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alluringjae · 4 years ago

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au cours de l’été - jjh

⤑ translation: over the summer

⤑ summary: this is a story of an exhausted painter who needed a breather from the hectic city life. so aside from moving to the countryside, the needed air in your lungs also came in the form of a person. this summer meant for pure relaxation, perhaps your heart may dive into him too.

⤑ pairing: jaehyun x female reader

⤑ word count: 15.2k (so much for saying that i’ll be writing shorter stories)

⤑ genre: fluff, romance, smut | author!jaehyun, painter!reader, strangers to lovers!au, 50s-60s!au, summer love in france!au

⤑ warnings: me inserting some french phrases because I want to practice (feel free to correct me if I made mistakes, i’ll appreciate them), fictional interpretations of real-life people, explicit language, jaehyun being such a romantic pls im in tears, mentions and scenes of burnout (the worst)

⤑ author’s note: this was an idea that just came to me after pinterest kept recommending me poetic beauty/try again jaehyun, so here we are! i intended to write less than 5k words but sometimes plans don’t go as planned once you really invest in the story yet i’m really happy how this turned out!

the romantic exhilaration in my bones are off the charts because this is jaehyun we’re talking about lol enjoy!

⤑ masterlist

⤑ leave me some feedback, constructive criticism, or hellos!

3 juin 1957

The city life overstimulated your entire system, losing your brainpower and inspiration. Another exhibition that’ll feature your works with other influential painters was happening at the end of the year, and you had nothing prepared so far. You’ve crashed to the deep end of creative fatigue.

So you needed to get away again; somewhere quieter and surrounded by nature.

That’s why you ended up in the countryside down south, somewhere within Provence. It’s purely just for the summer, but extensions were okay as long you get back at least a month before the show. Filing that leave of absence at the studio you worked at was worth it.

You rented an apartment overlooking the marketplace, where the heart of the village was. After arranging things from your boxes and luggage the entire day, you found out that you lacked in the food department.

So the succeeding day, the entire morning was spent on grocery shopping downstairs then stocking them inside your refrigerator, freezer, and pantry. Right after changing out of your pajamas into a flowy floral dress and sandals, you decided to bike to the bakery that locals suggested. A must-go place for newcomers, they all raved.

“Café des Étoiles Perdues.” (Café of Lost Stars.)

The clear chimes of the bell resounded through the small, cottage-like lobby as you entered inside. An old woman, whom you assumed was the owner, welcomed you openly.

“Oh la la, vous êtes belle! Vous vous appelez (Y/N), la nouvelle venue, n'est-ce pas?” (Oh la la, you’re beautiful. Your name is (Y/N), the newcomer, right?)

She complimented, making you shyly mutter your answer. Wiping off the flour from her apron, she introduced herself kindly.

“Je m’appelle Camille. Mes spécialités sont les macarons pisctaches et des croissants avec des amandes. Autre chose que tu aimes?” (I’m Camille. My specialties are the pistachio macarons and croissants with almonds. Is there anything else you like?)

“J'aime tout ce que vous suggères, Madame.” (I’d like anything that you suggest, Madame.)

A younger man, who went by Jaemin, was a part-timer barista who asked for your coffee order. As he directed you to the best seat of the café, which was outside overlooking the garden of blooming sunflowers, you pulled out your sketch pad so you could capture this dreamy view. It was nothing like you’ve ever seen in your life.

You’ve decided on a theme already for your exhibit thanks to your conversations with locals yesterday, which was related to freedom. After being chained to cities for so-called better living and financial standards, it’s actually how your inspiration to create squeezed the life out of you like a lemon. Although it was fun at first to see those tourist spots, it eventually got tiring.

Another matchstick to graze intensity through your bones was what you prayed for.

While you’re engaged in a rough sketch of the scenery, the dandy presence of a young man entered the café with his books. White shirt, red trousers with a matching beret, he sported freckles on his pale face. Despite visiting his favorite café numerously, Camille was overjoyed to see him and his serene smiles.

“Jaehyun! What brings you here?”

“Bonjour, Madame! I’m starving for your croissants because I ran out back home.”

