#May everyone enjoy the holiday festivities | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

societyfolklore · 2 months ago

Text

Merry Christmas, I Miss You

Title: Merry Christmas, I Miss You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Female Reader

Summary: After overhearing a conversation at a Christmas party, Bucky realizes that you may miss him as much as he misses you. Determined to bridge the distance, he makes the first move to reconnect during the holidays, risking vulnerability to say the words he’s been holding back: Merry Christmas, I miss you.

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: //Warnings // Explicit Content //18+, Minors DNI, smut, Angsty, Petsname, Unprotected sex, No Beta reading…

A/N: Alex Crichton – 'Merry Christmas, I miss you' was the inspo for this.. damn song has been living in my head!

The compound was alive with holiday cheer, every surface glittering with Tony’s trademark flair for the extravagant. Twinkling lights wrapped around beams, garlands of evergreen adorned the walls, and a grand Christmas tree stood at the center of the room, its branches heavy with ornaments that seemed far too expensive for their own good. The scent of mulled cider and freshly baked cookies filled the air, mingling with the distant hum of holiday classics playing over the speakers.

It was everything a holiday gathering should be, filled with warmth and laughter, but for Bucky Barnes, it felt like he was standing outside of it all. He leaned against a corner wall, arms crossed over his chest, his lukewarm drink forgotten in his hand. His steel-blue eyes scanned the room, taking in the sight of his teammates laughing, mingling, and for once, letting their guards down.

He tried to let the festive energy seep into him, to shake off the weight that had been pressing on him for weeks now. But no matter how hard he tried, he felt miles away. Like he was a ghost in the room, watching everyone else enjoy a life he wasn’t sure he belonged in anymore.

It wasn’t just the usual holiday blues-no, this emptiness had a name. Yours.

Bucky sighed, his gaze drifting to the corner of the room where you’d stood last year. He could still picture you as if it had happened yesterday. You’d walked in late, the chill of the winter air clinging to you as you shrugged off your coat. Your cheeks had been flushed red from the cold, your smile sheepish as you muttered something about how much you hated New York winters.

He remembered how you’d lit up the room without even trying. Your laughter, your warmth, the way you managed to draw people in without a second thought. You’d been the brightest part of the party back then, and now your absence was like a gaping void, one he couldn’t ignore no matter how hard he tried.

He’d told himself he wouldn’t think about you tonight. That he’d keep his distance, let you enjoy the evening without the weight of his presence lingering in the background. But that had been a lie from the start. Every corner of the compound reminded him of you, of the way you’d made him feel less like the broken man he believed himself to be.

From his spot near the doorway, Bucky’s sharp gaze caught a flash of red on the balcony. Natasha. She was standing outside, her crimson hair catching the soft glow of the string lights wrapped around the railing.

And then he saw you.

His heart clenched painfully in his chest as you came into view, standing beside Nat. He hadn’t even realized you’d arrived. You were bundled in a soft sweater, the colour rich and vibrant against your skin, your hair catching the faint glow of the lights. From a distance, you looked as radiant as ever, but as he watched you, he noticed something different.

There was a sadness in your posture that hadn’t been there before. The way your shoulders slumped slightly, the faint shadow in your eyes, even as you laughed softly at something Natasha said. It was as if you were carrying a weight you didn’t know how to set down, and it made Bucky’s chest tighten all over again.

He should’ve turned away, should’ve given you the space you deserved. But curiosity got the better of him, and he found himself inching closer to the balcony, staying just out of sight as your voices drifted toward him.

“I don’t know, Nat,” you said, your voice soft but tinged with a melancholy that struck Bucky like a blow. “The city just feels too heavy this time of year. Everywhere I go, it’s like I’m walking through ghosts.”

Natasha’s reply was quieter, harder for him to catch. She placed a gentle hand on your arm, her expression unreadable as she listened.

“Maybe I need to get away,” you admitted after a pause, your voice barely above a whisper. “Just for a little while. A beach somewhere, maybe. I don’t know. It’s easier to forget when I’m not here.”

Bucky’s grip on his glass tightened, the faint sound of creaking metal snapping him out of his trance. You were leaving?

The idea of you slipping further out of his life sent a wave of panic crashing over him. He’d spent months convincing himself that letting you go was the right thing to do. That you deserved someone better, someone less damaged, someone whole. But now, hearing those words, he couldn’t help but wonder-had he made a mistake?

The thought hit him harder than he expected, knocking the air from his lungs. He turned away before you could spot him, retreating back into the warmth of the party. But even as he moved, the tightness in his chest didn’t fade.

Bucky leaned against the nearest wall, his head dropping as he fought to steady his breathing. The echo of your words replayed in his mind, louder and louder with each passing second.

He’d let you go, convinced it was the right thing. But what if it wasn’t? What if letting you go had been the biggest mistake of his life?

The noise of the party faded into the background, the laughter and music a distant hum as he stared blankly ahead. For the first time in a long time, he felt the stirrings of something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years: hope.

If you were still here, still lingering on the edges of his world, maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe he could fix this. Maybe he could find the courage to reach out.

But as he stood there, chest tight with regret and longing, one thought kept echoing in his mind, louder than the rest.

He didn’t want you to go.

*~*

That night, Bucky lay awake in his dimly lit apartment, the weight of your words pressing heavily on his chest. The room was silent save for the faint hum of the heater in the corner, its effort to fight off the biting chill doing little to ease the ache within him. The phone on his bedside table seemed to mock him, its dark screen reflecting his indecision.

He had your number. He could call you. The thought sent a jolt of nervous energy through him, his heart pounding against his ribcage. He imagined your voice on the other end, soft and familiar, the sound of it enough to pull him back from the edge of the spiral he’d been in for months.

But what if you didn’t want to hear from him? What if he’d already done too much damage, created a chasm between you that couldn’t be bridged? The fear of rejection kept his hand frozen, hovering over the phone but unable to bring himself to pick it up.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, his metal fingers brushing against his temple as he let out a shaky breath. The clock on the wall ticked steadily, each second passing with the same relentless rhythm as his thoughts. He replayed your voice in his head-the sadness that lingered in your words, the wistful tone that had nearly undone him when you spoke of leaving.

What if this was his last chance?

When the clock struck midnight, something in him snapped. His hand shot out, grabbing the phone before he could second-guess himself again. The screen lit up as he dialled your number, his heart hammering with every ring.

One ring. Two.

He almost ended the call, the weight of his doubt clawing at him. But then-

“Hello?”

Your voice was soft, hesitant, and so achingly familiar that it felt like a lifeline. The knot in his chest loosened slightly, though the words he wanted to say lodged themselves in his throat.

“It’s me,” he managed, his voice rough and unsteady. “Bucky.”

A pause stretched between you, the silence both heavy and fragile. “Bucky… hey, Is everything okay?”

He closed his eyes, the sound of your voice stirring something deep within him. “Yeah,” he said, exhaling a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “I’m fine. I just… I overheard you at the party. About leaving.”

“Oh.” Your voice was quieter now, and he imagined the way your brow might furrow as you processed his words. “I didn’t realize you were there.”

“I was,” he admitted, his fingers gripping the edge of the blanket as if grounding himself. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but… I heard enough.”

There was another pause, longer this time, and he could almost hear the gears turning in your mind.

“Why does it matter to you?” you asked softly, your tone cautious, as though bracing for his response.

Bucky swallowed hard, his throat dry as he tried to find the right words. “Because I don’t want you to go Doll,” he said, the vulnerability in his voice surprising even to him.

His admission hung in the air like a fragile thread, and he waited, his pulse thundering in his ears.

“Why not?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitated, the fear of baring himself completely nearly stopping him. But the memory of your laughter, the light you’d brought into his life, pushed him forward.

“Because I miss you Dol,” he said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I know I shouldn’t. I know I messed things up, but I miss you. And I thought… maybe… maybe you miss me too.”

Your breath hitched on the other end of the line, the sound so soft he almost missed it. The silence extended, and he wondered if you were even still there.

“Doll?”

“I do,” you whispered after a moment, the words cracking slightly. “I miss you too.”

Relief flooded him, leaving him momentarily speechless. He pressed the phone tighter to his ear, needing the connection, even if it was only through a device. His metal hand running through his hair.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he said after a moment, his voice trembling. “Letting you go. I thought you’d be better off without me, that I’d just mess things up more if I stayed.”

“Bucky…” Your voice was thick with emotion, and he imagined the way your lips might tremble, the way you’d fight back tears even as your heart softened.

“But I was wrong,” he continued, his voice firming with the weight of his conviction. “I was so wrong. Losing you-letting you walk away-was the worst mistake I could make. If there’s chance I can fix that, fix us, I wanna do that it take to try.”

Silence stretched again, but this time it wasn’t heavy. It was charged, filled with the echoes of words unsaid and the fragile hope blooming between you.

“I don’t know what to say,” you finally admitted, your voice trembling.

“Just say you’ll give me a chance Doll,” he said, his tone quiet but resolute. “One more chance to make things right.”

Your breath hitched again, and he waited, hiSSs heart hanging on the edge of your response.

“Okay,” you said softly, the word like a balm to his frayed nerves. “Okay, Bucky.”

His lips curved into the faintest smile, the weight in his chest lifting for the first time in what felt like forever.

“Thank you,” he murmured, the words carrying all the emotion he couldn’t yet express.

“Don’t thank me yet,” you replied, a hint of humour lacing your voice. “You’ve got a lot to make up for.”

“I know,” he said, his tone filled with quiet determination. “And I will. I promise sweetheart.”

As the call ended, Bucky set the phone down with a steadiness he hadn’t felt in months. For the first time, hope flickered in the dark corners of his heart, and he clung to it with everything he had.

*~*~*~*

The next day, Bucky woke with a rare sense of determination. If there was even a sliver of hope to rebuild what he’d lost with you, he wasn’t going to waste it. His mind replayed the sound of your voice from the night before-soft, hesitant, but filled with the same longing that had kept him awake for months. It was enough to spur him into action.

Inspired by your love for grand gestures, he decided to do something bold, something undeniably him, and undeniably you. His plan? Turn his small, unassuming house into a beacon of Christmas cheer, a declaration of hope, vulnerability, and just a little bit of chaos.

The execution, however, proved to be more challenging than he’d anticipated.

For hours, Bucky wrestled with tangled strings of lights that seemed to fight back at every turn. He balanced precariously on ladders, muttering curses under his breath as the icy wind nipped at his fingers. Halfway through, he managed to drop an entire box of ornaments, glitter exploding across the room like a small festive bomb.

By the time he finished, he was sweaty, exhausted, and sparkling faintly from head to toe. He stepped back to admire his handiwork, his breath puffing in the cold evening air as he surveyed the glowing masterpiece.

The house was dazzling- perhaps a bit too dazzling. Twinkling lights wrapped around every beam, eaves lined with a cascade of shimmering icicle bulbs, and the walkway lit by glowing candy canes. It was extravagant, chaotic, and just a little ridiculous. But it was perfect.

To Bucky, it felt like more than just a holiday display. It was a reflection of everything he wanted to tell you but hadn’t found the words for yet. It was an invitation, a promise, and a plea all wrapped in one.

He pulled out his phone and dialled your number before he could second-guess himself.

“Come over,” he said simply when you picked up. “Please Doll, I want to show you something.”

You hesitated, and his heart stuttered. But then you sighed softly. “Okay, Bucky. I’ll be there soon.”

*~*~*~*

When you arrived, the sight stole the breath from your lungs.

Bucky’s house glowed like something out of a holiday dream, every inch covered in twinkling lights that danced against the snowy backdrop of the night. The air was crisp, the stars overhead faint in comparison to the warmth emanating from the home before you.

For the first time in weeks, a genuine smile tugged at your lips.

Bucky stood on the porch, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, his shoulders tense as he watched you. There was a nervous energy about him, as though he wasn’t sure if this gesture would land the way he hoped.

“Well?” he asked, his voice softer than you remembered, almost shy. “Is it too much?”

You shook your head, blinking back the sting of tears that pricked at the corners of your eyes. “No,” you said, your voice breaking slightly. “It’s perfect.”

Relief washed over his features, and he stepped closer, his boots crunching lightly against the snow-dusted porch. His gaze never left yours, the intensity of his steel-blue eyes grounding you as he bridged the gap between you.

“That look on your face right now,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “That’s all I want.”

Your breath hitched at the sincerity in his tone, the way his vulnerability wrapped around you like a second layer of warmth.

“Bucky,” you started, but he shook his head slightly, his lips curving into a soft, almost bittersweet smile.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, his words as much a confession as a plea. “I’ve missed this. Missed Us.”

Your heart clenched at the raw emotion in his voice. There was no hesitation, no bravado- just him, standing before you, laying his heart bare in a way that stole your words.

You took a tentative step closer, your hand reaching up to touch his cheek. The faint scruff of his beard scratched against your palm, grounding you in the moment. “I’ve missed you too,” you admitted softly.

Bucky leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment before he opened them again, locking onto yours. “I don’t want to waste any more time,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I want to make this right. Tell me I can do that?”

Tears spilled over, but this time they were warm, cathartic. “Yeah Buck, y-you can,” you whispered, the words thick with emotion.

“I can’t lose you,” he said simply. “Not again.”

His words broke the wall inside you, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned forward, your lips capturing his. The kiss was slow, tentative at first, but it quickly deepened, months of longing pouring into every movement. His hands cradled your face as if you were something fragile, something precious.

When you finally pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, your breath mingling in the space between you. Bucky’s hands lingered on your face, his thumbs brushing gently across your cheeks as if grounding himself in the reality of the moment. His chest rose and fell with unsteady breaths, the raw emotion in his eyes enough to steal the air from your lungs.

Without a word, he wrapped his arms around you, one hand sliding beneath your legs as he effortlessly lifted you off the ground. A soft gasp escaped your lips, and you instinctively looped your arms around his neck, your fingers tangling in the long strands of his hair.

“Let me take care of you, Doll,” he murmured, his voice rough but filled with tenderness.

He carried you up the porch steps, his footsteps slow and deliberate as if savouring the feeling of holding you close again. When he opened the door, the warm glow of the Christmas lights inside welcomed you, casting soft patterns on the walls. The room smelled faintly of pine and cinnamon, a cozy haven from the chill outside.

Bucky walked straight to the couch, sitting down with you still cradled in his arms. He shifted, his hands adjusting to hold you firmly as you straddled his lap. The proximity made your heart race, the heat of his body radiating through his jacket as your foreheads pressed together again.

“I’ve dreamed about this,” he whispered, his breath warm against your lips. “About you. About us. Tell me this isn’t a dream Doll.”

“It’s not,” you promised softly, your hands cupping his face. “I’m here, Buck. I’m yours.”

Something in him snapped at your words. His lips found yours again, more insistent this time, a hunger building between you that had been simmering for far too long. His hands slid down to your hips, gripping them firmly as he guided you closer, your bodies fitting together like pieces of a puzzle.

“God, Doll,” he groaned against your lips, his voice vibrating through you. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

His mouth moved from yours, trailing heated kisses along your jaw and down to your neck. He nipped lightly at the sensitive skin there, soothing it with his tongue before whispering, “Missed the way you taste, the way you feel.”

A soft whimper escaped you as his hands slid beneath your sweater, his rough fingers skimming over your bare skin. He groaned when he felt you shiver beneath his touch, his lips finding their way back to yours as he tugged the fabric over your head.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his eyes roaming over you with a reverence that made your breath hitch. “How’d I ever let you go?”

“Bucky,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you reached for the buttons of his jacket. He helped you shrug it off, the layers falling away until it was just the two of you, skin against skin, no barriers left to hide behind.

He shifted beneath you, his hands gripping your thighs as he stood, carrying you effortlessly toward the bedroom. “Need you,” he said, his voice raw. “Need to feel you, Doll. Need to remind you how much you mean to me.”

You barely registered the soft thud of the bedroom door closing before he laid you gently on the bed, his weight settling over you like a protective shield. His lips found yours again, his kiss deep and unrelenting as his hands explored every inch of you.

“Bucky,” you gasped when his lips trailed lower, leaving a path of fire down your chest and stomach. “Please.”

“Patience, Doll,” he murmured, his voice a mix of teasing and worship. “I’m gonna take my time with you. Show you how much I’ve missed you.”

His hands moved with a deliberate slowness, peeling your jeans down your legs inch by inch. His lips followed the curve of your hips, his breath warm against your skin as he left a trail of kisses down your thighs. Each touch sent a ripple of anticipation coursing through you, your body trembling beneath his attentions.

When you were bare before him, he paused, his eyes raking over you with an intensity that made your breath catch. The room seemed to hum with the weight of his gaze, the hunger and reverence in his expression sending a flush across your cheeks.

“So perfect,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. His hand slid up your legs, his calloused fingers trailing fire along your skin as they gripped your hips possessively. “All mine.”

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice a whispered plea as your fingers gripped the sheets beneath you. “All yours, Buck.”

A low growl rumbled in his throat at your words, and he leaned down, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that was both tender and demanding. His tongue slid against yours, tasting you, claiming you, while his hands continued their exploration, mapping every inch of you as if committing you to memory.

When his lips left yours, they trailed down your jaw, your neck, and then lower. He took his time, his mouth lavishing attention on every sensitive spot, drawing soft gasps and moans from your lips. His teeth grazed the curve of your breast before his tongue soothed the ache, his name tumbling from your mouth like a prayer as his hand found the heat between your thighs.

