even nodded your head as if trying to convince yourself from a statement you weren’t sure whether to label as a lie or a truth.

“if you say so.” an indistinct sigh came across woobin, subtly shaking his head in disbelief. he didn’t go deeper into the topic though, instead uttered some words that made a bright smile grace your lips. “go and choose whichever you want. it’s on me today.”

wearing the new pair of a loose shirt and pajama, you gazed at your reflection. a curve spotted on your lips, satisfied with the new purchase. demeanor dropping as a familiar sensation crawled up to your senses. the calm night was taken aback when your chest began tightening. a petal quickly rising, stuck on your throat afterward as you tried to hold it in. however, it was a failed attempt. the urge strong that you had to run towards the bathroom to release all the petals of the vivid red rose that nurtured in your body, watered with nothing but unreturned affection.

just like any other night, the sickness came to do its visit. its terrible reminder playing in your mind. the blood that mingled with the petals was hard to discern as they were colored in the same hue; it tasted different though.

a ringing in your head as your vision started to blur, not noticing how tears had formed in your eyes as the pain emerged to be stronger than it usually was. the intensifying ache wasn’t the only one that made your tears fall. all your unnoticed efforts, regardless of how big they were, were the ones that brought salty tears. your knees buckled, allowing you to meet the ground unceremoniously. it was getting harder to breathe and the cold bathroom tiles were your only company.

it was a twisted melody. in each cough, petals would escape. it didn’t even take a long time for you to be surrounded by a sea of red petals. what a sickening view, you thought. how do people regard roses as something so beautiful?

a memory.

“dear, taeyoung is outside, waiting for you.” a few knocks on the door accompanied your mother’s call.

it was a hot summer, the sun giving no mercy with its ray as if angry with how it was neglected during the cold seasons. with a few remaining days before the start of a new quarter, you probably had spent most of your time in your room. oftentimes will you go out only at the call of a childhood friend.

“y/n.” as if stepping out of your thoughts, taeyoung had your name wrapped by his cheerful voice. “mom made homemade ice cream. come on, get out of your room already.”

if your own mother wasn’t able to pull you out of your room, taeyoung was. your feet quick to move as you checked on your reflection by the mirror, practicing a smile and some silent dialogues. all to which you weren’t really able to show when you opened the door. a faint blush crept on your cheeks as soon as your gaze landed on the bright smile taeyoung had on his own. butterflies flew free in your stomach, heart pounding.

maybe it was the way taeyoung would talk to you with an unmatched enthusiasm even if your words make no sense. maybe it was because of the vibrancy he had all around him that simply could bring comfort to anyone he was with. maybe it was due to the fact that he had been with you since you were a kid.

or maybe it was just because he was him, kim taeyoung, that your crush began budding as a love. and as soon as it did, his favorite flower, a rose, was caught in your lungs during middle school.

occupied by the sensation, your mind didn’t attend to the continuous doorbells ringing in your apartment. in a few, the door was opened, rushed footsteps along with your name uttered in sheer concern echoed in your unit. with the air knocked out by the relentless flower, from red your vision turned pitch black.

when dusk fell, woobin was already in the hospital with a drink in his hand, which was meant to be given to you. he’d been going back and forth to the hospital and his apartment to bring you food and some other items you needed.

the scene he witnessed last night was still fresh in his mind, the panic lingering. on your cold bathroom floor, you laid unconscious with petals of roses surrounding your figure. he was swift to get help, which ended up with you having to stay for almost a day in the lonely ward. your room making you feel sicker.

“oh, you’re back?” serim, the head nurse and a close friend of woobin, said as he walked towards the other.

woobin nodded, tracing the track he’d been stepping into since this morning. it was as if he could easily go to your room even with eyes closed. serim followed from behind and before he could say a word, woobin had already found your room empty. finally, he offered the nurse attention. “where’s y/n? already discharged?”

“yes, they just went to talk with their doctor for a few more reminders.” serim shook his head disapprovingly. “they should stay longer, but they seem like a very busy person.”

“y/n should just follow their doctor.” a sigh punctuated woobin’s sentence.

“and you should too,” said serim.

woobin began walking his way back to the nurse station reception to wait for you. “my case is different.”

“you’re slowly losing your voice because of your own sickness.” serim’s sigh was way heavier than woobin’s, his orbitals painted with worry. being one of woobin’s closest friends, he knew all about it. “orchids are blooming in your lungs, how are you different?”

a glare was darted to serim’s direction which became woobin’s sole reply since they both saw you approaching them. serim hunched his shoulders up, shaking his head once again before walking away.

“thank you for taking care of me,” you told woobin who handed you the drink he bought outside.

“of course,” woobin said, leading the way out.

there weren't a lot of people in the lobby. only a few were there, either the nurses turning for their night shifts or the relatives of those people staying in the hospital for the night.

“it’s getting worse, isn’t it?” woobin’s words slowed down your pace, your head turned to him as he continued. “shouldn’t you start trying to move on and finding someone who can actually love you back?”

“what do you mean?”

woobin shrugged. “it seems like it’s the only way for you to be properly healed.”

yes, moving on and falling for someone else was a considered cure as well. a change of feelings could remove the flower naturally. but doing so was easier said than done.

a sad smile became evident on your brim. how could you do that? you thought. “i can’t just fall in love with someone like it’s nothing, woobin.”

“give me a chance then.”

woobin’s words were powerful enough to make your feet stop from moving, to catch your breath and make it halt. it can’t be. you looked at him confused, wishing that you misunderstood what he said. you wished that it would be his regular sentences as he tried to make you feel better. you wished what you were thinking was a mere thought, an idea, a false gut feeling. “woobin?”

it was a question that didn’t need any elaboration. the simple call of his name with such perplexed tone was enough as a query. the same gloomy smile on his lips matched what you had earlier, accompanied by his faint chuckles. “yes,” to your horror, he confirmed. he let go of a breath, something that gave him a boost to finally utter the words he’d been meaning to say. “i’m in love with you and all i want is for the flowers in your chest to stop blossoming.”

“that means…”

to experience the same thing you had been experiencing. to give someone the same taste of your suffering. to plant a flower in someone’s chest and water it every day as you were failing to return their provided affection. it was something you didn’t wish to do, an extremely unfavorable idea which reminded you of how the universe had been unfair from the very start.

“yes, and they aren’t beautiful.” a tight-lipped smile became apparent on his countenance as he stared at the glass doors of the hospital. a few more steps and both of you will be out of the place the two of you frequented on different days, but for the same means— a fleeting cure for the ache caused by hanahaki. “the pain we’re both carrying out of unrequited love. it isn’t beautiful, y/n.”

a lump in your throat stopped any possible reply from coming out of your lips. you wanted to apologize, but an apology from taeyoung wasn’t the thing you’d want to hear from him after you confess and you assumed such wouldn’t give comfort to woobin as well. an apology wouldn’t be enough when you were already striping away someone with their lives.

rather untimely, the door opened, revealing taeyoung. he was holding a basket of flowers, probably for some kind of delivery. with hinted concern, he walked towards you and woobin. “what are you doing here?”

“stomach ache.” regardless of your mangled thoughts, it was a surprise that you were able to respond as soon. it was as if such sickness was a practiced lie.

“is that so?” taeyoung looked at woobin to confirm and the older just nodded not wanting to speak more. he turned to you, his worry dropping a few levels, but was still obvious. “let me just bring this flower to a friend and i’ll walk you home. will that be alright?”

you looked at woobin, silently asking if he would be okay with that. it was such a silly act, of course, he would be against it. but what can he do? just like him, the person you had grown fond of hasn't reciprocated your feelings yet. both of you probably wishing the same thing— for the flowers to wither and be gone. for the restless nights to end. to be loved back. the only difference was woobin was so focused on you that he had forgotten about his condition which was worsening at the same rate as yours.

he patted your shoulder. “sure, i need to head somewhere else anyway. get home safely?”

“i will, you too, woobin.” you gave woobin a smile, guilt sitting in your stomach which was continuously twisting.

woobin weakly mirrored the feature before turning his back to you and taeyoung. as he was stepping out of the establishment, he looked at the twinkling stars, hoping this night would be kinder. but he was certain he’d be the one coughing out orchids tonight, probably worse than your roses.

the stars from above watched you and taeyoung walk on the now empty sidewalk. even without the illumination coming from the lampposts, it was all so bright. all in gratitude for the moon which served as a ball of shining light in the clear night sky.

"you've been sick since we were kids, but you never told me what with." taeyoung broke the silence, uncertain if he should go further. “was it really because of stomach ache earlier?”

a chill ran down your spine, making you inwardly shiver. that wasn’t the talk you were so ready to face. and after what happened last night, you can’t simply bring another lie. however, telling taeyoung everything wasn’t something you planned to do as well. afraid that rejection would become the final straw.

taeyoung stopped dead on his tracks, looking at you with nothing but sheer concern. “is there anything bothering you?”

you gave him a smile which was obviously forced. “don’t worry about it.” you urged him to continue to walk and he did, but just as you thought that you were already safe from his questions, he asked another.

“it’s not a stomach ache wasn’t it?” hands on his back, his gaze was fixated on the road. “what was it, y/n?”

maybe it was time to tell taeyoung about it? maybe— “hanahaki.” the words subconsciously slipped out of your tongue.

“what?” surprised by the mention of the disease, his eyes were wide when he whipped his head to your direction. “you mean… your love is unrequited?”

taeyoung was quick to catch the gist of the disease. it was pretty much a popular sickness that had probably made some of his other friends suffer. the only thing he wasn’t quick to get was… who your feelings were for.

“woobin doesn’t like you back?” he asked, snapping you out of your thoughts which was purely of practicing the possible explanations if he ended up recognizing your feelings for him. and apparently, he didn’t.

it was your turn to shoot him a look. “what?”

“don’t you like woobin?” he averted his gaze and it trailed back to the road. “i mean the two of you seem like really close friends and you’re together most of the time.”

you didn’t know whether you should be relieved or not. but since you were still unprepared to offer any explanation, you just went with the flow. a bitter smile coming to your lips. your head had his name on your sentence, regardless of how you uttered another man’s name. “yes, i like woobin. but it seems like he doesn’t feel the same way.”

“maybe you should… try moving on?”

the way taeyoung suggested the same thing made you laugh, confusing the person beside you. to move on, huh? was that what the universe wanted you to do? to move on? a smile lingered on your visage, as you stepped on the stairs with taeyoung following you behind. it was just funny how he thought you were in love with woobin, when in fact the flower he adored the most was living in your lungs. that he was the person you were in love with, not any other person.

stopping at the front step, the worry that sat on his orbitals didn’t waver. the look asking if you’d be alright tonight— you already knew the answer. “take care, okay? if you need anything, just call me. good night.”

as soon as you closed the door, it began. the coughing that seemingly just waited for you to step into your unit came rushing. a petal waving in the air before meeting the ground. “i need your love, taeyoung. i badly need it.”

the smell of freshly done pancakes wafted up to your bed, a few noises coming from the kitchen followed. it was a gentle alarm that pushed you to wake up and get out of your bed. too groggy, a foot still on the dream you were having, you didn’t think that whoever was in the kitchen could be a thief or anything. well, who in their proper mind would cook food for the owner of the house if they were only to snatch things after?

a few days ago, you had an extreme case of hanahaki, something that led you to stay in the hospital overnight. after that, it had seemed to subside or at least be more gentle during the evening, resulting in more hours of sleep.

“woobin?” you called his name as you watched him turn off the stove, placing the fluffy pancakes onto a plate. there was already a hot chocolate ready for you to drink. you didn’t even question how he got inside. probably jungmo, the landowner, gave him the code to your room. oh, talk about privacy.

his smile was as warm as the morning sunrays. “good morning.” his voice was a little hoarse, normally you wouldn’t really pay attention to that. when he recorded songs too much in a day, he’d end up with such. but now that you knew he was experiencing hanahaki, a question hung in your head. was it because of the coughing? your thoughts dropped at the sound of his voice, still mellow regardless. “i’ve cooked you breakfast.”

“don’t you have work to do?” you asked, remembering how during the past days he’d been telling you about his new work— the slot in that pharmaceutical company as a medicinal chemist. you dragged a chair before occupying it, looking at him as he placed all the things he used in the sink. a curve became visible on your lips as your eyes fell to what he prepared. it was just pancakes, but it was woobin’s pancakes. he was such an amazing cook, you could vouch for that. “thank you by the way.”

“work? ah yeah.” he took the seat adjacent to yours, a cup of coffee in his hands. he grinned at you and you swore, your heart was in ultimate chaos when you heard his next words. “i took on the job of taking care of you for free starting today.”

sunlight filtered through the glass door of the flower shop, highlighting the wide variety of spring flowers. ranunculus, tulips, and calla lilies were all displayed along with other non-seasonal plants. there weren't a lot of customers coming, given that there were flowers available to be picked up in some public gardens. regardless, there were still a few who would come and get flowers arranged for some special occasions. but then again, it was just morning. it was rather too early to judge the possible count of customers later.

“jungmo’s coughing out petals now,” allen, one of the workers in the flower shop. said.

taeyoung looked at him, pausing his actions of tying a yellow ribbon in the bouquet of tulips. with a brow raised, he asked, “hanahaki?”

putting the freshly done arrangement of peonies, allen tapped on the counter which called the attention of the delivery man. he pointed out the card which contained the address and watched the other go out to deliver the item. dragging a stool to sit on, he stretched his arms. “seems to be. he’s coughing out petals of his crush’s favorite flower, crocus. i don’t think it’s a mere crush now though.”

“oh, so the flower that blooms in a body experiencing hanahaki would be the favorite flower of the person they like?” taeyoung asked as he finished the bouquet he was working on. he retrieved stems of roses and cut them nicely, removing the thorns and excess leaves.

“yes,” allen replied. “you like roses right?”

taeyoung only nodded, a memory alighting in his head. it can’t be—

“that means the person who likes you, but ends up with a one-sided love would end up having roses in their chest,” allen continued, causing taeyoung’s hand to stop from moving. the younger’s eyes fixated on the collection of red roses in his hands.

“it’s my favorite,” taeyoung mused.

there was a smile that sat on your lips, a peck of gloom decorating its corners. “i know.”

the flower growing in your chest was his favorite flower, roses?

it was him all this time?

right at that moment, there was one thing taeyoung would want to address himself as. an idiot. realizations came crashing to him like a powerful wave that held no mercy. it was ice cold, his body freezing at each thought that his mind welcomed.

the petals he found on your desk weren't there because of a silly game of he loves me, he loves me not. it was the petals you coughed out and forgot to clean.

“are you okay?” allen asked, momentarily snapping taeyoung out of his daze.

the twisting on taeyoung stomach was unbearable. his heart racing not with flutters, but rather with anxious thoughts. he was the cause of your pain?

with an almost inaudible voice, taeyoung let out of his horror. “y/n likes me.”

continuous taps on the keyboard, words appearing on the screen only for the flow to stop with punctuation. in sync, the doorbell rang. you no longer wondered who it was. it had always been him.

you stood up and shuffled towards the door, opening it before welcoming the male with a warm curve in your face. “it’s lunch already?”

woobin nodded, handing you a bag of still hot dishes he cooked probably not more than an hour ago. he followed you as you made your way to the dining area. when the male said he’d be taking care of you starting that specific breakfast, he stuck to his words, visiting you almost every day. the only exception was when he had to meet a producer. his own album was in the process of being finalized.

you placed the bag down and woobin walked towards your cupboard. where to find the things was already memorized. it was as if he was living in the very unit.

“so how’s your morning?” he asked as he placed two plates on the table.

“woke up a bit late, but i was able to finish the last set of poetry i’ve been meaning to write!” the spark in your eyes was a lot brighter than the past days. it was easily contagious as woobin found himself having the same amount of glee. “i’ll print the last parts and let you read, wait.”

woobin shook his head, a smile crossing his brim as he watched you go to your workspace to do what you said. as he finished setting up your lunch, he took a seat and waited for you. just like you, woobin was experiencing fewer symptoms. his voice was no longer that raspy and he was able to post new song covers almost every week regardless of his current busy schedule with other recordings.

“here!” with unwavering enthusiasm, you extended your hand for him to reach the printed papers. you sat on the seat across him, gazing at the food which only made your mouth water. eyes already feeding off the sight of the meat dishes.

“this is quite interesting,” woobin remarked. “is this the last one?”

you nodded at his words when he showed you the last page. “i figured that it could be the best way to end it.”

“it sure does.” woobin served you by putting meat on the top of your rice. “eat up.”

just like the past days, you enjoyed lunch with woobin. a few talks here and there, though most of the time the two of you were silent. not the terrible kind of silence, but a good one. something comforting. and maybe that kind of silence was all you needed.

after the meal, the two of you sat on the couch. the television served as background noise as you run down the things you have to do this afternoon.

“you seem to be happier the past days, did you get yourself another contract?” woobin asked once you were done telling him where to drive you today, the flower shop and to your editor’s place.

“i do?” you caught sight of the lone photograph of roses on your wall. the poetry that accompanied it once was now resting on your table. “i haven’t been coughing recently.” your cheerfulness evident when your eyes wrinkled into crescents as you turned your head towards the direction where woobin was sitting. “maybe he’s starting to like me!”

a soft beam hugged woobin’s visage, contented with the result you were having. for your own flower to stop blooming, that was all he wished for. his mind got him best though, speaking without much thought as he eyed the last poem you wrote once again. “or maybe you’re starting to like him less.”

blinking in confusion, woobin handed you back the printed papers you gave him earlier. it was on the last page. the words were probably a clear indication of your feelings.

zest gone. pen dropped. book closed. lock kept. no word survived.

those words weren’t the most gleeful of words, but it carried freedom. something you’d been wishing you could get out of taeyoung’s labyrinth of roses. something you never knew would finally come to you.

“right?” woobin pulled you out of your own thoughts. “i’ve been coughing less as well and i can guarantee that you’re the only one i like.”

“that means…?”

“you’re slowly moving on, y/n.” woobin gave your head a light pat. his beam growing warmer as he looked at you. “you’re moving on.”

before going to the place where you were to meet your editor, you asked woobin to stop by the flower shop. knowing your editor, she’d probably love some dahlias and irises.

upon entering the shop, the same floral scent you had been accustomed to since you were younger embraced you. however, instead of taeyoung greeting you, the expression in his face— wide eyes after a gasp— was a little perplexing. you raised a brow at him, stepping closer to the counter with woobin following you from behind.

“dah—”

“can we have a moment?” taeyoung’s question interrupted your own set of words.

with a head tilted to the side, you didn’t make an effort to hide your confusion. the seemingly forced smile he had, which was quite too awkward for your liking was not a help at all. you turned to look at woobin, asking if it would be alright for him to wait. “will it be okay?”

“sure.” woobin shrugged, trying to act as nonchalant as he could. something he was successful in doing so. “i’ll buy you a drink while i wait. just send me a message if you’re done.”

“thank you, woobin.” and with those words said, you watched woobin leave the establishment. as soon as he did, your stomach sunk. there was no one else in the flower shop, it seemed like the other staff had already left.

taeyoung gestured to you to sit on an empty stool next to the counter, but you declined. instead, you leaned to it, urging him to speak what he wanted to talk about. he wasn’t the kind to be hesitant with such, but now, it was as if his tongue was tied in hundreds of knots and words can’t just be delivered.

“you’re experiencing hanahaki, right?” a stiff start. not only you, but taeyoung could feel how unnatural it sounded. no cheeky grins, no bright tone. it was flat and dripping with nervousness you weren’t aware taeyoung could be under the state of. “how are you?”

“i’m alright.” you chuckled at his words, letting loose of the already tensed atmosphere. as much as you were nervous for what was to come, you didn’t want it to spread on your formerly cheerful mood. “come on, taeyoung. i’m not going to be mad or anything.”

it partially helped taeyoung who had a small smile on his visage. but his eyes were still unable to meet yours as he locked his gaze on something else, the flowers healthily blooming inside the shop. “you were coughing out… roses, right?”

you hummed as a reply. finally taking the offer to sit. “yes, your favorite.”

“that means that you like me?” taeyoung took the seat next to your stool.

surprisingly, instead of worrying about how your little secret got figured out, you had an opposite feeling. you were relieved. there was no anxiety about him giving you the possibly worst rejection, no concern about how he could possibly shatter a thorned heart.

whatever made him realize such a thing, you were thankful. at least you no longer have to go through excessive explanations.

but there was something you would want to clarify.

“i used to like you a lot,” you said, giving an emphasis to the phrase: used to. a relieved sigh left your lips, satisfied with how everything was happening. it wasn’t as bad as you imagined. “you don’t have to worry now though, i’m gradually moving on.”

“still. you had to suffer from that for years,” he trailed. “i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay taeyoung.” your tight-lipped smile turned into a genuine one. the moment you shifted your gaze to look at taeyoung, you met his eyes. regardless of the pain it brought you, there was in no way you saw yourself blaming taeyoung. you liked him. and that summed it up. “your brightness was a blessing and never did i regret liking you despite the thorns and petals brought by it.”

his slightly soaked eyes were an indication of his former worry, which was slowly being washed away by a good amount of reassurance. “i’m glad.”

“you no longer have to worry about the roses, taeyoung.” stripping down the photographs on your wall for the past days, you replaced them with other photographs. you were sure the delusion was coming to an end. yes, the roses were indeed beautiful. but its thorn wasn’t as astonishing. “it’s withering.”

a stray tear slipped out of your eye and taeyoung didn’t only catch the tear, his arms were wrapped around you in such a warm hug. you were sure no petals would come out of your lips again. the warmth that embraced your body conveyed a closing home.

it’s time to move out and find a home that has no garden.

you no longer despised the spring. the beautiful flowers surrounding the town were no longer catching distasteful looks from you. your lungs free from spring. hand wrapped around woobin’s, the warm rays of the remaining afternoon sunlight filtered through the thick leaves of the trees the two of you would pass by.

another book was published, all containing the last words for your former muse. the title didn’t hide anything, quite an obvious choice: kalopsia.

three times a week you would go out for a book signing while woobin, now your boyfriend, would fetch you every time. he was busy himself with the recording of his album which was to be released by the end of the month. but he never missed going to the venue where your book signing would take place. by now, he probably had about nine signed copies of your book.

“you experienced hanahaki as well, right?” you asked woobin as you passed by a shop that had orchids hanging on the wall. petals of lush yellow, pink and purple decorating it.

woobin chuckled, taken aback by your unexpected question. “i did.”

“how was it?”

“it was weird. i mean coughing out petals so suddenly.” he looked at you, only to see your furrowed brows. something that made him laugh once again. “what do you expect me to answer?”