“Not to worry! I’ll pack up some so you’re on your way.” She lightened him up like one of her kids, taking one of the bigger paper bags.

“No rush though, Madame. I’ll be reading and working here for a bit here.” Jaehyun affirmed, bringing it out his wallet and called out for Jaemin.

“Un café crème, s’il vous plait.” (One cup of cappuccino, please.)

Jaehyun’s usual chair was by the large window, overseeing the wide garden planted by the citizens of the village way before he was born. It was places like this he missed after moving to the city for his education and work’s sake.

That’s the thing when you’re coming from a rich family; you don’t have much of say with what your parents order you to do. However, his recent request to stay in his childhood home (or mansion) again was fulfilled because he couldn’t search for what he needed in the cities anymore.

Jaehyun was a sucker for romance; an old romantic others would say. A lot of women mistook his kindness as flirting on many occasions, but ironically he just wasn’t looking for anyone yet.

Starting as a novelist in the said genre based on real-life stories of people he met in Paris, Barcelona, London, and more, his stories were popular hits especially to young adults who aspire to find love one day.

However, traveling to the known places no longer felt fun as he got older. The stories he gathered were very similar, just in different languages. It took an enthusiastic dinner with his family, specifically his only older sister Krystal retelling fond stories from their younger years to get the idea of moving back for a bit. So consumed with the city life, he wanted to see things from another perspective.

What was the difference between a love story formed in the countryside than in the city?

It’s been a month since he arrived, but he didn’t hurry himself to do his research. He’s been reading books in his family library, revisiting monumental places, exploring around the village, and reconnecting with old friends as if he never left.

Readjusting to his former life would make writing easier when he’s motivated enough to do it again. Besides, his books were profiting well enough to his taste; good enough for the next 10 years according to his personal accountant, Kim Jungwoo.

Jaehyun resumed reading this book his mother recommended him before he left. Entitled “Réessaye”, which was about a young man who reunites with his childhood sweetheart after his arranged marriage failed. After what she put her through, he’s hesitant whether to try again or let her go.

Jaehyun enjoyed reading books with realistic outlooks on love because he found them more meaningful, enlightening how exactly it makes you feel and do. Even if he enjoyed reading sappy, fairytale-like stories from time to time, he always returned to the real ones as they only displayed the truth.

That love isn’t always rainbows and sunshine, but something that can also break you especially if you go after the wrong person. This kind of mindset was how he toiled on his stories, which gained him a status outside of his unavoidable labels such as “the only striking son of the Jeong family” or “Valentine Boy”.

He diligently browsed through the climax, where the main male character confessed all his constrained emotions to his sweetheart. But it was until Jaemin pressed the bag of croissants in front of his face after placing down his childhood friend’s drink to disturb his peace.

“Reading again?” He taunted, snatching his book away and throwing the bag on Jaehyun’s lap. “When are you writing that book already? Everyone is practically dying for you to release something new again!”

Jaehyun flatly shook his head, drinking his coffee quietly. It’s not the first time anyone asked (or pressured) him about his next release, and it’s the last thing he wanted to think about. “Not in the mood right now, Jaemin. Now off to work before Madame Camille scolds you again.”

“You’re just stalling because you have nothing to write, don’t you?” Jaemin cunningly expressed, raising a brow. He’s known to catch onto the people’s bs easily; the last person you’d want to say your secrets too and Jaehyun realized too late. Though lucky for him, Jaemin shut the topic down right away so he wouldn’t pop a vein.

“Sais-tu de la nouvelle venue dans le village, d'ailleurs?” (Do you know about the newcomer in the village, by the way?)

“Une nouvelle venue?” (A newcomer?)

Being stuck at his mansion recently, news about village affairs were now late to him. Jaemin’s finger discreetly pointed outside the window, pertaining to a young woman sat outside painting her view in front of her.

That would be you, shading all the flowers in bright colors.