“You’re so wet for me, Doll,” he said, his voice thick with satisfaction. His fingers teased your folds, spreading your slick arousal before circling your clit with slow, torturous precision. “Been dreaming about this. About you.”

Your hips arched into his touch, your body begging for more as his fingers worked you expertly. The coil of pleasure in your belly tightened with each movement, and just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, his fingers slid inside you, curling to hit the spot that made your vision blur.

“Bucky,” you whimpered, your hands tangling in his hair as he kissed his way back up your body.

“Let go for me, baby girl,” he murmured against your skin.

You did as beautiful as he remembered. The release crashed over you like a tidal wave, your back arching off the bed as his name spilled from your lips in a breathless cry. Bucky watched you the entire time, his gaze dark and possessive as he guided you through the waves of pleasure.

But he wasn’t done.

As you came down, your body still trembling, he shed the last of his clothes, the sight of him stealing what little breath you had left. His muscles rippled as he moved over you, the heat of his body pressing into yours as he lined himself up at your entrance.

“Look at me, Doll,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. His vibranium hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. “I need to see you. Need to know you’re here.”

Your eyes met his, and the intensity in his gaze made your heart ache. Slowly, he pushed into you, the stretch a perfect mix of pleasure and pain as he filled you completely. He groaned deeply, his head falling to your shoulder as he stilled for a moment, letting you adjust to the feel of him.

“Feel so fucking good,” he breathed, his voice raw and strained. “-made for me Doll.”

He began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, as though savouring every second. His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he drove into you, the friction sparking fire in your veins.

“Bucky,” you moaned, your nails digging into his shoulders as he picked up the pace, each thrust deeper and harder than the last. The sound of your bodies moving together filled the room, every gasp, groan, and whispered plea driving Bucky on.

“That’s it,” he growled, his lips brushing against your ear. “Take me, Doll. Let me feel you.”

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer as he thrust into you with a desperation that matched your own. The tension between you built higher and higher, the edge drawing closer with every movement.

“Oh god.” It was impossible not to get lost in him.

“You going to come again for me, babygirl?” he rasped, his hand sliding between your bodies to find your clit. His thumb pressed down in time with his thrusts, and the combination sent you spiralling closer the edge, squeezing him. “Going to show me you missed me too?”

“Y-yeah Buck going, to.. god.. fuck.” You nodded frantically, your brows pinching together as it all started to build, a whimper leaving you and he hit that spongey spot inside.

Your release hit you hard, your walls clenching around him as your cries filled the room. Bucky followed seconds later, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep inside you, his release spilling into you as he groaned your name.

For a moment, the world stood still, the only sound the heavy breathing of the two of you tangled together. Bucky collapsed onto his forearms, his weight resting carefully on you as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

“Love you,” he whispered, the words slipping out in the haze of the moment.

Your heart swelled, and you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close. “I love you too, Bucky,” you said softly, the truth of it settling over both of you like a balm.

He shifted, rolling onto his side and pulling you with him so that you were tucked against his chest. The soft glow of the Christmas lights bathed the room in a warm hue, wrapping you both in their gentle light.

“Never letting you go again, Doll,” he murmured, his voice resolute as he pressed another kiss to your hair.

And as you lay there, wrapped in his arms, you believed him. For the first time in a long time, everything felt right.

252 notes · View notes

temis-de-leon · 27 days ago

Text

Shy gn!reader who has never dated anyone before the Dateables

Characters: Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon and Simeon (x reader, separately)

Main Masterlist

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3

Romance Anon: You're welcome! I missed you too 🩷 I'm glad you enjoyed writing it because I enjoyed reading it 🤭Did you get a request? It's headcanons for Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon, and Simeon react to shy gn s/o telling him how they never dated anyone before him. Thanks!

A/N: I'm not entirely convinced with Simeon's part, so perhaps I'll edit it in the future

Diavolo

Since trust is a steady pillar in every healthy relationship, what truly cements the fact that you two belong together is, for him, that no one else in all the realms knows you better than he does. Add that to how fascinating he finds you and you will soon see yourself uncovering more layers than you thought you had.

However, he isn’t exactly sure if the subject of exes is one he enjoys to the fullest.

It was well after classes had ended that the conversation took place, nearly the end of the year and both enjoying each other’s company in the empty council’s room, and you were discussing how different it would be to experience RAD’s holiday festivities as a couple, having gone from strangers to friends to lovers. The topic of expectations was unavoidable.

Diavolo, who was raised sheltered, has minimal experience and believes that experimenting and deciding what you both like together is the best course to follow.

Would PDA be okay when you're surrounded by all the other students? If so, at what levels? Would you rather stay with him from the beginning or would it be better to spend time with the brothers and the rest of your friends to enjoy the celebrations before leaving the group for some quality time together?

Of course, the idea of you having expertise on the matter with a potential ex-lover doesn’t exactly bother him; you are desirable and attractive, so it would’ve been completely normal.

As long as you’re happy with him, he will thank whatever came before for putting you in his path.

But… what? Did he hear correctly?

You’ve never had a partner before him?

Diavolo was obviously surprised at the confession and, almost immediately after, also honoured and flattered. How could he not, when his beloved chose him above everyone they had ever met before?

This doesn’t change his perspective on you or your relationship, though.

Since he was already planning on being your last partner, being your first as well doesn’t make that much of a difference.

Barbatos

There’s a lot to unpack with this demon. From his past to his private life and his truest, sincerest feelings about life around him, everything is covered with calculated precision.

Since he is not in complete control of his life (not that he resents serving Diavolo; on the contrary), keeping so much of himself hidden helps him feel at ease. More secure about his moves and at a higher position.

You may ask to satisfy your curiosity, of course. You’re his beloved partner, someone who he wouldn’t date if he didn’t trust; but that doesn’t mean he’ll tell you the whole reality at once. He likes giving you breadcrumbs for you to create theories and, if you amuse him enough with them, he’ll also grant you little head nods and shakes that could help you put together the truth.

Having your whole attention and obvious excitement focused on him makes his heart beat a tad faster.

On the other hand, you are as open as a book. Blame it on your shyness and the stuttering that betrays you when you try to be all mysterious and suave.

And also, Barbatos is highly perceptive.

He already suspected from the early stages of your relationship that he is the first romantic partner you’ve ever had, so your eventual confession on the matter doesn’t change anything; neither your relationship nor his opinion of your persona.

It doesn’t matter that the sole reason he’s the best… man you’ve dated in your life is because he is the only one.

What’s most important is that he sets the bar so high that you don’t even think about the possibility of ever being someone else; not before him and certainly never after him.

Solomon

Discussing this topic with him might get a bit intimidating. Not because of how he could react, but rather… You know… seven hundred wives and three hundred concubines? Sure, most of them were probably purely political arrangements, but it was still quite the harem.

He calls himself ridiculous on the matter just to make you feel better.

And also because it is ridiculous, but that’s beside the point.

He is immortal, famous for his search for knowledge, his consequential wisdom and his overall vast experience. Thinking he’s had partners before you (some of them not necessarily human) is the logical thing to do. You’re not even his first apprentice either!

However, receiving your affection might’ve been the best thing that has happened to him in the last couple of centuries, something he makes you aware of quite often, so worrying about his romantic history is pointless; there’s no need.

He loves you now and will do forever, even if things go wrong and you don’t let him anymore.

By the time you’re comfortable enough to tell him your harmless secret, not only does he see right through you, but he will also act like he doesn’t.

He’s sitting by his desk in his laboratory and you’re standing right behind him, arms around his neck while your hands mindlessly play with the golden tassels of his cape. You try to act nonchalant when you force the words out.

“Did you know you’re my first boyfriend? I mean, not boyfriend, just my first- you know, my first. Partner. Ever”

“You don’t say? I would’ve never guessed, MC”

You let out an offended gasp, but he can only laugh at it.

Your embarrassment is cute and he wants to see more of it. After all, it wouldn’t be your relationship without a bit of teasing.

Simeon

The way he loves you is so natural and genuine that it makes you feel like you've been together since the beginning of time. You kind of forget this is your first relationship and thinking about your lack of experience simply does not happen anymore; it's a potential insecurity that eradicates itself rather quickly.

Of course, the fact that this is also his first relationship helps a ton.

Despite being one of the oldest amongst all your friends, he's the one with least experience. It isn't something he has actively searched for, Simeon is not opposed to romance and love, but family has been (and continues to be) a major plot point in his life.

He has raised and trained other angels, fought and lost his own brothers and poured his heart and soul in a series of books that gained more fame and recognition than one could possibly believe.

While a potential partner was always something he could've had, his interest on the matter was never there.

However, Simeon has never known anyone like you before and probably never will ever again. Meeting you felt like fate and, when the time came, giving your relationship a shot was the natural step to follow.

You're an old married couple, except there's no bickering.

Whether you are someone with more or less experience than him regarding romance is not something he thinks about too much. Each relationship is different and he is more than thrilled to experience and discover what works for you both.

Simeon loves and prioritizes you just as much; being your first isn't something extremely meaningful, just a reminder that your story together starts at the same point.

And that's exactly what he tells you the moment you comment on the topic.

Taglist: @ilovecandys2010 @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom

250 notes · View notes

iamgonnagetyouback · 2 months ago

Text

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀────۶ৎ tinsels, taunts, and tom

synopsis: ever since you decided to stay at hogwarts for christmas, you’ve been determined to make the slytherin common room feel festive. tom riddle, of course, has done nothing but criticize your efforts—until he’s the one stepping in when others taunt you content warnings: reader may exhibit dangerous levels of stubbornness, some rude slytherins but tom defends you author's note: merry christmas, loves! hope it’s as magical as you are ♡

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤᡣ𐭩 words.ᐟ 1,614

Snow blanketed the grounds of Hogwarts, but within the Slytherin common room, warmth flickered from the green-tinged flames in the fireplace. The space had a quiet charm to it—too quiet, in your opinion.

Most students had left for the holidays, save for a few Slytherins who preferred the quiet, or in Tom Riddle’s case, who preferred to brood in solitude. That left you with plenty of opportunity to act on a whim: transforming the stark, monochromatic room into something a bit more festive.

You looped garlands of silver and green around the ornate mantelpiece and placed charmed candles on every surface. Even the windowsills bore sprigs of enchanted holly that glimmered faintly under the dim light.

“I fail to understand why you’re bothering with this,” Tom said, perched in an armchair with a book in hand. His voice carried the kind of disinterest he reserved for things beneath his notice.

You flashed him a grin, not pausing as you draped mistletoe above the archway. “Because, Tom, not everyone enjoys lurking in a dark cave all winter. Some of us find joy in life.”

“Joy,” he echoed, as if testing a word in a foreign language. “A fleeting and frivolous emotion. But please, continue. Your nonsense is vaguely entertaining.”

“Your approval means everything to me,” you deadpanned, stringing silver tinsel across the doorway. “Truly, I don’t know how I’d carry on without it.”

His lips quirked, almost imperceptibly. “You’d manage, I’m sure.”

“Riddle, say, do you ever smile? Like, ever?”

Tom glanced up from his book, a slim brow arching with the kind of disdain that could shrivel a mandrake. “You do enough smiling for the both of us. Why should I bother?”

“Because,” you huffed, perched on a stool as you tried to untangle a particularly rebellious string of fairy lights, “it’s Christmas. Smiling is part of the package deal. Like eggnog or cozy sweaters or—”

“Or, apparently, turning the common room into some kind of… garish shrine to consumerism,” he cut in, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You gave him a look, shaking the lights pointedly at him like a disappointed parent wielding a wooden spoon. “Garish shrine? These lights are enchanted to sparkle with the precise hue of Slytherin green. If anything, I’m showing house pride.”

“House pride,” he repeated dryly, his dark eyes trailing over the half-decorated room. Silver garlands draped the walls, enchanted snowflakes floated lazily in the air, and a miniature tree twinkled merrily on the table. “I’m sure Salazar Slytherin himself would be positively weeping with joy at the sight of… this.”

“Salazar could use some joy,” you shot back. “That man’s portrait looks like he’s smelled burnt toast for five centuries straight.”

Tom’s lips twitched—just for a moment—but he quickly hid it behind a derisive scoff. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you’re still here,” you said sweetly, finally hopping off the stool. You turned to him, hands on your hips. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed, Riddle. For someone who claims to hate Christmas decorations, you haven’t moved from that chair since I started.”

Despite his clipped tone, he hadn’t moved from his spot. He even turned a page in his book at a leisurely pace, as if to say he wasn’t paying attention—but you knew better.

“I’m merely here to witness the inevitable disaster,” he replied smoothly. “Someone needs to be on hand when you inevitably fall off that stool or set something on fire.”

“Oh, how thoughtful,” you said with mock sincerity, clasping your hands dramatically to your chest. “My hero.”

He rolled his eyes, returning to his book, but not before you caught the faintest hint of amusement lingering on his face.

It wasn’t long before you had the entire common room glowing with soft, enchanted lights and sparkling decor. You were putting the finishing touches on the small Christmas tree when the door opened, and a group of boys from your house sauntered in.

“Well, well,” one of them drawled, his smirk as sharp as a serpent’s fang. “What do we have here? The little elf hard at work.”

You turned, unfazed. “If I’m an elf, what does that make you? Grinch incarnate?”

Another boy snickered, but the first one stepped closer, a sneer twisting his features. “Decorating the common room like a silly Hufflepuff. Who even cares for this drivel other than you?”

Before you could retort, a voice cut through the air like a blade.

“I do.”

The temperature seemed to drop, though the fire continued to crackle. Tom stood in the corner, his book closed, his eyes dark and calculating as they swept over the group.

The boy faltered. “Oh, come on, Riddle, you can’t actually—”

Tom took a step forward, slow and deliberate. “Do you believe I’m in the habit of tolerating insolence?” His voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of an unspoken threat. “I suggest you leave before I find a reason to make your lives… unpleasant.”

The boys exchanged nervous glances, muttering under their breaths as they slunk out of the room.

Once they were gone, you exhaled and turned back to the tree, pretending the moment hadn’t affected you. “I had it under control, you know.”

“Clearly,” Tom said, crossing the room to stand beside you. “It was almost impressive how your wit compensated for your vulnerability.”

You glanced at him with a raised brow. “Vulnerability? Is that what you think? Don’t mistake me for someone who needs saving, Riddle.”

His lips twitched again, a ghost of amusement. “I wouldn’t dare. You’d likely bludgeon me with that wreath before I had the chance.”

“Exactly,” you replied, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Glad we understand each other.”

For a moment, silence settled between you, interrupted only by the crackling fire. Tom’s gaze drifted to the tree, his expression softening almost imperceptibly.

“You did well,” he admitted, his voice quieter. “It looks… decent.”

“Decent?” you teased, nudging his shoulder with yours. “High praise coming from the great Tom Riddle. I might faint from the shock.”

“You’re intolerable.”

“And yet, here you are,” you pointed out, stepping back to admire the room. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you actually like this.”

He didn’t respond, but his gaze lingered on you for a beat longer than necessary. There was something unspoken in his eyes—something that almost felt like warmth, despite his many layers of cold detachment.

“Merry Christmas, Tom,” you said softly, breaking the spell.

He inclined his head, his expression unreadable. “Merry Christmas… though I still fail to see the point.”

You laughed, the sound echoing in the festive room. “Oh, Tom. You’re hopeless.”

And maybe he was, but for a fleeting moment, as the glow of the Christmas lights reflected in his dark eyes, you thought he seemed just a little less so.

The two of you stood in the common room, the glow of the tree casting soft light on Tom's sharp features. You were tidying up the stray decorations while he lingered, his book long forgotten on the armchair.

“You know,” Tom began, his voice softer than usual, “you never told me why you didn’t go home for the holidays.”

You paused mid-step, your fingers brushing against a strand of tinsel. His tone lacked its usual edge—it wasn’t a demand but a genuine question.

Tilting your head, you offered a teasing smile. “What’s this, Riddle? Taking an interest in my personal life? Should I be flattered or concerned?”

He rolled his eyes, though the slight tension in his jaw betrayed something deeper. “I’m merely observing. Most students jump at the chance to leave, yet here you are, inflicting this… merriment upon us.”

“Well,” you said, turning back to the decorations, “I could ask the same of you. Why stay here when you could haunt your local library or terrorize your neighbors?”

His lips twitched, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t deflect, love.”

You sighed, leaning against the arm of the sofa. “I suppose I could’ve gone home. But it didn’t seem worth it this year.”

“Why not?” he pressed, his voice quieter now.

You hesitated, considering brushing him off with another joke, but there was something about the way he was looking at you—unreadable, yet oddly expectant.

“I guess…” you started, your voice softening. “I didn’t want to leave you alone on Christmas.”

Tom blinked, visibly thrown. “You… what?”

You smirked, trying to lighten the moment despite the faint blush creeping up your neck. “Oh, come on, Tom. Imagine how utterly miserable you’d be without someone here to annoy you. I’m practically doing a public service.”

His expression remained stoic, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of something—uncertainty, maybe even vulnerability. “That’s absurd. I don’t require company.”

You stepped closer, your smirk softening into something gentler. “You might not require it, but everyone deserves it. Even you.”

He looked away, the faintest pink dusting his pale cheeks. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re welcome,” you replied, grinning.