“that made you realize that you like me?”

“don’t be silly. even before the first petal left my lips, i knew i already liked you.” a contented smile graced his brim. even before that, the way his heart would thump in his chest as if it had run a marathon, the way a dumb smile would hang on his lips once he saw you, the way he would be subconsciously adoring you while you were busy writing, the way he wanted to be beside you, the way he wished to hold you closer— it all happened before a petal of orchid escaped the confines of his mouth.

a faint blush became apparent on your cheeks, giving it such a cute color. “and up until now you still like me…”

“correction, it’s liked. past tense,” woobin said, laughing at how your expression shifted. he took a big step and stopped right in front of you, he turned to face you with his hand still holding yours. “now, i love you.”

the weather wasn’t as hot since the sun was preparing for the twilight, but your cheeks were. it was accompanied by the wild flutters in your stomach. letting go of woobin’s hand (a reflex to hide how flustered his words got you), your ears were enveloped by his sweet, sweet chuckle. you walked past through him in such rushed footsteps, a peal of laughter escaping your lips as you did so. “i can’t believe you had to say that in that way.”

however, you were not even that far from him when woobin caught you. your steps halted when he locked you in a back hug, giving your cheek a light peck which simply made it more flushed. “i love you more than you’d ever know,” he carefully whispered to your ear.

you chuckled at the gestures, his words tickling you. regardless of how playful it seemed to be, you knew woobin was dead serious with it. he detached himself from you, only to hold your hand once more and walk beside you.

glancing at your interlaced fingers, you leaned your head to his shoulder. “i love you too, woobin.”

“i love you so much, y/n,” he replied, gently squeezing your hand.

to be able to look at the flowers without thinking about how they budded in your body, to rest every evening without worrying about the petals disrupting your serene night, to be right next to the person you love and loves you, there was nothing else you could wish for.

the flowers in your chest had long ago stopped blooming. it went the same way with woobin. but little did you know... orchids started blooming on someone else’s body, slowly growing on the chest of the person who once caused you to have roses hugging your lungs.

and just like how you first found those roses beautiful, taeyoung thought those orchids were too.

#cravity imagines #cravitywriters #cravity oneshots #cravity x reader #kpop imagines #seo woobin #kim taeyoung #woobin x reader #taeyoung x reader #cravity

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ink-splotch · 5 years ago

Note

Wangxian + 45 (gift)

Five Times Wei Wuxian Was Hungry + Once When He Was Not

It was Wei Ying’s favorite spot to scrounge. The morning’s cook cut the vegetables carelessly-- there was always a good few mouthfuls to gnaw off the cabbage and radish ends, the onions and peppers. He remembered having roasted potatoes before, with his mother and father, but it was hard lighting fires. And as soon as things started smelling good, other people came, or dogs.

Raw potatoes though-- they were barely sweet, crisp, and grainy. He chewed them more for entertainment than because they filled him up. He’d gotten a good instinct for which mouthfuls went the longest ways. Some things stuck to the ribs.

Wei Ying curled up in a different hollow each night, a different rooftop or alley or meadow or tree, and ran his fingers over the curved ridges of his ribs. He counted them and thought of his mother teaching him arithmetic, moving little twigs and stones into place beside a fire.

“Dinner was delicious.”

Wei Wuxian managed not to flail off the roof. “Jiang Cheng, you’re so mean.” Past his brother’s ugly face, the moon was setting low over the wide, still ponds of Lotus Pier.

“Well, dumbass, don’t piss off mom next time.” Jiang Cheng scooted slowly down the roof tiles. One day, they would have this down to an art, play light-footed games of tag at midnight. One day, they would huddle on these same tiles and watch their parents bleed out, holding hands. Wei Wuxian dropped down onto the wooden pathway, reaching up a hand to help, which Jiang Cheng ignored. “I tried to sneak you out some bao, but First Uncle caught me.”

“So you do love me!” Wei Wuxian grinned at him, all of twelve and gangly with it.

Jiang Cheng shoved him. “If you starve to a skeleton, who will be around for me to beat at swords?”

“Who will be around to beat you, you mean--”

“Both of you!”

At the hiss, Wei Wuxian latched onto Jiang Cheng’s startled flail of his arm. The ponds past them were still, painted with moonlight and pockmarked with lotus.

Jiang Yanli waved at them from the open door of her room. “Come on, in here. You both tiptoe like elephants.”

“It’s Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian explain, slipping into the room behind her. “I mean, he ate too much at dinner and now he’s going to bust through the floor into the lake.”

“Sit down, sit down,” Jiang Yanli said. “I’ve been waiting for hours, listening for you.”

“I was going to head down to town,” Wei Wuxian said.

“No need for that,” she said. She lifted the lid off a clay pot on her desk. Light pork flavor wafted up and Wei Wuxian’s stomach grumbled. He poked at it, betrayed.

“Have as much as you want,” Jiang Yanli said, reaching for the ladle. Her voice was soft, but it was always soft, even when they weren’t sitting in the dim light listening for creaks in the hallway.

“What about me?” Jiang Cheng demanded.

“You, too, A-Cheng,” she said. “If we run out, we’ll make a brave expedition to the kitchens to acquire more mission materiel.”

Her eyes sparkled even in the low lights. Wei Wuxian liked this so much better, the slyness in her eyes as she teased her brother, than the way she sat quiet in the daylight, peeling lotus seeds with shaking fingers, while her mother rose up like a bonfire.

There was a creak from the hallway. Wei Wuxian would have counted it for a mouse in the night, but Jiang Yanli’s head shot up. “That’s mother, coming to check up on me. Quick, both of you, out the window. Sorry, I-- quickly, now.”

That night, Wei Wuxian lay in bed with a still empty stomach-- an old feeling, a familiar one. He’d last til morning, easy, he knew that.

But this was unfamiliar, even now: his palms still felt the ghost of heat, of a warm bowl cradled in them, smuggled through the darkness and meant for him.

“Ai, Lan Zhan, you didn’t think to pack anything to eat? So thoughtless. Even those Qishan bao would be acceptable. I mean, I know I told Nie Huaisang they tasted burnt, but that was mostly lies. And if we’re stuck here much longer, I’d even eat that terrible bitter Gusu soup!”

Lan Zhan’s head was tipped back against the rough stone of the cave, eyes closed. Firelight played softly over the ridge of his jaw, the column of his neck. He didn’t respond to Wei Wuxian, not even to the bit about the soup.

Wei Wuxian sprawled where he could, trying to find a comfortable bit of ground while keeping an eye on Lan Zhan. “I ate every bowl I was given, when I was there,” he told Lan Zhan. “So I know what I’m talking about. Your clan doesn’t know how to eat. One day, I’ll take you to Lotus Pier, and you’ll see.”

At first the noise distracted him from the emptiness-- from the hunger, yes, but also from the quiet lack where his golden core once had been. It felt silent inside of him, that void under his belly, the way he hadn’t felt silent in years.

Spirits called for vengeance, for justice and fury, for freedom and power. Beneath the black cloud of that rage, there were quieter voices too-- asking for rest, for remembrance, for respite.

Beneath it all, though, he still had a body, however empty. He found water dripping down the cliff face. He dug up roots and caught rats. He lit fires to roast them. He figured that everything that could scare him already knew how to find him.

He remembered how it felt to wither, day by day. He watched his body shrink and hollow, familiar.

The spirits called for vengeance and he agreed. The spirits cried for justice and he promised it. His body begged for sustenance and he told it to wait. There were more important things.

Lil Apple reached out his neck, trying to snap his big ugly teeth at some greener grass growing off the path. “Ah, yeah, you hungry, you spoiled beast?” Wei Wuxian said, trying to tug him forward. “I gave you my last bit of melon this morning.”

Wei Wuxian managed to drag the donkey a few strides further before he gave up, sagging against a tree while Lil Apple waded out into greener pastures. He brayed again and Wei Wuxian hoped it was joy, but suspected it was something a little more vengeful.

“You’re lucky you can eat grass,” he called after him.

They’d left a town with a water spirit problem five days ago--well, a town that had previously had a water spirit problem. They’d given him a bag of apples, a stack of flatbread, and a big meal before he’d left. He rolled the memory over his tongue-- creamy eggplant and salted fish, spicy enough even to satisfy him.

It was days ago now, and that old familiar ache was curling under his heart. But there’d be a village around any corner now, a farm with a blight, or a merchant caravan looking for some peace of mind.

Even if there wasn’t, he could go far longer than this without a shake to his legs or to his smile. He had.

Even if the land was barren for miles, at the end of it he’d wash up in Caiyi town in time for loquat season. He’d climb the mountain by foot, palming the jade pass in his sleeve, and there would be a hot meal waiting for him when he arrived.

But for now, the crickets were calling from the grass. Heat beat down from a wide, clear sky and Wei Wuxian closed his eyes.

His body whispered for sustenance and he told it wait, wait, but this time it was a promise cradled warm and soft in his palms.

“You’re not busy, are you?” Wen Ning said.

Wei Wuxian glanced up from gnawing on the end of his calligraphy brush. It wasn’t an old bad habit of his, but he thought it might have been one of Mo Xuanyu’s. Also, the first time Lan Qiren had caught him doing it, he’d gone red in the face, so Wei Wuxian had rather leaned into it.

“We don’t want to bother you,” Wen Ning went on, bobbing his head. “I know you’re doing important work…”

“If I haven’t figured out how to balance this talisman yet-- and I haven’t,” Wei Wuxian said, wrinkling his nose at the crumbled papers beside him, “then it’s not going to happen tonight.” He leaned back, elbows on the wood floor of the inn. “What’s going on, Wen Ning? You and Sizhui get into trouble in the market?”

“No, we had some good luck.” Wen Ning stepped finally through the door. “If you could come down to the…”

“Did you find something on the case?” Wei Wuxian leapt to his feet.

“No, no,” Wen Ning said, following him down the stairs. One of the inn staff caught one look at Wen Ning and threw himself backward into an open room. “We just, I mean, I hope it’s not overstepping.”

Down on the ground floor of the inn, Lan Sizhui looked up and smiled to see them. He rose from the table where he’d been laying out four bowls. “Wei-qianbei."

"What's this, now?" Wei Wuxian said, glancing over the table.

“Wen Ning has been telling me stories of when I was little,” Lan Sizhui said, settling his hands gently on the lid of the pot. He did most things gently, that kid, and it didn’t come from Lan Zhan, who was deliberate in every movement but rarely soft in the public eye, or Lan Qiren. It certainly didn’t come from Wei Wuxian.

Wen Ning settled down opposite Lan Sizhui at Lan Sizhui’s encouraging nod, and Wei Wuxian realized-- it was his uncles. It was the way Lan Xichen had used to move quiet and kind through a crowded room. It was the way Wen Ning was so careful with his strength.

“He told me about a day when he carried a little bowl of soup miles home from Yiling, so I could try it. It was cold by the time he got there, of course, but… I don’t remember it really.” Lan Sizhui pulled the lid from the pot, the rich scent rising up. “But helping Madam Wang in the kitchen, the smell-- I think I do remember, a little.”

“We found lotus root in the market,” Wen Ning said. “And pork ribs, and the landlady here has a cousin from Lotus Pier. We thought…”

Wei Wuxian dropped down into a seat at the table, heavy and silent. He closed a hand over Wen Ning’s wrist, softly.

“Have as much as you want,” Lan Sizhui said, reaching for the ladle. His voice was soft.

When Lan Zhan got back to the inn, he found them still there, leaning over empty bowls and laughing about radishes.

He paused in the doorway to take in the sight-- Wei Ying with his head thrown back; Wen Ning waving his hands while he talked, like he'd forgotten to shrink himself down; Lan Sizhui soaking it in like he had years of family to catch up on.

Lan Zhan crossed the room to join them, Wei Ying spotting him when he got close. He was smiling already, but he smiled wider. "Ai, Lan Zhan, you're here! Sit down, sit down. We even saved you some soup."

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shintorikhazumi · 4 years ago

Text

I Have Two Sisters?! Chapter 3: Three Sisters, Many Scars, and A Day Out

A/N: Warning! Long? Longer than usual? Chapter? I already split it into 2, mind you. Wasn’t able to hold back. Haha. Sorry bout that. Sorry if this took too long as well. Some of you may have seen my crazy activity in LWA recently. I also have college starting up again so… really, many apologies.

I like to think Claudine is very sweet and gentle with Diana, but very cheeky with Weiss. And Weiss is soft and awkward with Diana, and is almost always fondly annoyed with Claudine. And Diana just loves them both because her younger sisters are so pretty and nice to her and they make her breakfast, and they aren’t anything like the cold, abusive people her old family was like.

I don’t drink coffee so I had to google, “coffee maker parts” for this chapter, though I doubt I used that knowledge lmao.

Their house kind of has a kitchen connected to the living room. Kind of like… the Starlight dorm’s? Wait I don’t remember.

This also got delayed coz my dog died a while ago during the time I wrote this, and I felt like shit. So. Yep. But it’s alright now!

Also, I know I said love interests maybe at chapter 3, but this was getting too long so I had to move it to the next chapter which is already half done and will be up shortly after this one! Maybe by tomorrow or within next week, hopefully, because a storm is coming to our area. Might have no power. But for sure the three silly (in their own way) brunettes will be there. Definitely!

NOT BETA’D AS ALWAYS! :> I’m… I’m shy about asking for betas.

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

School.

Right. That was a thing.

And it was going to start in about two to barely three weeks from now. It was enrollment season for many, and that did not exclude the university Claudine and Weiss were to attend soon. They had been discussing this in the kitchen as they prepared breakfast, Diana still deep in slumber. The girl seemed to sleep in often these days, but well… that was mostly the fault of the two younger sisters.

During one of their chats, they had learned that Diana had always been overworked as a child (just like a certain someone Claudine knew), and had rarely had the chance to rest. They took this opportunity of freedom to give her just that. Even if that freedom basically spelled out how little their father cared about them. So long as they were still alive, he’d have many cases lay off his back. Well, they didn’t care for him either, so it was more advantageous for them to have little to worry about with many things provided for them without strings attached. Being able to do what they wanted was a perk they were willing to make the most out of.

Still, it was nearing school time and they had realized that they were yet to hear of Diana’s plans in terms of studying. Weiss and Claudine had already been enrolled by their father in the aforementioned university which specialized in the arts; the man had done his research on Claudine, it seemed. But as for Diana, the pair had no clue of her status in terms of going to school again, nor could they recall her mentioning any course she was interested in- other than their limited knowledge of her relationship with medicine from articles they’d seen, and stories they’d heard from the girl herself. But was that still an option at this point? What did Diana want to do; she hadn’t mentioned any plans to continue pursuing it, had she?

Huh. That was odd. Considering all the talking they had done these past few days, attempts at getting to know each other better, it seems they had yet to know enough about their housemates.

As if summoned by their silent inquiries, Diana appeared on the threshold to the connected living room and kitchen, rubbing drowsiness away from her tired-looking eyes. On an odd sense of instinct, Claudine walked over to the sleep-addled woman still stuck by the doorway, blinking in confusion, as if wondering about where she was, what she was doing, and why there were two ladies cooking what looked to be breakfast for her.

“That’s because we are cooking breakfast for you. And for us too.” Claudine giggled softly at Diana speaking her thoughts out loud; taking the latter’s hand, she patted a few difficult strands of curly hair down with the other, and began righting Diana’s appearance- her shirt and cardigan slipping off her shoulder while her slippers were on the wrong feet- and the former heiress quite liked that, being pampered. She never really was despite having so many maids in her previous home. She also liked this person who was guiding her to take a seat at this nice wooden table, and this equally nice person had given her a cup of some very nice coffee. “I hope this will wake you up some. You truly are an odd child.”

Diana nodded her thanks, taking a sip from the mug that had her name on it (she really liked that) and a regal picture of a unicorn because Diana Cavendish was not that childish. It was a little sweet, and she liked that too. Very unlike all the bitterness she’d forced down her throat as she toiled nights away for the sake of her family. This was a nice change.

But who were these ladies?

“You know, you’ve asked us the same question almost every morning when you wake up.” Weiss sighed fondly, already accustomed to Diana’s odd habit of speaking her mind, as well as being so lost to the world in the mornings. The first time it had happened, Claudine and Weiss had thought that Diana was talking to them. Apparently, that was not the case. “At this point, we’ll have lived together for twenty or so years and you’d probably still ask.” The silver-haired girl made her way to the table, placing down some pancakes as Claudine followed suit with some eggs and bacon.

“Maybe there’s nothing quite memorable about you, then.” The golden-blonde teased, biting back a hiss as Weiss smacked her shoulder. “Brutal…”

“You’re brutal.” Weiss flipped her hair over her shoulder, before taking one of Diana and Claudine’s hands in each of her own. “The other day-”

“That was one time! And that man was committing theft. Were we supposed to let him run away?” Claudine defended, slightly offended.

“Well, I didn’t expect you to be capable of smashing through concrete-“ Weiss was cut off by the soft, sleepy voice that was Diana, along with a grumbling stomach from the now-blushing girl.

“G-grace…” She reminded, and the two halted their bickering, smiling at Diana while rolling their eyes at one another playfully.

After saying grace for their meal, they dug in, the younger sisters secretly enjoying the many emotions that passed through Diana’s face every meal. It reminded them of when they had gotten burgers for the first time. Weiss admitted she was the same before Winter had snuck in some of the world’s greatest (and unhealthiest) fast-food delicacies, but did she really look like this at the time? Diana never having tasted cheap bacon was preposterous!

But they reminded themselves not to go overboard with junk food and cheap meats. They had health to consider after all, as pleasant as it was to spoil their older sister.

The meal went on as it always did in this household, a few chats here and there, some random inquiries, Diana booting up her awareness as the sleepiness slowly faded away, remembering that she now had two siblings to live her life with each day until who knows when. A wonderful affair as always.

Finishing her breakfast first, Diana stood up to take her plate to the sink for washing. Still feeling slightly out of it, she spotted the coffee maker still half-full with coffee and thought it would probably do her some good to have another cup.

Placing her dishes in the sink, she reached over to grab the carafe, overhearing her sisters’ chatter and turning around to watch them as she poured the liquid into her mug, she felt familiar tremors in her right hand, a warning siren going off in her head as the pain that immediately shot through it caused her to hiss and drop both her mug and the glass jug containing relatively hot coffee, both items crashing into pieces against the kitchen isle floor. Such a loud racket alerted her siblings who rushed to her side in a split second.

“DIANA?!”

“Are you okay? What happened?”

Diana felt her whole body shake along with her hands, but mostly out of fear than anything else. She’d messed up again. She’d broken something that wasn’t hers, she’d made a mess on the floor, and she’d ruined the adorable pony slippers Claudine had been nice enough to secretly get her after she stared at them for nearly twenty minutes on a department store shelf. They were probably mad. Claudine and Weiss. They would no longer be kind to her after her mistake. And after a mistake… a punishment. That’s what was next. Always. Diana knew this in her very soul.

“S-s-sorry…” Stuttering out an apology, she bent down to pick up the broken shards, ready to clean up before she was beaten; maybe if she fixed her own messes and prostrate before them, she’d receive their mercy-

“DON’T TOUCH IT, YOU IDIOT!” She saw the hand come quick, her eyes bracing themselves shut, waiting for the hit to come…

…but it never did. Weiss held her hand up carefully, pulling her out of her slightly crouched position she had subconsciously gotten into.

“Claudine, could you like, take her to the sofa before she gets hurt even more? I’ll do the clearing.”

“Can a princess do something like that?” The youngest still teased, but worry was interlaced into her tone. Weiss scoffed at that.

“If you have time to entertain me with your jokes, make sure Diana is fine instead.” Weiss playfully kicked Claudine’s butt, getting her to move along, pushing Diana in front of her with careful guidance.

Once the trembling girl had been situated on their couch, Claudine began checking for any visible injuries on her elder sister’s hands and feet, sighing in relief when she had found none. “Are you okay? Does it hurt anywhere? Burns? Cuts?” She asked for good measure. Seeing Diana shake her head no, Claudine gave a sigh of relief, turning around to tell Weiss that all was well, and that she’d be going to draw a bath for Diana and get her a change of clothes and wash the soiled garments and slippers.

Before she could leave, a hand caught the edge of her shirt, still quivering lightly. Her heart clenched at the quiet, broken voice, and equally broken question. “You’re not going to hurt me?”

It looked like Weiss had heard the question too considering the sounds of running tap water from the kitchen suddenly stopped.

A frown came over the actress’ features, and that seemed to have scared Diana even more. Claudine immediately noticed, switching to a softer but still worried question as she crouched down in front of the sad girl, hands rubbing gently over her knees before taking shaky hands in hers.

��Why would we?” She asked in a whisper. Weiss may not have been able to hear them, but she continued to watch the exchange, leaning back against the sink, arms crossed, brows furrowed. If anything were to happen or she was needed, she’d rush right over. For now, she’d let her younger sibling deal with it as she seemed to be better at these things.

“Because… I made a mistake… I broke things… and the slippers…” Tears welled up in Diana’s eyes, and two hearts clenched in painful sympathy.

“No, no, no. Sweetheart. That was an accident, that wasn’t your fault.” Claudine frantically wiped away the running tears, signaling to Weiss for some tissues. “Okay? Okay? You can keep crying if it makes you feel better, but we’d rather you calm down and take a bath now so that you can relax and not have to think about any bad things, okay?”

The younger girls did not know what the hell Diana’s family had put her through, but they’d wreak havoc and bring that hell right back to them if they had to. This was outright abuse! For such a lovely lady like Diana to be scarred this deeply, both physically and psychologically, it was just so wrong in many ways.

Keeping their fury reigned in, they gently coaxed Diana into taking the much-needed bath, closing the door with a reminder to call for either one of them should anything come up. With the assurance that Diana could take care of herself for a few minutes, they made their way back to the kitchen to finish cleaning up.

“I swear, I’ll be put in prison for murder one of these days.” Weiss muttered, squeezing the sponge a bit too tightly, froth covering her hand.

“If you’re going to kill someone for Diana’s sake, at least don’t get caught.” Claudine shot back, though the nails digging into her palm spoke a lot about how much she agreed with Weiss’ sentiments.

With everything in place, and the accident laid to rest, the pair plopped on to the couch, sighing out their internal tension.

“I wonder… about what else happened with Diana… Now that I think about it, we never really got to know much about her.” Weiss mused, referring to the incident many nights ago, on their first day together, when Diana had that nightmare. “Cavendish…” Weiss recalled to the time when they had checked the woman’s identification after she’d fainted at their door. Really. All her first memories with Diana weren’t the greatest. Though she could probably say that it was the same for all of them towards one another.