Seeing a new face amazed Jaehyun, especially when she was almost someone right out of a book. In a neat bun with white daisies printed in her dress, she crossed her legs whilst continuing her movements. She bit her lower lip, frustrated over an accidental smudge she made and trying to fix it by blending it with another color. When she accomplished it, she swapped brushes. A thinner one, to outline the shapes of the flower. Her lips curved to a smile after finishing another one perfectly with the rest.

“Jaehyun?”

Jaemin snapped his fingers to his distracted friend, zoning out the window. Still something he hasn’t stop doing, he pondered. With a final snap, Jaehyun broke away from falling hard from his abstract. Jaemin calculated the problem so quickly, analyzing his friend breezily like his medical school requirements.

“Elle est splendide, n'est-ce pas?” (She’s gorgeous, right?)

“Elle ressemble à une personne décente.” (She looks like a decent person.)

Jaehyun pushed it aside, flipping back to the page where he stopped reading. Before Jaemin responded, the door chimed open again to alarm him that a new customer came in. He excused himself to his friend, warning him that this wasn’t the last time he’ll talk about the newcomer too.

Jaehyun nodded along, not taking his friend’s cheeky words so seriously. However, the final result you attempted to create tickled his curiosity, so he slyly peeked from his book to the window.

You’ve freed your hair down, victorious to have started your collection this early in your break. A fantastic start, you let the paint dry first and munch on the croissant that served as your reward. However, you ‘re quick to notice a manly figure glancing through the window. From the side, his brown eyes appeared lively even if his entire face was hidden by the book.

Réessaye by Mark Lee; he must be a romantic. Every person in your studio read it, excluding yourself. Painfully beautiful, they’d summarize it.

Daring to meet more people, you locked eye contact with him. He didn’t expect it, almost flipping from his chair. Bashfully, you waved him a hello to somewhat break the ice. However, it broke his composure, and suddenly, he scurried off with his things from the café.

Now, you got quite worried. You checked your tiny mirror if he saw anything unpleasant with you, but you’d say you look relatively fine. Oh, maybe you could redeem yourself the next time you saw him. After bidding goodbye to Camille and Jaemin, the latter chased after you when you prepared yourself on your bike.

“By any chance, did you say hi to a guy with brown eyes and a red beret?”

“Well, more like I waved at him, then he zoomed out. Did I do something wrong?” You questioned with concern, putting your hands on the handles.

“That’s my friend, who’s quite reserved with strangers. I’m sorry on his behalf.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” You brushed it off politely. “See you again soon, Jaemin!”

Peddling away, letting the cool breeze fan you, your mind reverted its thoughts to that strange man. Maybe you’ll give it some time; you had a lot of it.

“Shucks, he was pretty cute.”

12 juin 1957

The world must really be on your side with these good decisions because you crossed paths with the strange man again in the café a week later. But instead of running away, he asked nicely if he could sit across your free chair in front of your table outside. It was a Saturday, and the place was packed.

“Joignez-moi, s’il vous plait.” (Join me, please.)

You insisted, giving yourself time to subtly observe his physique a lot more. Freckles dotted under his eyes like a constellation, bushy eyebrows, pink cheeks to match his pale complexion, and wearing a fuzzy knit sweater that meshed well with his green beret. He had some sort of necklace too; there was a heart pendant.

“Vous êtes une artiste.” (You’re an artist.) The small wooden palette of paint beside your small sketch pad was exposed, finding it as a great icebreaker.

“Une peintre, spécifiquement. Franchement, les visuels ici sont trés captivants qu'à Paris.” (A painter, to be specific. Frankly, the visuals here are more captivating than in Paris.)

“Je suis d’accord,” (I agree,) Jaehyun leaned against his chair, taking a better look at you with the remaining light from the descending sun.

“Oh, vous êtes comme moi. J’habite à Paris aussi.” (Oh, you’re like me. I live in Paris too.)

“Bon, je suis née à Londres. Puis, j’ai déménagé où je voulais en Europe depuis j'avais 18 ans. Mais oui, j’habite définitivement à Paris maintenant.” (Well, I was born in London then moved wherever I wanted in Europe for inspiration since I was 18. But yes, I live permanently in Paris now.)