For a long moment, he didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the tree. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. “You should’ve gone home.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “If I had, who would’ve kept you from turning this place into an even bigger dungeon?”

His lips twitched again, but this time, the amusement reached his eyes. “You overestimate your influence.”

“Do I?” you challenged, nudging him lightly.

He looked at you then, truly looked at you, his guarded mask slipping just enough to reveal something softer beneath. “Perhaps not.”

The warmth between you lingered, unspoken but undeniable, as the Christmas lights twinkled around you. For the first time, the cold, unyielding walls of the Slytherin common room felt like home.

#⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ivy writes ༄.°#tom riddle fluff #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle #christmas fics ❆#tom marvolo riddle #soft!tom riddle #slytherin boys #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you #divider by ianrkives

218 notes · View notes

jessamine-rose · 2 months ago

Text

⋆*•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙˚ Mistletoe ˚‧͙*̩̩͙❆•̩̩͙*⋆

Read my Yandere! Capitano fics first (੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭

Belated Merry Christmas, everyone!! Guess who got hit with Yandere! Capitano x Damsel! Darling inspiration on the night of Christmas and decided to write a late drabble…….I hope you all enjoy this fluffy gift ヽ(；▽；)ノ

Note:: Fem reader, this is not a dark fic but it is connected to a yandere series

♡ 0.5k words under the cut ♡

On the last day of the winter holidays, you ask Capitano if he would like to see your flower collection.

At first, Capitano thinks this is no different from his wife’s daily routine. When you aren’t pressing fresh flowers in your notebook, you are flipping through the previous pages to check on your collection.

In both scenarios, Capitano likes to observe you. Most enjoyable is when you go out of your way to invite him—those sessions always end in nostalgic conversations and a batch of newly preserved flowers given to him.

As such, he predicts a similar gift for this holiday.

The bedroom is silent, save for hushed voices and the rustling of paper.

It is a rare moment of peace after weeks of Fatui meetings and festivities. Once again, you are seated on your husband’s lap. As you turn the pages of your notebook, Capitano takes note of certain flowers.

Dandelions, dendrobium, Sumeru roses, forget-me-nots, astilbe, laurestine…

And so on. Each flower invokes a shared memory, a precious moment frozen in time. But you don’t reach the end of your collection.

Rather, you stop at a page of yellowish-green flower clusters. Before you can read out the name of the plant, Capitano has already recognized it.

Mistletoe.

“Do you remember this?” you ask him.

“...Yes,” he replies. Beneath his mask, his eyes widen with understanding. “Mistletoe, acquired during our trip to Fontaine. It fed on the trees that grew behind the House of the Hearth.”

Your voice takes on a playful tone. “I’m glad that Arlecchino allowed us to pick a few flowers. The mistletoe that grows in Fontaine is quite similar to Mondstadt’s.”

One sprig of mistletoe has not been glued to the page. You pick it up by the stem, twirling it between your fingers.

“At this time of the year,” you whisper, “I’d see this plant everywhere in Mondstadt, hanging over doorways and ceilings. The berries are quite pretty…have you heard of this tradition?”

So this was your strategy.

His thumb traces circles on your waist. “I have. Including other details.”

You turn to face him, a faint twinkle in your eye. “Is that so?”

The preserved mistletoe is placed on the desk, next to your closed notebook.

“I hope you like it,” you tell him. A small smile makes its way to your face as you straddle his lap. “I’ll give you your other gifts later.”

He pulls you closer, caressing your cheek. “I sincerely appreciate it.”

Capitano bows his head and you take the hint, placing your hands on either side of his mask to take it off. It joins the flowers on the desk.

And in the kisses that follow, a wish is shared.

“May we enjoy many more holidays together, my beloved flower.”

♡

Craving more Capitano and mistletoe?? (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)

Fun fact, my first brainrot of 2024 was this New Year’s post so I rlly wanted my last one to also be Capitano x Damsel. Starting and ending the year with CapiDamsel kisses <3

Special thanks to @diodellet for beta-reading this!! I also want to take this moment to thank my mutuals and everyone who read my work this year!! I hope you all enjoyed my last fic of 2024, and happy holidays╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

Tag a Capitano enjoyer!! @leftdestiny-posts @brynn-lear @harmonysanreads @naraven @mochinon-yah @pranabefall @euniveve @zhongrin @jymwahuwu @silentmoths @stickyspeckledlight @teabutmakeitazure @nicebonescomrades

#il capitano #capitano #capitano x reader #yandere capitano x reader #yandere capitano #yandere fatui harbingers #fatui x reader #genshin x reader #yandere genshin #tw: yandere #fem reader #jessamine-writing

238 notes · View notes

monster-effer · 2 months ago

Text

Christmas Time in the N109 Zone – Sylus x reader

Summary: Can you bring Christmas cheer to the N109 Zone? There’s only one way to find out. Content: Fluff, Sylus and reader are dating, reader is the MC, Christmas cheer (1.3k wc) A/N: I was not planning to write a Christmas fic, but I couldn’t help myself once “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” by Brenda Lee played on Spotify shuffle. I hope y’all are having a lovely holiday season no matter which holiday you may or may not be celebrating! Please enjoy <3

You were on an important mission. Your objective was to bring Christmas cheer to the N109 Zone, specifically Sylus’ place. Since you lost your grandma and Caleb in one fell swoop, you’ve struggled to feel any sort of Christmas cheer around this time of year.

With this plan in mind, your first step was to bring this up to your boyfriend Sylus. After you explained the reason behind your new project, Sylus’ crimson eyes softened, and he nodded in agreement. He would give you anything you asked for, and often things you didn’t think to ask for.

Over the days leading up the holiday you’ve drip fed bits of Christmas cheer into Sylus’ life and home.

December 20th:

You insist that Luke, Kieran and Mephisto join Sylus and you for Christmas photos at the local mall with Santa. Sylus huffs at the suggestion but after some insisting, relents because he can’t say no to you. You try to hold in laugh when the twins relentlessly tease their boss as you all wait in line for photos.

It is a little awkward trying to figure out where everyone will go for the photo. Eventually, you and Sylus end up sitting on the red rug at Santa’s feet, Luke and Kieran are sitting on one of Sant’s legs each while Mephisto perches himself on Santa’s left shoulder.

The resulting picture is silly and heartwarming. Right before the camera flashed Mephisto let out a festive "sqwack!" which caused you to glance up at him with a smile. Sylus is warmly gazing at you with a small smile on his face. Luke and Kieran are wearing their masks but with the addition of elf hats on each of their heads while they hold up bunny ears behind Santa’s head.

You make sure to have several copies in assorted sizes printed out before you leave the mall.

December 21st:

Sylus to comes with you for last minute tree shopping. Initially you were resigned to the idea that only thin, sad looking trees would be left. But a Christmas miracle occurred because you scored a HUGE, 10 foot tree that would fit perfectly under the high ceiling in Sylus’ living room.

Transporting the tree was the next obstacle, but luckily this was resolved with a generous tip from Sylus. And the tree was delivered later that day. Once the tree was placed in the designated corner of the living room, you could enact the next phase of operation: Bring Christmas Cheer. The decorating.

December 22nd:

The morning after bringing home the Christmas tree, you brought over some ornaments, garland, and an eerily familiar looking crow tree topper that you found while browsing online.

You…may have gone overboard with the three boxes of decorations you brought over but you wanted the entire living room to look festive. After having breakfast together, you, Sylus and the twins divided and conquered the decorating tasks as Christmas music played softly in the background. The twins were handling decorating the mantel above the fireplace and hanging up Christmas lights.

You focused on decorating the tree with Sylus. He decorated the upper parts of the tree that you could not reach because the tree was massive. Once you were satisfied with the decorations on the tree, Mephisto took it upon himself to seize the crow tree topper and plop it perfectly onto the point of the tree to finish it off.

December 23rd:

On this day, everyone went their separate way to buy, and wrap presents. You spent the day strolling through Linkon city’s downtown area and the N109 zone trying to drum up ideas of what to get everyone.

So far, this is your progress:

Luke and Kieran: matching ugly sweaters and red, festive crow masks commissioned from 303’s workshop in the N109 zone.

Luke: Crow shaped ice molds since you always catch him crunching on ice no matter the season.

Kieran: Supplies for dart making.

For Mephisto: a shiny Reindeer bauble because he loves collecting little trinkets.

The only person left on your list is Sylus. What would be a good gift for a man that could buy himself anything? You wander around for hours before dejectedly thinking about getting him something generic like a Christmas themed lotion set.

But your eye catches the glint of a beautiful picture frame inside of a photo shop, and you realize you have found the perfect gift for your boyfriend.

December 24th:

In anticipation for Christmas being tomorrow, you requested everyone’s presence at Sylus’ home.

You put on your favorite Christmas song playlist, while you all arrange your wrapped gifts under the tree. After they are all placed, you start baking some gingerbread cookies in Sylus’ kitchen.

While the cookies are sitting on a cooling wrack, you put on some classic Christmas films. You and Sylus cuddle on one of the couches while Luke and Kieran chase Mephisto around the room trying to place a teeny, tiny Santa hat on his head. (They were not successful)

During your childhood, it was a Christmas tradition to stay up until midnight before opening the presents. You try your best to do so, but you are no match for the Christmas movie marathon and Sylus’ body warmth. You end up dozing off.

The next thing you remember is being gently nudged awake. Opening your eyes reveals Sylus looking down at you amusedly. You glance at the clock on his fireplace mantle, and it reads 11:58 pm.

December 25th (midnight):

You smile softly at Sylus and get up to stretch. Then you spot Luke and Kieran cuddled up together and asleep on another couch. After waking them up and summoning Mephisto, you exchange gifts just as the clock hits midnight.

Luke and Kieran enthusiastically rip open their gifts. They both briefly pause as they unearth the identical masks you had commissioned for them, they unceremoniously stand up and run out of the room together. They return a few minutes later proudly wearing their new crow masks. “Thank you, Ms. Hunter,” they say in unison.

Mephisto caws happily as you roll another sparkly bauble his way. He quickly nips it in his beak and flies off to add it to his ever growing pile of trinkets.

You watch in nervous anticipation as Sylus begins to unwrap the gift you handed him. What you bought him is not the most expensive or luxurious gift, but you hope that your intentions shine through.

Once he’s removed all the wrapping paper, he takes a moment to silently scan the titanium picture frame. The frame holds multiple photos of you and him the past few months you’ve shared together.

Finally, after what felt like the world’s longest pause, he looks directly into your eyes and says, “Thank you for this sweetie, I’ll hang this up in my bedroom so I can see it when I fall asleep every morning.” Sylus’ smile is soft in a way you rarely get to see. His usual barriers and walls are down as his appreciation for the gift and his affection for you is clearly on display.

You heart is filled with gooey warmth as you look around the living room. Your gaze reaches the tree then realizing you are the only one who has not opened their presents. You received an astonishingly ugly sweater from Luke and Kieran and a crow plushie “from” Mephisto. Sylus hands you a small black box that holds a beautiful gold locket. When you open the locket a photo of you and Sylus looking blissfully happy greets you. Your grin is bright as you ask him to fasten it around your neck.

You wouldn’t forego all the chaos you had to go through to create the memories made with this chaotic bunch. This year, Christmas has officially made its way to the N109 Zone.

#sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace #sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus x mc #sylus love and deepspace #love and deepspace fluff #lads sylus x reader #l&ds sylus #l&ds #l&ds x reader #sylus qin #qin che #sylus fluff #sylus fic #fanfic #monster effer

181 notes · View notes

the-cosmic-cauldron · 5 months ago

Text

Astrology Observation: Mercury in The Houses

Disclaimer: 🍂🍁🍄‍🟫🐿️🫶🏾 Happy October! I hope everyone is thrilled and ready for this spooky month filled with exciting adventures. Autumn is one of my favorite seasons, showcasing its beauty and charm, along with a wealth of holidays and opportunities for sharing love. Even if you're away from family or have few friends, I encourage you to infuse your October with fun and festivity. I wish abundance for all, and may your desires for this month come true. If you're in a budding relationship, I hope it blossoms into something deep and meaningful. For those in college, may you excel in your studies this semester. If you're job hunting, I wish you find your dream position, and if you're simply enjoying the moment, cherish every second. This is part of my series on planets and houses, with Venus being the next focus. I hope you appreciate my content as much as I enjoy creating this top-tier astrological material to help you connect with yourself and enhance your personal growth. As always if it don’t apply, let it fly🫶🏾🐿️🍂🍁

Mercury in 1st House: These individuals possess a highly alert mindset, often acutely aware of their thoughts and feelings, and they frequently reflect on their desires and goals. They exhibit a strong competitive nature, which can lead to jealousy and a desire to outdo others. This mindset tends to be self-centered, focusing primarily on personal gain, which can result in selfishness and a tendency to be standoffish. They are resolute in their beliefs, making it challenging to alter their perspectives. Unlike those who overthink, they prefer a more straightforward approach, although this can sometimes lead to imbalanced thinking. Air signs may struggle in this context due to their tendency to overanalyze, which hampers decisiveness. In contrast, Earth signs thrive here, as their grounded nature allows for clear, genuine decision-making. Water signs also excel, as this position helps them clarify their desires rather than becoming overwhelmed. Fire signs benefit from this mindset as well, as they are action-oriented and prefer to explore their interests rather than dwell on thoughts.

Mercury in 2nd House: These individuals possess a superficial mindset, often lacking depth in their thinking. They tend to focus on their appearances and financial status, prioritizing how they present themselves to the world. This obsession with fashion and personal image can border on obsessive, resembling traits of OCD regarding their looks. Financially driven, these people are often preoccupied with money, whether it's about saving, investing, or accumulating wealth, leading to a constant hunger for financial security. They can be judgmental, frequently comparing themselves to peers and family members. Air signs, in particular, seem to emphasize their social lives and image, enhancing their superficial nature. Earth signs may exhibit jealousy and a desire to be the most attractive and wealthy, showcasing a showy demeanor. Water signs, while possessing some depth, often struggle with introspection, torn between their desire for depth and a pull towards superficiality and security. Fire signs are characterized by their competitiveness, always striving to be the best and outshine others.

Mercury in 3rd House: These individuals tend to have a narrow perspective, primarily because they are overly preoccupied with others and social dynamics, which limits their capacity for self-reflection. Their thoughts often revolve around the lives of others, engaging in gossip and current events, particularly through social media. This constant external focus leaves little room for deeper contemplation. They seem restless, preferring interaction over solitude, which may indicate a struggle with being alone. Their thought processes are rapid, showcasing a certain creativity that could manifest in various artistic pursuits or simply in their unique way of thinking. While air signs can align their thoughts effectively, this may hinder their ability to think outside conventional boundaries, leading to stubbornness and resistance to change. Earth signs might find this trait beneficial, enhancing their social adaptability, while water signs may become overly reliant on others for validation, struggling to find comfort within themselves. Fire signs, on the other hand, may become excessively talkative and preachy.

Mercury in 4th House: These individuals tend to be quite fearful in their thinking, often remaining firmly within their comfort zones. They exhibit rigidity in their thought processes, struggling to think creatively or outside conventional boundaries. Typically, they prefer to adhere to traditional expectations and norms, often following in the footsteps of family elders. Their sentimental nature keeps them focused on close relationships with family and friends, and they often prioritize a structured life, emphasizing career and family in a traditional manner. This reliance on family can lead to a desire for validation and a need for comfort and security. Air signs may feel torn between a desire for exploration and their commitments to family and obligations, while earth signs can become overly routine and resistant to change. Water signs may develop a dependency on loved ones, leading to stagnation as they prioritize comfort over growth. Fire signs might struggle with familial issues, feeling constrained in their pursuit of personal desires.

Mercury in 5th House: These individuals are highly imaginative and seem to prioritize enjoyment and living life to the fullest. Their focus appears to be on experiences that bring them pleasure, particularly in the realms of romance and love, cherishing the presence of those who genuinely care for them. They embody a lighthearted, childlike spirit, emphasizing fun, travel, and social connections while actively seeking new opportunities. Their creativity shines through in their thinking, and they often reflect on their talents and aspirations, especially regarding family and children. There seems to be a reluctance to embrace responsibility, as they prefer to concentrate on their desires rather than obligations. Air signs, in particular, embody the life of the party, always eager to host gatherings and enjoy themselves. Earth signs exemplify the "work hard, play hard" mentality, dedicating themselves to their careers while also seeking out fun and relaxation. Water signs are deeply romantic, pursuing love passionately and striving for emotional fulfillment. Fire signs are vibrant and adventurous, bringing a sense of excitement and spontaneity to their interactions.

Mercury in 6th House: These individuals are deeply committed to achieving perfection, often overanalyzing their lives and constantly seeking ways to enhance their existence. They embody the essence of self-improvement, striving for better health, spiritual depth, and a more aesthetically pleasing lifestyle. Their focus on personal image is significant, even if they may not fully recognize it; they are preoccupied with how they are perceived by others. While they possess genuine intentions to present their best selves and contribute positively to the lives of others, they often grapple with anxiety and a tendency to be overly particular. Air signs may experience heightened nervousness and mental health challenges due to their intense focus on thoughts, while Earth signs can become rigid, sticking closely to their comfort zones and being overly concerned with appearances. Water signs face struggles with self-criticism, leading to ongoing internal battles, whereas Fire signs, despite their creativity, may find it difficult to express their enthusiasm and passion, feeling mentally constrained in showcasing their true essence.