“I did some research on that.” Claudine shared, pulling out her phone and showing it to the silver-haired woman. “Cavendish Medical. Diana did say that her family was of the elite type.” A short groan escaped before the woman continued. “But one of the largest medical chains internationally at that, somehow I can now see why Diana ended up like that. I also somehow get why her face isn’t so well-known despite this fact.”

Weiss moaned out her frustrated pain as well, understanding where this was getting at. “It’s that shitty old man, isn’t it? Because she’s an illegitimate child and all that jazz?” Slapping her knee, she stood up in irritation. “Couldn’t they have just, like, adopted her or something then? And she isn’t completely Unrelated to them. What the hell.”

“I can see that the two of you have certainly been through that. ‘Heiress’ stuff and all.” Claudine made a random circular motion in the air. “Schnee Digital Corporation.”

“Can we not talk about this?”

“Sure.”

“…”

“How rare of you not to continue your taunts.”

“I know how stressed one can get in the presence of an infuriating woman.”

Weiss laughed at that, not really getting it, but she felt like she would in the near future. It never hurt to ask anyway, though. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I know how to shut up when I have to.” Claudine laughed along, shaking her thoughts clear of a certain regular intruder in her mind.

As the two slumped against their couch in comfortable silence, they heard the muffled sound of a voice from behind a door interrupting their hush. “I… I think my hair got s-stuck.” And that was enough reason for them to get up and walk over to the bathroom, only to see Diana struggling with the shower head, hair tangled about it while she sat in the tub. How that happened, they had no clue.

“Just what are you up to?” Weiss muttered under her breath, moving towards Diana anyway, gently detaching light-green curls from metal.

“I’m sorry…”

With an affectionate sigh, Claudine sat herself on a stool by the tub, taking the showerhead from Weiss. “Come on, let us help you finish. We don’t want any more mishaps.”

“I- I can… bathe myself.”

“We know you can. But we want to help.”

“B-but!” And they felt the girl in their hands tense, curling into herself just as she did many times before, as if to hide herself. And as their sight registered why, with clarity, their hearts bled.

They hadn’t noticed it as clearly before, but now there was nothing to cover the many scars that littered over the surface of ivory skin. There were a few bruises that were beginning to heal, and they couldn’t help but wonder if those were inflicted right before Diana escaped to the peace they now lived in. With clenched teeth, Weiss grabbed a bottle of conditioner, channeling her anger to her fingers as she squeezed the bottles contents into her hand and tenderly ran her fingers through curled locks.

Diana’s hair smelled of the scent of the shampoo they bought from a local mart, but her hair, as nice as it was, didn’t have that certain slippery-smooth feel. So Weiss believed this was the next step the girl was about to do.

Claudine reached for the shower setting knob, spraying her hand with water as she adjusted the temperature to the perfect degree of comfort before rinsing the soap off her older sister’s back. She grimaced at the sight of more scars. They were a vast variety. Long, short, wide, thin… it made her sick to know that people truly could lack the heart to be able to inflict so much pain on an individual.

They worked in careful silence, the younger sisters working their hands gently and efficiently. Diana would occasionally jolt, wince, or whimper, and the pair would have to force their frowns away as to not cause the eldest further anxiety.

As the last drop of water fell into the tub, they stood Diana up and helped her dry off, covering her body with a bathrobe as they moved to the girl’s bedroom to get her hair dried completely, and get her changed into comfortable wear.

Diana was grateful for their help. Really she was, but as she changed, she could feel the two worried gazes scanning nearly every patch of skin visible to their eyes as she slowly covered it up with her attire for the day. It unnerved her, it felt like she was back to being strictly monitored.

They must have realized her discomfort as they eased off, Weiss picking a brush up by the vanity, and Claudine sitting her down in front of it. “How about we fix you up? We have plans to go out for today, so maybe you could join us?” The latter proposed as both grinned, Weiss looking up hairstyles that would suit Diana’s choice of clothing for today.

“I- um... okay.” At first hesitant, but eventually relenting, the white-haired heiress got to work, trying her best to mimic the guide on her phone.

It was a silent affair, almost torturous for the eldest as she dared not look into the mirror lest she meet Claudine’s eyes, ever observant and watching over her. Soon enough, however, the ticking of the clock and the feel of the brush smoothing over her waves soothed Diana little-by-little, her breathing slowing as if she were being lulled to sleep.

And then that silence broke.

“Diana… “ It was soft, nearly a whisper, but not quite that. It was a shy call, something rare from the ever-confident Claudine that Diana had come to know. Then again, this was also the incredibly tender blonde she’s lived with the past few days. In that sense, she was very familiar.

“Y-yes?”

Kneeling down next to her vanity’s stool, Diana held a hand, still looking at Diana through the mirror. There was a secret twitch of nervousness on her hand, then a barely audible deep breath, as if the youngest was preparing her heart for a deep confession. Diana felt herself tense. “Diana... Could you tell us about your family? About you?” A shaky breath. “...a-about... your scars.”

She must’ve reacted in a worrisome way, as there was an immediate follow-up to that.

“Oh! You don’t have to force yourself if you don’t want to! If it hurts to talk about it then we can drop this.” Claudine frantically spat out, the touch of her skin feeling a bit warmer. “You don’t have to do it against your will. We were just worried and... those kinds of.. marks are definitely not normal- oh but we’d understand if they are too traumatizing that you’d rather not even recall them, much less speak of them-” She rambled on.

They were kind. So kind. Weiss hadn’t said anything yet, but Diana just knew she was the same. It was warm. Maybe she could trust them. If it were them... surely...

“Diana?”

Shaking her head to ease their anxieties, she flipped her hand over, palm meeting Claudine’s as she clasped her hand tighter than she planned.

“It’s... I... I want to. I want to tell you... because maybe... maybe you can... assist me.”

Two heads nodded, indicating that they were all ears. Feeling their sincerity, a smile grew on Diana’s face. With a deep intake of air, she began her story.

She had been borne healthy and full of potential, an intelligent baby, it seemed. However, potential or talent did not matter. Not to a family as traditional and tight-laced as the renown Cavendish House. A pregnancy out of wedlock was shame to the family, regardless of who the opposite party was, how rich, or how powerfully influential they were.

Why would such large figures care about money and frivolous social stances when they had their own more-than-fair share? Not to mention, Jacques Schnee was infamous despite all accolades. He was never a pleasing prospect to their great family.

And then one day, he pulled away, severing all ties to Diana and her mother. This had complicated their relationship to the main family even more, and hence they were sent to the branch house in Japan, living the rest of their days there. Until now.

“Do you... know how your parents met?” Weiss asked. Diana shook her head, no. She had never had the chance to really ask her mother as she had died when she was quite young, young enough to not have sense of the world yet; too young to comprehend her unfavorable situation.

Claudine couldn’t imagine how Diana felt. Though on the brink of losing her, she still had her mother, and had had the pleasure of being raised by the wonderful woman that she was; nurtured into what she was today. But Diana... Oh, Diana.

“After my mother passed, my aunt and cousins moved into the same house. My aunt claimed that she had been sent by the main family to... ‘rear’ me into the Cavendish I was expected to become.” A flash of fear passed blue irises, the speaker’s breath hastening noticeably. “Then the... scars. Their story. She...”

Unable to handle it any longer, Claudine lunged forward, wrapping the trembling girl in her arms, shushing her and soothing her, telling her it was enough. That she could stop if it hurt too much. Still, Diana wanted to carry on. She had finally found her voice to speak. She did not want to lose this chance. She wanted these people, ones she’d known less than her own similar-named kin, to understand. Because she knew that they would. That they would try. She wanted to try as well.

“When I turned fourteen, I had a grown slightly aware of my situation. I overheard maids gossip that my aunt, she had loathed my mother for years as the latter was more favored as the next matriarchal head. When the whole fiasco happened, she jumped at the chance to attain her most desired wish. Unfortunately for her, she still was not deemed good enough. And I... I was.”

A pause.

“...She took it all out on me. She defended that it was simply discipline. She claimed that she was refining me through the harshest challenges so I would be prepared for how the world truly worked. But all of that was clearly masked-”

“Abuse.” The pair responded, hearts heavy.

“Yes. But I was so deep in submission and mindless obedience that I could do nothing.” Then her eyes went steely cold. “One night, she had gotten herself intoxicated. She had apparently gone back to the main manor to ask for their reconsideration, but was vehemently rejected. I had taken an important mock exam that day, but had one single mistake... She said it wasn’t good enough. She went mad. She said... she’d teach me that perfection-it was the only way I’d ever attain what I wanted the most.”

Diana frowned.

“I now know that she actually meant, what she wanted the most. I’d rather have no part in it. But it was too late.” Squeezing her eyes shut, Diana saw the vivid flames of the fireplace, the dark room; she could smell the awful stench of cheap wine and burning papers. Worst of all, she could almost feel it again. “The metal whip she would constantly beat me with... on that night, she had heated it in the coals... she was deeply lost. Dreadfully so. She took my hand and said...

‘I hope this mark haunts you ‘til the day you die. That you’ll never be what you were destined to be.’”

Diana’s eyes fluttered open, cold as they were when they closed, face hardened and emotionless. She was now numb. There was no longer any pain to hold her back from divulging her deep darkness within.

“Father...” The word was so distasteful, they all cringed deep down. So unfamiliar and... wrong. “He knew about my... condition.” Two pairs of eyes saw that scarred hand go knuckles-white with their grip. “He said so in the letter, and he told me that... there wasn’t much use in re-enrolling me in a medical school if my own family threw me away after finding out.”

“Finding out?”

“As you saw earlier, my hands have the tendency to suddenly shake, and my right...” Diana stared into her open palm in depression, clenching it into a fist frustratedly. “-the doctors said that my aunt had destroyed nerves needed for the finer motor functions of my hand. The tremors are no good. My family wanted me to become a surgeon for whatever field. I... can’t do that.” She smiled through a grimace.

“Diana...”

“So he told me to do whatever I wanted. The money was... there and all.”

Weiss grit her teeth, fury stirring up within her at the man’s utter lack of delicacy and consideration. It was cruel, how he threw Diana’s pains right at her face, thinking it could be solved with money and she’d feel chipper about it right away. He was always like that.

It wasn’t because their father ever cared about Diana’s background or family affairs that he gave her the freedom of choice; so probably by hearing rumors about Diana and her hand, he couldn’t be bothered to even help her out, leaving her to decide in her lost, unknowing state. How could everyone leave her to choose for herself after controlling her every action, thought, and future? And all of a sudden, as she became useless to them, drop her like a rag doll to do what she wanted. She no longer even knew what she wanted, much less know how to desire something, most likely!

“That’s it.” Weiss bit. “That’s enough, Diana.” She placed the brush down with a light thud. The sound must have scared the poor girl as she apologized profusely right away.

“S-sorry! You must not have liked my story; it must have been burdensome to hear something as depressing as that. I won’t speak a word of it ever again!”

“Diana.” Claudine called, cradling scarred hands in her own. “I don’t believe Weiss meant that in any mean way towards you. She just can’t bear to hear how hurt you are anymore, not right now. But we promise, we will continue to listen to you if you want to open up.” She ran her thumbs gently over fading lines, studying them intensely, before looking up to meet Diana’s eyes. “But right now, we think you need a break. Some fresh air.”

Diana nodded, finally noticing the sweat trickling down her brow, how her breathing was a little labored, and how flushed she felt.

“You’re shaking. Diana.” Claudine said sadly, reaching up to brush stray strands of hair away from Diana’s forehead. “Let’s have a change of pace.” Claudine smiled. “Weiss?”

They heard an audible huff come from the girl, before she nodded. “Fifteen minutes, then we can go.”

Claudine nodded back in agreement, rising up and pulling Diana along with her, getting ready to lead her to the hall. “We’ll go get our shoes on.”

“Great, you do that while I call for a car.” Weiss responded with a wave of her hand, phone already to her ear.

“…”

“...car?”

//-//-//-//-//

Impressive. Weiss’ car was.

Diana wasn’t one to be interested in such things, but staring at the pristine silvery white with royal to dark blue accents, she would say it was beautiful. Did people call cars beautiful? Or was Diana just odd, as she always was?

She heard Claudine whistle appreciatively. Maybe it was normal.

“How did you even get this here?”

“Had a worker bring it over.”

“From where??? So fast?!”

“Look, I don’t know the details, but this is just another way our… dude… squanders his money. He wants his children to, at least, look the part of being supported publicly. Stupid, but I’m grateful I have a car. Not to him, but to the universe or whatever.”

Claudine chuckled. “You really hate him, don’t you.”

“Absolutely.”

“Same.”

They shared a grin, before the French guided the eldest into the back seat, closing the car door securely before riding shotgun next to a Weiss tinkering with the stereo. Just as she clicked the seatbelt lock in place, Weiss chose her song and the car revved to life.

“This one goes to that bastard old man!” She yelled out her window. “FUCK YOU!”

“Th-there was an existing song with a title such as that?” Diana muttered from the back.

“Is that an appropriate song in this context?” Claudine laughed harder, amused by how crazy a driver Weiss was.

“Who cares? I just wanna flip him off.”

“Totally understandable.”

And they were off.

//-//-//-//-//

Claudine and Weiss knew they were supposed to head off to school right away to finalize some enrollment details, and pick up a few things besides their uniforms, but with the topic floating around earlier, and with Diana not knowing what direction to take academic-wise, they decided they could spend a little bit of time at the mall to divert her attention from all the bad things, then maybe over lunch, attempt a more pleasant discussion regarding school plans.

Also, something had been bothering the pair after they’d gone through Diana’s closet earlier in search of her outfit for the day. While she certainly wasn’t lacking wardrobe, the variety of clothes she had left much to be desired.

They were mostly formal clothes- gowns and dresses, some sleeping wear, a few blouses and dress shirts that didn’t seem like they’d be very breathable on a regular day out, and a few slacks and pants. A few meaning… two pairs each.

It was almost as if Diana only ever got dressed to meet important people, and to attend lavish events. Probably not too far from the truth. Thus, she might not have needed anything akin to ‘party’ or ‘casual’, or even ‘sporty’ wear. They had found a few jogging pants in the far back, but they seemed worse for wear and only to be used for exercising and/or sleeping.

They were lucky enough to get her dressed in a loose-fitting pale blue button up, sleeves rolled up, because, “No Diana, you will not be buttoning up your cuffs and choking yourself with a damn thick tie, and you don’t need to wear a suit everywhere you go. You’re not going out for an interview.” , paired with one of her two pairs of jeans- a dark denim.

That would have to do. To top it- or bottom? Or round it all off, They had her wear some open-toed shoes, sandals with a little wedged heel at the back.

She was pretty. It worked. Even a sack of rice would have worked for someone as beautiful as Diana.

They would never make her try that though.

So after Weiss had dragged a completely bewildered Diana through all twelve of her favorite shops, they were now sat in a small cafe on the second floor, enjoying their slightly-late lunch.

Diana sipped on her tea like the little miss that she was, delicately placing the cup back down before cutting into her meal with all the grace and poise of some great medieval aristocrat that probably ate up all the etiquette books. Her back was ramrod straight, but somehow managing to look relaxed. She was this picture of elegance, and Claudine had already ran out of fingers to count how many people had stopped and done a double-take as they passed by their group’s table.

Weiss, as fiery and at times uncouth as she was with her language, and some mannerisms, proved to have some semblance of the same type of upbringing. And while Claudine grew up learning all these manners as well, the knowledge of them important for events at Seishou, she could not deny how stifling it all felt.

Should she have ordered something more… ‘graceful’ than her tuna panini?

“Um…” Immediately, she caught both girl’s attention, their eyes focused on her. “So…”

“So?” Weiss parroted, placing her fork down.

‘Huh? Wait a second, Claudine Saijou, what were you supposed to be doing, again?’ What had she wanted to say again? Or did she not really want to say anything, and simply wanted to escape this awkward atmosphere? Why were they in this situation? Why were they having lunch at the mall? Why were they outside? Why…

“Ah-”

“Ah.” Diana repeated this time. “Ah?”

School. They were supposed to be out today to attend to matters for school. School that was starting very soon.

“School.”

“School.” The pair mimicked.

“School!” Claudine raised her hands up, fork still in one of them and dropping a portion of her pastry on the table.

Weiss was about to scold her, before her eyes widened in realization. “SCHOOL!”

“School?” Diana was still confused, but seeing her sisters hurriedly finish their lunch pressured her to do the same, even if she didn’t have much to finish.

“Oh my god, I got too carried away. What time is it, Claudine?” Weiss mumbled, polishing off her plate, and still dabbing her face with a napkin like the true lady she was.

Claudine took a peek at her wristwatch. “Eh, uh.. umm, huh? Wait… it’s almost three?! Weiss! Office hours end soon! And we still have to get to the school!”

“We’ll get there!” Weiss replied, calling for the check, and rummaging through her bag for her wallet. Placing just enough bills to cover their expenses and leaving the change as a tip, the three girls rushed to the car-or well, two girls rushed to a car, dragging a third, clueless one behind them.

Weiss got her engine roaring to life and speeding down the highway (at an acceptable pace, because they were in a rush, not criminals), and managed to get to their school supposedly twenty minutes away, in under fifteen.

Claudine thought she would die with how Weiss drove in their mad run to make it to the university.

“We… we-” She wheezed, hand clutching at her chest. “We could have… I thought I died.” She knelt on the ground, as if praying. “Devil driver.”

“Shut it! You try chasing after time while in that kind of traffic.”

Claudine just waved her off with a hand, breathing still labored. “N-Never again. Never get distracted again.”

“Agreed.” Weiss huffed, locking the car with a click.

Diana stood there, hair slightly frazzled, but still looking the picture of dignity and grace. Weiss had a few wrinkles in her blouse, but otherwise was sparkling perfect. Claudine wondered how the hell they managed that after such a wild ride, at the same time hoping she didn’t look like the mess she felt she was in comparison to the two’s appearances. Really, what was it with heiresses and their impossible-to-ruin looks.

“Okay, children, chop-chop. It’s just about three-fifteen, and we can only guess what kind of terrible lines enrollment season summons. I do not want to find myself standing for an hour amongst seas of people.”

“Chil-” Claudine was about to protest, but decided against wasting more time, getting up and grabbing Diana by the hand and leading her behind Weiss.

This day wasn’t turning out quite as they had planned. Or didn’t plan.

//-//-//-//-//

So they had forgotten one little detail. Well, not little. More like… universal.

“Sorry, li’l ladies; but offices are closed for today. It’s Sunday, my dears.” The old gatekeeper chuckled at the surprised faces of girls who looked like they were just told that all their efforts of rushing had been in vain because… all their efforts of rushing had been in vain. “I wouldn’t blame you, however. Y’all look like you aren’t from around here, fancy-looking hair colors and all. I don’t know if it works different from where you come from, but over here, we don’t usually come to the office on a Sunday.”

Claudine just panted, making an incoherent sound of surprise. Was there really such a thing? She’d always walked into Seishou any day of the week, without rest- ah. Maybe she was just a crazy workaholic, then.

“Well, some schools prob’ly allow students to pick things up, but as for transactions and in-person meet-ups, I don’t think you little ladies have much luck. The headmaster of this school, at least, made sure that workers get Sundays with their families. Policy thing and all. It’s on somethin’ called a ‘webpage’? My granddaughter showed me yesterday, most bizarre thing I’ve seen.”

“Ah, yes. Of course.” Weiss, ever the spokeswoman of the group, nodded, taking note to look up said school’s webpage. They should have done so sooner.

“Sorry, girls.”

“O-oh, no, not at all. We don’t mind. We were… we actually- we were supposed to know this, yes.” Weiss stammered out. “We simply forgot is all.”

“Haha! Well, that’s all right, happens. You’re free to come back tomorrow, though. Although I advise you to come at a time waaay earlier than right now.” He winked.

“Thank you. We’ll remember that.” Weiss replied with a professional smile in place to end the conversation, just like she’d been taught in interaction. It may have seemed a little cold, but that was just something she was used to doing. She did enjoy the man’s quirky sweetness, though she’d never let it show.

The three made their slow walk back to car, no longer rushing for anything in particular. It was the low one experienced after the adrenaline rush. Well, it was time to head home anyway. They could afford to be a little relaxed.

“Weiss?” Claudine called as the car beeped unlock.

“Hmm?”

“Can you drive better this time?”

“…”

“Now listen here-”

//-//-//-//-//

Home.

They were finally home.

Right away, Weiss had sunk into the welcoming softness of their couch, subsequently switching on the television once she’d found the remote. Laying on her back, with legs hanging over one of the armrests, she listened to- more than watched- the steady drone of some random channel while hearing Claudine chopping away in the kitchen in the background.

Diana had gone straight to the bedroom to drop off her ‘spoils of war’, as Weiss had put it. For a rich girl, she was good at talking down prices to a bargain. It was truly a horrific war that reoccurred in each shop they visited, Diana’s feet sore and tired, and all she’d done was walk after Weiss.

For a few hours.

Returning to the common room, Diana spotted Claudine stirring what appeared to be a soup. It smelled amazing, and Diana felt her mouth water. She’d never really been excited for food back at her old home- er… houses, regardless of how extravagant every meal was. Here, however, the simplest grilled cheese had her taste buds squealing in delight, pleasured by the flavors and sensations of even the simplest dish.

Dishes made with tenderness, love, and care.

While waiting, Diana decided to take a seat on the sofa, joining Weiss in her... staring at the TV. They weren’t viewing anything in particular, not really paying attention. Weiss had begun to flip through the channels, Diana listening to the audible clicks of remote buttons. Boring shows, corny jokes, generated laughter were presented in entertainment and comedy channels. They both jolted in their spots as Weiss had jumped to an action channel that had just had some loud explosion go off, the volume up high enough to feel that sound blast through their entire body.

A few more button clicks, many more channels browsed; Weiss and Diana were growing more and more bored. Was Claudine done with dinner yet? Nothing interesting was showing anymore-

[“KYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”]

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”

“A-A-AAAAHHHH!”

Three ear-shattering screeches filled the room in succession, making Claudine drop her ladel, whipping her head to check if all was alright. “Diana?! Weiss?!” She called, walking around the isle towards the couch. Then she saw two figures glued to one another in tight embrace, crouching into each other. That did not look comfortable. Turning her eyes to the TV playing some generic horror music of violin murder to accompany the scene of a bloodied, toothless woman, and it all clicked.

And she couldn’t help but laugh.

“Pfft-” She attempted to cover her mouth, but to no avail. “AHA-pfff- I- I know I shouldn’t laugh, but-ha...ha...HAHAHAHAHAHAHA, what are you two doing?!” Claudine wiped a tear from her eye, walking the last few steps to stand behind the couch, patting two shivering heads. “Got scared?” She grinned, voice teasing while waiting for that spiteful response from one Weiss Schnee.