You clarified, beginning to enjoy his comforting company. Initiating conversations with people you’re not acquainted with wasn’t in your range of skills, though he didn’t have an intimidating vibe. He looked too youthful to act like that.

“Je m’appelle (Y/N), d'ailleurs.” (I’m (Y/N), by the way.) You stuck out your hand as a sign of respect, which he enthusiastically obliged.

“Salut, (Y/N). Je m’appelle Jaehyun.” [Hi, (Y/N). I’m Jaehyun.]

He kissed it in a gentleman fashion, applying the manners he’s been taught since he was a child. Should you have been flustered, but no. It’s been a long time since anyone greeted you like that, specifically back home.

Throughout your talk, you learned more about who he was, his job, and what his life in the countryside is like. He was an author of romance novels, yet you’ve never heard about him prior. Heavily prioritizing your work, you don’t keep up with the new releases or trends at all. Though after mentioning his last name, it piqued your interest.

“Jeong? As in the business, Jeong Tea Inc.?”

“Correct.”

His family was one of the most affluent families in Parisian society. Old money immigrants from South Korea, they brought their tea business to France and it boomed successfully. You’re quite sure you’ve seen his parents in past exhibits, but never did you approach them because you were a rookie then. But he reassured you that it was fine, and to just treat him like you’d treat your friends. Plus, it came to your knowledge that he was the same age as you too.

He opened up how this village was where he lived his childhood, so he asked his parents if he could hand over their mansion for a while for rest. It then shocked both of you at how identical your reasons were for staying in the countryside.

“I’m burnt out from the city, so I’m trying to regain my spirit here hopefully. Besides, I needed a change of scenery after living there for 3 years. My longest stay yet outside of London!”

“I need new ideas for my books. The cities don’t charm me anymore, so I returned here for peace and quiet. Maybe let these ideas come to me rather than me going after them.”

From a bigger lens, people would conclude your interaction as a sight of two artists who passionately talk about their art. But to you, you’d interpret it as two relaxed, young adults in their twenties who simply wanted to run away from the pressures of their art and enjoy the summer as every young adult should.

Not cooped up in the studio or office, but innocently waltzing around with your youth while it’s still there.

début de juillet 1957

“Dépêche-toi, (Y/N)!” [Hurry up, (Y/N)!]

Jaehyun yelled at your open balcony from downstairs, parking his mini car beside your bike. He planned on taking you somewhere a little farther this time; to absolutely feel like one of the locals.

The countryside urged you to wear more dresses and flat shoes, so you took out a turquoise dress with a white scarf to wrap on top of your head. Like your relaxed fit, your mindset too was calm. Upon meeting him, he wore his round spectacles with a red knit sweater over a white turtleneck long-sleeved top. His fingers were adorned with silver rings, then around his neck was a thin black ribbon. He curled some of his hair again, a style you really liked of his.

You can’t lie, but this man could pull any trend or style and still look extra pretty.

Out of all the locals you’ve befriended in your stay, Jaehyun was always your companion. He took you to varying places that those locals don’t visit nor tourists acknowledge in their reviews for the past few weeks. For someone who hasn’t been in the village for a long time, his memory didn’t disappoint. His childhood was only filled with cheerful moments.

Today, he was taking you to a peaceful district of shops in the farther part of the village. It’s where he’d buy sweets, journals, and accessories with his mother, Krystal, and one of his housemaids every other weekend.

All the stores there were currently bombarded with blooming flowers along their alley, bringing more enticement to those who were roaming around. There was so much life here; the head waiter of one restaurant smiling at every passing customer, one florist handing a free flower to anyone who asks, and a young lady showcasing her jewelry collection to a bunch of women who looked like tourists.

“Cette librairie vendent des livres enveloppés dans du papier. Ma mère m'a offerte l'un d'eux pour mon anniversaire tous les ans comme une surprise.” (This bookstore sells books wrapped in paper. My mother gifted me one of them on my birthday every year as a surprise.)

He trained his attention at a rustic shop with open wooden windows giving a glimpse of their shelves.

“Avez-vous fini les lisant?” (Have you finished reading them?)

“Du début à la fin.” (From cover to cover.)