Mercury in 7th House: These individuals are fascinating as they often consider the well-being of both themselves and those around them. They possess a balanced perspective, frequently seeking fairness and advocating for it in various situations. Their deep motivation for love drives them to seek a partner, reflecting a genuine desire to find their soulmate. Additionally, they are analytical thinkers, skilled at dissecting information to uncover the truth, and they challenge others' viewpoints, serving as catalysts for merging different perspectives. This ability allows them to blend their analytical nature with a holistic approach, minimizing bias. Air signs can thrive in this context, but they might need to find balance, as they can become overly focused on intellectual pursuits. Earth signs excel in research, making them knowledgeable and intelligent, while water signs may struggle with overanalyzing emotions, which can hinder their ability to feel deeply but can enhance their romantic side. Fire signs may face challenges, becoming indecisive and less action-oriented, yet this can also lead to a more balanced outlook, helping to curb their selfish tendencies, though it may impede their decision-making.

Mercury in 8th House: These individuals are complex and profound thinkers, often teetering on the edge of black-and-white thinking, where they may view situations from a singular perspective and frequently shift between opposing sides. They tend to grapple with negative thought patterns, which can overshadow their deep analytical abilities. While they possess a keen interest in unraveling life's mysteries, their intense nature can lead to paranoid thoughts and a strong curiosity about sexuality. This desire for transformation often drives them to reassess their beliefs and perspectives. For air signs, this depth enhances their intellectual pursuits, adding emotional richness. In contrast, earth signs may become pessimistic, hindering their mental lightness and fostering a darker outlook. Water signs exhibit profound emotional depth but are prone to depression, which can leave them feeling hopeless. Fire signs, while naturally enthusiastic, may find their positivity diminished, leading to struggles in maintaining an optimistic outlook despite their quest for truth.

Mercury in 9th House: These individuals possess a broad-minded perspective, preferring to focus on the bigger picture rather than getting lost in minute details. They seek to understand life's deeper themes, purpose, and meaning, embodying a philosophical and spiritual mindset. Often steering clear of superficial conversations, they delve into the underlying reasons and mechanisms of existence. Their natural optimism shines through, as they maintain hope even in challenging times, viewing life positively. Adventurous and curious, they embrace challenges and seek new experiences. Air signs exemplify this philosophical approach, potentially becoming spiritual leaders, while Earth signs gain from this perspective, balancing attention to detail with a broader understanding. Water signs are motivated by this outlook, blending lessons from the past with aspirations for the future. Fire signs, on the other hand, embody a proactive spirit, eager to tackle life's challenges and seize opportunities.

Mercury in 10th House: These individuals tend to be quite superficial, heavily preoccupied with their status and public perception. Their primary motivation seems to revolve around wealth and success, which drives their mentality towards achieving a perceived high status. This focus can lead to a cutthroat attitude, as they prioritize their goals over emotional well-being. They often appear image-conscious, which may hinder genuine self-reflection, and they seek physical comfort and stability in life. Their relationships can be transactional, centered on what others can offer them in terms of status. Air signs are particularly ambitious and desire to be leaders within their social circles, while Earth signs are driven by the pursuit of wealth and excellence. In contrast, Water signs may struggle with balancing their need for depth and authenticity against the pressure to maintain an image. Fire signs can come across as self-centered, overly focused on their own aspirations and how they are perceived by others.

Mercury in 11th House: These individuals are unique and unconventional thinkers who frequently generate creative and innovative ideas. They often possess a knack for predicting future trends and staying informed about current events, allowing them to find insightful solutions to global issues. Their attention is often directed towards the world around them, including politics, news, friendships, and social media, which can sometimes lead to neglecting their own needs. Their commitment to community and problem-solving drives them to seek change and make a positive impact on society. They are typically generous and altruistic, focusing on their relationships and how they can enhance the lives of others. However, their lack of emotions can make it challenging for them to maintain a balanced perspective. Air signs excel in this regard, as they tend to be future-oriented and socially adept, fostering strong networks. Earth signs bring a pronounced focus on goals that extend beyond themselves, showcasing greater complexity than typical earth signs. Water signs blend past and future perspectives, creating a unique outlook that combines intellectual and emotional thinking. Fire signs also thrive in this context, as their inherent future orientation is amplified, enhancing their ideas and aspirations.

Mercury in 12th House: These individuals tend to possess a profound introspective nature, often isolating themselves to reflect on their lives and actions. They frequently engage in deep contemplation about their personal feelings and relationships. Many of them are spiritual seekers, searching for a connection to something greater, whether through religion or spirituality. Their tendency to idealize life can lead to confusion, as they may prioritize fantasies and imagination over reality. Additionally, they often find themselves hindered by their past experiences, which can dominate their thoughts. Air signs may experience significant confusion, resulting in delusional thinking and difficulty maintaining rationality. Earth signs, while generally more stable, can feel like loners and struggle to comprehend their thought processes. Water signs are prone to addictions and often seek escape from their own minds. Fire signs grapple with a sense of instability, feeling lost and unable to make definitive decisions.

#astro notes #astro observations #astro placements #astroblr #astrology #astro community #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo ♌️#virgo #libra #scorpio #saggitarius #capricorn #pisces #aquarius #mercury in astrology

349 notes · View notes

my-my-my · 2 months ago

Text

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate and happy holidays everyone! This is just a fun idea I had rolling around in my head these past few days! I didn’t want to do all the squads, and the timeline is purposely fuzzy (who cares about character deaths? Not me!!!). So this is just a mishmash of characters I pictured having fun with this.

TW: MDNI! Technically it’s abuse of power with any of the captains, but it’s all consensual, (reader is either a lieutenant, low-ranking, or human), oral sex, dirty talk, inappropriate use of decorations, food play.

Characters: Gin Ichimaru, Retsu Unohana, Sousuke Aizen, Grimmjow Jaegerjacques.

SQUAD 3 - Ichimaru Gin

You had just come back from the World of the Living, humming a tune, that you learned was a Christmas carol, through the barracks. You learned so much about humans during this time. Festivals with lights, decorated trees, gift giving and food sharing… everyone seemed so happy! Maybe it would be worth spreading that cheer into your squad.

Your arms were carrying boxes of stringed lights. While there weren’t any pine trees, maybe Captain Ichimaru would let you decorate some of the persimmon trees?

“Whatcha got there?” Speak of the devil and he shall appear, you thought.

“I was about to go to your office, Captain!” You said, as you bowed to him. Captain Ichimaru chuckled as he looked over the boxes in your arms. “I wanted your permission if I could decorate some persimmon trees with these lights.”

“It’s that time of the year already? Let me help you.” Captain Ichimaru clicked his tongue as took some of the boxes out of your arms, walking towards his favourite patch of trees.

“You know about Christmas, Captain Ichimaru?” You asked, as the two of you reached the trees.

The captain gave you wide grin, “I know some things, like how people receive gifts if they’ve been naughty or nice.”

You smirked at him, “oh is that so? Where do I fall on your list, Captain?”

Captain Ichimaru didn’t say anything, instead he unfurled the string of lights, giving it a quick inspection. Then, without warning, he flexed his spiritual pressure, forcing you on to your knees, quickly using the string lights to tie your arms behind your back, wrapping the around your breasts. He flicked his fingers, and to your surprise, the string lights were on, illuminating your covered breasts.

“You”, the captain drawled, cupping your chin, forcing you to look up to him, “have and will always be naughty.” He smirked. With his free hand, he pulled his cock out through his uniform, placing the soft shaft on your lips.

“But maybe you can show me how nice you are,” he cooed, patting your head as you begin to bob your head up and down his growing erection.

SQUAD 4 - Unohana Retsu

The scent of freshly baked goods wafted through the kitchens of the Squad 4 barracks. You and Hanatarou had visited the World of the Living to learn how to bake sugar cookies and the like from the spirit of a pastry chef, and now you wanted to bake some more.

Specifically… you wanted to give some to your captain. While you weren’t sure what to get her as a gift, you knew she enjoyed (moderately) tasting sweets. You had made an assortment of baked treats for her, some with matcha, azuki, black sesame, and dark chocolate, wondering what her favourite would be.

You gently placed all the treats into a decorative box and made your way to her office. Before you could knock on her door, you heard her call your name, “please come in.”

As you entered her office, you were startled to see Captain Unohana outside of her uniform. Her long black hair was put into a bun, and she wore a form-fitting grey dress with fur trimming.

“Captain, if I may,” you bowed, a blush creeping on your cheeks, “you look beautiful.”

Captain Unohana smiled at you, “thank you. The World of the Living has some interesting clothing for this time of the year.” She fanned her hand over her clothes, “and this one in particular called to me.”

“It looks like it was made for you.” You explained, a blush creeping on your cheeks as you noticed her ample cleavage.

The captain gave you a knowing smile, “you’re quite kind. How may I be of help to you, my dear?” She asked, her gaze pointing towards the box in your hand.

“Oh!” You were so shocked by her appearance, you completely forgot why you were here to begin with. “In the spirit of the holidays… I made these treats for you.”

“Then let us have some tea and enjoy these together.” Captain Unohana calmly said, as she prepared her favourite brew.

The two of you sat down, enjoying the warm tea and the snacks you gifted her. One treat in particular caught your captain’s attention. You were heavy handed with the whipped cream topping, to which she gently scooped up with her finger.

“This is delicious.” She remarked, “did you even make the cream yourself?”

“Yes!” You excitedly answered, “A pastry chef taught Hanatarou and I how to make different baked goods. I wanted to share with you what we learned.” You beamed at her, proud of your work.

Unfortunately for you, your heavy-handed decorating had consequences, as whipped cream dropped on to your captain’s cleavage. You immediately went to her side to apologize, your hand ready with a napkin, until she caught your hand.

She gave you a gentle smile, “don’t worry about this.” Your eyes widened in shock as she pulled the top of her dress down, her bare chest open to you. Captain Unohana smeared the cream on to her nipples, as you watched in awe.

“Would you like a taste?” Captain Unohana smiled, as she pulled you to her breasts. Your face grew hot as your tongue darted across her cream-covered nipple, before sucking it harshly.

“Very good.” Your captain praised, patting your head. “There’s some more here…” as she spread more cream on her other breast. And then with a simple kido spell, pulled her clothes off her body, as she continued to place cream and crumbled desserts down her body. You feasted on her until you reached her wet pussy, her fingers holding the folds apart for you. “And this is my Christmas present for you, for being such a good girl.” Captain Unohana murmured, as she forced your head between her legs.

MUKEN - Aizen Sousuke

Aizen glared at Head Captain Kyoraku, who was flirting with some random mother waiting in line with her child.

As part of his sentence, the Head Captain thought it would be a “wonderful idea” for Aizen to do some community service.

In the World of the Living.

As a Mall Santa Claus.

Shutara Senjumaru, Mayuri Kurotsuchi and Kisuke Urahara joined forces, for some reason, to make him clothing that would temporarily suppress his spiritual pressure. He could mingle with humans. He only had to do this for 6 hours.

He begrudgingly accepted, much to the shock of everyone. While he could think of a plan to escape. It was more so he was curious to know what the World of the Living was like since his imprisonment. And also Ichigo Kurosaki would “help” as an elf. And he was.

Aizen didn’t mind Ichigo, and much to Ichigo’s surprise, he got along with Aizen. But he couldn’t talk with Aizen for long, as parents and children kept lining up, to tell Santa Aizen want they wanted for Christmas.

You on the other hand, were doing some last-minute shopping with a few friends. You stood in your tracks as you looked at the Santa Claus display, “hey guys… Santa looks pretty cute, don’t you think?” You asked.

Your friends laughed, “if you think so, why don’t you wait to sit in his lap?” They teased. Not one to backdown from a challenge, you stubbornly accepted.

“Fine! Take my stuff. I’ll catch up with you guys later.” Your friends hollered as you stood in line, parents and caregivers giving you side eyes and dirty looks as you waited along with them. You were also getting peculiar looks from an elf with orange hair, but no matter! You were here on a mission.

“Hi miss, you know this is for children, right?” The elf asked.

“Oh I know,” you said, thinking of what to say to stay in line, but you couldn’t lie to save your life. “I was dared to meet with this Santa, and I have some money on the line.” The elf gave you a confused look, then laughed.

“I’ve been there!” He exclaimed, “don’t worry about it. I’ll let you pass.” He gave you an easy smile, as he gave a thumbs up to the other elves and Santa Claus.

You swore Santa rolled his deep brown eyes, but no matter. You were now up!

“You can sit on my lap.” Santa Aizen calmly said, almost bored, not looking at you.

You hesitantly sat on his lap as two elves held cameras ready to take your photo.

“And what would you like for Christmas?” Santa Aizen asked in a monotonous voice.

“Hmm..” you exaggerated your actions, cupping your chin and slightly leaning into him, “I would like Santa to fuck me when he’s free.” You smiled cheerfully.

This didn’t surprise Santa Aizen, as he chuckled. He lowered his voice so only you could hear, “give me 15 minutes.”

And 15 minutes passed, where Santa Aizen took you to a closed off office space in the mall. Doors locked, as his cock was buried in your weeping pussy, your moans and the obscene sounds filling the empty space. His cock stretched you full, as he continuously slammed his hips into you. But before you reached your orgasm, Santa Aizen pulled out of you, and without warning, came all over your face, using it as a cleaning rag.

Tucking himself in, Santa Aizen smiled at his handiwork, as you tried to wipe his cooling cum off your face. “I hope you enjoyed your present.”

But before you could protest, Santa Aizen left the room, leaving you to clean up after yourself. “This Santa deserves some coal or something.” You grumbled, as you walked back to your friends, a slight limp in your step as your pussy ached.

ESPADA - Grimmjow Jaegerjacquez

“Why do I gotta wear this stupid fucking thing?” Grimmjow grumbled as he pulled the red Santa Claus hat off his head.

You rolled your eyes as you looked at Grimmjow through your mirror. You were busy applying the last bits of your makeup for tonight, and of course Grimmjow was acting like a child.

“Because Grimmjow, it’s a Christmas party. We should at least look festive.”

Grimmjow scoffed, “I fucking hate red.”

“And you also hate wearing ugly sweaters! With your attitude, don’t be surprised if Santa gives you coal as a present.”

“Santa isn’t real.” Grimmjow sneered.

You faked a shocked gasp, hand over your heart as if he said something hurtful. “How can you tell me, Mrs. Claus, that my husband isn’t real?!” You faked cried.

Grimmjow rolled his eyes as he watched your theatrics unfold.

“Since my husband isn’t real, I guess I have to do this by myself tonight.” You sobbed, rubbing you crocodile tears away as you got on to your bed. Grimmjow raised an eyebrow at what you were doing.

“I am real. I’m right here!” Grimmjow yelled, but you were ignoring him, as you spread open your legs, revealing your bare pussy under your red Santa-themed skirt.

“Oh where’s Santa Claus…” you whined, as you began to play with yourself, rubbing your clit, purposefully avoiding Grimmjow. “I have a present for him, but I heard he wasn’t real…”

Grimmjow huffed, “I’ll show you who’s real,” climbing on to bed spreading your legs wider. Without hesitation, he lapped at your clit and pushed a finger inside you, as you sighed happily, pushing his head further into your wet pussy.

Once Grimmjow lifted his head from your pussy, you smirked at him, seeing his glazed eyes and face covered in your juices. “You know…” you cooed to Grimmjow, “only Mrs. Claus can give Santa a present.” You teased, as he watched you push two of your own fingers inside you.

Grimmjow smirked, “well then, I hope I’m on her ‘nice’ list.”

153 notes · View notes

attapullman · 1 year ago

Text

The Perfect Pink | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: While bartending for Rolling Acres Retirement's Valentine's Party, you encounter a pink-cheeked man and his cherry-loving cousins.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: all fluff with alcohol mentions

A Note From Mo: Here is my Pink Lady fic for @thedroneranger's Pick Your Poison event to go with this gorg moodboard! As a part-time mixologist and full-time Bob Floyd lover, this was such a fun concept to play around with and has inspired me to come up with more pink drinks. I've never been a Valentine's girly, but I fully believe this pink-cheeked WSO could convince me otherwise. To everyone who reads this, I love you bunches and bunches, all 365 days in the year!

It’s so pink. Horrendously. Abysmally. Pepto-bismally. PINK.

When you agreed to tend the bar in a pinch, a few bundles of carnations and candy pink paper hearts were your guess for the evening’s decorations. But when you showed up to Rolling Acres Retirement's Valentine’s Party holding a crate of soda water and a handful of shakers, your senses flatlined with the amount of pink covering every surface.

Petal pink tablecloths straightened over round tables; a small bouquet of magenta carnations attached to each folding chair and incensing the recreation hall of the retirement home. Heart-covered paper plates and folded napkins set up at each place setting, glittering confetti sprinkled around the tableware. The ceiling isn’t even a reprieve, a rainbow of fuchsia and rose and flamingo and blush balloons filling up every available inch of space.

Suzette on the front desk had complimented your dusky pink sweater - an appropriate choice for the holiday - but set against this backdrop you feel like another decoration. An oversized bauble that also makes cocktails and pours cheap wine.