“S-scared?! No! N-no, I’m not s-scared! Says who? Huh? Come fight me!”

She got exactly what she desired, giggling in amusement as she stared back in challenge, right into glaring icy blues that could cut. She was beginning to ask herself if this was how a certain partner of hers always felt when messing with her. It made a little more sense. Wasn’t any less infuriating, though.

They held their gazes for a time, before Weiss sighed, backing off as she felt the trembling bundle still in her arms. Claudine also turned her attention there, worried. She picked up the remote from its fallen spot on the floor, switching to a shopping channel with elevator music. Great. The most boring of all channels. Hopefully it would be calming and uneventful enough. They had had enough surprises for one night.

“I’ll get back to cooking. You got her?” Claudine asked softly. Weiss nodded in response, and the youngest went off to finish her task; hopefully dinner would shift their gears for the night.

While she did that, Weiss had settled her back against the couch, Diana still quivering in her hold. She opted to rub comforting circles onto the poor girl’s back, hoping she’d feel better soon.

“You okay?”

A nod.

“You sure?”

Another nod.

“Don’t deal well with horror?”

“...It’s not that.” Diana separated herself from Weiss, now leaning against the backrest as well, staring blankly at the glowing screen. Weiss took note of how Diana’s hand was tucked safely in hers, and felt her lips tip up in a smile. “There was just so much blood.”

“Hmm… but weren’t you going to be a surgeon?” Weiss regretted the reminder as she felt the hand in hers flinch, along with the next words that left Diana’s lips.

“The blood just… reminded me of my own…”

They could hear something metallic dropping on the floor from the kitchen, along with a soft mumbled apology.

Weiss didn’t want to dwell on this topic any longer, not wanting Diana to remember more hurtful memories, simply humming and ending that particular conversation right there. The pair ended up watching a salesman trying to convince them that brooms weren’t made for sweeping, only flying, and since no one could fly, brooms were irrelevant, thus one should buy a vacuum cleaner instead for the home.

“That logic is stupid!” Claudine yelled from the kitchen, revealing that she had been casually listening to all that was going on in the living room. It was her way of looking out for the two in case something happened. While she trusted them that they were no longer going to enter any screaming sessions, one could never be too careful.

Silence reigned over them once more as more products were revealed in the show. The occasional scoff would be heard from Weiss or Claudine about ridiculous prices, or fake specs, but other than those sounds there wasn’t much.

Eventually, Diana had taken control over the remote and flipped to a children’s cartoon; some low-budget show, maybe? ‘Shiny Chariot and The Mystical Bear’, the episode’s title flashed across the screen. Weiss was about to comment on how bad the show might turn out to be, but sealed her mouth shut as she noticed Diana’s eyes glued to the screen, almost sparkling. Did she like things like this?

Hmm…

Time ticked past bit by bit, the occasional flash from the television would throw splashes of the shows vibrant colors onto parts of the room, then fade. Each time, Diana would gasp, and her hands would move, almost as if she were about to clap. It was adorable, Weiss thought. But she was also thinking of something else. A thought that had never left her mind for even a single moment that day.

“Hey, Diana?”

“Yes?” The girl responded, eyes never leaving the screen.

“What about you?”

Diana stole her attention away from the blaring display, turning down the volume with the remote in her good hand, tilting her head to the side in confusion at the question. “What about me?”

“Well,” Weiss exchanged a glance with Claudine who was ever aware, and all-ears on this conversation. They had to ask eventually, right? Hopefully it wasn’t a bad time, nor a sensitive topic.

“Weiss?”

With a slow intake of air, Weiss met similar-colored eyes, trying to look as gentle as possible, voice equally soft. “School. Studies. What do you want to do about it?” Weiss asked. She didn’t know if it was something Diana wanted to be talking about, or if the topic would bring her hurt, trauma and all. Claudine and Weiss really wanted to be careful.

But they just wanted, needed to know. “We’re not pressuring or forcing you to attend school or anything, if you don’t want to.” Weiss clarified. “It’s just that… we don’t feel comfortable leaving you here on your own in the day, coming home at who knows what time at night. I think Claudine and I both agree that we’d feel a little more secure knowing that we can see you around during the daytime, and possibly be together when we can.”

It was almost as if they were talking about watching over a child, not that Diana was one in any way. There was just this sense of desire to protect her from any more agony than she’d already experienced. Everything the younger pair had learned about Diana so far was so sad and painful, it made them the slightest bit anxious that something may happen to add to that, and they wouldn’t be around to be able to help.

“It’s not that we don’t trust you or anything, by the way.” Claudine added, closing the lid on the pot, finally done with the soup. “We’re…” She looked to the side, searching for the right words to pull out of thin air, before meeting Diana’s eyes. “We’re just worried, is all.”

Weiss bit her lip in concern. Were they being too overbearing? Towards someone they’d only been housemates with for a few weeks, and not having known one another before then; were they too intrusive into Diana’s private life? There was a chance Diana would be scared off, but it felt... necessary. To be able to lay this out on the table. After all, weren’t they family now?

Contrary to Claudine and Weiss’s troubles, Diana had found herself speechlessly touched. She’d never really had anyone show her concern, not after her mother passed. Her own direct bloodline rejected her with so much disdain and contempt, she truly felt unworthy of any love for something she didn’t even do. But this... It made her feel all warm, and her heart light to know that such kind people were now a part of her family. A real one, this time around.

That brought a small smile to her lips, thinking of where they would go from now. Despite knowing them for as short a time as she did, Diana admired and cherished her two new sisters with all heart. She vowed she’d do anything to do better for them, to help them up as much as they did for her, and more.

Her mind continued treading happy thoughts, completely forgetting about the conversation they were having, and unknowingly increasing the anxiety of her waiting companions.

“D-Diana? Um…”

Right. Weiss and Claudine. They asked her something, and were still anticipating her reply. What had they been talking about? Ah, school.

School… huh.

Diana turned back to the TV, leaning against the couch. Enrolling. School. Studying. Diana had been prepared to study medicine all her life, but now that she couldn’t become the surgeon her mother’s family wanted her to be, she didn’t…. quite know what to do.

Of course, there were other options in the medical field, but she didn’t fancy said options at the moment because it only served to feed her now-recognized trauma. Medicine, it reminded her. Reminded her of so many things, both pleasant and… not. She still liked growing herbs and medicinal plants in their little garden that Claudine had helped her set up. It reminded her of her mother. That thought was both a joy, and sadness in and of itself. She had enough medical knowledge to possibly become a different kind of doctor, not necessarily a surgeon; but the history behind how she accumulated all of it was not the best experience.

She realized now that maybe, just maybe, she wanted to take a rest from it. What her whole life had been built to be.

Regardless, this didn’t make her thoughts any clearer, or give her a definite direction for a decision. She sighed, finally easing the growing tension that had settled in the air from all the silence and waiting, the only thing breaking the stillness first being the padding of Claudine’s feet as she made her way to the sitting area, taking her place at the other end of the couch, opposite Weiss.

“I never thought of this until now.” Diana confessed after long moments of ponder, finally speaking her mind.

Weiss and Claudine listened with all attentiveness.

“My life had been planned out for me; from beginning to end. What I would do, where I would go, when I would do this, how I’d do that. I’ve never…” She closed her eyes, picturing herself back then, a simple puppet, stringed along to the will of her handler. “-I haven’t really thought of wanting to do much else than obey and survive… and hopefully gain the love of my family.” She lifted her knees onto the couch, hugging them close to her chest. “A foolish wish on my part.”

“It’s not foolish.” Claudine interjected quickly. “Wanting to be loved isn’t foolish. It’s natural. Everyone wants to be cherished, and supported, and seen as they are. Understood. It’s not foolish.” She move closer to Diana’s side, taking a hand. “Never think that it is.” She squeezed. “Okay?”

Diana felt tears welling up in her eyes; not trusting in her verbal ability to reply, she opted to just nod. Claudine noticed the emotion leaking from her eyes, wiping them away ever gently, as gentle as she always was.

Weiss watched over the interaction fondly, before eventually sighing. Diana’s reply was welcome and all, but it didn’t answer much of their original question of what she planned to do now.

“Diana, do you still want to study medicine?” Weiss asked the important question directly, gaining the attention of the pair beside her. She received a shake of the head, no. “Well, um… do you have any other options? Or something else you wished you could’ve done before you were told that you had to be a doctor?”

Another shake of the head.

“Hmm…” This only drew more of a blank than anything. “Ah.” Suddenly she had a thought.

“Weiss? Did you come up with anything?”

“Sort of.” She shrugged. “Well, what are your thoughts on a change of pace?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, Claudine and I go to the same school.” She pointed out, matter-of-factly. “If the worry was not being able to see Diana during the day, then wouldn’t it make sense to just… go to school together? All of us?” She directed the question more to Claudine.

“Weiss… we go to an arts school.” Claudine replied, confused. “That’s like… the furthest Diana could be from being a doctor.” As far as she knew her, Weiss wasn’t one for suggestions that were so left field, usually quite realistic, but maybe she was onto something.

“And? As someone who grew up in an environment quite like Diana’s, heiress things and all that,” She explained with a twirl of a finger through the air, “I can say that by experience, you’re made to learn all the most useless showy things.”

Claudine laughed at that. Well, maybe that was a valid point.

“I’ve known enough people to know that you have something like that up your sleeve.” She turned to Diana. “I’m sure you’ve had other interests besides studying medicine, right? Nothing like a job, or anything. A hobby?”

Diana thought long and hard. As she came into her last two years of high school, she had been made to focus completely on preparing to get into a good medicine-related program, and dropped anything unrelated to that goal. But before that, what had she been doing?

“Ah.”

“See? There is something.” Weiss smiled.

“Well… I remember my guardians signing me up to do painting and photography just as I entered my teen years. They even hired tutors and all.” Diana fished through her vague memories of the past, actually wondering if her camera from back then was alive and well. “It...was a hobby I actually grew to love. Possibly the first from all the other skills that had been pushed onto me.”

Diana continued to explain that as she was immersed deeper into the medium, the more she enjoyed. The Cavendish’s hadn’t minded it at the time as it brought some sort of prestige to their family. She also mentioned having played the piano since childhood to entertain guests in the event that she was invited by the main house to show off their genius charge, despite not finding use for her outside such functions.

“They had me stop eventually, however, as they weren’t the skills a doctor needed.”

Talk about tossing something away once it held no use or value anymore. It was really frustrating to know just how sad Diana’s background was before they’d met.

Weiss shook her head. This wasn’t the time for this. No more. They would be building a new present for Diana, and for themselves. Together. She wasn’t sure why she was so comfortable with the prospect of supporting one another with these people. Truly, it hadn’t been long since they’d met; and yet there was this sense of camaraderie and familiarity that they had possibly always wanted from a family that they’d found in each other. Maybe it was that.

Possibly the thought of starting with someone on a blank slate, with no preconceived expectations and assumptions despite knowing the terrors of their pasts. Or maybe it was because of that that they got along so well. Who knows.

What she did know was that she had the back of these people with her in this room, at this time, and she trusted that they’d have hers. They were family like that. Solving problems together. And speaking of problems, they just found out how to deal with their latest.

“Sounds like we can get you in.” Weiss nodded in assessment, taking in the latest information Diana had shared. This could work.

“Weiss,” Claudine turned to her, sighing. “Even so, this school is quite demanding. I’m not doubting our older sister’s abilities and-or experience, but…” As far as she knew, this was a special institute with students from all over the globe, coming to perfect years-worth of craft. Although their father had been the one to enroll them, Claudine knew from the letters and documents she’d received from him that her recommendations from high school played a huge roll in getting into a school that didn’t accept just anyone.

“Then we get a recommendation from her previous schools.” So Weiss could read minds now, apparently.

“That still isn’t a guarantee…” Claudine sighed again, but was slowly beginning to accept this inevitable plan of action. It seemed as though a motivated Weiss was an unstoppable Weiss. She should’ve taken the hint from the shopping and driving.

“Come on, Miss Actress. Where’s your thirst for flair? For adventure and beating the odds? Where’s the passion? On the stage? The world is your stage and all that jazz.” Weiss exclaimed dramatically, so unlike her. Almost as if she was playing a role.

Claudine rolled her eyes, smiling nonetheless. “This actress just got a reality check, thank you very much. And so many odds. I have enough to beat already.” She chuckled, thinking on everything that had occurred over the course of such a short time. Finding out who her true father was, hearing about her mother’s illness, discovering she shared the same blood in her veins as two equally unfortunate- or really, more unfortunate souls. “But I suppose, there’s always room for some excitement and a challenge.” She’d never let one bring her down. She always did love a good challenge.

“Perfect! So your on board.” Weiss cheered, turning to the most important piece of their plan. “And what about you Diana?” She asked, softer, kinder. “Do you want to maybe try this out? With us? We know we might not seem all that trustworthy, and you haven’t known us lo-”

“I trust you more than you know.” Diana cut her off with a smile. “Thank you. For all you’ve been doing for me. You truly have yet to understand the depth of my gratefulness towards you both. Thank you.”

Her sincerity pierced through their hearts, melting them as Diana always did. Weiss actually thought she’d cry. A time and place for everything, though.

“Well!” She exclaimed, getting up from the couch. With a shrug, she commented offhandedly, “If all else fails, guess old moneybags might just be good for something.”

“WEISS!” Claudine gasped. “Are you suggesting we bribe the school? This honorable institution?!” Despite her words, she was smiling, almost laughing. Whether Weiss was serious or joking, it was absurd… and incredibly plausible.

“I know they might not accept Cash, okay. Calm down.” Weiss flipped her hair over her shoulder. “That’s why I said, ‘if all else fails’.” She spoke with air quotes. “I’d rather not do it either, y’know? Dirty our hands like that old man. Though I would love to drag him through the mud with rumors since we will indeed use his oh-so-good name,” Diana actually giggled at that one. “I’d rather we not get the same backlash.”

Claudine folded her arms in front of her, processing it all. It sounded so unrealistic. School was going to begin in just about two weeks, need she remind them! Would they have enough time to get everything ready? But then, this was the same Weiss who had a luxury car delivered to their door in a mere fifteen minutes.

“Oh Claudine, Dear Claudine, why do you fret?” Weiss laughed, putting on an obnoxious facade in Claudine’s very honest opinion, like one of those irritating rich girls back in France. “Trust in me and the power of connections.”

“Thought you hated those connections.”

“They’re useful.” Weiss shrugged, confident in their plan. There was also Diana’s family name to consider. From what they’d known so far, they were quite famous and surely had a pull of power somehow. She was sure that it would be of value as well.

“Scary. You people are scary. Heiresses are scary.” Claudine muttered, resigning to this decision. “Whatever. I’ll help out with what I can.”

“Perfect!” Weiss clapped, hand already typing away on her phone.

“Guess this means we won’t be meeting that old man tomorrow, huh? Claudine mused, thinking back to the gatekeeper they’d met earlier in the day. After all, they needed to prepare for Diana’s enrollment. Their business was simple enough and could wait until the same day. “I wonder if he’ll actually remember us and wait for the three foolish little girls to come back earlier.” Claudine looked to her sisters for their thoughts.

Diana simply shrugged.

Weiss actually thought about it for a moment, pausing her actions, a finger tapping against her cheek.

“Nah.”

A/N: As always, I welcome any and all feedback! It really helps with the motivation and like… my personal growth. Thank you for reading and til next time!

~Shintori Khazumi

#rwby x lwa x starira #Little Witch Academia #shoujo kageki revue starlight #revue starlight #rwby #saijou claudine #weiss schnee #diana cavendish #I Have Two Sisters?!#fanfic #crossover

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chubbyheroesworthyheroes · 4 years ago

Note

Hello, excuse me, but can I have a request you for a fic, 32) and 6) between Hector and Ike ?, thanks nwn

32) Eating competition

6) Mutual wg

With all the Heroes in the Order, and that number ceaselessly growing every day, the mess hall was a constantly active madhouse. People going in, coming out, resupplying -- it never really ended, and was always a source of noise and activity. With so many Heroes around, everyone took a turn at cooking, both to the great success and failure of such a system. But, what it sometimes lacked in edible food, it always made up for in sheer variety. One day, you’d be eating something from Archanea, the next, it would be a meal from Magvel.

Many people liked to stick to the food they were most familiar with, but Ike was never one to shy away from that which he was unused to. So long as it wasn’t rotten, he was game to try it out. Even if he didn’t particularly care for something, he’d eat it gratefully all the same; wasting food, even when it was bountiful, was simply just not how Ike had been raised.

Hector, though from an entirely different background to the Tellian mercenary, wasn’t too far off in his adventurous tastes. Where was the fun in only eating the same sorts of dishes when there were so many others available?

It was inevitable that the two would cross paths in the mess hall, and despite all the other people they’d have to wade through to end up at a table opposite each other, fate chose to push the two together one day. At first, they didn’t engage, simply went about eating their food and speaking with their respective companions -- but, where most people would have finished their meals, both Hector and Ike kept going. This, of course, was what started things off. Among his own friends, Hector was the one with the ridiculous appetite, but glancing up from his own food to see someone else eating even more than him? Well, it immediately lit the Ostian’s competitive fire, and it didn’t take long for him to strike up a conversation with the warrior across from him.

Ike wasn’t much for conversations, especially with relative strangers, but Hector’s boisterousness reminded him of Boyd, so it was a bit easier to warm up to him. The two chatted for a while, their previous company having excused themselves after finishing up their own food, and it didn’t take long before Hector proposed a little competition.

“We seem pretty evenly matched on this battlefield, so how about a little, friendly competition to see who can pack more away?” Hector cajoled in a friendly manner, making a wide gesture to the empty plates between the two of them.

Ike thought it was more than a little silly to compete over who could eat more, but he shrugged in quiet acceptance; the only ones who could match him in eating back in Tellius had been members of the Laguz, so he was pretty confident that beating Hector would be simple. “Alright, if you feel up for it.” His words weren’t meant to be insulting, but with the serious and blunt way Ike looked and spoke most of the time, Hector took it as a jab.

“Oh, so that’s how you want to play, huh? Don’t expect me to hold back, then!” Hector puffed up, all bluster and confidence as he got up, gesturing for Ike to follow, so that they could load back up on the same type and amount of food. “Better put your stomach where your mouth is, or else I’ll smoke you real good.” And, with very little ceremony, he started in on his newly acquired food; messily shoveling as much food as he could get into his mouth in an attempt to show up his competition.

Ike shook his head at the posturing, but followed suit -- though he didn’t waste as much food with sloppy eating as he dug in. He let the Ostian have a minute or two of satisfaction with how quickly he was making his way through dishes, but the competition was about who could eat more, not who could eat faster. The mercenary took some time to actually enjoy the flavors of what he was eating, waiting for that unavoidable moment when Hector started to hit his limits and slowed down. It was about three extra meals in -- all heavy dishes of seasoned meats, sauteed vegetables and filling sides of bread or several different rices.

Having already really eaten his fill earlier, Hector could feel himself struggling to get everything down after a while; his stomach painfully stuffed full and protesting every forkful of food. Leaning back and pressing the heel of his hand sharply into his middle, trying to ease the discomfort there, Hector gaped when he saw Ike not only speedily and steadily catching up to him, but easily passing him up without missing a beat.

It spurred him on enough to at least finish the dish he’d started in on, but with his stomach gurgling sickly from all the food he’d forced into it so quickly, Hector had to admit defeat. Ike was a good sport about it, telling Hector that it had been more fun than he’d originally thought as he dutifully finished the rest of his food as well as what Hector had left. Both of the warriors stuffed to the gills, they simply sat and dozily exchanged stories until their guts had digested enough to let them up.

Having won soundly, Ike thought that would be the end of it, but Hector was stubborn and fiery, and came back the next week to challenge the Tellian again. This time, they were both starting on empty stomachs, having just gotten back from various tasks on the Summoner’s behalf. It was closer this time around, but not by much; their little face off had gathered some onlookers regardless, some of the other Heroes taking sides and making wagers.

It became a weekly event, mostly brought on by Hector’s determination to win, as well as the growing interest in betting pools by those watching.

As the weeks rolled into months, and this competition continued on and on, the effects of so much extra food were making themselves known on both Hector and Ike.

Being more unused to the sheer amount of food out of the two of them, Hector’s gains were more obvious. His face had rounded out, double chin prominent no matter how he held his head. He’d always had strong shoulders and a thick neck, but those shoulders were now covered in a layer of plushness, his neck melding with the softness almost seamlessly. His powerful chest now sported a pair of hand-overflowing moobs that made it near impossible to wear his armor, especially when coupled with the bloated mass of his belly -- his large breasts resting on top of his stomach, making his flabby chins stand out even more. Love handles had settled at his sides like they were meant to be there, wobbling atop his plump hips as he waddled from place to place. His ass practically had a gravitational pull all on its own, taking up enough space on the benches in the mess hall to fit at least two or three other people, causing the sturdy benches to bow dangerously whenever he plopped himself down onto one. His size truly seemed to match his attitude now.

Ike, who had seemed to handle the food better for quite a while, had proved that he also wasn’t immune to the massive influx of calories.

Unlike Hector, whose weight seemed to distribute relatively evenly across his body, the majority of Ike’s seemed to settle on his middle. While the rest of him had filled out and gotten thicker as well, enough to mostly obscure his muscles, it wasn’t anywhere near as noticeable as his stomach. Meaty pecs sat atop a veritable ocean of lard, Ike’s gut the first thing anyone saw of him whenever he came into a room now. Where Hector’s belly looked perpetually stuffed -- round and tight, sticking out proudly -- Ike’s seemed to be going for a full out conquest of the mercenary’s lap. Soft and heavy, his belly’s fat rolled out to claim the space just shy of his knees when he was seated, chunky legs forced apart to give his fleshy underbelly room to spread out. While the upper section of his stomach would get stuffed rock hard with food at these weekly eating competitions, his lower belly maintained its soft, squishy form no matter how full up Ike was. His shirt had long ago given up trying to contain his belly, leaving the hefty chub open to any and all looks or touches that anyone else in the Order wanted to give it.

They’d both gone from being two of the most recognizably strongest Heroes in the Order, to its biggest dough balls. It didn’t matter much; there was always more people to fill in on quests or teams, and the other Heroes got a great deal of entertainment on betting every week come contest time.

Huffing and puffing as he took his seat, the bench groaning like a pained thing under his weight, Hector grinned across the table -- stacked high and wide with food for the competition -- at his friendly rival. Despite the fact that the Ostian had yet to win a round, he couldn’t even be bitter about his losses, as Ike had been there to help him up his speed and capacity for the next week’s competition.