He took you to this rooftop restaurant overlooking the entire plaza. Since he didn’t arrange a reservation yet didn’t get rejected, he must know the owner. Especially how a lot of the staff gave casual hellos and high fives.

Speaking of the owner, he walked out of his kitchen to introduce himself to you. He went by the name Moon Taeil, another one of Jaehyun’s childhood friends whom he used to play at his house whenever his parents came along.

Gobbling up in the appetizing food Taeil prepared beforehand, Jaehyun brought up your painting exhibition again. He loved hearing artists talk about their works, wanting to know more about their driven mindset and what their imagination is like. After all, it does vary for everyone.

“So far,” You poked your fork through the chicken, taking a bite of it. “I’ve produced 3 paintings. The garden of flowers outside Café des Étoiles Perdues, the kids playing hopscotch in the alley, and the peach tree outside your house.”

“Woah, you’re on a roll.” Jaehyun clapped across you, pouring you another glass of water. He recalled the nights you ranted not having any clue what to do for the exhibit. Then after taking you to more places, he’s rewarded to see you be creatively active again. “How many artworks do you left to make?”

“Around 3-4 left. I have ideas already, but I’m still brainstorming.” You internally rejoiced, loving how much progress you’ve made. “How about you, Jaehyun? How’s your progress?”

Unlike you, Jaehyun still felt stuck. Although he did find couples around the village, none of them intrigued him as much as his past stories. But he won’t give up easily; that’s not in his work ethic.

“Still searching, but I’ll get there.”

Recently, you got ahold of some of Jaehyun’s books from him personally since they weren’t sold in the village. You wanted to understand how he became so well known outside the labels people put him under. Reading his first novel entitled “Des Papillons” (Butterflies), it was about a couple separated during World War II without contact or knowledge about their well-being. Yet whenever they saw butterflies on the day they parted, they took it as a sign that the other was alive wherever they were.

You’re always hanging on the cliff when the scenes revert back and forth to the main male lead getting stuck in intense war scenarios, rooting for him to get out alive each time. In the end, it took 7 years before they were reunited and wed.

Jaehyun had a wonderful way with his words and descriptions, managing to enwrap you in as if you’re also a character in the book. Like how you rooted for that male lead, you’re rooting for him to find his spark again.

Following this uplifting conversation, Jaehyun finally took to your greatly anticipated spot. It was the main viewpoint of Gordes, one of the most beautiful hilltop villages in the country. The sunset was about to hit, and the lights from the city across you slowly turned on like a bunch of dominos.

As you marveled at its aesthetics, Jaehyun leaned against the hood of his car. He sensed how in awe you were, more than you ever were in the city he assumed. So used to the city that being surrounded with nature became foreign to you.

He took out his polaroid camera from his trunk and captured a photo of you from behind. The shutter sounds were obvious, turning your back at the commotion. Jaehyun fanned the freshly printed photo to dry, giving a mischievous smile.

“What can I say? While you’re fawning over the view, mine was more enamoring.”

Although Jaehyun felt overwhelmed the first time he locked eyes with you, he can’t resist the power of his developing feelings for you. The more time he took you around, the more his heart found different details about you to admire. After listening to all those love stories in the past, the people he spoke to shared how there will be some distinct moment where your heart decides who they’re longing for.

That exact view of you by the cliff, he already knew.

He’s infatuated by you.

“Tu es très ringard, Jaehyun.” (You’re so cheesy, Jaehyun.) You scoffed sassily, with a hand on your waist.

“Un gentleman ne ment jamais, (Y/N). Allez, il fait nuit maintenant.” [A gentleman never lies, (Y/N). Come on, it’s night already.]

He cleverly responded, grabbing his car keys from his pocket. The trip back to the village was energizing, putting down the roof of his car to relish the chill breeze of the night weather. You even raised your arms in the air, losing your scarf even from the speed Jaehyun went at!

The two of you belted along to the songs on the radio when the fields were the only ones surrounding you, no neighbors to shout at your rambunctiousness.