And now, standing behind this makeshift card-table-turned-bar covered in bubblegum crepe paper, your brain might explode in a cloud of hot pink smoke. Counting out pours and trying not to slice yourself making garnishes is a struggle keeping up with all these orders. While the average age of the party goer may be eighty, they drink more than the 21st birthday bash you bartended last weekend. You’ve been here all of an hour and Mrs. Moscovitz has already downed three fuschia cosmopolitans.

While disappointed you don’t have more romantic Valentine’s Day plans - though, when have you ever had a date on this too pink day? - it’s fun to see who’s turned up to celebrate. White-haired couples are swaying on the makeshift dance floor, every shade of pink and red in their attire. Bridge groups and knitting circles are excitedly chatting at their respective tables, gossiping over who is in attendance and with whom. Even the staff have wide grins splitting their faces, enjoying the festivities that break up the bleak winter. It’s the least you can do to spend the holiday providing beverages for this crowd.

The best part is the families. While romantic love is thick in the air, so is platonic love. Family members of all ages have come out to spend the holiday with the residents. Mr. Gordon’s daughter and her family have driven hours to catch up over pot roast and sparkling cider while his grandson plays trucks over a pile of chocolates he snuck from Suzette.

Orders have slowed down and your eyes keep glancing over to Ms. Floyd’s table. The entire clan has showed up for dinner, dancing, and to take home a batch of her homemade snickerdoodles. Multiple relatives are taking up two entire heart-sprinkled tables. Your focus is mainly on the second table for too far from you, where the grandkids have been relegated to play cards and swap candy hearts to pass the time.

“Why don’t you go ask the pink lady for more cherries.” God, he’s cute. The only guy in this place near your age and his attention is stolen by a pair of toddler girls obsessed with the cherries in their Shirley temples.

You divert your eyes quickly when you realize he’s talking about you and your pink sweater. The girls giggle shyly, the high pitched squeals of glee as they convince him to go up instead. Fiddling with shakers, wiping down the counter, you try to stay busy as you physically feel him approach the converted bar and your trembling hands.

“Hi!” His smile is thin and nervous and his cheeks are pink, blushing from his little cousins and their antics. Also because you’re much prettier up close and he’s wearing a shirt he’d never normally be caught in if his grandma hadn’t picked it out.

He’s much cuter at this distance as well. Sandy hair combed neatly, one small strand slipping out behind his ear. Friendly cerulean eyes framed by golden wire spectacles, similar to the ones several of the ex-military men at Rolling Acres are sporting. His thin lips falter slightly as he takes in how well the pink of your sweater compliments your skin. God, he wishes he wasn’t wearing this shirt.

You spring into service mode and grab a fresh cocktail shaker. “What can I do you for?”

“I’m technically up here for some cherries.” You dutifully nod, hoping to hide the fact you’ve been watching him converse with the toddler girls in their matching baby pink dresses most of the night. You make a small dish of cherries up and push it toward him, shaking your head when he attempts to pay. “The thirty-eight cents of cherries is a small expense for a night those two will talk about for weeks. They’re on the house.”

He grabs the dish with a smile, but realizes he now has no excuse to stay by the bar. And while he loves his cousins, he’s on leave for a few more weeks and you’re really pretty. A few extra minutes wouldn’t hurt. He extends his hand with a timid smile. “I’m Bob.”

You reach out and shake his hand back as you introduce yourself, hoping the condensation coating your fingers isn’t too noticeable. He immediately commits your name to memory, happy to replace “The Pink Lady” with a name as fitting to you as yours.

He moves out of the way as a woman in a magenta scarf orders a round for her bingo group. Bob watches as you whir into action, pouring liquors and counting off ounces. The delicate way you garnish each drink so the owner feels special. Your gracious smile when a tip is stuffed into the heart-shaped velvet box provided to you for tips.

When the line at the bar dies down, he sidles back up to your makeshift station. Bob notices the way you eye the decorations warily, still adjusting to the deafening pink of it all. He drums lightly on the blushing pink tablecloth, catching your wide-eyed attention. “Everything all right?”

“Uh, this place is too…pink?” you laugh, gesturing to the overabundance of rosy hues surrounding you. For possibly the first time all night, Bob realizes that while you were the only pink thing that had his attention, it is suffocating in the recreation hall.

“Yes, yes it is,” he chuckles right back, eyes soaking in the offending decorations. There’s a comfortable air between the two of you, and he decides to push his luck for more time with The Pink Lady.

Bob clears his throat, pulse thrumming through his body. Tonight is his one and only chance to land a date with the pretty bartender.

“So, to go with the theme, what is the pinkest drink you can make me?” He wiggles his eyebrows, his best attempt at flirting. A hint of a giggle escapes as you purse your lips, contemplating his challenge.

“I can make you a pink lady.”

He narrows his eyes. “Is that a real drink, or have you named it after yourself?”

“It’s real, I promise.” You’re all smiles at his attention as you combine the gin, applejack, and grenadine with a splash of lemon juice. He really could watch you work for hours.

As you reach for the last ingredient, his eyes bug out. “Is that an egg?” He’s a Navy man, his normal bar only has cocktails with two ingredients. Since when did eggs go in cocktails?

“When you dry shake an egg white it creates this nice foam, adds to the drink.” While he wants to come across as open-minded and cultured, he’s hesitant. “If you don’t like it, I’ll make you something else.”

He’s bewitched as you pour the perfectly pink drink into a plastic coup, the creamy white foam rising to top it off. A cherry balances the rim, one that won’t be stolen by his mischievous cousins. As he looks between the freshly poured drink and you, he swears your cheeks are the same happy pink.

You push the drink toward him, excited to share something new with a customer. Always a gamble as a bartender, but worth it when you expand someone’s palate. He gives you a tentative smile, unsure if he’s going to like it, but he really wants to impress you. In return, you give him an encouraging nod, completely unsure of how this will go. He takes a sip, the frothy mixture coating his tongue.

As far as he’s concerned, the drink is named after you. Not too sweet, not too tart, a divinely balanced combination of flavors in a perfect pink concoction. Bob is convinced you would taste just as good, especially with a cherry. The thought makes his brain blank.

“Do you like it?” Your hopeful eyes are endearing. He wants to brush the strand of hair from your cheek and assure you that he likes it, that he’d like anything you made him because you made it. But you’re practically strangers so he stumbles over his words as he promises it’s delicious.

The bowl of cherries for his cousins still in his hand, Bob stands to the side of the bar and sips his tartly sweet drink, casually keeping up conversation with you as you serve other patrons. You’re glad for the company, enjoying the way he asks about your technique and mutters out the few things he knows about wine from conversations with his aunt. Despite the fact you’re working, it’s the best Valentine’s Day you’ve had in years with this bespectacled man watching you tend bar.

He’s just so cute, blushing his own special pink hue when your eyes connect while you shake up a few martinis.

“Uncle Bob!” There is no mistaking who is calling him over. Two identical heads pouting as they motion him over. His time with you is up. He gives you a sweet smile, trying to memorize every inch of your face, before motioning his hand filled with cherries in their direction. You bittersweetly grin right back, smile lingering as you start on Mr. Nickerson’s two merlots as you watch his broad shoulders walk away.

Oh, how you wish he would come back.

Because it’s a retirement home and not a frat house, by ten the party is wrapping up. You’ve exchanged shy glances with Bob a handful of times, but his family has taken up most of his attention with Navy questions and inquiring when he’s going to visit next. He barely registers the event is over before he’s rummaging through his mom’s handbag with his last attempt at salvaging the night.

You’re cleaning up your supplies when the Floyd clan walks past, all waving good night to you and the staff, thanking you all for a great Valentine’s night. The girls thank you for their cherries, a stem hanging from one’s lip.

Staggering at the end of the crowd is Bob, his cheeks flushed and palms tingling. He stands in front of your table, rocking on his heels, working up his courage. You give him a warm smile, thanking him for his company, and he completely melts. As he holds up his occupied hand, he hopes this works.

“Forgot to slip this in earlier.” His smile is tense as he jams a few dollars through the absurdly small hole in your improvised tip box. You thank him before both blurting out awkward goodbyes. As he catches up with his family, a pang rings through your chest. Disappointed he’s gone, never to be seen again.

Bob Floyd, a Valentine’s mirage you will remember fondly.

Once all your things are packed, you square things up with Suzette with your pay for the event and a promise to stop by to visit the residents later in the month. You schlep everything to the car, a mixture of emotions painting your face in the rearview mirror as you make your way back home. The weight of defeat keeping you from bringing anything inside except for that damn tip box you’re hoping will cover groceries for the week.

You pry open the velvet lid and are met with the best surprise.

There, at the bottom of your substitute tip jar, underneath all the singles the elderly stiffed you with, was a scrap of cheap rosy pink napkin. You unfurl it to see neat chicken scratch handwriting, the pen poking through the fabric in spots as he worked to write out his message with a phone number beneath.

I’m here until the 27th. Drinks on me? - Bob

Now that you think about it, maybe you do like pink.

taglist: @berryvanille @bobgasm @bradshawsbaby @cosmoeticss @creatchie8 @drxgxnslxyer @hangmanapologist @hiireadstuff @jessicab1991 @just-in-case-iloveyou @kmc1989 @maryelizabeth13 @petersunderoos96 @rhettsluvr @roosterforme @seitmai @sweetwhispersofchaos @topherwrites @xoxabs88xox @yuckosworld

join the taglist

#pick your poison challenge #bob floyd fic #robert bob floyd fic #bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd x you #bob floyd fanfic #robert bob floyd fanfic #tw: alcohol #top gun: maverick fanfic #top gun: maverick fic #bob floyd fluff #robert bob floyd fluff

442 notes · View notes

yuri-is-online · 1 year ago

Text

The Tower Stairs: Rollo Flamme

"Forget about school while you're here and enjoy a moment of respite in Fleur City." The words should not be bouncing around in your brain like a screensaver, hitting on the edges left by overblot after overblot. You wish Vil was here to remind you that not everyone who hurt you had been so callous in the aftermath.

But he's not. The only one here who is willing to point out the wrongs is Rollo. Are you wrong for being tempted to let him take advantage of that?

notes: This is fucking 10,225 words and only lightly proofread, sorry. they/them used for Yuu, SPOILERS FOR ALL OF GLORIOUS MASQUERADE, light references to events surrounding overblots, non-consensual drugging and possible Stockholm syndrome, Yuu feels isolated and Rollo has an idea just hear him out. Lots of toxicity all around please be advised This is technically part of a series, the first part features Azul. If you like those consider checking out my masterlist.

Two sentences.

Two students will be sent as attendants to the invited mages. One monster and one magicless human, approximate measurements attached per your request.

Two sentences barely acknowledging your existence and that was it; the foolish mage in charge of Night Raven hadn't even thought to include a name or photograph (the monster got the same treatment but he could not really bring himself to care as much about that) and he hadn't even made notes about food preferences or allergies. The attached note was a post-it scrawled in the most haphazard and uncaring handwriting that he needs to take a brief moment to breathe, turning away from his desk to throw another log on the fire and breath in the soothing scent of the smoke. He doesn't even know what their favorite color is, those poor fools will have to make a guess while they obsess over what costume to throw at them.

Costume. His eyebrows twitch as he brings the handkerchief to his nose, the smoke no longer enough to distract from his disgust. Breathe in, the gentle aroma of rosemary and lavender brings clarity though solace remains tentatively hanging in the bell tower along with all of his hopes, breathe out. He dares not risk ruining the foolish surprise by asking, but he makes sure to take a nice sheet of paper and properly write out the notes on their measurements neatly, tacking it to the top of the stack where it belongs. This festival was always meant to be for the virtuous, and while he may not know them, what he has seen of the others guarantee them to be the best of the lot. The bell dutifully rings out the evening toll and Rollo takes one last look at those two sentences. He pities you; that's the explanation he reaches for the pain searing in his chest.

~~~~

Halloween feels more like Christmas with how big of a deal all your friends are making of it, and you really lack the words to explain how strange that makes you feel. It's not a bad sort of strange you suppose as you twirl a little of the thickly embroidered fabric in between your fingers. Festivities bring good food, an excuse to avoid classwork, and a way to guise showing affection under holiday obligation; it's just a bit odd to see it cloaked in orange, blacks, and pumpkin carvings and not pine needles and nutmeg. But all of these thoughts are irrelevant, meant to try and distract you from the waiting crowd outside and the social you've been pawned off on. You take a deep breath, trying to focus on how excited Grim sounds and how cute you know he will look to avoid the terror of being seen.

"Forget about school while you're here and enjoy a moment of respite in Fleur City."

Your eyes meet Rollo’s before you shamefully turn to your friends, disappointment flashing through you with just how impassive his gaze remains despite the beauty of the costume. It’s just a stupid “crush” on a guy who if you in your right mind you would insist looked ugly. A real choice example of “guy you didn’t know magic could invent,” 18 going on 80, someone who if you had admitted out loud to wanting to get to know better as a friend you would be judged heavily for. And if you are being honest with yourself it isn’t even really a crush, it’s just your stupid brain firing off a bunch of dopamine at someone offering you a genuine break and some sympathy for the troubles he assumed you’d been through. Vil remembered. The tiny, tired voice of reason tried to do its job at the back of your skull. It is probably very dark and lonely back there. Maybe guys from the Shaftlands are just built different. Even it was overworked and making concessions.

“It looks like you are wearing matching outfits.” Deuce’s kind smile brings you out of your head and back to reality.

“You look like you’re matching with Riddle!” You say and smile wide when both Deuce and Riddle puff up in pride.

“We both look like proper card soldiers,” Riddle actually bows to the Vice-President, who looks really happy to receive the praise “you must have really put a lot of thought into these.”

“Glad you noticed!” You see Rollo pull out that strange handkerchief and inhale as his Vice-President happily chirps away. “Since your Headmage noted your dormitories we tried to include inspiration from the Great Seven in the costume themes! The costumes are supposed to respect tradition, and your school has some too, we figured ‘why not combine them?’”

“Where’d mine come from then?” Grim doesn’t seem too fussed even though he asks, he must really like his outfit. “Yuu and I are the only ones who care about our dorm.”

“Yes the… note provided for you was most inadequate.” Rollo is technically addressing the crowd, but his gaze remains firmly on you. His eyes are beautiful, green and blue swirling in what you delusionally swear is a gentle dark gray frame that will dull and snap back to firm disinterest once he returns to your seniors. “As such I suggested the capes but these two came up with the rest.”

“We went with purple and black since those are both NRC and NBC colors.” The VP gives you what should be a confident thumbs up that you barely pay attention to, still caught up in the intensity of Rollo’s gaze.

“Thank you.” You barely manage to break away from it and miss the way Rollo seems to somehow stand taller, even if he does not say-

“You’re welcome!” The vice-president and aide continue to glow with everyone’s praise. “We really hoped you would like them.”

You can barely hear their words over your focus on him. If he feels the weight of your gaze he doesn't flinch, nor does he acknowledge it, leaving Trein’s voice to cut through your stupor, startling you with an expectation of disappointment or trouble. But it isn’t there, he simply seems concerned, and thankfully not with you. You cannot say the same of your classmates, but then again you had also forgotten the headache you got listening to them argue over their fieldwork group names. Seriously, how old were Azul and Idia again? And you aren’t going to think about Malleus right now, the ibuprofen Trey had helped you pack was with your luggage not the pockets of your costume.

“What will Yuu be doing?” Rollo is as impassive as ever, but he once again looks at you as he asks, as if he expects you to be a part of the conversation. How cute.

“Yuu and Grim will be with me.” Trein turns to scold your friends and though you expect Rollo to follow, or maybe excuse himself to his duties he does not.

“Are you alright with this arrangement?” He asks.

“Oh we discussed it before we got here.” You rush to pacify, which startles Rollo more than soothes him. “As long as Grim gets to eat a bunch of stuff we’ll be fine.” If anything it will probably keep him distracted from causing trouble to keep bouncing back and forth between the groups, but you don’t say that outloud.

“Yeah!” Grim cheers, excited by the mention of his name if nothing else. “This place has got all sorts of great food right?! Riddle was tellin me all about it.” Rollo seems displeased, the handkerchief comes out from his pocket but he doesn’t hold it up to his face yet, choosing instead to focus on your eyes.

“I wasn’t asking about Grim.” Your little friend begins to make noises of protest, but they quiet as he looks back and forth between you both. But if Rollo has more to say he is forced to keep it to himself.

“Human!” Sebek’s shout demands your attention and you see Rollo finally lift his arm to take the deepest breath yet into his handkerchief. “You had better not plan on keeping Lord Malleus waiting! Have you already forgotten he specifically requested you accompany his group?!?!” You haven’t, but you know Sebek won’t hear that.

“Sorry, duty calls!” You give your best elegant bow and are rewarded with a genuine smile.

“Yes, for both of us.” He watches, with a strange look in his eyes as you flicker out of his view like a wisp of smoke.

~~~~ “I was worried when Sebek started arguing and insisting that he join Malleus’s group… But honestly, I’m glad he has a proper guard.” Jamil does seem significantly less stressed than he usually does, which in turn relaxes you.

“Of course, Malleus’s safety will always be my first priority!” Sebek is all smiles and pride as the conversation continues towards what direction to start your tour, you find your mind wanting to join in the conversation but finding yourself unable to really contribute. Grim is similarly distressed.

“I thought this was Group 1,” he wisely chooses to whine to you and not Trien, “not Group BORING.”