“I’ll catch up to you one day, you know,” Hector assured, still all confidence and passion. “And you better believe, I won’t let you forget it once I do!”

Ike could only chuckle at the promise, belly wobbling with his laughter even as it was pressed close to the edge of the table in order for him to be able to reach the food there. “But you have to do it first. Come on, let’s get this round started already, I’m starving…”

#xxlopezx #male weight gain #male wg #chubby!hector #chubby!ike #this one just sorta grabbed my brain so i ended up doing it before another prompt i was gonna get to #i hope it was good!

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osdd-1bitch · 3 years ago

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#1: Emily's introduction:

Hallo, I guess I’ll be the first to do a little entry thing! The Computer explained it to me, and said it wanted some basic things first, so I suppose I’ll start with an introduction.

Salut! I’m a member of the Astral Assembly-or well, that’s our name for now..? It’s, well, pending approval and there’s some others that have been suggested. I personally like that one the best though.

My name is Emily! I’m a physical caretaker, though I do occasionally help out with the kids. I’m and I’m in my mid to late 20s, a cassgender girl (she/they), and a semi-frequent fronter. Though it’s all pretty fluid nowadays…

My favorite color is green, my favorite animal is butterflies, and I really like cake when it’s cold. I love drinking tea, mystery and nonfiction novels, and hiking! I’m arospec, and sapphic.

I used to be a part of the Anonymous Enclave area, and avoided that layer shift, as well as the one with the JM, so I’ve stuck with the main fronting group for a good while. My best friend is Cookie, a gatekeeper, but she is a little hard to reach right now.

I know the most French out of all of us-though that isn’t much anyways-and really love doing my/our nails! I do the showering stuff, telling people to eat, that sort of stuff! I’m not anyone super important internally, though I was an ‘honorary gatekeeper’ for a while and helped Cookie, and that was really fun. Lanuages, like I said before, are also really really fun to learn!

I mostly hang out with Sia, Mia, and Nia when I can get down there, other than Cookie of course. I’m probably closest to Mia, though all of them are nice. Nia’s just a bit loud and Sia and I just don’t have much in common.

I’m probably the most human of the system(s) to be honest. Well there are technically humanish people around, they are mostly varying levels of humanity. Claws, teeth, extra appendages, the works. I’m just a normal human person though, but I don't mind. It probably has to do with my role, well I don’t really look like the body I certainly have more in common with it than most. And since my whole job is taking care of it, it’s pretty useful to be comfortable in it, helps me stay intune and not tap out and miss something.

About the new era, I..don’t know 2co that well, I’ll be perfectly honest, but I know ACI pretty well. 2co seems like a good match to balance it out, so I hope they’ll do well working together! Things are looking up, though it's going to be a rocky road for a while. Mmm...rocky road ice cream...

I live in a sort of secluded area of the headspace, in the Cosmic Sea. It’s this weirdly moving sort of galaxy with floating islands. Mine’s a tad lower than the rest and in a place without many of the brighter stars, mostly blue ones and dwarves.

Mine’s mostly woods, with my house! Basement, kitchen, it’s pretty quaint and cozy if I do say so myself.

The woods are pretty, and the seasons change randomly. Rivers, and birds, that sort of thing!

Or well, the general ambiance of birds, since i never actually see any, so it might just be for the aesthetic.

The Cosmic Sea is part of the Plane, but it’s only connected through a big tunnel that used to be a hub, but it’s not really very active now...it’s sort of strange to walk through that place, it’s gigantic. There’s rooms full of papers, big signboards, chairs, and doors upon doors. Most are locked nowadays. I hope it comes back into use someday, I know it’d be a great help with comms, but we need to get better at that to even start using that place again...ugh.

But it’s a very scenic trip! I walk everywhere, which most people don’t bother, but it really is beautiful. I love taking in the time to appreciate it whenever I can!

I tend to follow my routes though, so i can't really tell you much about the furtherest corners of our headspace or anything like that.

I don’t front for fun much, most of the time there’s something that's been neglected that I should take care of. But I really don’t mind, I do love my role and I don’t blame anyone. Mental health is screwy, and quite a few members are pretty clueless about how the body works.

I’ve been outside of a specific subsystem, cluster, or layer for a long time now. I suspect I’ll probably keep free floating in the future. I’m unsure why there hasn’t been any other physical caretakers, since there are repeats of every other role (I think) but things are weird.

I don’t have very many outside hobbies. I would love a cat or pet, and feed some strays. Otherwise, I’m pretty easy to miss.

Some random questions I found looking around:

-Have you ever had a nickname? What is it?

Mia calls me Emmie, and a few people call me Em or just M. The last one has caused some confusion since my name starts with a E, not a M.

-What is your favorite book? Least favorite?

My favorite genre is poetry, though I love older classical books! Sheil Silverstiens collections, Jane Austen, Red Fox, Call of The Wild and White Fang, lyrical works or written in older styles. The flow of it is just beautiful and so rich with ambiance! I don’t think I’d be able to choose a specific one….

But unrelated to those two genres, I read the works of a certain mystery/horror novelist who was wonderful in crafting pretty interesting characters and dynamics of trauma and such, and doing nothing with it. Oh, and there was an incredibly frustrating lack of action, by action I mean plot important things. The mysteries had little to no build up, and if answers were given it was randomly at the end of the book if not at all. Oh, and the cleverly set up problems and things for the characters to deal with magically vanish at the end. Like, no.

It was incredibly frustrating to read, but I fell in love with the characters and the world. They deserved better plots though, it was painful.

-Favorite food?

Oatmeal cookies and tea! I could eat them forever, way better than chocolate chip. It’s not really a meal, but it’s certainly healthier than other types of cookies.

I do really love cake though, but refrigerated! Broccoli is delicious too. Ice cream is a guilty pleasure.

-Least favorite food?

Oatmeal by itself, red meat, and carrots are all gross. I don’t like most candies, they taste of chemicals or are too sweet for me.

-If you were stuck on a deserted island, what one thing would you take with you, and why?

Would a survival kit count as one thing?

If not, one of those person-sized books about survival and animals and stuff you’d drag out of the library at age 3 and read for hours.

I can make my own fun, but well I am a physical caretaker, I certainly don’t know enough survival skills to live on an island for who knows how long!

-If you were a superhero, what power would you have?

Some sort of mind control, since it’s the easiest and most nonviolent way to keep the peace. If I can just suggest people to stop doing stuff, no need for punches. It’d also be way more efficient and I would have more time to myself, and could just mindwipe anyone who saw my real identity.

Though, that’s if I needed one. I could just brainwash people well casually hiding somewhere, rather than have to learn what spandex feels like. Seriously, I understand the want for a good aesthetic, but some of these costumes are shamefully ugly...I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing outside underwear in public, thank you very much

That’s all for now I guess. Next time I want to call up some of the other caretakers and do a bit of an introspective, maybe I can get a hold of Cookie too..

And probably find Scatter, we have a bit in common in our exclusion from the normal laws of syssics (system physics)!

I've actually posted here once or twice if you would believe that! Maybe I'll sign some posts? Either way, see you!

Emily (9/11/21)

(Ooh, bit of an ominous date.... Well, cant be helped I guess.)

(Partially transcripted by Liam)

#+emily #+1 #+about #+relation #+quirks #+role #+introduction #personal #mental files #txt

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one-shot-plus-size · 4 years ago

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Home is where the heart is. Part 6.

Imagine : Clayton Cardenas meets Olivia Mazru, who is on vacation in the USA for the first time.

Chapters: 6/10

Each of the 7 chapters will cover 3 days of Olivia’s vacation, and 3 chapters will cover the time after returning home.

Part 5

Clayton took her for breakfast and then for a walk to Central Park. Their hands were all the time intertwined, they walked through the green area. All the time his hand embraced her, his thumb gently smoothed her skin. At noon, they took the food out of the pub and settled on the grass in the quietest part of the park - Sheep Meadow.

- And how do you like it? - Clayton was looking at her pushing pasta into her mouth.

- I am not used to such noise, you know I live in the countryside. In a small house in the forest, I have a garden and a sacred peace. This city is vibrant with life, it also has its charm. But in the long run it would be tiresome - she smiled at it, putting a little shrimp in her mouth.

- How is it where you live ? - he rested his hands on his knees.

- I have a beautiful little house made of wood. I built it myself, my colleague is an architect. She helped me to put on paper what I had in my head, then she adjusted it to the building conditions in the area. The family helped me with the construction and in about two years my dream places were created. - She was looking at it.

His eyebrows reached the hairline, he was surprised how resourceful it was.

- I don't care about the picture - she pulled the phone out of her pocket.

She searched the photo gallery on the phone until she found this one picture of her house. She turned the device in his direction, Clay looked at the photo.

- This is a photo a few days after the construction and cleaning up of the site. Now I have an access road, I've given myself a place where I park my car. A friend helped me to make a terrace at the back of the house and a porch in front.

- I will be honest, right ? - He was looking at it.

- Sure - she nodded her head blocking the device and putting it away.

- Marry me - he laughed - he has lived in this world for 33 years and I have never met such a resourceful and overwhelming woman as you. You have your own company, you work on a full-time basis and you have built a house with your own hands. I am in shock, the guy you give your heart to will be the happiest guy in the world.

She snorted under her nose and twisted her head.

- Poland is not like the United States. In my country, people like me are somewhat excluded. Maybe not excluded but more unwanted. There, people with colorful hair, numerous earrings and quite a lot of overweight are different, avoided. Guys want beautiful women, slim with normal hair color. Well I don't fit in, I've never been like most people and never will be. My introverted character doesn't help to meet new people. Some time ago I realized that I want to live on my own terms. This is my life, I am what I am and nobody can dictate my conditions. - She looked at it - I'm sorry, I'm talking nonsense.

Clayton was staring into the space in front of him, holding a box of food in his hands. His eyebrows were wrinkled in thought.

- You don't say stupidity, people can be cruel without any reason. And how you handled all this is admirable. Wear yourself proud, because you deserve it - He leaned slightly and wet her on the cheek.

- Thanks - she blushed.

After the meal they lay down on the grass and talked about everything and nothing concrete. They simply enjoyed their company. After resting they went to METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART.

- Do you want coffee? - Clay stood before her.

- With milk, please - she smiled and sat on the stairs.

- Good - he nodded his head.

He put his hands on her knees and leaned on them. He leaned down and kissed her a little bit harder first. Her hand rested on his cheek and smiled slightly. He broke away from her, cmocked her in the forehead and went to the coffee shop. Olivia ran her thumb over her mouth and smiled like a fool.

- It's good to be in love - a voice was heard behind her.

She turned around behind her, saw a middle-aged woman with a smile from ear to ear.

- That boy of yours must love you - she looked at him - you can see it from people, I used to be like that too. Please nurture love is the most important thing in your life.

- Thank you - she smiled slightly.

She turned her head when Clayton ordered coffee. She looked at him, his ass was perfectly exposed by dark jeans. The horizontal line shirt emphasized his shoulder muscles and slim figure well. Hair in total disorder added to his charm, he turned to her as if feeling her gaze. He smiled widely and returned to the woman in the booth with his gaze. When he smiled on his cheeks two sweet bouquets were formed on his cheeks like in small, plump children. The smile was spreading all over his face, he looked so charming then. She smiled to herself and let her head down. She wanted to have such a guy with her, all her co-workers' jaws would fall down. After a few moments, Clay fell down next to her giving her a cup of coffee.

- Thanks - she nodded her head.

She looked at the streets and the cars driving around, this city was really bustling with life. Crowds of people were walking the streets, people were hurrying. Businessmen in well-cut suits, women in perfect suits. Everyone was in a hurry, chasing for money. For a fortune which, after death, will be of no use to any of us. But each of us had different priorities in life, each of us wanted to experience them differently.

- What are you so proud of? - Clay poked her on the shoulder.

- Nothing concrete.

He nodded his head slightly and stared at the space in front of him.

- When do you start recording the second season of Mayan's MC?

- In just over a month we start working on the set.

- Cool, I watched all seasons of Sons of Anarchy on Netflix when I worked at home for some time. I was absorbed by this series endlessly, Kurt Sutter did a good job.

- Have you watched us? - He looked at her - in the sense of Mayan's MC?

- Of course I did - she was nodding her head - a bit illegal, but I had no other choice.

- Oh - he laughed.

- You know, in my country there is no such access to series and films as here. Sometimes you have to exercise yourself to get over something.

- He promises you that when we record the second season he will send you records with episodes so you don't have to break the law - he laughed.

- I take your word for it - she patted it on the shoulder.

- SAMCRO's favorite character?

- Chibs - she laughed.

- Why ? - He was drinking coffee by peeking at it.

- Throughout the whole series he probably went through the biggest change, even though he was broken so many times, he was hurt so much, he was still such a wicked Scotsman. Then I guess Jackson didn't quite understand the ending, but after a while I know that he was just being eaten by remorse.

- And at Mayan's?

- Honestly it's hard to say, this is only the first season, it's not known how the characters will develop. But if I were to say now it would probably be either Bishop or a young part of the club. Bishop because he emanates such strength, decisiveness and power. And young because there is a great relationship and interaction between them. Your role of Angela Reyes is really cool, you play him great.

- Thanks - he blushed on his cheeks.

- You play really well, you are talented.

- That's enough or I'll blush.

- Too late - she laughed.

- Shut up - he snorted at her.

She leaned her chin against his shoulder. He looked at her and smiled slightly.

- So where are you going to take me today, what?

- What would you like to see? - He finished his coffee.

- I was planning a Time Squer in the evening.

- So we will go there - he nodded his head - any more special wishes ?

- I guess not for today anymore, but I will come up with something for tomorrow.

- How about if he plans a great day tomorrow, then we'll go to dinner in the evening. And we will spend the next day in bed ? You're out in a few days, and I'd like to give you some more pleasure.

He noticed how he bites his lower lip.

- If you want to, of course - he added quietly.

Olivia put the coffee mug on the step between her legs, grabbed Clayton's beard and turned his face in her direction. She dipped him in the mouth without taking the look away from him.

- She wanted to - she smiled slightly.

He leaned harder towards her, nudged her nose and kissed her lightly. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the taste of her as she opened her lips, he entered them with his tongue. He broke away from her and looked around him biting his lower lip.

- Come on - he squinted and rose.

He dragged her behind him to the Museum building, walked quickly to the ticket offices.

- Can we use the toilet? My girlfriend wants to pee terribly - he gave the cashier his company smile.

- You have to buy the tickets - the cashier did not even look at them.

Clayton snorted under his nose, took the amount deducted to the counter. Then he dragged Olivia to the bathrooms.

- What are you doing? - She followed him.

- You'll see - He pushed her into the bathroom.

He looked around again and followed her into the room. He locked the door behind him, pressed her firmly against the wall and kissed her. A moan came out of her mouth when he rolled his hips into her. She felt his penis pressed against his pants, her hand slipped down on his crotch. She rubbed them a few times, and he broke away from her. He leaned his forehead against her forehead and moaned.

- Do you like to do this in a public place ? - she looked into his eyes.

He smiled wide, his hands slipped on her pants. He unbuttoned them and slid his hand into her panties, he felt how wet it was. He slipped his fingers inside her, she moaned in his ear. He moved them strongly and quickly, stabbed his teeth in her neck.

- Clay...- she moaned constantly.

- Come on, baby - he whispered in her ear - he feels you clench, come on my toes. And I'll give you what you need.

He moved faster and faster, she leaned her forehead against his shoulder. When she had an orgasm, she stuck her teeth into his shoulder, and he hissed. He pulled his fingers out of it and put them in his mouth, stared at her eyes.

- You taste so good - he muttered.

She grabbed his hand, slipped her fingers into her mouth. She braided them with her tongue and kept eye contact with him all the time.

- Enough - he muttered.

He grabbed her ass and led her to the sink, on which he had planted her before taking off her pants. When he kissed her, she was getting to him. She unfastened his belt buckle, button and lock. He helped slide them down to his knees together with the boxers. She embraced him with her hand and moved him several times.

- Fuck - he leaned his forehead against her shoulder.

She braided him with her legs at the waist and attracted to herself. He moved his penis along her entrance, irritated her for a while, and then finally went deep into her.

- If they catch us it will burn - she moaned.

- A note of adrenaline - he laughed.

He did not brake, they did it quickly. Initially she was worried that someone might catch them having sex in the Museum bathroom, but as the pleasure grew, she did not care. She was sticking her teeth into his shoulder when she had a second orgasm, Clayton needed a longer time to come. He stabbed his face in her neck and grunted when he was falling down inside her. Olivia was smoothing his hair while he calmed his breath, raised his head slightly. He wetted her in the mouth and slipped out of her. First he wiped himself and packed into his boxers and pants and then cleaned her up. With a soaked towel, he helped her put on her underwear and pants. He pushed her to the door for a while and kissed her deeply.

- You are the first woman I have done such a thing with - he smiled at her mouth.

- I am usually not like that.

- Usually you are polite and laid out ? - she improved herself in the mirror.

- So that you know - he nodded his head.

He opened the door, slid his head through the door and looked around the hallway. When he saw that nobody was there, he pulled Olivia out of the room.

- I won't believe you are a good boy - she laughed following him.

Part 7

#Clayton Cardenas #Mayans MC #Mayans fandom #Love #Olivia

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starkerkeyz · 5 years ago

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Love Me Sweetly, Kiss Me Softly (2/?)

Chapter Title: The Dangerous Perks of Dating Peter Parker

Length: 5528 WC

Warnings: TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF (for nooow), intersex omegas, naughty but innocent Peter?

Links:

AO3

Part 1

Summary:

"We can go anywhere you want," Peter says, wide-eyed and flushed.

“All I want is you.” Tony husks, his mouth parted so he can taste Peter’s arousal on the roof of his mouth, coating his tongue and throat like liquid sin. His upper lip curls and his tongue peeks out, wanting to lick the musky saline taste right out of the air.

His tail stays pressed to Peter’s thigh and he wishes his hand could join it, too.

Keyz 💖: The date is here! The date is here! Somehow they DON’T fuck in the bathroom or against a tree in the park? Mads and I have been replaced by pod people I swear. Tony is behaving.

Mads💗: The first date! TBH, the date went a looot longer than I thought it would so it got split. I can't believe how infatuated… and silly… our boys are. You'll see what I mean 😂

💖💖💖

Tony allows himself to be led and enjoys pointedly squeezing Peter’s hand every now and then along the way. Every time he did, Peter’s little tail bobbed and twitched, and it was enchanting.

“Do you eat fast food a lot?” Tony asks curiously into the comfortable silence that's descended between them.

Peter seems too slender for that sort of diet but then again, Tony fully plans on buying 10 combos and eating until he couldn’t anymore and he's pretty athletic himself, thanks.

Truthfully, Tony doesn’t really care which way Peter answers; he doesn’t mind if Peter usually eats fast food or regularly eats home-cooked and this is a treat. What he cares about is learning Peter’s answer just so he’d know that much more about the bunny.

Tony wants to learn as much as he can about Peter and he’s a little dismayed about how little he’s starting with. He has no idea if rabbits are social or solitary, mate for life or only a season. Hell, he didn’t know most bunnies prefer grains to carrots until he’d been searching the web for courting present ideas.

Most of the initial search results were sex toys.

Tony bookmarked the really interesting ones before filtering and narrowing it down to the Honey Bunny’s. Just in case.

Peter's ear twitches at the question.

"Sometimes," he says reluctantly as he brings them down the street.

Tony tilts one ear towards Peter politely and the other monitors ahead and around them for threats. He catches sight of the ear twitch and inhales deeply, pride warm and soft in his chest. Peter’s omega scent and ear posturing calls to Tony’s alpha for protection without even trying.

His ears being submissively down all the time (through no fault of his own but try explaining genetics to instinct) only add fuel to the fire growing between his ribs. It makes Tony’s wolf feel powerful and respected and feeds into the alpha urges to guard and protect.

Peter doesn't want to admit that he doesn't really do the fast foods that a carnivore would frequent. He can eat meat– has eaten meat, but he doesn't enjoy the flavor or texture as much as his friends do.

Normally, he enjoys fresh salads and crisp veggies. It's… not really a bunny stereotype since it's true… But he doesn't want to admit that to Tony.

He doesn't want to limit what the wolf eats just because he has a preference for greens. Besides, Five Guys has fries. Fries are potatoes… so vegetable. He should be fine.

He glances at the wolf, cheeks flushing just the slightest pink. He also doesn't admit that he has a salad stashed away in the fridge in the employee area.

"I eat at home a lot," he decides to say. "But MJ said this was a good spot for wolves. Ned says their burgers are really good too."

“I love burgers! It’s probably in my top three food groups. You already know me so well.” Tony uses both ears to signal his happiness and magnify his praise. He wants to shout it out to the rooftops that Peter is the smartest bunny on the planet; utilizing his ears and tail to flag his interest and pride like an obnoxious gushing fanboy to anyone within sight will have to do, instead.

Pleasure sparks inside him and Peter squeezes Tony's hand. He likes the idea of getting to know the wolf better. Burgers… He'll remember that.

But doubt still makes him worry. Five Guys is a fast food place, after all. Tony's probably had way better...

Peter’s eyes may be a little wide and he's almost sure that if he had a long tail like a wolf's or even a cat's, it'd be slowly waving back and forth. He bites his bottom lip, peeking at the wolf.

"Is this place okay…?" He asks, hopeful.

He really didn't have much time to find a really good spot to take the wolf. Everything had happened so fast… Not that he minds at all.

“I don’t mind Five Guys. I’ve had it before; your friends were right, they do have really good burgers. You made a good choice.” Tony bumps their shoulders together. He leans his weight against Peter as they walk and tucks his tail behind the bunny’s thigh, keeping him close.

The hairs at the back of Peter's neck stand at attention. The sensation makes his breath hitch and he almost looks behind him to check.

It could only be one thing and it's… weird. Weird because his own little fluffy ball of a tail isn't long enough to brush against his thighs. He's not used to the sensation and the soft brush of fur against his thighs excites him.

Maybe even more so because it's Tony.

Tony’s tail wags a few times, thumping and rubbing up against (and between) Peter’s legs before settling with only minor adjustments as they walk. He only briefly misses the feeling of another tail to twine with.

He’d have to figure out another way to scent Peter’s tail.

Some quiet, yet persistent little voice at the back of his mind suggests taking Tony home. It doesn't even make sense cause the fridge at home is packed with veggies, but it still persists. Take him home and let the wolf make a meal out of him…

Peter's blush deepens at such elicit thoughts. His scent, too, deepens with it. Arousal and want, all these signals that try to lure the wolf into devouring him.