The late-night hours drew by so quickly almost like dinner with more of Jaehyun’s friends didn’t happen. Arriving at the front doors of your apartment complex, Jaehyun raced over to your side to open your door. Always maintained proper observation of manners, you appreciated that side of him. Rarely anyone in Paris that you’ve encountered treated you that way because you were a foreigner.

“Bonsoir, (Y/N).” [Goodnight, (Y/N).]

“Bonsoir, Jaehyun. Quand est-ce que je te revois?” (Goodnight, Jaehyun. When can I see you again?)

“Demain et après-demain. Appelle-moi quand tu es libre.” (Tomorrow, and the day after that. Just give me a call when you’re free.)

With a short wave, you entered your building and marched up to the stairs. A good day only meant being tired to the core, ready to crash and fall in your soft bed. Opening your wide windows to let more of the cool breeze in, your eyes easily caught Jaehyun’s classy car still there. As for the owner, he didn’t move an inch from his leaning position.

“Rentre à la maison, Jaehyun! C’est tard!” (Go home, Jaehyun! It’s late!) You shrieked, peeking side to side to make sure none of the neighbors scold you.

Jaehyun laughed wholeheartedly, not budging at all. “La nuit ne fait que commencer, ma chérie.” (The night has just begun, my darling.)

“Comment tu m'as appelé?” (What did you call me?)

Either your ears were fooling you or he addressed you by a divine pet name. The gasp you swallowed, as your entire body tingled with exhilaration. Your mind would simply disregard it like his former teasing words, but your heart begged to differ.

Rather than responding with words, Jaehyun’s voice serenaded you with a wondrous song, C’est Si Bon by Eartha Kitt, that played on the radio earlier. Out of the blue, a random guitar accompaniment followed his baritone vocals.

“En voyant notre mine ravie,”

Against the railing of your wired balcony, your body shifted forward to watch him better.

“Les passants dans la rue, nous envient,”

Your hand perched on your cheek, admiring his talent.

“C'est si bon de guetter dans ses yeux,”

It was like a lullaby, and here you were drowning in its peacefulness. Sensing the passion he gives off in his singing, your heart couldn’t refrain the strings inside from being swayed and tugged.

This was your moment of realization: that you too were smitten.

“Un espoir merveilleux, qui donne le frisson…”

À la mi-juillet de 1957

“Hello, nature!” You greeted brightly as your legs raced the huge garden in his manor. It was the first time he invited you over, too lazy to go out of the city. His social battery needed a recharge for the weekend, so a picnic within his home would do the trick. Additionally, it was an excuse to bring you over after the numerous times you’ve begged him to.

Jaehyun merely shook his head, enjoying the rush of childlike fun in your veins while you squealed and grazed your hands through the flowers.

He carried a wooden basket full of treats his family maids cooked, taking his time to venture through the rows of flowers. They were growing healthily and phenomenally these days, sometimes riding his bike to personally water them since he became busy with writing again. Lately, he found inspiration again, and so he wrote day and night to set them free.

“Voila!” You yanked out a sunflower, sniffing it a little. “Come on, Jaehyun! Pick up a few for our lunch!”

He followed your order, picking out some he found ideal. But just for fun, he put down the basket and carried you from behind out of the blue. You tried kicking him away, but his muscular arms can’t compete with your soft ones.

“What are you doing?”

“You said to pick up a flower, so I did. The prettiest of them all.”

His flirtatious words were never serious, yet you took it as a compliment. That’s how high your confidence is. Only we define our own worth, not others. The two of you chatted more about your lives until the first rain of the season poured down, chilling down from the raging heat. None of you had an umbrella; the weather was too unpredictable.

Deciding to just run for it, he gave you the wooden basket to protect yourself whilst he used the blanket you’ve sat on. Running with laughter to return to his mansion in the muddy dirt, the cool drops shivered your figure yet felt fantastic.

If you were in the city, you’d panic because it’d mess your appearance and your boss would be infuriated by your unprofessionalism. But in the countryside, it didn’t matter at all. The condition of the rain wasn’t budging to improve, getting stronger by the minute. His entire house even lost power, his housemaids having to bring candles to his bedroom and your assigned one once night dawned.