“We’ve got to respect their wishes.” You say, wishing only slightly he wasn’t wearing such a dapper hat. You miss scratching his ears. “Besides, historic spots make for great tourist destinations. You are worried you won’t get any food, right? I won’t let that happen.”

“Most of the places I know of aren’t on tourist maps.” Trien corrects gently, but his small smile lets you know he does not mean to come off as reprimanding. “But Yuu is correct, Grim, there will be plenty of places to feed you as we check on the other groups.”

“Well then what are we waitin’ around for! Let’s get cracking!” Grim’s little shout and face is so deathly serious you can’t help but snap a brief picture on your phone, as you walk slowly between Riddle and Jamil.

“So,” a relaxed Jamil might be a rare sight, but this teasing look is not “what did President Rollo want to talk to our little attendant about?”

“I was wondering that as well.” Riddle asks much more earnestly, which gets the squirming reaction from you Jamil had been trying to provoke. “He wasn’t being rude was he? An insult to one NRC student is a slight to our whole school.”

“Oh I’m sure he was very personal.” Laughs Jamil and you try to pass off your embarrassment with a cough.

“He just wanted to know what group Grim and I were going with.” It has got to be enough of the truth to get Jamil to drop it, but as you turn yourself back towards Trien you are surprised to find him smirking.

“Yes, Mr. Flamm was very concerned with knowing your whereabouts.” He has the decency to shoot Jamil a stern glance when he cackles, but the teasing point has still been made. You have been seen (for once, the tiny voice argues, when there is something to use against you.) Thankfully Malleus and Riddle still seem blissfully unaware of what is being implied, if anything Malleus seems deeply pleased at the mention of Rollo.

“I’m glad he was willing to invite us both.” It is hard to ignore the puff to his chest that comes with the word invitation, your tired inner voice retreats replaced with a genuine smile.

“Me too, Tsunotarou. It’s nice to be able to take a vacation.” You should be concerned that Trien has led you into what appears to be a sewer alley, but the soothing melody of the river to your left drowns out all worries and Sebek’s misery at being the sole mage to have done zero research. Well maybe not the sole mage, just the only one without a collar.

“Hey Yuu,” Grim whispers, “did ya think at all about what Rollo said earlier?”

“About relaxing?” Please, don’t let Grim get in on teasing you too. You don’t want to live in a world where he is more socially conscious than Riddle.

“No! Well kinda. I mean about what ya wanted to do.” Grim does occasionally have serious thoughts. “N-not that I really care or anythin, just y’know.” Not that he ever outright admits to thinking them. This one has him so embarrassed he starts yelling at Sebek to give up on thinking before he can hear your answer, giving you time to actually think on one.

It is a relatively easy answer, the same you always have whenever you get the opportunity to leave campus. You want to look for a way home, but how exactly do you go about doing that? Maybe Rollo would know this water sort of reminds you of his eyes, tired, he looks so tired but when he was able to talk to you he seemed to relax and now you hate yourself even more than you had earlier. You force yourself to stand up at a normal pace and rejoin the conversation, as if the painful spike of emotion that a new crush brings isn’t actively wrecking your heartbeat.

~~~~

Yuu. The name of the student attendant is Yuu, Rollo was already making amendments to the lines as soon as he confirmed that, but your conversation began to muddle his own corrections with unnecessary feeling. He doesn’t understand it, the strange pull he is feeling towards you; Rollo assumed at first was fanned by his hatred of those awful mages, the inherent desire to soothe you all feels justified but no… he knows that feeling, or at least he thinks he does. He feels it every time he sees a magicless citizen of his city think about just how much better their life could be, but that emotion has grown dull, this desire burns him. Even now as he tries desperately with fragrant herbs and the gentle lull of the river the intoxicating glow of relief in their eyes blazes in his soul.

"Forget about school while you're here and enjoy a moment of respite in Fleur City."

It was generic, there was so much more he should have said. But what could he offer you? You're not a mage, you have every right to be wary of him. To refuse his help would be understandable.

“And I hope the rest of you will enjoy the social.”

The thought of the social finally succeeds in sobering him, he runs though his plans once more in his head as he sees the outline of one of those detestable NRC clowns looking over the various bakeries, clearly inept at choosing where to go. And once again those thoughts flicker briefly back to you, not that Rollo trusts mages to do anything other than pursue their own interests, but he had hoped somewhat foolishly when he had read the word “attendant” that some care would be taken for your preferences and safety. But clearly he was mistaken, and how he loathes the thought of his plans being anything less than perfect. The handkerchief goes back into his pocket and his hand brushes up against a tiny bottle. Dreamer’s Rest such a mundane name for a poison. It is, no it was meant to be a precaution, but now, as he idly holds the crystal bottle up to the sunlight, a new thought takes shape in his mind. It is magic, something he despises and believes should not exist, but if he could convince you to drink it…

Quickly he shoves the thought and the bottle back into his robes, forcing himself towards Ashengrotto’s group hoping the new temptations will disappear.

They do not, as amusing the thought of them purchasing souvenirs is.

“What’s so surprising about that?” The look on Azul’s face as he speaks does suggest offense, but that he has cause to be at all sharpens Rollo’s resolve. “That’s generally what you do with gifts, yes. What do you two take me for?” Exactly what he wants them too, Rollo supposes seeing how quickly Deuce and Epel jump to praise him and completely miss Azul’s muttered expectation of compensation. The three continue to speak of utterly irrelevant topics.

“Certainly.” He folds his hands and takes the first opportunity to excuse himself. Azul is a merchant and these two are dumb as rocks, he has nothing to worry about here. “I’ll take my leave then-”

“Oh before you go!” Deuce has an infuriatingly cheerful smile on his face for someone who has just interrupted him. “I wanted to thank you. For including Yuu I mean.” Azul pushes his glasses up onto his face, curious, it would appear his reactions are being watched, but that this sentiment from Deuce is not unexpected. “I was really worried you Nobel Bell guys would see them as an inconvenience or a burden since it’s supposed to be a mage’s social and all and they aren’t a mage, you have no idea how relieved I was you had costumes for them and Grim. I was really happy they got to come!”

“Yeah!” Epel’s smile could be described as cute if he wasn’t such a talented mage. “We’re going to have so much fun at the social together, I can’t wait.”

“Of course.” Rollo smiles in spite of himself, if he was less focused on making his exit he would have realized he had been since the first mention of Yuu’s name. “I will continue to ensure they… are allowed to relax while here.” How disappointing, Rollo thinks, that these mages see inclusion of their supposed friend to be a point in his favor. It’s almost enough to make him laugh, but then he swears he sees your face before him, eyes agleam with wonder and suddenly words lose all meaning. The handkerchief comes out as he makes his way back to his tasks, the sooner they are done the more of an excuse he can make to see you again. “Now if you all will excuse me, I have to get back to checking on the other groups.” It wouldn't do to keep his flowers waiting after all.

Azul frowns deeply for just one moment. “Are you sure you should be thanking him?” His face returns to stoic calculation, but he still asks.

“Why?” Deuce is so genuinely confused it really does make Azul hurt for Riddle.

“... no reason.” Yet anyway.”

~~~~

For a creature so gluttonous Grim sure does love to play with his food, it would be cute to watch him catch grapes in his mouth if you weren’t walking through such a busy intersection looking for Azul’s group. “You need to be more careful.” You fuss, taking advantage of Trien’s pause to check his maps to gently poke Grim’s nose. He sneezes.

“Ya don’t have ta worry so much,” he huffs as if he isn’t pleased with the attention “the Great Grim isn’t able to choke.”

“Heh your friend doesn’t seem to think so.” Rollo’s laugh is as smug as it is startling, you swear you jump halfway out of your skin. He moves to follow you, a noise of startled surprise sending pinpricks up your arms in delight.

“Rollo! Sorry I didn’t see you.” Great now he has to think you’re stupid, of course you didn’t see him Yuu! He clearly just got here! “Is everything ok? No one causing you any trouble?” You have to bite your tongue not to add from my school because who else would be doing that.

“Nothing’s happened you need to worry over.” Rollo folds his hands, those water grey eyes ripple with emotion reminding you of your reflections at the riverside earlier. " I simply saw you and decided to come over and see how your tour was progressing so far.”

“It’s goin great!” Grim hugs his bunch of grapes close to his chest. “Yuu’s been gettin me all sorts of yummy grub.”

“... it is heartwarming to see how caring Yuu is towards you.” His smile suggests genuine amusement, and your heart warms with pride. “But I am curious, have you gotten to do everything you wanted to? Is there still something you wish to see?” Rollo says it so passively, as if it wasn't a natural question to ask. It is, you suppose, a natural question if

“I’m sorry?” Rollo’s eyes haven’t once left yours, there is no mistaking he intended to speak directly to you and yet…

“This is an experience for you too, yes?” Rollo looks sad you think, but you try to remind your rapidly increasing heart rate that you have only just met so you have no idea if that is true. “I have some time before I am needed, if your Professor allows it-”

“Of course I will.” Trien’s voice causes you both to jump, free from whatever strange aura you constantly find in each other’s presence. There is a strange glint in his eyes, almost nostalgic as he takes Grim from your arms and nods towards Rollo. “There are a few places I can think of that might be of interest to Yuu specifically, but I’m sure you will be much more up to date with what’s practical.” You expect him to wait, to confirm just where it is Rollo wants to take you off to but no. If anything he practically skips away from you with pep that you swear should strain his back.

“I’m so sorry he just left like that.” You say quietly, and to your surprise Rollo laughs. The stern look that had been so fixed into your mind since this morning is kinder now, he actually looks like a young man now, the aura of nobility around him seeming to come more from some hidden self confidence you suppose all mages have tucked somewhere.

“There’s no need, I’m sure it would have been much more embarrassing if he stayed.” Rollo says it so matter of factly you almost believe him. “So just what was it you wanted to see?”

“Is there a place where-” you eagerly start before flustering with the weight of trying to explain what exactly it is you are looking for. “Why” will be even harder, emotionally if nothing else. “Is there any place I could do some research I guess? Like on really obscure myths and history.” It was clearly not the question Rollo was expecting, but he does have an answer ready.

“There is a book store I am fond of across from the main school building, assuming you don’t mind walking back that way?”

“Not at all.” You remain trapped in your strange silence, though Rollo does not quite seem to mind. He easily begins to guide you back towards the school, the tension you had previously associated with him never once returning to his face.

“Do you enjoy reading about mythology?” He asks as soon as the crowd thins a little.

“Yes.” Your answer is quieter than he’d like, as if you are questioning the sincerity of your own interests. “You can tell a lot about what people value by looking at the stories they tell and besides… I just like stories.”

“What sort?” The question isn’t sharp, so you silently curse yourself for jumping. “I apologize if I am coming off as needling you, that wasn't my intention. As the president of a magic school’s student council I seldom get a chance to speak with… the more sincere members of society. I am curious about your perspective, you could say I find it important.”

“Why?” You don’t mean to scoff, but Rollo doesn’t seem phased. If anything he seems oddly pleased.

“Do you think yourself unimportant?” The stern look he gives is far less severe than what had been aimed at your classmates, but is still disarming. “I meant what I said before. I understand if you find it tiring to be around me as well, but I promise you need only to speak if I am exhausting you.”

“No!” His pleased smile grows as you try desperately to center your thoughts. “You haven’t been exhausting me at all, I just- wasn’t expecting the question.” Rollo’s contented laugh sears you right to your soul, so beautiful and strong and so clearly meant only for you to hear. You are spared further embarrassing thoughts as you finally reach your destination and he reaches for the shop’s door.

“After you, Yuu.” Bless the shop bell for ringing you back to reality, and the smell of old books finally luring you away from Rollo’s grasp.

~~~~

There is a peaceful, eager joy about your expression that Rollo tries desperately to write into his memory. This is how you should look all the time, unburdened by the weariness existing next to magic and mages that undoubtedly piles on you. His relief flickers slightly as he wonders, unpleasantly, just what it is you think of him and his faults. Is he truly responsible for your joy now? And if he is… just what does he need to do to keep it? He is suddenly heavily aware of the bottle in his pocket, and Grim’s words from earlier begin to suggest an ill formed plan that drives him to speak.

“Have you had anything to eat yet?” he whispers in spite of himself, but you do not seem displeased with his interruption.

“Idia bought me some grape juice, but other than that not really.” And yet you have been feeding your companion like some sort of saint.

“There’s a small cafe attached to this store…” There is no going back if he says this, there are a million things that should be at the front of his mind but the only thing he can bring himself to worry over is what you will think of him once it is done. “Would you like something from it?” You pause scanning the book you are holding and reach towards your pocket, but he catches your hand as gently as he can before pulling back worried he has overstepped. “I’ll pay for it, please don’t worry yourself.”

“I can’t ask you to do that!” So you squeak but your stomach seems to disagree with the strange noise it makes.

“Then don’t.” He cannot help but smile as he says it. Cute. He thinks that is the word he wants to use. You have his entire attention. “Just tell me what you would like.” He half expects you to continue denying yourself, but no. You murmur a bashful request, and he promises to meet you at the front of the store once he has gotten you something. He almost believes in his own good intentions until his hand touches the bottle in his pocket as he tries to think. This… impulse is not his fault. You will be in danger if he does not act, he needs to find a way to keep you safe from the downfall of those mages who surround you.

There is a selection of fruit and cheese that catches his eye, there is a small dish of honey meant to be paired with some apples. Dreamer’s Rest has no taste, just one bite from any of these would grant you the relaxation you deserved. This is a conscious decision he is making, if he commits there will be no way to take it back. He can beg you to see his reason, but would you listen? It’s insidious how little visible effect magic leaves on something, nothing looks different or dangerous, the food he is holding just looks like food.

“Have you ever heard of someone traveling between worlds before?” Rollo should be concerned with how tuned in to your voice he is, how quickly he completes his task and takes himself, with noticeably lighter pockets, back to the front of the store and the tables set next to the front counter.

“Are you sure you don’t mean continents?” The shopkeep seems confused, but Yuu seems strangely determined. Desperate even.

“No, worlds. Like different realities or dimensions.” You try again. “Maybe something about liminal spaces?” That just makes them laugh.

“Oh no, if you’re interested in those sorts of things you’ll need to look at the science fiction section! Magical travel between different ‘worlds’ is so utterly preposterous, I’m sure Monsieur Rollo will be able to explain to you why.” You look devastated, as if what has been said is a personal slight. He lacks the ability to describe just what it is he is feeling now, there is a wariness to how he looks over you he doesn’t like. There is no reason to doubt your virtue, you have no magic. So why then,would you be so interested in what would undoubtedly be such a career defining feat for any mage, why act distraught as if you are so intimately acquainted with the subject? You cannot look at him as he gently guides you to the table, can’t speak even. It is as if the dismissal has robbed you of your appetite.

“Technically speaking if we had proof another reality existed,” he takes care to breathe in the comforting scents of his kerchief, watching you for any sign of motive “it would not be a matter of science fiction. As we lack that, however, most statistical models make such a thing out to be quite impossible. Teleportation magics such as the Dark Mirror at Night Raven possess are already quite rare and subject to stringent regulation, it stands to reason the ability to travel across reality would be much more rare.”

“I see.” You are quiet, yet unflinching under his scrutiny in a way that makes him want to scream. There is no reason for you to be so resigned to him, it should be the other way around. He should be afraid of your judgment, your wrath, not your rejection as you pick idly at the fruits. “You must think I’m very silly.” You whisper.

“I think you are not telling me something.” He whispers as well, trying to sound sincere and sympathetic. “That your friends and teachers did not tell me something.” His body moves of its own accord, he stands and places his hands on your shoulders in what he hopes is a gentle manner; you look up to him with a strangely hopeful expression. It is as if you see him as some source of light, unaware of its hellish source. “My judgment is fair, so please, unburden yourself while you are here.” While you can be safe in his arms.

“If I said,” your voice quivers “if I said I did have proof of a different reality. One where magic didn’t exist.” He inhales sharply, a new scent worming itself among his affirmations alongside the resurgence of the pain from when he first read those two accursed lines. “If I was somehow taken from such a place, and wanted to find a way back, would you believe me?”

“Yes.” There is disbelief in your eyes, but really how could he reach any other explanation for this grip you have on his soul? The reasoning, as implausible as other scholars would decry it, made a degree of sense. Why else would such a wretched institution like Night Raven allow for someone so pure to exist in their presence, to say nothing of being allowed to attend as a student? The best solution, no matter how improbable, is the simplest one, and what a beautiful solution this admission is.

“I don’t know how I got here really, I just sort of showed up at orientation and the headmage hasn’t done mu- I mean he hasn’t really found any promising leads about how to send me back. That was his excuse for sending me to the social. He thought that since maybe your academy is also really old and has so many traditions that maybe one of you would know how to send me home.” Slowly, so slowly it almost burns, Rollo moves his right hand from your arm to fetch something from his pocket. The large ruby of his ring reflects the dull light of the lamps as he runs just the edge of his handkerchief under your eye, letting his thumb massage the tear towards it. The comforting blend of rosemary and lavender that invades your senses explains why he keeps it so close to his nose, but those are not the scents that soothe you. There is an undercurrent, brought by his sleeves and the way his eyes follow the curve of your cheek and stay unintentionally on your lips, of wood smoke and ink that can’t come from anyone but him, who in their right mind would burn something in a bookstore?

“You can speak poorly of him here.” There is an undercurrent of authority to his voice that should scare you. Rollo has always looked directly at you, that dark gray blue inviting you to bathe in his light has never once thought of you as the other. Perhaps because he is too busy looking at your classmates like they are lesser, a thought that you should perhaps pay more mind. “No one is going to carry what you say back to them, I promise. You poor thing…” It is all you can do to not collapse into his arms and cry. It should be condescending, this way he is looking at you. “It’s cruel to keep you like this.” Who he is speaking to you don’t know, there is an unspoken aura over you both, an aura of agreement that he could be as cruel as he likes. Idly, as if he does not fully understand what he is doing, Rollo removes his hand shakily, returning his handkerchief to his pocket, only breaking eye contact with you to eye the abandoned apple slices on the table next to you. “Are you still hungry?” He is asking you a question, but it’s not the one he’s voiced.

“Yes.” You want him to kiss you, but that doesn’t seem to be what he intends to do. Instead he dips one of the apple slices into the honey and carefully, purposefully lifts it up to your lips. Wordlessly, he places the slice on your tongue and continues to hold it as you bite down, watching as you chew and closing the gap as you swallow.

His kiss burns, searing you with question and confirmation that this strange attraction is as destructive as it is mutual. “I have to take you back now.” He breathes the words close to your lips as you breathe in the smoke of his robes, deeply trying desperately to center yourself.

Your walk back is as quick as it is silent.