He shakes his head rather adamantly to clear the thoughts.

"We can go anywhere you want," Peter says, wide-eyed and flushed.

His tail stays pressed to Peter’s thigh and he wishes his hand could join it, too.

The words echo in Peter's head, bouncing around and scrambling his already desire driven thoughts. Tony wants him…?

Peter just wants to press up right against the wolf, chest to chest. Maybe he's the one that's going to do the devouring with how hot he feels.

Would Peter even have the courage to do that to a wolf…? He peeks at the man, thoughts running wild but then–

“What I mean,” Tony blinks slowly. Wolf, alpha, and man all wanted to sink cock and fang into the heat Peter’s scent promises him.

It's hard to think why that's a bad idea with Peter looking at him with the sweetest brown eyes Tony has ever seen.

So eager to please. Giving himself up to Tony. Giving Tony power and control; over what he eats, over where they go. It's enough to cause a slam of arousal through his gut and into the rest of his body.

“Is that all I want is your company. The food is secondary.” Tony squeezes Peter’s hand and tries to reign himself in.

It’s incredibly difficult when a part of him is convinced that Peter wants to be thrown over the nearest bench and fucked in front of lunch hour traffic.

Those glossy brown eyes, the submissively lowered ears, the eager flush crowning smiling cheeks, the heady scent of fertile young omega; it's like Peter's the perfect embodiment of everything that sets Tony off.

He’d have to be strong enough to hold off. For Peter’s sake, if not his own.

If Tony's earlier words had almost set Peter off, these new ones feel like a bucket of ice cold water being dropped on him.

Peter tears his eyes away, a bit mortified over his thoughts. He's two seconds away from just jumping Tony on their first date and the wolf is being so sweet and such a gentleman.

He has to take control of himself. He's not some… some bunny stereotype that's down to fuck at the drop of a hat. Not that there's anything wrong with that… Bunnies are pretty carefree about sex, but Peter's always been a bit more reserved. Though… he'd probably bend over right then and there if Tony asks him…

He shakes his head so his ears sway again and he forces himself to focus.

"I wanna spend time with you, too," Peter says and tries to get all those rampant desires under control. "I… I wanna know more than what your favorite food is."

He says the words and realizes just how true they are. The bunny can't deny that he's so, so curious over what differences they have, but he doesn't mind at all.

It's exciting. Being with Tony is exciting and his little heart is beating with the thrill of having their first date.

There's so much Peter wants to know. Tony's favorite color… his hobbies… the way his lips taste…

Peter subconsciously tugs on his ear to focus and keep his mind out of the gutter.

Tony’s eyes watch his fingers curl around the soft looking ear with an intensity that has gotten him in trouble in the past. He just wants to feel out how soft it is with his lips. Maybe run it over his cheek and then lean in and kiss Peter-

He yips to himself to focus on something other than Peter’s entire gorgeous being and how much he wants to lick and taste every inch of him.

Fortunately, they've reached the restaurant. The scent of peanut oil and sizzling meat… Cajun, sharp and spicy, assault Peter's nose. He rubs it with his free hand but he knows he'll get accustomed to the smell fast.

Tony takes over and leads them up to the register. His stomach growls audibly from the delicious scent of cooking meat and frying oils filling his nose. His mouth waters so badly, he has to swallow before he can speak clearly.

“Go ahead and order whatever you want first. Mine is going to take them a while.” Tony winks at Peter. He doesn’t want to keep the bunny waiting for his ridiculous wolf appetite.

Peter flashes Tony a smile before he looks at the menu to make sure it's the same one he googled earlier.

"Small Cajun fries and um, just a cheeseburger," he tells the employee. Then he ticks off the toppings, a variety of veggies and ends it off with a, "And can I get it wrapped in lettuce?"

He's curious to see how it'll turn out. The bunny turns back to Tony with a chagrined smile.

Tony lets go of Peter’s hand so he could pull his wallet out of his back pocket. His tail shifts and tucks tighter to the bunny’s leg to compensate for the loss, almost hugging around so the tip tickles along his inner thighs.

It's still too bad that Peter’s tail is too short to wrap and tangle and wrestle with. Maybe he’d let Tony drape his longer tail over the little bob sometime? It would feel incomplete if Peter was properly scented everywhere but his tail and it was actually driving Tony a little crazy not having access. That cute little fluff ball belongs to Tony as much as everything else.

He shakes his head at himself when he registers how possessive that sounds, even in the privacy of his inner consciousness. He's going to be good. He’ll hold back, go as slowly as Peter wants, let the bunny lead.

He’s definitely not going to be a possessive stereotypical wolf that scents and fucks Peter constantly, circling and snarling at anyone that looks at him wrong. He's better than that.

Peter deserves him to be better than that.

The bunny's eyes widen a bit. He's definitely not used to feeling that and with how close it is to his groin, he's hyper aware of it. Normally, such a sensitive spot is extremely tickleish but in this setting…

His face flushes such a deep red when the scent of his own arousal sneaks up to his nose.

"Um, I'll be right back," Peter says, "Gonna hop in the bathroom for a sec."

He's worried he'll slick right through his pants and then, there'll be no way to explain that besides the fact that Tony just turns him into such a mess…

“Alright. I’ll pay, order mine, then pick a spot for us.” Tony leans his weight harder on Peter for a second before letting up. He resists the urge to rub their cheeks together; Peter is scent marked enough to survive a Five Guys bathroom unescorted.

"Be right back," Peter squeaks but not before pecking Tony on the cheek and running off.

Tony smiles to himself, pleased from the affection. He follows Peter with his ears, eyes still on the cashier as he orders ten combos for his own meal. He pays and heads to an empty table to wait for Peter.

He pulls his phone out as he waits, catching up on emails and news for about thirty seconds before he switches to the latest article on bunny fashion and trends. He needs to make sure he gets Peter only the best of the best.

The Honey Bunny’s are only the start. Tony would get Peter as many treats and nice things as he could handle and then some.

In the bathroom, Peter rushes into one of the stalls and he's right. He's starting to slick up just because Tony had casually curled his tail around his leg.

The bunny just wants to squeak in dismay over the entire thing. His stupid bunny body and their natural hyper sensitivity to everything. It's even worse when a bunny actually likes someone.

Peter feels incredibly embarrassed over the reaction since he's never felt this way before.

Their bodies don't understand public decency and Peter's, in particular, is now pumping out fuck me pheromones like it's his last fertile heat. It's ridiculous and as he tries to calm himself down, he's thankful that Tony's taken it so smoothly. The wolf is so polite and reserved, letting Peter keep face despite knowing what he smells like.

Cold water helps to bring the color in his cheeks down from a flushed red to a faint pink. He fixes himself up as much as possible and before he walks out the door. He stalls in front of one of the dispensers tucked away near the exit.

Slick pads…Scent neutralizing.

He bites his lip because he's not in heat but every time Tony so much as smiles at him, he feels like he is.

Better safe than sorry.

When he returns, it's to see several workers carrying numerous trays of burgers. Maybe there's a large party?

His eyes follow and... Nope. They're all headed to his date, the wolf tucked away in a corner and immersed in his phone. Peter's tail twitches in excitement and he quickly makes his way over.

In the whole pile of burgers, he spots his order.

"Wow," Peter ends up blurting out, but then he does a little bounce on his toes, worried that the single word might've been offensive.

"I mean, this is a lot," Peter says.

Tony looks up at Peter’s words, smiling broadly and pointing both ears forward to show he's listening. His tail hangs limp and relaxed out past the chair so the dark end trails the ground.

“I haven’t eaten in a while.” Tony shrugs off the amount with only some chagrin. It's normal for most wolves to snack throughout the day and have one big meal with their family and loved ones.

Like most things, Tony takes normal to the extreme and pushes the limits on his endurance. Like skipping eating today and yesterday to work on his projects. Which is a habit of his that he falls into whenever something catches his interest.

Far too often if you asked Rhodey. And Pepper. And Happy.

Tony vows to never let this topic come up when he brings Peter to the pack for inspection.

Peter debates for a moment if he should sit on the opposite side or if he should sit next to Tony. He really wants to stay close but… so much food… He doesn't want to hinder the man.

Reluctantly, he takes the opposite seat.

"Do all wolves have a large appetite?" He asks curiously.

Tony sits up and pulls two burgers closer to himself. He’s mastered the art of putting away food quickly and efficiently.

“Not if they don’t exercise, or if they eat at regular intervals with a non-wolf. But I’m running around constantly for my company and if there’s nobody making me sit down for food, I just… forget. Until I’m hungry enough to eat a deer.” Tony grins wide enough to show off his fangs. He loves that Peter doesn’t seem afraid of them.

Peter is more than aware of the wolf's fangs and a thrill shoots through him at the sight.

He thinks Tony looks so… devastatingly handsome. And dangerous. His little bunny heart shouldn't be thumping this hard in his chest but he can't help how it makes him feel.

He's pretty sure his little fluffy tail is wiggling, too

“I might not eat all of this, too. I usually order a lot and see how far I get,” Tony adds on, starting to eat. His record is nine.

“Do bunnies have to eat a lot because of high metabolism?” Tony asks in equal curiosity.

Peter blinks, ear doing a slight twitch.

"No, not really," he says but then he remembers the little hoard of snacks he keeps at both his job and at the apartment.

The bunny smiles sheepishly.

"Uhh, well, I mean– I think, maybe?" He leans closer, fascinated by the big bites Tony takes.

Tony hums at him encouragingly, pulling two more burgers close to him so he could keep going when he very quickly finishes the first ones. He felt like he could listen to Peter’s adorable fumbling for hours.

The way Tony consumes his food shouldn't be fascinating to the bunny but for some reason, it is. It's almost mesmerizing...

What big teeth you have…

The words are right there, teasing and playful, but Peter holds back. He doesn't want the wolf to think he's making fun of him.

He holds his own burger, wrapped in lettuce, and takes quick tiny little nibbles on it.

"I have a lot of snacks," Peter clarifies, "like a lot of snacks. A whole cabinet at work with my name on it. The Honey Bunny's didn't make it…"

He has maybe a handful of cookies left for May. They may or may not get back to the apartment intact.

“That’s fine. That just means I did right getting them for you in the first place.” Tony preens from the knowledge of a gift accepted and loved. Already, he wants to buy Peter more; as many as it takes to get him to smile and gush some more for Tony.

Seeing Peter happy from something Tony did makes Tony’s chest warm and his ears perk up in pride. Peter deserves nice things and to be happy, always.

Peter reaches over and shly brushes his fingers over Tony's wrist. He hadn't expected the wolf to get him anything, considering this is all so new…

"Thank you for the cookies," Peter says sincerely, brown eyes so warm and sweet like honey. "I loved them and– and I'm sure you put a lot of thought into it…"

He goes to pull away, realizing he shouldn't be disturbing the man. With how fast Tony's eating, he's probably ravenous.

Tony catches Peter’s wrist and adapts to eating one handed in the time it takes to rub and scent back. He laces their fingers together as he works through his food.

He’s honored that Peter is so trusting and willing to scent himself on Tony already. Of course, Tony wants to scent Peter back; maybe the bunny is just nervous about assuming and doesn’t understand his standing in Tony’s eyes?

The wolf lowers his ears and brings his tail out level and relaxed, flagging his contentment and their equal standing and his adoration for the whole world. He smiles and even stops eating long enough to really hammer home how sincerely he means it.

Peter is just- he’s so- Tony wants to keep him for himself but he also wants to show him off to everyone. Peter is incredible and the fact he’s accepted Tony’s courting so easily (Scenting! Eating the cookies!) feels sort of like a miracle but Tony isn’t about to stop it from happening.

Statement made, Tony shoves half a burger in his mouth and wiggles his ears at Peter to go on, squeezing his hand where he’s still holding it across the table.

Peter is struck speechless for a moment, eyes focusing on where their hands touch. He's never quiet for long though, so even as his heart races, the bunny's already opening his mouth. He finds that he likes hearing Tony talk. He could probably listen to Tony talk about anything, and it'd be worthwhile just to hear the soft, comforting timbre of his voice.

Besides, he's a curious one and he does want to know the wolf better.

"What would you be doing if you weren't here?" Peter randomly asks.

Would Tony be eating at some fancy restaurant? Then again, he said he constantly forgets to eat so maybe not. What else then?

Oh! Tony said he had the rest of the day off. Peter wonders how he managed to do that. Peter, himself, had to use the sad bunny eyes on Ned to get him to cover his extended break turned day off.

“Working. It never actually stops when you’re at the top, you just get better at prioritizing commitments.” Tony’s ears briefly flick in the negative, lips frowning to match.

He hasn’t needed to prioritize anything above work in a long time. Hasn’t prioritized much in a long time; just working, relentlessly, through every task given to him.

Tony yips to himself and pointedly straightens his smile and his ears. He's having a good time, right now and doesn’t need to dwell in the past.

“I’d rather be here, anyway. Much better company.” Tony squeezes Peter’s fingers and twists his wrist so he could swipe his thumb over the bunny’s wrist, leaving a quick and flirty scenting.

Peter smiles at the movement, unaware of how much the wolf is actually doing. He sees it as a cute little game and his tail wiggles with his giddy emotions. He tries to turn his hand so he could catch those quick fingers, but they slip through his grasp.

He still smiles and trails after the wolf, resting his fingers over Tony's.

"I'd still be back at the shop…" Peter muses. Missing you.

Is it too early to miss someone when he's only known Tony for a day? He's glad that the wolf seems equally interested though Peter bites his bottom lip to deter his thoughts from moving towards the more explicit end.

“Do you like working there?” Tony asks around his fifth burger.

He's starting to slow down. Talking to Peter helps keep him from shoveling even more in his mouth.

His tail shifts up and out of the way in sudden interest, eyes flicking down to Peter’s crotch as his thoughts dip into what other things could be shoved past his lips. He licks salt and thick meat juice from his lips and lets out a low, rumbling growl of want.

When he realizes how indecent he's being, he forcibly drags his eyes away and tucks his tail under the chair.

Peter perks up in attention.

"I do!" He says, a bit more enthusiastic than he means to. "I like working there. Ned's there and MJ. We have a temp that's kind of a jerk but Flash isn't usually around when I'm scheduled."

Tony files the name ‘Flash’ away from Ned and MJ in his head. Coworker, but not friends. He’ll remember that Flash is Not Pack the next time he’s in.

“That’s good though. Even if you’re not friends with all of your coworkers, it sounds like you really enjoy it.”

Peter isn't even halfway done with his burger but then again, he's been a bit distracted with the wolf. It's easier now to distract himself. His appetite for other more… private things… is overwritten by the smell of food.

"It's only for the summer though," Peter tells Tony. He doesn't know why he's babbling all this info at the wolf. Surely, it can't be that interesting? And yet, the words tumble out. "Summer vacation, saving up a little bit for when I go to college."

Tony can’t relate, having been rich enough to attend and graduate college whenever he felt like going. He points his ears at Peter and tries to show his support and listening anyway.

Peter tilts his chin down, suddenly shy.

"I kind of… wanna go into IT," Peter says.

It's not the usual career for a bunny. Bunnies tend to go more towards… cooking. House design. There's a variety of fields but Peter's always been interested in software, In technology.

It's another thing that makes him feel less of a bunny but May has always enthusiastically supported him. That's all he's ever needed.

But admitting this now, there's a tiny bit of worry that the wolf might make fun of him for it. He's omega, too...

“That’s great! We could use more bright minds like you at SI. The brain’s power has nothing to do with the body’s shape, after all.” Tony says honestly, perking up now that he's on familiar ground.

His HR department spearheaded equality operations but Tony still has to approve major policy changes. He knows there's a big push for more omegas in STEM and for more prey types. Peter checks two marks at once already.

Tony's enthusiastic support leaves Peter speechless. That tiny but relevant fear simply vanishes and Peter is… God, he's in love.

How can this wolf leave him feeling so elated and so invincible? It's like he really does think Peter would be perfect at such an amazing and innovative company like Stark Industries.

The next thought comes so swiftly and clearly that Peter can't even deny it.

I'd have this man's babies if he wanted me to.

“I think you’ll do great at whatever you do. Every career is different, but you seem eager to learn, and that’s half the issue with pursuing anything. You have to be willing to put in effort.” Tony sounds like he’s lecturing him. He fidgets in his seat, ears twitching in his sudden internal agitation.

Throughout the quickfire answers, Peter ignores that low heat of wantwantwant he feels towards the wolf. But now, he feels so relaxed and comfortable around the wolf that he's sure that his scent has deepened with sweetness.

He can't really help that though. The excitement that the wolf is showing is infectious.

"Thank you, Tony," he says softly, "That really means a lot to me… I want to. I really want to, and I will! I just wasn't sure until now if I really should…"

He's grateful, so grateful. Maybe it's silly to commit to his major just because Tony hyped him up over it, but maybe that's all he needs. Just one other person to believe he can do it.

His scent deepens with happiness, it's a subtle difference, lighter in scent but not any less richer.

Peter smiles widely at the wolf and runs his thumb over the prominent knuckles of Tony's fingers.

Jeez, Peter smells better than the burgers.

Tony focuses back on the present with a jolt of lust, too startled by the intensity to remember his vocal cue for focusing.

All Tony wants to do is sink his teeth into those soft bunny thighs and suck marks into what must be such tender skin...

Tony yips to himself now. He has to focus. If he keeps getting distracted by Peter’s mouthwatering scent, then he’ll start to give off aroused pheromones in no time. He couldn’t possibly subject Peter to something as awkward as that on a first date.

He has to be good. For Peter.

He doesn’t want Peter to think that all Tony wants to do is bend him over the nearest surface, pull his pants down with a tug on that cute little tail, and rail his pretty pink-

Okay. He needs to go, now, before the scent of aroused alpha starts a scene in a Five Guy’s lobby.

“Ah, bathroom break for me, too. Be right back.” Tony puts his burger down and gives Peter a quick squeeze of the hand before making his escape.

He hopes the bunny doesn’t think the worst of him (even though he kind of is the worst, for thinking about Peter that way) as he heads for the same bathrooms Peter had disappeared into earlier.

Peter watches him go with an almost forlorn look. He schools his features, though a small little pout still remains.

He needs to calm down. The bunny focuses on his burger, fully immersing himself in the crunch of lettuce between his teeth and the burst of yummy flavor over his tongue.

Without the wolf to distract him, Peter finishes in no time. He only had one burger, after all.

He nibbles on a couple fries but with Tony still in the bathroom, he unlocks his phone. There's a couple texts from Ned and a scandalous one from MJ.

He replies back to Ned but sends MJ a series of blushing emojis.

He peeks up from his phone but Tony still hasn't appeared.

With Google open, his fingers fly across the keyboard.

Wolf and bunny compatibility

Dating wolves

What to do when dating a predator.

Do canines really knot?

His heart is beating over time as his eyes slip over links and articles. That last search though… Maybe he shouldn't have looked that one up because the article he finds is… Detailed.

His breathing goes shallow and he sinks a bit in his chair, fiddling with an ear as he reads. Wolves have knots. Peter feels like he can faint right then and there because he's never thought about dating a canine or a wolf, but– a knot.

In the bathroom, Tony splashes water on his face and waits for his burgeoning erection to go down enough to piss comfortably. He paces, ranging back and forth from sinks to stalls to urinals and back.

His pheromones seem so potent in here. Has he calmed down? It’s so hard to tell. The fans in here are too weak to cycle his scent out and he winces guiltily when a cat omega comes in and gives him judgy eyes.

Even with human eyes and features, felines seem to give the best judgy faces.

Tony leaves before the cat can say anything. His dress pants are smooth in the front, not displaying the roiling arousal and general horniness that still kicked off like a drumbeat in his veins.

And that’s the most important part.

Tony slides back into his seat and forces his ears and tail into neutral instead of telegraphing his interest like before. He could control himself. He would control himself.

For Peter.

“Are you done? I can get a bag for the rest.” Tony’s capable of eating more but he’s not actually hungry anymore. Well. Not hungry for food, at any rate.

Peter's so focused on his phone, heart beating loud in his ears, that he doesn't realize Tony's returned.

The sound of the wolf's voice startles him so much that he fumbles with his phone in an attempt to close the browser.

He doesn't succeed.

Tony watches the bunny’s attempts to close out of whatever browser he was in. His ears perk up in excitement, not wanting to invade his privacy but still curious as hell about what could possibly get his bunny date to panic so badly.

He’s eager to see what’s on the screen. Wants to look so bad, but doesn’t want to pry.

What does happen is that Peter’s sweaty palms allow the phone to slip and combined with his attempt to smash the home button, it ends up dropping to the table. Fortunately, it lands on one of Tony's burgers and goes skidding instead of smacking into the table.

Unfortunately, it ends up being closer to Tony than to Peter.

Tony’s eyes track it’s progress, watching to see where it goes so he can catch it on the off chance it goes off the table (unlikely but he’s seen phones launch farther before) but mostly to try and catch a glimpse of what the screen looks like.

He’s never denied being a nosy little shit sometimes.

It lands screen-up, a full blown HD picture of wolf genitalia zoomed in. Specifically at the base because Peter was just so damn curious that he couldn't help looking.

There's a big, fat juicy knot. On his phone. In front of the wolf he just met and has a serious crush on.

💗💗💗

Mads 💗: this is how that scene happened:

Mads: … imagine if…

Keyz: 👀

Mads: I'm doing it. 😏😏😏

Keyz 💖: Heh ;)

#keyz fic #starker #intersex omega #ABO #Alpha Tony Stark #Omega Peter Parker #Bunny Peter Parker #Wolf Tony Stark #sweet fools in love #fluff #sweetness #softness #bunny!peter #wolf!tony

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inforapound · 5 years ago

Text

With Our Eyes Shut Ch.2

A/N - I really wasn’t sure anyone would read a Sigefrid fic so to those who liked and commented on the first chapter, I really appreciate it. Chapter 1 Here.

Series Warnings - historical/series inaccuracies, mentions of abuse, mentions of pregnancy termination, angst, fluff.

Pairing - Sigefrid and OFC Chapters 2 of 4

“You do not speak much.”

Glancing away, her eyes shifted about the room but returned to his, clearly unsure of whether to respond.

“Are you afraid of me?” he asked, noticing the way her fingers still fiddled with her apron and the skirt of her dress. “Afraid of this?” he lifted his bladed arm.

Looking at it, she nodded yes.

“Wise,” he smiled showing his remarkably good teeth.

“I do speak,” her voice croaked, and she immediately cleared her throat. “But, here, it is better to be….” she hesitated.

“Mute?”

“Invisible.”

“I see,” he eyed her a moment longer, dissecting her meaning before taking a seat and motioning for her to join.