It was hopeless to return home for you, plus it’s dangerous to drive in in the dark, narrow streets too. Jaehyun handed you some of his fresh clothes so you’d be free from flinching from cold dress sticking to your body.

“Get dressed and some sleep, (Y/N).”

Nodding, you excused yourself to find the bathroom. You’d assume it’d be easy, but this was your first time in his house; a mansion even. Doors from left to right, long corridors that seemed never-ending, no maids were within the vicinity whom you can ask for guidance.

Resorting to return to Jaehyun’s chamber for help, you were taken aback by what your eyes laid on. In front of his full mirror, he discarded his now-dried shirt. Even with the dim lighting, you could make out that he was fit by the transparent view of his abdomen. Peeping like this was wrong, yet you couldn’t turn away just yet. The heat in your cheeks was inevitable, finding composure in such an unholy sight.

Though a gear in you suddenly twisted; a gear that straightened your nerves. You’re taking a bold move on the chessboard of your feelings. Wholly opening his bedroom door again, you leisurely sauntered inside without warning.

“Oh, (Y/N)! Ne peux pas trouver la salle de bain?” (Oh, (Y/N)! Can’t find the bathroom?)

Unbothered as he stood shirtless, you on the other hand silently dropped his clothes on the floor. Holding intense eye contact, your fingers graciously unzipped the side of your dress. Inch by inch, the tension built up like the strong tiny flames lit on the candles around you two. Joining the pile of clothes, all that remained were your white lace undergarments. Unplanned for the get-go, it’s the ideal set for your earlier outfit at the picnic.

“Je me suis perdue, mais je pense avoir trouvé quelque chose de mieux.” (I got lost, but I think I found something better.)

Your fingers grazed your arm up to your collarbones, faking your naivety. From your lust-filled stare, the glint in Jaehyun’s eyes darkened. He gulped at the revealing sight of you, brushing his hair back to restrain himself.

None of you could utter a single word, only the vivacious rain being the only sounds ringing around you. Thus, you allowed your actions to pursue precisely what you desired to do.

Taking baby steps towards him to test the waters, he met you right in the center and closed the leftover space. His hands cradled your face, whilst yours clung to his chest. His lips tasted like red wine, watching him pour in a glass for himself earlier. He did offer, yet you declined.

Your tongue darted his lower lip, gaining access after. Sensing the edge of his bed, you plopped yourself down the cushion. His knee urged your legs to widen, letting his body slide in. From your face, his fingers lowered to the back of your bra, snapping the clasps open.

“It takes skill to accomplish that in one try, Jaehyun.”

“I lived in Paris too, ma chérie. You out of all people would understand and have the experience.”

His palms massaged your freed breasts, throwing your head back even more to his pillows as his lips ravaged down from your stomach until the fabric of your not-so pure panties.

“Call me that again, please.”

“Ma chérie, seras-tu mienne?” (My darling, will you be mine?) He kissed and licked the tiny ribbon in front repeatedly, where your now-swollen clit laid. It electrified your bones, pulling on to his ruffled hair.

“Tu peux m'avoir.” (You can have me.)

Sex in the form of one-night stands were all you’ve invested; upcoming artists like you weren’t capable to maintain long-term relationships. Les plans à trois even if you’re extra freaky or drunk from the afterparties of your events. All that these occurrences had in common were not seeing those men ever again after sneaking out of their apartments in the morning.

This time, it’s different.

When they said that doing the deed with someone you’re romantically entangled with was more special, they didn’t bluff. You could plan bits of your life, but it can sometimes change aspects of it when you least expect it. Sometimes for the best or the worst, but right now, it went beyond your expectations.

It’s rewarding that the man you’ve slowly fallen for within your stay returned your affections.

Around late 3 am that night, your brain jolted with artistic ideas that awoken your sonorous rest. There are no hopes of sleeping them off because they tend to bother you for hours until you do something about it. But you’re already so cozy having Jaehyun’s arms around you, skin to skin under the duvet. His lips daunted right above your forehead, recalling his endless kisses there that helped you fall asleep.