~~~~

“Ahh child of man! Good to have you back, come sit with us.” Mallues pats the seat beside him expectantly and you gladly settle, much to the chagrin of Sebek who immediately begins howling in protest. Grim makes similar noises when Azul suggests he sit in yours, but it has much less of an impact when he's voicing them from your lap already. You breathe deeply, looking around at the sights and sounds of what looks to be a carnival. Someone walks on a tightrope, there are acrobats tumbling around on the ground, and the whole thing really sparkles with wonder and excitement that feels like magic even before you see the sparks. It is something that should excite you, but for some reason the more you try to focus on the colors, the more you try to look around the more things begin to blur together. Perhaps it’s all the walking around you did today but you are beginning to feel extremely tired.

“And you are all content with such trivial feats of magic?” Malleus scoffs next to you and you frown deeply, this dance is already impressive. How could this be made better by making it louder? Maybe he is confused because it isn’t like Briar Valley festivals.

“You could totally upgrade those.” Snarks Idia. Never mind, maybe your friends were just dicks. At least you manage to get some revenge on Idia by making him dance a little with you, no matter how sluggish you feel. Though it admittedly feels less like revenge when Idia decides to be a responsible senior and guide you back to your seat. “Are you sure you should be standing up?” He doesn’t even sound like he is asking the question because he wants an excuse to be anti-social, Idia looks genuinely worried.

“I’m ok, promise.” you try to grin and bear your way through it but a quick yell for your attention from Grim and the burst of magical fireworks that follow quickly re-directs what little energy you have left.

“Grim, using magic like that in a public place is a bad idea.” Your scolding is drowned out by other, louder scolds and a spiral into everyone setting off fireworks. The noise and lights pound your skull with painful overstimulation. Cautiously, Rollo moves closer to you, concern clear on his face.

“Are you alright?” He asks, moving to take your temperature and not finding anything wrong, the only heat you feel is running up your spine from a desperate desire for him to be closer. You swear you hear someone, Malleus you think, calling for you to join the festivities, but the strange tiredness working its way through your limbs has reached your ears and is beginning to dull the noise around you. Rollo does not move, he stares down at you intently watching as you dazedly try to stand. “... Magic is such a troublesome thing, wouldn’t you agree Yuu? I can only imagine what you have been subjected to, between being stolen from your world and being surrounded by a gaggle of rambunctious foolhardy mages.” You want to laugh, tell him he doesn’t know the half of it, but your tongue feels like lead in your mouth. “Worry not- this state of affairs shan’t last much longer.” Something about his voice worms its way to the back of your skull, maybe it’s the day’s exercise, maybe it’s the noise and lights overstimulating your brian, but you are finding it harder and harder to keep opening your eyes as you blink and try to focus on what Grim is telling you. He is tugging on your cape and jumping up and down, he has something he wants to say. He is proud of himself, he has that genuine non-smug happy smile Grim reserves only for you when he wants your praise, and you so desperately want to see what it is he wants to show you. But you’re tired, so very very tired. It’s so much effort to keep your eyes open. So you stop struggling, your eyes close and you feel yourself fall, and conveniently (too conveniently Azul notes pushing his glasses against his nose) Rollo is there to catch you. “Yuu!” Grim’s voice finally breaks through the fog, it’s panicked and you feel some worry bubbling up in the sane part of your mind when you realize you can’t move your hand to reassure him you are ok.

Aren’t you tired? Don’t you want to rest? Rest here in the City of Flowers?

“Is the noise bothering you?” Rollo asks quietly, so quietly you wonder if anyone else can hear him other than you. “Would you like to return to the school?”

“That might be for the best.” Trien’s hand is cool against your forehead, his voice filled with concern. “Would you object to taking them back, Rollo?” You feel Rollo bend to reach under your knees and lift you so high you practically feel like you are flying. A smile flutters onto your face; his embrace is one of safety and relaxation, with a tender caress from his thumb along your thigh that reminds you of the kiss from earlier.

“There's no need for that,” Azul tries to attract Idia's attention subtlety “one of us would be more than happy to-”

“That's quite alright.” Rollo doesn't even bother looking at him as he settles you further into his arms, for a brief moment your eyes open and refocus up at your… captor you suppose. You know the sound of Azul’s worries, and though you haven’t known Rollo for near as long you think (delusionally, the tired voice is regaining its reason. This is delusion, madness we are throwing ourselves onto a pyre-) you are beginning to recognize his. There is worry in his gaze, solely focused on you, from the moment you met him he has been considerate and focused on you in a way that should worry you. Trien does not seem to share your faith in Azul, you think based on the way Rollo begins to move away from the crowd towards the blissful quiet that he has decided to place his bet on the wrong mage, just as you are about to.

“I am going to trust you.” You whisper, so slowly you wonder if Rollo even knows what it is you are saying. If he does, he says nothing aloud, but his steps begin to pick up speed.

~~~~

Fire. There is a fire to your left you think, the wood crackles pleasantly and gives this strange dream a cozy feel. Your entire body feels heavy, you can barely open your eyes or move a finger, but you don't seem to be bound to this chair, you can't really seem to motivate yourself to move from it. Someone's head is resting on your lap, their hands are shaking.

“Forgive me.” Rollo is whispering, but there is an excitement to his voice. You realize you have no idea how long you have been sleeping, or even where you are as your eyes open and try to adjust to the dimly lit room around you. The stonework reminds you of the bell tower from your tour of the school, but you don’t remember seeing this room or the grand fireplace you flinch away from. “I’m just another mage causing problems for you at the end of the day, no matter how proud I am of my virtues.”

You manage to lift your head just enough to look down, Rollo’s head is indeed lying in your lap, his giant hat has been placed on the table just next to you, and though there is indeed triumph in his voice the expression on his face is painful. “No matter how hard I try to better myself, I am still a mage. I am still filled with evil and I am still forced to use that evil to pass judgment. I couldn’t even save you without resorting to it. I wonder just how much you would hate me if you knew…” His eyes flutter open, gently, much too gently for someone you are slowly starting to realize likely drugged you and definitely kidnaped you, he kisses the top of your hand. “Can I ask you for your forgiveness? Do I even have the right?” Slowly, with effort such a simple action should not take, you move your hand to his head and carefully run your nails over his scalp. Rollo groans, eyes raising to meet your bleary ones.

“If I can forgive you for this…” putting you to sleep, taking you away from your friends, Rollo did not strike you as someone who did this without there being another reason, Azul had earlier described him as naive and you are inclined to trust his judgment. “Can you accept it?” Rollo closes his eyes briefly, considering his options.

“If I were to tell you there was a way for magic to no longer be an obstacle…” He says it with such certainty you do not doubt him for a second “that I could free this world of that sickness that elevates people undeserving and unnecessarily, would you forgive me for the pain it would cause?”

“Do you see yourself as sick, Rollo?” You move your hand just under his chin, gently directing his head back up to look at you. Rollo grasps your hand as you do, rising from the floor as he places it just above his frantically beating heart.

“Don’t you?” There is pain in his eyes. Pain and sorrow just like every friend you have seen overblot except without the touch of inky madness that precedes it. “Or am I just like your friends at that school?”

“You aren’t like them.” It’s a lie of sorts, whatever Rollo has done, you strongly suspect, is no worse or better than anything the others have. But- “Why do you care about me so much?” You ask, voice cracking under the strain of your confusion. Rollo tightens his grip on your hand, his heart is hammering against it as if it wants to burst out of his ribcage and intertwine itself with your hand. But it cannot, so it satisfies itself with Rollo dipping forward to kiss your lips. Softly once, gently twice he kisses, before all pretense is lost and he moves in tune with you to hold onto your cape desperately and kiss and kiss and kiss deeply before he needs to come up for air. He dares not move fully away, taking his breaths just above your lips and slowly continuing to kiss along your jaw and just below murmuring his words as prayers indescribable as he does.

“I don’t know why.” Rollo groans in self hatred as you let out a tortured cry “Ever since I saw you I’ve been unable to remove you from my thoughts, my mind burns with flaming desire to throw away my plans,” he bites, his teeth sink slowly as you grasp at his robes and gasp “to get to know you. What makes you happy, the things that make you laugh and what makes you cry. I want to know that I can create a place where someone as lovely and filled with light as you does not feel the need to be anything more than themselves. Where, when there is danger, you are protected.” This too, this mad man who proudly sucks just one more mark onto your skin, is your Rollo, your Rollo who is so clearly going through something he will not confess to you and lashing out at the world like every other mage you know and yet…and yet he is saying the things you want to hear. The things you have longed for any other person to say to you as he rests his forehead against yours, lips bruised by yours and yet still not defiled near enough.

“When magic causes problems, the fallout should not be yours to take.” And just like that, you don’t care. Not nearly as much as you should, you should be hitting him not letting him admire his work as you fall back into a chair he didn’t need to bind you to, and certainly not thinking of how much you wish he had. You should hold him to the same standard you had the others. “I’ll come back for you.” It should frighten you, how quick he is to return to the stoic calm you had met him in as he promises you something awful. “There are things I need to attend to at the top of the tower, but I swear I will come back to you.” You don’t have to think hard about who those will be, Malleus’s angry shouts of betrayal at the (likely) false invitation aren’t hard to imagine, hopefully he hasn’t hurt anyone.

“Stay safe.” You hoarsely whisper, and Rollo briefly pauses in his walk to the door. Whatever he is thinking you aren’t left wondering long, quickly with a speed you didn’t know he had he darts back to press a kiss to your forehead.

“You too, Yuu.” He says your name with something like love once he returns to the door, his smile shines with it. It’s not his fault that you want it to be, is it his fault that you doubt him? If it is not love Rollo feels then what is it? Just obsession or-

“AHA!” A familiar voice knocks you out of your thoughts and onto the floor. “FINALLY I FOUND YA!”

~~~~

“It would seem I have made a severe and continuous lapse in my judgment.” Trien’s understatement should fall flat, but Deuce is too busy bouncing his leg to try and dispel his stress. “I was too focused on trying to make sure you all were not causing trouble, I neglected to consider outside influences.” There is no need to guess what he is referring to, there is a noticeable absence among the collected NRC students. “Are you sure you should be thanking him?” As if Azul can sense Deuce’s thoughts, he begins to voice his own.

“Be that as it may, I doubt Rollo means to actually harm Yuu. Almost everything he has said to this point about magicless people seems to suggest he thinks they need to be coddled, not punished.”

“Indeed.” Jamil nods, eyes closed as if he is thinking really hard about something. “But his personal feelings towards Yuu is what makes this concerning, that’s what you are thinking I assume Azul?”

“Like I said,” Azul tries to ignore the cold sweat gathering at the back of his neck, “I doubt he means to harm them, but that doesn't mean his actions won’t have unintended consequences. Which is why we need to wrap this up as quickly as possible.”

“The rest of you do that.” Deuce is surprised by how calm he feels, his best friend is in danger, he should be furious. But all he feels is an unfamiliar determined calm. “I’ll go look for Yuu.”

“LOLOL what makes you think you need to do that?” Idia's laughter does spark a bit of a snarl from him, but Idia doesn't back down. “If Rollo’s following the classic BBGE playbook, Yuu’s got to be in the Bell Tower yeah? No need to split off into search parties, the princess is always in the final castle.”

“So there you have it.” Malleus has been disturbingly quiet ever since Epel pointed out how he destroyed the fire lotuses. His green eyes haven't once moved from their scorched roots, as if he is attempting to sear his anger into the stones below. “I will crush Rollo Flamm under my heel and bring Yuu back to all of us as whole the day they were taken.”

“Dude it has literally been like an hour.” Idia shakes his head, but Deuce can't help but agree with Malleus.

“Hold on Yuu, I promise we'll find you.”

~~~~

“Nyhahahaha! Take that!” Grim swats the air as if he's cutting through imaginary ropes. “All those other losers screamin’ and whining as soon as those flowers started poppin up but not the Great Grim! I jumped all the way up to where that Rollo guy was hangin out and followed him right here to you!” The story Grim tells you confirms your worst fears, but soothes some of the lesser ones. You have no doubt that if anyone can solve the threat of the crimson lotus’s it’s Idia, Azul, and Malleus. As soon as they were done measuring dicks anyway, for now you only have one real thing on your mind; desperately scrambling forward on the floor to scoop Grim up in your arms and hold him tight. He's trembling, and your heart begins to beat painfully in your chest as Grim starts to sob. “I was so worried about you.”

“I'm ok Grim.” You mean it this time, whatever Rollo fed you has well worked its way through your system and left you with the energy to whip away your beloved monster’s tears. “A bit sleepy but ok.”

“Of course you're OK the Great Grim's here.” You contine wipe his nose through his sniffles. “And now he’s gonna get you out of the tower! Just like a real hero!” But his bravado has a slight stutter, and yours is fighting a war with your heart. Your eyes close as you think of Rollo, at the top of the bell tower fighting to defend his delusions from people who would understand only half of what his problems were.

“I wish I had met him sooner.” It wouldn’t have stopped this, but you wonder not for the first or last time what would have happened if the poor mage had just had someone to talk to.

“You don’t wanna go do ya.” Grim frowns, eyes and ears drooping before he remembers he is supposed to be in charge. “Well then we can stay. Why should we go back to the other guys! Yeah! Screw ‘em! Always makin’ us do the hard work while they go and have fun.”

“No it’s ok Grim.” You stand, making sure to still hold onto him as you stand, carefully at first to make sure you are ok to put weight on your legs. “If we stay here you will never get to be the world’s greatest mage.”

“Yeah…” Grim does not perk up when you say that, it’s almost enough to make you break out into a sprint in case he has lost too much of his magic already. “Ya know… henchuman, I don’t wanna go out there alone. S’ not fun without you. I don’t wanna be the greatest mage if I have ta not have you.”

“...I’m not going anywhere Grim.” You touch your head to his, like a mother cat trying to comfort her kit. It’s an empty promise you suppose, with how desperate you are to go home. But if what Rollo had said about teleportation magic was true… then maybe you would just have to pick a place to make a new home instead.

The rest of the night is a blur. Somehow you manage to make it down the tower stairs to Deuce, who nearly has a panic attack when he sees you, and Rook who starts composing a poem in ode to Grim’s bravery that gives him a unneeded ego boost. They do a much better job of explaining what had happened than Grim had.

About the lotuses. About the pandemonium in the town, about what Azul and Idia had convinced Malleus to do.

“Please don’t ever get kidnapped again. Malleus got really scary.” The look on Deuce’s face suggests you will need to give Tsunotarou a lecture later. A long, long lecture that you suppose you can make somewhat shorter for how glad you are to hear the Bell of Solace ring out. And for insisting on Rollo still hold the ball. Getting to see Silver and Sebek try to toss Ruggie, Jamil, and Idia in the air completely makes getting kidnapped worth it. But…Your friends have not exactly left you alone since the threat ended. You know why of course, if one of them had been kidnapped you probably would be doing the same thing, but it’s keeping you from some closure. For someone who promised to come back for you, Rollo sure seems determined to stay away. It’s making your expression crumple in sadness behind your mask, something you wonder if he notices at all.

~~~~

“I am so grateful to you for providing me with so many memories.” Malleus holds tightly onto Rollo’s arm as the music flows across the ballroom, piercing gaze strategically keeping him away from the moonlit balcony you have decided to sequester yourself too. “But I must say there is one matter I think we have neglected to discuss.”

“And what could that possibly be?” Rollo snaps, the audacity of these Night Raven fools hurts, all he wishes to do is lick his wounds in peace.

“Why, the matter of your unfortunate attachment to my dearest friend.” Mallues grins, something like fear is finally flickering behind Rollo’s eyes. How unfortunate. “The child of man is precious to me, Flamm. And more importantly they do not share your views on magic.”

“Have you asked them?” Rollo replies tersely.