Moving to stand next to him, she unsurprisingly, chose the side with his good hand.

“Woman, start,” he nodded, his voice again gruff.

Reaching forward, she gathered the materials they had abandoned the first day. Pulling the one remaining copy of the alphabet forward, she pushed a quill towards him.

With a huff, he picked it up, fumbling with the thin feather and pressed it to the parchment. Her hands shot forward and grabbed his, stilling it before repositioning the feather in his large, weathered hand.

“Softly,” she uttered. “Do not press.”

Saying nothing, he watched her small hands pull away from his.

Humming, she indicated her approval as he drew the curved lines of the first letter. Once done, he scowled at his work and looked over to her.

“A,” she said, looking at him evenly.

“A,” he repeated, perking up at the fact she had not found an error.

“Ahh,” she sounded it out.

“What?” he made a face.

“This letter. That is the sound it makes. Ahh.”

“Why? I thought it was A. I am not making that sound.”

Shrugging, she looked back to the paper and pointed at the next symbol walking him through the same process.

Shooting his head back, he felt the silliest sense of pride, looking at the two markings that were more or less like hers.

It made him grin, “I am a fucking natural. Nooooo surprise,” he called out, tipping his head back and laughing.

She could not help but smile and his eyes caught it before returning his focus to the next few letters.

Perfectly still, she stood at his side and each time he completed another, he would look to her for adulation. Inwardly he rolled his eyes at himself, so easily bolstered by her praise.

“Sit down,” he said, still working the quill. “A warrior does not like to be stood over.”

Pulling out the chair, she settled in and he slouched back, taking it as a moment to rest.

“I do not understand how these things,” he nodded indicating the paper, “create language.”

She looked from him back to the paper, “It takes time, Lord. It is a skill...like any other. Each step a base for the next.”

She kept her gaze on the table, avoiding his eyes.

He sighed, opening and closing his hand as if it had been strained.

“This exhausts me. I feel the need to,” put my cock in something warm he thought but instead he said, “...drink.”

Sliding back his chair, he rose and headed to the door, glancing back as he opened it, “We will do this again.”

“Tomorrow, Lord?”

Chewing the skin on the inside of his lip, he paused, thinking, “No,” he shook his head, leaving without another word.

___

It was a week before she turned and nearly slammed into the enormous Waylen standing behind her, waiting to escort her to the meeting room. Following that lesson, she was summoned every few days but it quickly evolved into most afternoons.

The progress was slow and slowed further by his many questions and need to understand. And, although still skittish, she seemed to find some guarded sense of ease in his presence, set back, at times, by his outbursts of frustration.

She began to bring a jug of ale and bread and cheese or fruit, whatever she could take from the kitchen without attracting attention. As one of the two Lords of Beamfleot, Sigefrid could have anything but she, maintaining her word to keep their meetings private, moved in the shadows.

That afternoon, the session was much like any other, Sigefrid in the chair, uncomfortably working the quill with her seated next as he sounded out simple words. Still, regularly grunting and mumbling how moronic it all was.

“Now what?” He dropped the feather and looked at her.

“A moment please, Lord,” rising from her seat, she went to the shelf on the far side and filled a cup from a jug of wine. Bringing it to him, along with a plate of bread and dried meat with an apple on the side, she handed it over, motioning for him to drink.

“Are you trying to poison me,” he sniffed the cup. “Or, get me drunk?”

“Eat and drink first. The next part will feel silly and you anger easily when you have not eaten.”

Smiling, he emptied half the cup in one loud gulp, taking such a large bite from the apple, it collapsed into two. Smoothing his hand over his thick black beard, his smile simmered but his dark eyes continued to shine. It was quiet moments like these, looking at her pretty face that he felt he was coming to terms with his fondness of having her near.

“So the wine loosens the tongue and makes me a better pupil, eh?”

“Enough wine and people will do almost anything,” she smiled but quickly lowered her eyes.

“How did you end up a slave in Beamfleot?”

“I told you,” she replied in a soft voice, still looking down. “My mother and father were killed.”

“Yes, but after that?”

“I made my way through the woods, eventually found myself on that ridge just beyond the east wall. Stayed there for several days.”

“And then?” he pressed, tearing off a bite of the salted meat.

She settled back in the chair as if sensing the lesson was over.

“Two men out hunting stumbled upon me and one of them brought me home to his family. He had a wife and four children and I helped look after them and cook...did chores,” she shrugged.

“Did they mistreat you?” he emptied his cup and she sprung to her feet, retrieving the jug and filled it again.

“I am alive so...” she sat back down.

Dropping his chin, he eyed her, squinting, making it clear he was not buying her dismissiveness.

For a moment she said nothing but exhaled and answered. “He took liberties, Lord,” she looked down, tucking her long hair behind her ear. “After the first season with them...I found myself...in a sensitive way.”

At that, his own eyes faltered and he looked into his cup, saying nothing more.

Clearing her throat, she again pushed the hair away from her face.

“I drank poison I got from a healer... or a witch, I am not sure what she was. It took care of it and nearly me in the process, but some good did come from it,” she pressed her lips together. “He did not touch me after that...though...his wife became a danger.” She shrugged again. “I have forced myself to believe that it was not about me,” she looked up, surprising him by staring into his eyes, “and that I was just some faceless pound of flesh. On your own Lord, you learn all people prey on those who have no where to go.”

They sat for some time in silence, broken only by the distant sounds of wood being chopped and faint voices as people went about their day.

“You hate Saxon people?” he finally asked, his voice unusually quiet.

“I neither hate or care for them but I am reminded each day that they are not my people.”

“Do you speak of these meetings to the other slaves.”

“No, Lord,” her eyes widened. “Never. I speak to no one. I have only ever had words with you...and Lord Erik on that first day. Being from Frankia, there is no place for me among the slaves. I just do as I’m told.”

Closing his eyes, he could not help but imagine the horrors she must have endured, hoping that this man was one he had driven his sword through. It made his gut feel sour and he cleared his throat, shaking off the feeling. “Bloody Saxons, eh?”

Frowning, he gave her an awkward look, concealing the fact he felt strange; the irony of their lives and circumstances flaring in his mind.

He held out his cup. “Finish it,” he nodded. “It helps with more than loosening the tongue.”

Her face brightened a little and she reached out, taking the cup from his hand and tasting the wine.

“Do I still scare you?” he asked, speaking slowly, his voice deep and resonant.

Air rushed from her nose and she nearly laughed. “Of course,” she replied and he felt a twinge of disappointment.

“You need this too,” he held out his plate, noticing that her face had thinned over the weeks of their meetings. “Go on, I am not a generous man so...”

Reaching forward, she took a piece of the hard meat, taking a small bite.

“More?” he jerked his head toward the cup, topping it up from the jug, feeling rather content with the way that she smiled.

——

Her translation of the recent scroll had been correct; two powerful thrones were set to align. Kingdoms throughout England wanted to wish Alfred’s daughter and the lord of Mercia’s marriage well by sending gifts. The offerings were received at Winchester and were to be transported to Mercia via convoy, guarded by a handful of soldiers, exactly ten days before the ceremony.

The brothers had been there to intercept. Waiting on either side of the road with only four additional men. It had been effortless; the convoy blindsided. The Saxon men easily cut down and the brothers back in Beamfleot, much wealthier, all before the evening meal. The take was great; gold and silver, jewelry, some weapons, and books; those, of course, would be burned. As much as Sigefrid loved to fight, he saw the wisdom in this approach.

Slouching back in his chair at the head table, hand on a full horn, he stared out the open doors only partially listening to Erik and another man recount the day and laugh. Instead of chuckling along, his mind drifted to other lands, farther north and even overseas. Places she could speak the language that he had never even dreamt of conquering.

A figure flashed by in the late-day light, entering the dining room.

“If she picked a fight it looks like she lost,” Erik said, leaning closer to Sigefrid, jerking his head in the girl’s direction.

Having not caught a proper glimpse, Sigefrid turned and instantly saw what Erik was referring to. She was visibly upset and clutching her shoulder, her face flushed and her dress covered in muck from the hip down. Before even forming his next thought, he was up and crossing the room, grabbing her arm to stop her from entering the kitchen.

Staring down at her startled, tear-streaked face, he saw that the front of her was wet and the neck of her dress torn.

“What happened?” he demanded.

Breaking their eye contact, she shook her head, folding over her apron to cover the mess.

“I said,” he softened the intensity of his voice, “what happened? Did someone hurt you?” Again, his eyes scanned her muddy clothes, focusing on her defined collarbone exposed by the tear in the fabric.

Wiping her nose with the back of her hand, she glanced up nervously, her eyes flitting passed him toward where he had been sitting.

As he was turning to follow her line of sight, a shrill voice interrupted.

“Where is that Frankish whore?” spat one of the older kitchen thralls. Rounding the corner, her eyes locked onto the girl but flashed wide at the sight of Sigefrid.

“What is going on?” This time he yelled. “I will not ask again!”

The haggard-looking woman shook her head as if disgusted, “Nothing you need to trouble yourself with, Lord, I will handle her. This stupid girl can’t even do a simple task. I’ve already been told she’s gone and tripped, smashed the whole lot of eggs.”

His eyes snapped back to the girl but she was looking down at her clasped hands.

“Get in here and stop bother’n Lord Sigefrid, you filth. I’m gonna beat your ass with...”

“That’s enough!” he barked at the woman making her washed-out eyes shoot even wider. “Shut your mouth and get in that kitchen,” he pointed with his blade.

The old woman turned on her heel and disappeared around the corner.

“Go clean up,” he said to the girl, stepping closer, irritated she would not look at him. “I want you working in the dining room only. Where I can see.”

They both stood still for a moment, his eyes again running over the rip in her dress, catching sight of red marks on her skin that were beginning to rise.

“Go,” he ordered, and she started off, racing out the main door in the direction of the barn slave quarters.

“Settling slave disputes now, brother?” Erik smiled as Sigefrid dropped heavily back into his chair, his eyes still set on the door.

“That girl is more trouble than she’s worth,” he muttered under his breath, taking a drink of mead.

“Four hundred pounds of gold and silver upstairs says otherwise,” Erik nudged his leg under the table.

While he had been away from his seat, Haesten joined and was now seated, drinking, droplets of ale running down his unruly beard.

The long tables began to fill for the evening meal and the volume of the room rose as word of the ambush and the rich spoils spread.

Sigefrid's eyes caught the movement of her dark hair as she rushed back in, barely visible behind the tall warriors. As she came into view, she glanced at him before rushing to collect a pitcher.

“Cleans up nice, that one,” Haesten’s husky voice oozed out, his smudged black eyes tracking her. “I like her big round tits. They have yet to be worked flat,” he laughed, taking another drink.

The meal was served by four thralls, including her. Platters of meat and bread, some root vegetables, and bowls of green apples were carried out for the fifty or so men eating in the first seating.

Unusually quiet, Sigefrid chewed meat from a leg of pheasant, his eyes scanning the packed room but always drifting back to her.

She moved between the rows, refilling cups of ale, seemingly avoiding his table altogether. Further, and more concerning he noticed how his men heckled her, some patting her bottom and others tugging on the skirt of her dress.

“Ah, you have noticed my blooming flower,” Haesten crooned.

“Huh?” Sigefrid looked over at him.

“She has escaped my clutches twice now. I found her bending over, collecting eggs from the coop; that plump round ass of hers high in the air. Hmm,” he hummed to himself, his eyes still following her. “No luck though, little thing squirmed out of my arms for a second time,” pausing he took a swig from his cup, “seeing her bent, I could not help but yank down my pants. Next time I will wait until I’m between her legs so she cannot out-run me,” he laughed.

Sigefrid’s hand slammed down so hard on the table, it jostled the plates and cups.

“You will go no where near her,” he spoke low and slow, dropping his chin as he stared at Haesten.

Without looking up from his plate, Erik spoke around a mouthful of bread, “She is our translator now. And...she is a good girl. Not to be handled roughly by the likes of you.”

Sigefrid’s face was tense, his eyes still burning out from under his dark brow.

“Does not seem that all the men are aware,” Haesten said, looking back over at her.

Also looking, Sigefrid saw one of his men, pull her down onto his lap, laughing, telling her not to be so shy.

Out of his seat, he stormed around the table, grabbing the girl’s arm for the second time that night, yanking her out of his man's grasp. The warrior looked up, utterly confused seeing Sigefrid’s gritted teeth and narrowed eyes.

”Lord,” he said in an apologetic tone, “I had not realized that you had taken her for yourself.”

“Well, I have!” he roared and the room fell silent. “No one touches this slave. No one,” he glared at all those staring back at him, “Until I am done with her,” he added, turning and leading her back to the table.

Sitting, he pulled her onto his lap, wrapping his arm around her waist, ignoring both his brother and Haesten. The young woman sat awkwardly, staring down at her hands, her long brown hair hanging loose, concealing the sides of her face.

Taking a leg of chicken from his plate, he held it up for her but she did not take it; just looked at it, nervously.

His arm tightened around her waist and pressed his lips against her hair.

“Eat,” he whispered. Straightening, he spoke again, this time loud enough for the others to hear. “I will not have your ass disappear.” Slowly she reached up and took the drumstick, bringing it to her mouth. “Once you are done go up to the meeting room and wait for me.”

——

It was not clear to him why he knocked instead of barging in but there he was, standing in the hall waiting for her to answer. Opening the door, she glanced up but quickly stepped aside clearing the way.

Once the door was closed behind, he faced her, standing close and shifting the bundle of fabric he held under one arm. His eyes settled on the two crudely stitched x’s that held the neck of her dress in place.

“These dresses were in a trunk in my room,” he held them out. “Likely the prior lady’s.”

Blinking with surprise she took them, the bundle enormous in her arms.

Shuffling his feet, he searched for his next words, confused by his cautiousness, and again irritated that she had been dragged into his life by his brother.

Studying her, he noticed how her hands fumbled nervously with the clothes and how she could not maintain his gaze. Likely bracing, he guessed, for some form of assault. But there was just something about her thick dark hair and brown eyes, the symmetry of her plush lips and round cheeks that made him unable to look away. He felt weakened somehow, and worse, could not tell if he liked or hated it.

Slowly, he reached forward, lifting her chin with his fingers; her round eyes meeting his.

Despite the flood of bewilderment, what he did know, undeniably, is that he never wanted her to hurt again. For the first time in his thirty-one years, he asked a slave, her, an intimate question; one that related to who she was in her world before he destroyed it. “Tell me,” he narrowed his eyes, “What is your name?”

Her small, reluctant voice answered, so faint he had to strain to hear.

“Genevieve.”

Next Chapter

@naaladareia @geekandbooknerd @oddsnendsfanfics @hecohansen31 @waiting4inspiration @ceridwenofwales @mdredwine @gearhead66 @ceridwenofwales @whenimaunicorn @laketaj24 @xbellaxcarolinax @medievalfangirl

#The Last Kingdom #the last kingdom fanfic #sigefrid thurgilson #the last kingdom sigefrid #sigefrid and erik thurgilson #erik and sigefrid #sigefrid thurgilson the last kingdom #sigefrid in love #sigefrid and oc #sigefrid slow burn #sigefrid smut #the last kingdom smut #sigefrid

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bayern-moni · 5 years ago

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Pair Questions part 1/2 featuring Gin and Aizen

This time no ship intended, but it will be rectified in another post. Enjoy ~

Who steals the covers at night?

Gin. He's a cold blooded creature, literally and metaphorically. His skin always feels too cold not to bury himself in the covers for all the span of that goddamned season. He doesn't care if his claim on the covers leaves his unfortunate bedmate damned to a frosty fate all night, nor does he have problems to brutally kick out of bed whoever tried to make fun of him by putting a cold foot in the vicinity of his own. He is selfish like that and doesn't know remorse. Or maybe, he could feel sorry if that other person were the cute Izuru-chan (but then his most sadistic part would revel in the wait until his too respectful Lieutenant'd overcome his qualms and actually start to fight for the covers) or he could decide to suffer himself the cold and leave the blanket to Rangiku like he did when they lived in that shack as kids, but if that other person happened to be Aizen, then he'd have absolutely no qualms about it. The dark-haired shinigami could and would die of frostbite before Gin actually accepted to give up that pleasurable warmth. After all, the wannabe god is too superior to actually lower himself to start a pillow fight to get it or start listing actual reasons why he had a greater right than his second (stressing that word too much for his taste) to be covered by the blanket, wasn't he?

But ... was he?

Who cooks normally?

Aizen. There'd be a cold day in hell before he let this change. It took him too many years to get his little Lieutenant to understand the difference between 'survival food' and 'actual food' to afford now to have him fall back into his old habits. And the Rei-o knows what he'd do If he decided to purposely mess with the first kind of food to get a good laugh at Aizen's horrified face. Again. How could he forget that time when, during the first days of his training under Aizen's tutelage, Gin decided to thank him for his supposed generosity with a 'sumptuous lunch' (his words)? Go trust that little hellchild. Aizen's stomach wanted to vomit only at the memory of it. When the pest put the plate full of mice and insects, "killed just for the occasion" said proudly the child, in front of him he was torn between the the strong impulse to throw up and the need to examine closely Gin's body language to discern if he sincerely believed that was a satysfing meal or if he just exploited his Rukongai upbringing to make him suffer. Probably the latter.

... And those awful dried persimmons...

When he looked at the genuinely expecting and just a tad mischievous look the kid was giving him, he understood it was a balanced mix of the two. Right then, he decided two things:

Gin would never be allowed to get close to his kitchen again without a real, convincing and absolutely necessary life-or-death reason;

He had to take the problem in his own hands because: first, no way that the future king of the three worlds will ever eat something like that, ever, and, secondly, it was his duty to bring that too scrawny and bony hellion to health.

He could not have his future second in command be weak or die because of the consequences of starvation before he could make himself useful to him. It was a pragmatic matter. Regardless of all the times that moron of Hirako made fun of his attempts because "aren't you too old to play family, Sousuke-kun?" or "did you really adopt the kid, don't you? How 'cute'!". It was just that. But then he continued to encourage Gin's insatiable appetite until he was satisfied with his now not dangerous weight and even found that he really liked cooking for both of them, it was a relaxing hobby for his abused patience. Kaname's recipes and passion for cooking helped, too.

Nickname for each other?

Hellion. Wanna-be-God. Reptilian calamity. Overdramatic narcissist. And so on. Not very difficult saying who's what.

What would they get each other for gift?

Kamishini no Yari's poison A guide on "how to survive your obsessed fangirls and still look cool". A set of dried sweet potatoes to thank him for the time Gin raided his fridge of all its contents and filled it with 12 kilos of hard-boiled eggs. How he managed to put them there without making the fridge explode was beyond him, but still. He'd be sure to make Gin pay for it.

What would they do if the other one was hurt?

It depends. On what, you'd ask. It's quite simple. It depends on who is responsible for the other's wound/hurt. If it were each other, then they'd be perfectly cool with it and not bother too much for it, just plot a gruesome revenge (the other isn't so weak and unproud to make a big deal out of something so trivial like hurt, isn't he? And if they were, it'd mean that they're not worth of the other's attention like they believed). If the culprit were not one of them, though, that person would probably be eviscerated or severally maimed before they could even complete the thought "I did it!". Because only they had the right (and the power) to wound or kill the other. None of them would ever let someone else in the way of this challenge between them.

Who remember things?

Both. They have entire metaphorical archives full of blackmailing material in organized folders against each other, carefully collected for more than 109 years. Aizen-taicho hates boiled eggs, Gin felt betrayed by sweet potatoes, Aizen would never go out without having checked the exact angle of his hair lock at least twice at minute, Gin becomes skittish every time Matsumoto or that bratty Lieutenant of his come in the picture, Aizen secretly fears Hinamori's obsession with him, etc...

They both made a mental note to remember that each of these things could be useful, sooner or later.

Their thoughts on the whole Fangirl and ships topic?

Disturbing. Fascinating and distur - Hinamori! For the umpteenth time, I'm fine and no, I don't need anything. You did a great job and you can go now! - bing.

Who cusses more?

Surprisingly enough, Aizen. Actually, Gin is the one that cusses frequently, steadily and on daily basis, but only for the fun of annoying Izuru's, Aizen's and Kuchiki-taicho's noble sensibility. But when he's in that mood that makes other people cuss, he'll communicate it with icy glares, a sharper edged grin or a overall crueler behavior. On the other hand, Aizen is the one that pledges himself as above things like annoyance, rage and (especially) a "crude language so beneath my godlike status caused by irrelevant emotions like irritation", as Gin decided to put it to make fun of him. But when he's really pissed like when Urahara doesn't take action, ruins his plans or Gin writes obscene kanjis on the board during his calligraphy lessons, he'll lose all control on his legendary composure and start cussing like a sailor. Hopefully, Kyoka Suigetsu prevents people from noticing it.

How often do they fight?

As a serious fight? Once every hundred and nine years, but it's "until death do us part". As just a way to kill time? Very very often, but it's never beyond a good deal of verbal jabs. You could almost consider it as their own fond way of saying hi to each other.

Are there any foods that make their stomach upset?

For Gin, no, there aren't. At least, Aizen has been conducting a research on the topic since the infamous lunch with still no result worth of notice. Ichimaru hates some foods, doesn't like others, but, by now, his stomach's completely anesthetized even to Rangiku's cooking after being subjected to it for so many years. And that's saying something, as far as Aizen is concerned. Not that he meant to imply anything about Matsumoto's cooking abilities, of course. Overall, he'd gulp down anything if needed.

Aizen instead is very picky about his food. He's a perfectionist here, like in every other aspect of his life. There's nothing able to upset his stomach, though. And even if there was, he'd never tell a soul. Ever. Gin had not to be encouraged to do anything stupid against him, no matter what.

Who's the most irritable during an hungover?

Gin. Aizen doesn't drink anything but his beloved tea and the occasional sip of fine wine. But Gin during an hungover is something Aizen wouldn't wish on anyone, not even Yamamoto or the Rei-o. A hissy, horribly-moody, vengeful cat you just woke by stepping on its tail is a cutie puppy in comparison to him. Really, it happened once and Aizen swore Gin should never end up with nothing more alcoholic than a glass of water, never again, for his own sanity's sake. Fortunately, Gin found that if he ate a dried persimmon after the drink he shared with his dear Rangiku, he couldn't get hungover. Still to this day, Aizen wasn't entirely convinced of the scientific accuracy of this theory, but given that it didn't happen anymore, he was willing to give him credit for it.

Have they ever tried to ruin the other's dates?