“Why would we need to do that?” Azul’s voice smoothly interrupts the private dance, he and Idia move to Rollo’s either side, they certainly look concerned. Angry even. If there were not mages Rollo would be pleased you had such dedicated friends.

“Because it’s clear from how little you paid attention to their safety this entire trip that you expect them to constantly come away from your magic abuses unscathed.” He snaps. “Tell me, if I hadn’t placed them in the tower, what would have happened to them? Would you have been considerate of their weaknesses? Yuu is not invincible, and I am ashamed that I of all people seem to be the only one concerned about their safety.”

“No I don’t think you are.” Azul says. “Not in the way you think, anyway. Yuu is extremely capable, we don’t treat them differently from any other student because we hate them, that’s just silly. Your entire perception of them is based on a terribly prejudiced first impression, and not one nearly as positive as you seem to think.”

“You can just say he has a creepy purity fetish and go.” Mutters Idia.

“And completely destroy my credibility?” Azul has more to say, but it's cut off before he can make his point.

“I agree with Shroud.” Mallues says, causing both Rollo and Azul to choke. “His treatment of Yuu is very much in line with cult-like devotion towards a magical artifact. Extremely ironic given his mission statement, wouldn’t you agree, Ashengrotto?”

“Oh of course!” Azul laughs, making sure to step forcefully on Idia’s foot before he can go correcting anyone. “But perhaps back to my point-”

“You don't have one.” Mutters Rollo, already bored with the conversation and desperate to find you again, just one more time before this entire failed event is over and he has to return to his plans.

“Yuu is a hard worker, and stubborn too. They do not need magic to be just as capable of what they do as any mage.” Azul’s words make him pause, he searches desperately for any sign of deception in them, but there isn’t any there.

“You do realize,” he tries slowly, “that none of those qualities make them able to defend themselves from offensive magic, which your Professor at least seems to think you quite willing to use.”

“I mean yeah.” Says Idia. “But like, that’s not what he’s trying to say. If you only choose a route because it has tropes you like then you aren’t really loyal to that character. If the only reason you don’t want to hurt Yuu is because they haven’t got magic then you are just as bad as any of us. And trust me, they’re scary smart. They’ll know.” And with that cryptic message, Rollo finally finds himself alone with his thoughts.

Two lines. The first time he saw you the only thing he knew about you was two lines on a sheet of paper that said literally nothing. And the longer he stares at you, the more he feels like he is drowning under the weight of how little he still knows.

Yuu is a magicless human from a world without magic. They like to read about myths and legends from different cultures. They like their cat monster friend and treat him like a sibling. There, that’s three lines.

Unbidden, his body begins to move towards the balcony where you are standing.

What is Yuu’s favorite color, do they like croissants? Are they allergic to any types of pollen, what is their world like? Do they have siblings, a family that they miss?

He wants to kiss you again, but properly this time. Not in the throws of a shared delusion, still maybe in the bell tower, but with your full acceptance.

“May I have your hand?” Rollo feels more sick at the way your eyes light up than anything Malleus had said about guilt and absolution.

“Of course.” He does not take you out to the center of the dance floor, he does not flaunt you as a trophy won at your friends expense. He simply winds his arms around you to hold you scandalously close. “Rollo, do you mind if I ask you some questions? About some things that Idia told me…”

“Will you give me your number?” He thinks there is a different way he is supposed to ask a question like that, a nicer one. “There are a lot of things I want to talk to you about, but tonight I think I want to savor what it feels like to hold you for as long as I can… as long as you are alright with that.” You do not say anything in response, instead you lay your head against his chest, ear firm on his heartbeat as you close your weary eyes. “I meant what I said before. I want you to think of Fleur City as a place where you can find respite. Solace.”

“Maybe you should invite me to come back then.” You say and he closes his own eyes to picture it. He has other places he can take you, better bookstores, more historic places. Maybe there is a key to sending you home somewhere in his city and if not-

“Careful, I just might ask you to stay forever.” There is an unspoken aura over you both. Gentle, new, and warm in a way that Rollo certainly never thought he would be allowed to experience. An aura of agreement that in time, that might not be such a bad thing to ask after all.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #rollo flamme x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #tw yandere #tw drugs #tw drugging

703 notes · View notes

see-arcane · 6 months ago

Text

The trains go only so quick

The weather’s only so calm

For the people are all out

For celebration’s a balm

Our good friend sighs in shelter

Barred from revelry and fear

A storied local greets him

As a thunderhead draws near

Preface: For maximum effect, give, “Dracula’s Guest,” a read before proceeding.

The PDF version of the preview is here.

Walpurgisnacht

Munich held onto him longer than he would have liked. Had he been marooned in the place as a mere visitor he would never have opted to haunt the station rather than milling around through the celebrating streets. There was as much reveling as reverence at work due to the holiday. The far end of it, anyway. Jonathan had tucked a note on it in his schedule. Celebration meant delays even in the most sedate locales and there was every chance that this one’s might postpone his conveyance. He smiled tiredly at the shorthand, if only so he did not torture himself with looking at his watch for the third time in as many minutes.

‘Walpurgisnacht. Walpurgis Night. A holy day held in respect to Saint Walpurga, the 8th century abbess who warred with illness, pestilence, witchcraft and grim spirits. A time of grave superstition by dark and relieved gaiety by sunup with the witches and the dead all banished. The date has a predecessor in the form of the May Day festivals of old, making the time one of bonfires and fear, beauty and feasting.’ And apparently keeping the trains held up so that any wandering spirits cannot flee too far from the cemeteries.

Jonathan tucked the note away with the rest and battled with himself over whether he dared to stray from the platform or not. His train was meant to arrive at seven o’ clock, which meant that for safety’s sake he ought to be ready and waiting by six, even if the train was more likely to appear closer to eight. But the hour was now half-past five and he had taken his lunch early that day. He was down to rationing mints from their tin lest he give in to hunger and try to elbow his way through the crowded streets to find a restaurant. One that he would not even have time to truly enjoy, needing to eat speedily and flee back to the tracks. His stomach pinched him in protest. He held a fist against it to muffle a growl.

“You can wait.” He could. If there was no dining on the train, he would still make time for breakfast in Vienna. Or if not breakfast, lunch in Klausenburgh. Or… “Or I could just break and get a room for the night.” The words were a sigh. He had spied a hotel sitting in a picturesque spot near a spread of wild greenery that bled into woodlands. What was the name? “Quatre Saisons, I think,” he said under his breath. This, like the rest of his murmured commentary, was meant for no ears but his own. The festivities had left the station remarkably barren. Everyone who had traveled to or from the area wouldn’t be packing up until at least the next morning. So it came as a surprise when he heard a voice behind his head:

“You are an Englishman?”

Jonathan turned to see a man almost as young as himself peering down at him. A cluster of wild roses at his breast was the only flourish to his apparel. His expression was unreadable apart from an angle of suspicion to the brows.

“I am,” Jonathan allowed, grateful that he didn’t need to strain his tongue or the man’s ears with his fragmented German.

“You have come from the Quatre Saisons?” The suspecting angle deepened.

“No, but I was thinking I may have to book a room if the train comes too late.”

The man’s face softened at this, his posture relaxing an increment as he insisted, “The train will come late. Not too late, but still late. You must not bother with the Quatre Saisons either way.”

“Is it full?”

“Most rooms always fill in advance of these days. Inns and hotels shall all be swarmed from now until the seventh of May. But Herr Delbrück’s Quatre Saisons must not be tried. The place is not well this time of year.”

“I do not quite follow,” Jonathan said, his nose just catching the whiff of past toasts to the date on his companion’s breath. “How is it not well?”

“The land it sits with. It is bad to be near it, even after Walpurgisnacht has been and gone. There are…” the man seemed to catch himself on a word before pressing on, “…wild dogs that roam the forest and its valley. Strange souls who would take after the devils of last night, even as we light the fires against them. No, you must not stay there until at least the thick of summer. Better to try in the city’s heart if you must have a room.”

The rooms that were full of visitors already, according to the young man himself. Either way it still relied on Jonathan potentially spoiling the entirety of the client’s route as laid out and paid for from his own account. The idea of taking a room and gambling on a morning train was only a daydream. Jonathan almost said as much.

Instead, “I do not need a room, really. I can hardly risk missing the evening’s train by a minute. But I thank you for the advice, sir.” The young man frowned at Jonathan then, his eyes roaming the length of him in a searching way. “Are you waiting on the train as well?”

“I just purchased my ticket for the morning. It is better to travel by day. And to eat by it too.” He nodded at Jonathan. “You have not been in the city itself? You have partaken of nothing?”

“Sadly no. If I were here on my own account I should have liked to see more, but—,”

“The train will not come any earlier if you sit and starve.”

“Likely not. But I cannot risk wandering too far.” He regarded his luggage drearily. No, he dared not even risk a restaurant. Even the next stop would allow him only a glimpse of the city as he rushed from one point to the next. Perhaps he could find some time to wander when he reached the hotel, but not before. He clenched his belly against another snarl and popped another mint in his mouth. Only three left, but, “Would you care for one?”

The young man whispered something in his homeland’s tongue—it sounded to Jonathan like, “Better to have the leaves,”—but in English said, “I would. Thank you.” He laid it on his tongue as if it were a medicine pill. “But it is still not a supper. Take yourself away for a meal at least, Herr Englishman.”

So saying, the young man departed, perhaps for his own plate or hotel. Jonathan swallowed a sigh and put the tin away. Looking around he saw he really was the last one on the platform apart from one dozing woman playing chaperone to her family’s luggage. Her husband had taken the two sulking children back out into the streets to burn off some energy. With the surly toddlers and the brief conversationalist departed, the space felt oddly like an island. Even the clamor that leaked in from the mouth of the tracks was muted. Jonathan tried to bury himself in a book, but gave up as the text swam before his eyes.

What rest he had gotten was as thin as his last meal was distant. If he could only lay down and sleep through the hunger he might be satisfied, but that risked drowsing through the train whistle itself. He tucked the book away and took himself to the closest opening which showed the beginnings of twilight oozing over the tracks. His hand went again to the neglected journal at his heart and thought another apology at its pages. So far he’d only managed to jot his name within the cover.

“I am sorry,” he told the air. “My head is in no state for you yet.”

A sudden cold gust blew his words back. There was a rise of distraught voices from outside as the breeze whipped through. In the next moment there was a shift in the palette of the sky as a weighty cloud rolled over the last of the sun, plunging the outdoors into early dusk. After that came the pattering of hail. The last festive sounds turned to a disgruntled din before their noise was drowned entirely by the hammering on the station’s roof. Jonathan pulled his coat tight around him and wished luck out to the revelers.

Between one blink and the next, one of the latter manifested at the threshold below. She wore what would have been an immaculate costume of a bygone age if not for the burns that had assailed the fine old dress. Though perhaps that was merely a desired effect. She was likely going around as some witch or spirit who had escaped the bonfires’ efforts during the night. Between the platform’s glow and the outdoors’ new gloom she certainly possessed the half-lit look of a ghost.

The sort of ghost meant for a stage, he added to himself. She has an actress’ face.

Yes, an actress powdered and dressed to be a dead beauty. Her mouth was a full and somber curl of red against a carcass’ pallor. She carved it into a smile as she stared up at him, seemingly oblivious to the cold and hail at her back.

“Are you alright?” he asked in his stilted German. The woman only kept her faded eyes upon him. They had a pull to them that Jonathan couldn’t place. He found himself approaching the tracks�� edge before he realized his feet were moving. “Do you need help?” he added, wondering if the trouble was just a matter of shelter. The tracks were set deep and it would be a hassle to hoist oneself up to the platform’s edge.

“He tries again,” said the woman on the tracks. Possibly. Her German was almost as fractured as his own, albeit with a different inflection. “Another sent for. Another to travel with. Fast, fast, fast.” The sky growled at her words. A stage’s effects could do no better. With the thought in mind, he wondered:

Is this a performance?

Before he could ask, his stomach spoke for him. It was mortifyingly loud and the thunder’s next peal did not do enough to cover it. The woman’s expression cracked on a wider smile. She recited:

“Help, Heaven, help! who knows the Father

Knows surely that he loves his child:

The bread and wine from the hand divine

Shall make thy tempered grief less wild.”

Jonathan smiled back, glad to recall the verse. He and Mina had gone over it in the original text and the English for practice and preference’s sake. Lenore’s lines fell from him:

“Oh! mother dear mother! the wine and the bread

Will not soften the anguish that bows down my head;

For bread and for wine it will yet be as late

That his cold corpse creeps from the grim grave’s gate.”

The woman’s grin now bared teeth. They were brilliantly white against the crimson of her lips.

“Are you meant to be Lenore?” Jonathan asked.

“Lenore sought her lover. I sought only death.” Her hand rose toward him. “Will you help me find it?”

Thunder boomed as a new wind rolled through the station like a howl. The woman’s ruined dress and hanging hair danced wildly on her, though she seemed not to notice. Jonathan went toward her, deciding whatever act she adhered to would be better performed out of the elements’ reach. His hand reached down to hers. There was a moment when their fingers brushed and Jonathan felt sick at how frozen she felt even through his glove.

In the same instant he saw the dancing of lightning without. The bolts seemed almost like a great weaving animal, snapping in closer and closer bolts along the blackened sky. Intuition tightened in his chest. Suspicion leapt to certainty. There was no time to speak—

Get off get off the tracks it’s going to—

—only to grab for her hand.

But not fast enough. Another gale of wind rushed through, this time angled in such a way that it seized and flung him back against the floor. Lightning struck in the same instant. Noise blasted his ears. It was a nigh deafening din made from the crackle of electricity dancing on the tracks and the rattling roar of a thunderclap. Under it, he swore he heard the woman scream.

God oh God oh God hospital what is the word for hospital I need the dictionary I need—

He scrambled to his feet and back to the platform’s edge. His breath stayed trapped in his chest until he looked down.

And saw nothing.

There was no woman, alive or dead. He gawped for almost a minute at the bare tracks. The hail thinned away as he stared and the thunder softened to a grumble.

How..?

“You are hurt?”

Jonathan looked up and found the dozing mother had left her heap of baggage to check on him.

“No, no, not hurt. But there was someone…” He gestured at the tracks and limped through a few lines of German before she shooed his words away with her hand, switching briskly to English. He explained the scene in full and the mother nodded with something between grave intensity and a sprightly eagerness.

“Yes, there would still be some who wander late. Walpurgisnacht is night and day. Probably she is drifting back to her tomb, sulking that she did not get company for her bier. If you had your gloves off and showed your ring she may have not bothered. Lovers who die before the wedding day, they are the greediest souls on these nights.”

This she said with great authority and Jonathan had no desire to mention that he wore no ring as yet. No more than he had any urge to voice his suspicion that the woman had been very much alive and somehow made it away from the station’s threshold before the lightning could do any damage.

The other explanation is that the woman was, in fact, a roaming ghost come to collect a new member for the graveyard. It is the time of year for such things.

A call from the other end of the station turned the mother’s head. Father and children had come in from the storm, as had a smattering of other travelers. The train whistle bayed not long after. Jonathan looked to the tracks again as if the woman might suddenly rematerialize in the locomotive’s path. The only body that he could see was the outline of some animal at the edge of the platform’s glow. It looked like a large dog posed beside the tracks, tail still and eyes lambent. Jonathan held its stare for a moment. Then it was gone, loping off into the night.

This. This is worth writing about.

And it was. At least once his seat had him in it and a wonderfully dense meal sat in him. He brought out his stationery pages for the cause, jotting the entirety of his time in the station up to the arrival of the train. These loose sheets were reserved specifically for storytelling and recipe preservation, the better to possibly be scrapbooked away at home. The journal still drowsed in his pocket.

Hold out for the hotel room. Almost there.

Jonathan cupped a hand to his eyes to keep out the glare as he watched the world go by in the window. The storm was left behind now and the sky was all stars above rooftops and treetops alike. A brilliant wedge of a moon shined out at him. He was still admiring the view when the steward came along to tap his shoulder. There was a smile on his face but a glimmer of anxiety in his eye.

“Herr Harker, yes?”

“Yes,” Jonathan managed before the steward produced a telegram.

“For you. Will you have another drink?”

“No, thank you.” But the glass was already stolen away and refilled before he could finish the sentence. The steward vanished in nearly the same instant, looking as if he meant to finish the bottle himself. Jonathan puzzled over this a moment before turning his attention to the telegram.

BISTRITZ.

My friend, I send all apologies to you on account of the trains and the time. We arranged our meeting during the heart of much fervor, and such will always meddle with travel. I send this in anticipation of your own frustrations with the hindered hours and my gratitude for your steadfastness. I hope it shall please you to know that the Hotel Royale has its finest suite reserved and waiting for you, and so too for the Golden Krone of Bistritz after them. May their hospitality be a balm against the troubles of a passenger at the mercy of fickle clocks. —Dracula

Jonathan marveled at the message. It was a rarity in itself to have a client who made no fuss when it came to snags that the firm had no control over. To have one who foresaw said snags and went out of his way to apologize to the solicitor himself was unheard of. And from a noble?

He added the telegram to his memoranda with a smile.

#Dracula Daily has Jonathan fresh from exiting the first round of horrors #meanwhile in Harker...#(sorry buddy. doesn't get easier after this.)#jonathan harker #dracula #Harker #my writing #c.r. kane #dracula daily #re: dracula #dracula's guest #countess dolingen

163 notes · View notes