Life in Soul Society is particularly monotonous. This is a fact everyone agreed with and what's at the core of the matter. So, yes, they did, but only when paperwork became so painstakingly boring that it could be seen as something funny to do. Particularly, Aizen loved calling secret meetings between himself, Kaname and Gin as soon as he knew, because he did know, that Gin was in the middle of an especially good moment during a date with Rangiku (or even during a friendly walk with that Kira) just because Aizen could. On the other hand, Gin loved making fun of Aizen's utterly missing and more-dead-than-Omaeda's love life, despite the fact that half of shinigami and the recruits desired him and the other half either belonged to Byakuya fanclub or were just lying to themselves. So, he did not so much ruin Aizen's dates as he did try to set him up with absurd dates with psychotic and obsessed fangirls and fanboys that always left Aizen baffled at how much he had underestimated people' crazyness. An "I care about your love life, taicho, I try to find a good date for you because we can't have you become an old grumpy overlord with a dog as your only company at night, can we?" my ass. Bratty moron.

#bleach #gin #gin ichimaru #aizen sousuke #aizen #tosen #kaname tosen #rangiku matsumoto #izuru kira #shinji #shinji hirako #headcanon #character meme #truth or dare challenge

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mittensmorgul · 5 years ago

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Whenever I see a Dean+food post about how cute/funny it is that Dean is so food obsessed, it makes me sad because of course he’s focused on food, he starved as a child to feed his brother.

Aw, I get it. But before I get into that, apologies because I said I was gonna reply to this the other day, and then... didn’t do that >.> The timestamp thingy says it’s now been four five days since you sent this, and I’m sorry I didn’t get to reply sooner. I really wanted to give this the amount of mental attention it deserves, you know? Didn’t want to half-ass this one. :)

So let’s start with the cute/funny Dean and Food things, and then work our way to why it’s just so heartwrenching when you dig down a bit. Because Dean DOES love food. It’s one of the simplest little indulgent pleasures he’s ever allowed himself, and he does derive a great deal of joy from getting to enjoy the foods he loves. He turns up his nose at things he doesn’t enjoy, and sees little point to eating foods just because they’re “healthy” if they don’t also taste good, you know?

Contrast that to Sam whose issues with food have always been linked to health and “purity” because of HIS personal issues-- feeling “impure” or “unclean” because of what was done to him as an infant, even if he didn’t have a label or an explanation for those feelings until he was an adult. And that’s equally sad in its own right. I mean, look at the sort of stuff Sam gravitated toward as a child, the Froot Loops Dean capitulated and let him eat in 1.18, marshmallow nachos that Sully remembered were a favorite of his in 11.08, and Dean’s creative recipes for mac and cheese that included marshmallow fluff in 10.12. Sam definitely has a sweet tooth, even though he now chooses his options from the Healthy Food menu most of the time as an adult. It all goes toward his long-standing wish to be normal, to feel normal, to have some control over his own life and his own body.

Back to Dean... His issues with food are very different from Sam’s. Unlike Sam, Dean remembered bits of his life Before The Fire. He built up a mythology of those almost-five-years that wasn’t true to life, but idealized the things he did remember as Acts Of Love from his mother. Notice that almost all of his flashbacks and memories of his early life revolve around the kitchen, of Mary making him a sandwich or offering him some pie. Even though he later learned that Mary hadn’t actually cooked any of it herself, it wasn’t the “home cooking” that was important, but the sharing of food out of love. And this is something Dean did his very best, even as a very young child, to give Sam that sort of experience. There was very little he could do as a child himself to shield Sam and provide him any sort of “normalcy,” especially when we know just how insecure their ongoing relationship with food actually was, but as much as he could, Dean still tried to give Sam something “happy” even when it fell short of “healthy.”

Because for Dean, who last experienced this directly when he was FOUR YEARS OLD, food lovingly prepared and served = love. And that’s both wonderful and heartbreaking, you know?

I personally have a tendency to take happy things and find the sad in them, and vice versa. A post I added something to years ago and turned it sad, I commented something like “when we play headcanon roulette, sometimes everyone loses.” And that’s kind of how I feel about Dean vs. Food.

He both clearly derives genuine pleasure from food, while having such a complicated history with it that has its roots in both the most joyous and most painful memories of his entire lifetime. But the fact that he allows himself to have an ongoing mostly-positive relationship with food, to genuinely indulge in what he loves and squeeze every drop of joy out of a cheeseburger or a pie or a croissookie... whatever he eats, he treats it like it’s important and worthy of his attention. You rarely see him eat without that sort of focus and intent, you know? He’s determined to enjoy what he puts in his mouth.

Sort of the opposite of Sam, even as seen through 14.13 and “the Sam that would’ve been if Dean’s wish had stuck.” Rather joyless, yes? Austere? No matter what influence Dean tried to have over Sam’s experience of food, Sam is just... different, and finds his joy elsewhere. His eyes never light up over the prospect of an indulgent meal. I think in part because Sam never experienced that early childhood whiplash that Dean did, because Dean did everything in his power to shield Sam from the worst of it by sacrificing his own share, by means of theft or going hungry himself so that Sam wouldn’t have to.

This exchange in 4.04 is pretty telling... I mean, it was at a time when Sam was secretly dealing with his own “hunger” for demon blood and the power it brought him, even if we didn’t know this detail yet. But Sam’s reaction to this exchange is distinctly different from Dean’s, and it is an ongoing theme between them throughout the series:

SAM: No, we talk to him. Explain what's happening. That way he can fight it.TRAVIS: Fight it? [He laughs] Are you kidding me? You ever been really hungry?[This gets DEAN's attention, who's been looking at the papers SAM brought with him.]TRAVIS: I mean, haven't-eaten-in-days hungry?DEAN: Yeah.TRAVIS: Yeah. Right then. So somebody slaps a big, juicy sirloin in front of you, you walking away?[DEAN looks thoughtfull for a second and then admits "no" without words, only raising of eyebrows. He slowly looks over at SAM.]

Sam... doesn’t really get it. He’s never really experienced that sort of hunger the way Dean clearly has. Sure, we will see him devolve into that sort of hunger for demon blood over the season as he becomes addicted to it, but that’s always paralleled more to a drug addiction sort of hunger than an actual physical hunger in a food-sense of the word.

Typically when Sam and Dean are asked if they’re hungry over the course of the series, I can only think of ONE occasion where Sam replied “I’m starving.” And that’s after his soul was returned to him in 6.11. In 6.12, that’s his response. Every other time in all of canon, it’s a shrug, or an “eh, I could eat, I guess” type of response. There’s never any sort of personal emotional excitement about food the way Dean reacts.

So while the roots of Dean’s child-like joy in food are incredibly painful, he’s never let that tarnish his happiness at the prospect of a good meal. He’s never let his relationship with food sour into bitterness, and that does say an awful lot about Dean as a person, the way he demonstrates love for the people he cares about, and his own ability to experience such pleasure for himself, you know?

So it’s both sad as a reminder of the origin of it all, but also HOPEFUL, because as an adult, it’s probably the simplest and least complicated source of pleasure that Dean regularly allows himself. He knows what it’s like to go hungry, he knows what it’s like to struggle to provide for his loved ones, and as an adult now who isn’t beholden to people for their own survival and wellbeing, providing a good meal is a tactile demonstration of stability and security for him, in addition to a simple way to demonstrate his love for them without having to put it into so many words.

Both heartbreaking, and heartwarming. Depends on what direction you’re looking at it from, you know? You can only focus on the negative, or only focus on the positive, or you can choose to understand the whole of it and see how much it really tells us about Dean as a person. It’s complicated and messy, but there’s also a simple joy to be found there, and I think that’s why a lot of people just lean hard into that particular read. We want good things for Dean. We want him to experience joy more than heartbreak. And if a slice of pie or a family meal does that for him, then that’s what we hold on to.

#oh DEAN #sam sympathizes and dean empathizes #i seriously have no idea how else to tag this #the abominable cheeseburger #i guess since that was my food meta tag back in s12 :'D #dean vs pie vs cake #Anonymous

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fuwafuwamedb · 5 years ago

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A Cursed G Pt 11 (Hakuno, Gilgamesh)

Previous Part: One - Haku POV / Gil POV, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten

_____

The moment he had hands, the second his body changed from that of a feline to that of a human, and he was pulling the woman in. He was picking her up, placing her on his lap and pressing himself against her. His face was buried in her hair, pressed against her neck.

He could smell the scent of her soaps as he held her. He could feel the warmth of her skin, the softness without any hair or nonsense between them. He could run his hands along her body.

She was so small.

She was so frail.

He’d known he would become human again. He’d known that he would become a human again on this night in particular… But there was something about thinking it and actually having it happen. There was something astounding about being suddenly so much taller and stronger again.

“Gilgamesh.”

Those brown eyes were looking up into his.

He pressed his forehead to hers, watching her simply live right there in his arms.

She had come so close to dying before.

He hadn’t known for sure whether or not she would die. He’d only known that nothing would awaken the woman. There’d been blood all over the floors and he hadn’t been able to do a damn thing about it. The smell had permeated the air. The hunger in his gut had begun to gnaw at him as he had lay next to her unconscious body.

He’d meowed at her.

He’d scratched at her.

He’d bit her, although she didn’t seem to have ever been aware of that fact.

Days. Perhaps an eternity had forced him to forage through the cabinets and the cold box. He’d found the food she normally fed him and had forced himself to make it last, despite the growing hunger.

He’d guarded her body, waiting for something to come to try to take her.

His fur had become filthy.

He’d begun to smell more and more of death.

And he hadn’t been able to even hold her in his arms.

Her passing off that time had been even more of an insult. She’d simply cleaned herself up, cleaning the house and resting more.

“You damn fool,” he breathed.

She stared at him, only able to do so for a moment.

She was truly the fool.

Only a fool would find themselves the most unworthy soul to feel that they had to save and would run out into the night after such an ungodly sound. Only she would sit there and press her hands to his body, forcing all of her mana to go into healing the man. A magician without the proper knowledge of how to use her talents, Hakuno had decided to roll the dice of fate again.

Any god could have noticed her power emanated through the cosmos.

Any rogue magician or mage could have sensed her mana being used in such a manner.

His hands felt so good on her face. Holding her on his lap, holding her face in his hands, he could feel the warmth of her person. He could see the traces of confusion forming in the appearance of the faintest of frowns.

He needed to focus on talking to her.

The thought in his head and the movement of his body were out of synchronicity apparently. He was no more able to control himself than he was able to turn straight back into a cat in that very moment.

His lips pressed to hers.

His hands tangled in her hair and behind her back.

In that moment, he kissed like that of a starving man. He craved whatever air he could steal from her lungs and then he craved more. He needed this more than he could scream to the gods right now.

Her hands were moving as well though.

Her lips pressed back against his own, deepening what he had started. He could see those eyes look up at him after a moment.

“Gil…”

He had to pick her up.

Even that was something else.

Once more, he was on two legs without it being a feat. He was standing on his own two feet and he was holding someone in his arms. He could carry things. He could use these hands.

Tossing her onto the table, he delved his hands into her hair and tilted her head, forcing her to kiss him again.

He had so much more capability. He was able to do so much more.

His hands ripped the heinous attire from his way, his hands wrapping around her body underneath the fabrics to find a belt around her chest, holding down more fabric hiding her.

Fine.

He didn’t need those right now. He needed contact. He needed skin to skin.

His focus became the defilement of those lips, the task of dragging her into the depths of temptation. He simply lost himself in the feeling of her body melting away under his own.

That fool had gotten herself nearly killed saving someone unworthy.

Gilgamesh closed his eyes, letting his kiss become almost punishing.

She had nearly left him alone in this world. She’d almost died and made him lose that which was most precious.

Everything depended on this one, small woman.

He pulled her closer, feeling her tremble.

Mine.

He’d decided before that he would take her back with him. Make her a wife or a handmaiden in his world. That was ill suited.

She would be in his bed. He’d decide from there what was best.

His lips pulled back, feeling her follow after him a bit with her mouth.

The smirk was unavoidable. She was chasing after his affections, whether by choice or by an unknowing need for his attentions. She had her hands on his hips, her head tilted back.

A knock came at the door.

“Don’t let him-“

“It’s food. I ordered food to be delivered, remember?”

The woman glanced down at herself a moment before groaning. “Can you grab my robe from the bathroom door?”

Bathing room robes.

Right.

It was a chance to walk. It was a chance to be at the proper height again. That was why he went, returning with her robe and letting her belt it over her clothes. She motioned him into the other room before opening the door and talking to the person there.

The smell of steak met his senses.

His eyes fell to the bag in the woman’s hands, his stomach already twisting into knots from hunger.

“Alright.”

Hakuno moved to the seat beside him, handing him the strange platter with his meal on it, handing him a couple of utensils to rip apart his food with.

Odd, but he would dine first.

“You’ve been trying to figure out the method of breaking this curse.”

Hakuno laughed a little, her smile half hidden by her hand.

“What?”

“It’s strange to hear you speak. I’m used to your cards.”

The cards were more for her benefit. They served as a method of communication and as practice now. Since he would end up taking her back with him in the end, she would need to become accustomed to his language.

“I haven’t found much of anything. There was the joke Cu Chulainn made the other day about true love or finding a source, but…”

He shook his head. “The only way we would find a source is to inquire with the woman who cursed me to begin with. Since we are outside of my time, the practice of going around Ishtar would be remarkably difficult.”

“Or impossible.”

He nodded, his eyes watering at the taste of the greens on his platter.

He wasn’t sure what kind of spices and seasonings these mongrels had used, but the taste was like a blanket of warmth against the fiercest chill. It was like every bit of his personal desires and interests had been accessed and catered to, without him needing to speak a word.

It beat the diet of meat only that he had been privy to under Hakuno’s care.

The true love bit…

Utter nonsense, he was sure. No doubt the fool had been obsessing about the woman that continued to behave as Ishtar would have. Had he seen her weep for her father, he would have assumed the woman was Ishtar herself.

“Do you know of any myths or stories or anything about people turning into animals?”

“It’s not… entirely unusual.”

“What do you mean?”

He couldn’t possibly talk until the greens were gone from his plate. He licked at his pronged utensil a moment before setting the platter down and moving to the ‘papers’ that Hakuno was so fond of scribbling upon. He scribbled easily enough on the sheet, finding it exceedingly easy to write on.

“Shepherd?”

“Ishtar is known as the goddess of love,” he explained, using Cuneiform and watching the woman review his writing. The fact she was recognizing words he didn’t typically use when communicating with her was good. “She’s done this kind of thing before, but the transformations were not reversible.”

“What do you mean?”

He had a timeline of the goddess’ lovers written out.

“The shepherd is the only case that my priests were able to confirm, but I’ve heard other tales. Ishtar uses the men, drains them of every bit of joy and power, then takes them and changes them. The shepherd into the very beast that ventured after his flock. Supposedly the priest into one of the seven spirits, a demon that travels with Ishkur’s creations.”

“Why would she do that?”

He grunted.

There’d been… thoughts as to why she did that.

Considering that he had been carelessly thrown into the future to be a cat in a foreign land, he had his doubts as to whether she went after ‘threats’ to Uruk.

It was no doubt more of an excuse the priests of her temple had fabricated to make her actions acceptable.

“Alright. So Ishtar’s the goddess of love who morphs people from time to time into beasts and things. There has to be a way that you reverse it. What happened to the shepherd?”

“Slaughtered by his neighbor.”

She winced.

He resumed eating as the woman continued to think and eat.

She was crossing her legs, but her robes were loosening a little as she shifted a little bit here and there. His eyes drifted to her person, drinking in the sight and knowing his body was back for now.

He knew exactly how it felt to lay beside her at night. He knew the way her face looked when the sun rose over the horizon and crept through her windows.

It was tempting to pull her back into his arms and-

But that could wait.

He had only so long.

It had been so long since he had used his voice.

“Ishtar is a useless goddess, careless and self-centered in every manner. I have no doubt that she thought herself amusing doing this to me.”

“I’m glad I managed to save you.”

Was she?

“Well,” she laughed a little, flashing him a grin. “Other than the fact that I can’t tell anyone without them thinking I’m either insane or goofing around. You saw my lunch group when I said that you were an ancient king that had been cursed into being a cat.”

A fair point.

He looked around a moment as he finished his food, finding Hakuno holding her hand out for the platter and tossing the strange thing into the waste bin.

“This time must have its own myths and legends.”

“We have fairy tales and things. There’s nothing like magic or what I can do in those stories… nothing that would be considered information rather than a great bedtime tale.”

That wasn’t good.

The fact that these humans were abandoning their knowledge in such useless ways… How did they explain the travel of the moon and the sun? How did they explain to themselves the strange way that the world was known to revolve like that of people around their leaders?

“Nothing about curses?”

She shrugged. “If you were cursed to an eternal sleep, I’d say I could kiss you. Or if you lost your shoe, we could chop up your siblings’ feet and realize you were the one I was looking for the whole time.”

His thoughts drifted to the woman’s friend again.

How many sibling’s feet had been chopped up due to his pissing on the man’s shoes?

What a brutal society.

“And animal transformations?”

“Werewolves, I guess, but they turn into the beast for a night.”

“And their cure?”

“It’s lifelong.”

Great.

So, for one night each month, he would become human and be able to interact, living a strange and shortened life as this woman’s pet. Then, becoming too old to move anymore, he would be taken out of his misery or simply die in his sleep.

“There has to be something.”

Something?

He watched her head over to the cabinets, pulling out that wine he’d spied in her cabinets the other week.

The sweet taste was opposite in preference to his beloved liquor from Uruk, but he could drink. He was permitted alcohol once more and the taste, however sweet, was a welcomed change. He drained his glass and half a second one before looking to her.

“What other myths?”

She stared at him a moment before shaking her head.

“What?”

“We’ve already tried kissing.”

“What does that have to do with your myths?”

She sat back on the couch, yanking her ripped attire carefully from beneath her robes without undressing, tossing them aside a moment before she shook her head.

Her face was already reddened.

A light drinker.

“There are a bunch of stories about cursed people being freed because of love. True love’s kiss and all that. But that can’t be the case because you and I have kissed a couple times before.”

“What happens in these stories?”

The woman drank more of her wine, pouring another glass and taking a moment to think. Or- he assumed it was thinking that was going on, since she was blushing further and shaking her head.

“They’re kids’ tales.”

“Did I ask if they were kids’ tales?” He moved onto the couch, enjoying every moment of this. His body could actually function properly like this. He could feel his strength again, the magic and divinity, strangely enough, were proudly flowing through his veins.

It felt good.

“You and I have tried kissing. True love’s kiss is a load of shit,” she told him simply, allowing her face to be tilted upwards.

What was a kiss, though, than the exchange of affections?

The prevalence of these romantic stories, however absurd, had to have something of truth in them. There had to be a reason that they persisted.

“Kiss me with your magic active.”

The thought came out before he could think about it, the woman’s eyes looking up at his.

“You can still use that magic, can’t you?”

“You advised against it. Remember? Magic limits?”

That was because the woman had possessed absolutely no talent for control and had been throwing her magic around like it was wealth.

“Besides, I have to use commands when I use my magic. When I healed Emiya, I-“

He leaned in further, pressing her down against the cushioned seating. He slipped a hand between them, letting his fingers nudge open her robes a bit more.

“Then command your magic to stop the curse.”

“Stop… Would that work?”

He had no idea.

The idea of kissing her was prevalent in his thoughts right now though. That, fighting, setting up proper protections for Hakuno around this building, and stealing her away from this world and back to his own; his mind was a running cycle of thoughts.

She was looking up at him though.

They had time.

The moment her lips met his again, he felt it.

The surge of power was pushing through his veins. The warmth of her mana mingled with his own, making him feel more and more like he could run through the entire kingdom here before returning to this meager home.

He wasn’t sure how long they simply drank from one another’s lips.

He wasn’t sure how long they lost themselves in simply stroking one another and brushing their hands through one another’s hair.

All he knew was that Hakuno was beginning to tire.

Her eyes were drooping a little, her hands falling from his hair to land on his chest.

“Hakuno?”

“I’m okay… I tried to use as much as I could without pushing myself as far as last time.”

That was uselessly worded.

“I just… What time is it?”

“Hakuno, it’s no doubt the early morning at some point.”

Her eyes drifted else where to the room, to the strange green light that varied its design over time. “It’s five in the morning… We’ve been kissing for hours.”

She hadn’t complained.

Even now, she simply leaned against him, closing her eyes and holding his chest.

“I’ll miss brushing you out, but I don’t think I’ll miss your shedding.”

He snorted, watching her begin to fall asleep.

“You need to sleep in your bed, woman.”

“I’m so tired, Gil.”

She was lucky she was so vital to his wellbeing. He wouldn’t have been doing this had she merely been some random woman.

His hands slipped underneath her legs and back, pulling her up against his chest. He could feel her arms wrapping around him, holding him tight as he carried her back to her bedroom. The woman was looking up at him as he pulled her robes off, tossing them aside.

“Gil?”

There was no stopping him, so if that was her intent then she needed to cease now. Gilgamesh climbed into her bed, slipping beneath the covers and pulling her body against his own.

“Gil?”

“You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“I just wanted to see your face for a while longer.” Her eyes drifted to his. “Maybe listen to you a little longer. It’s hard to communicate without words.”

His body pressed against hers.

He moved his forehead to rest against her own.

“If you keep being my cat, I’ll have to get you a collar so that people know you’re mine.”

A collar?

He snorted.

At this point, he probably could attempt to use his Gates again, bringing valuables back to this woman. Whatever kind of collar she wanted in return, or perhaps he could choose a suitable collar for her. She would look best draped with various gold necklaces. Perhaps some earrings as well.

He brushed a hand through her hair, almost sensing the impending dawn.

The light was beginning to lighten the sky.

Another month and then he would be able to do this again.

He’d end their time together next time with furthering their embrace passed the mere satisfaction of kisses. She would learn more about carnal pleasures when he came around again.

The light was coming in further.

He waited, closing his eyes.

The sun poured over him, warming him with its light.

There was no flash of light. There was no change, no shrinking; he was-

She broke it.

His eyes were transfixed on the slumbering woman. His ears ringing with her words from earlier.

“True love’s kiss…”

That and magic…

The feeling bubbled through him, he stood up on his knees, looking himself over and finding that feeling continuing on.

Freed!

FREED!

His laugh rang throughout the room, his excitement burst forth in grabbing the slumbering woman from her bed and spinning her around.

She didn’t even slightly wake from her rest.

He would find her a suitable collar! Drag her back to Uruk!

If they could conquer a curse from the goddess Ishtar, then they could find their way back to Uruk. They would fix what time and fate had done to him.

He held his woman close and amused himself with the way she cuddled against him for his warmth.

She would be doing that a lot more from this point on.

#drabble #drabbles

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