Well, these ideas don’t work themselves unless you do. Untangling him tactfully, you stepped out of the blanket and wore one of his long white shirts he gave you earlier before pulling out your sketchpad and palette of oil paints.

Luckily, there was still one available candle to use as the rest have melted indefinitely. You slid the matchstick again to the sand surface, boring a flame from the friction which you placed on top of the wick.

All your ideas that night leaned towards one thing, or person rather: Jaehyun.

You spent a few minutes retracing how he vividly looked at the picnic, leaning back from the chair of his work desk. His outfit of a turquoise turtleneck underneath a white button-top with trousers matching the said turtleneck looked good together, how his ears tingled red after you complimented his newfound inspiration for his book, and the prominent veins in his arms when he rolled his sleeves due to the heat.

The thin brush you held defined the shape of his face, then paying attention to the messy strands of his hair. Stroking in a circular way to outline his eyelids, a hoarse grunt disturbed the peaceful silence.

“Get back in bed, ma chérie.” His eyes drowsily opened, lying on his side. The moment he no longer felt your warmth, he worried something happened. Instead, you’re working late at night after quite a rough yet romantic night.

“Shush,” You shunned him down with your index finger. “Give me a few more minutes.”

“Perhaps, are you painting me?” He hunched from the covers. “Your eyes looking back and forth would never lie to me, would they?”

“Maybe…” You teased, batting your eyes at him without any risky intentions. Or not?

He deeply chuckled, sluggishly removing himself under the covers. In his pure nudity, he advanced himself towards you. You shrieked, covering yourself with your free hand.

“Jaehyun, stay back! I told you I’ll be there soon!”

Not listening, he carried your bridal style, making you drop your precious palette to the fur rug. Laying you carefully, he popped each button open. By the sight of his cock hardening again, you knew you were in for another round with him.

“Wet again, ma chérie? Oh, this will be fun.”

Fin de juillet 1957

So this kind of summer romance concept that everyone fantasized about… it became your present.

Together you’d stroll in the smaller streets and immerse yourselves in the unique culture of the village. Whenever anyone saw you together, holding hands, biking, or what-not, they’d praise in the name of love for bringing you both together. A romance like yours in the countryside was a lively sight.

Remember how extensions were a possibility if your search for inspiration wasn’t found? Well, it’s not a question that you’d make one, except inspiration found you instead. And he had one arm around you as he slow danced with you in the open grounds of the village, listening to the live band covering song classics.

In particular, Chet Baker. He was Jaehyun’s favorite artist at the moment.

There was an ongoing week-long festival dedicated to summer, giving more plants their bloom and spreading gratitude to the hardworking people. Especially the students, off on their break.

The faint radiance from the post lights as Jaehyun swayed you around, making you laugh as he tried to mumble the lyrics of the song. All those glasses of wine he tried earlier with you from the bartender offering it for free had its effects, and you weren’t off the hook from them either.

Blisters started to form from your ankles, adjusting to the new pair of heels Jaehyun gave (or insisted to buy) you a while ago after staring at them like lasers. You’ve always provided things for yourself that being spoiled by someone else felt weird to you.

“If there’s anything you want me to buy for you, just tell me.”

“How can I buy you if you’re already mine?”

His smooth talk often made you punch his shoulder, but it’s just a mechanism to hide the exhilaration.

Under each other’s spells in your dance, you laid your head on Jaehyun’s chest. Feeling the strong beat of his heart, you were reminded of how much life he’s filled with. And you became a part of it, in the same way he crossed yours.

Jaehyun’s lips sank to the top of your head, pecking it affectionately. The first-ever summer where he wasn’t stuck at his desk working or drinking his life away with his rich friends in their Parisian homes, it couldn’t get better than this.

“Oiii! Flirtez ailleurs!” (Oiii! Flirt somewhere else!) The distinct voice of Jaemin, handing out pastries to passersby, shouted at the both of you, making you flip your middle finger at him.

“Trouve une copine d’abord, d’accord?!” (Find a girlfriend first, alright?!) You shouted back jokingly, almost falling due to the ache of your feet. Your immodest behavior was censored by Jaehyun’s large palms, not wanting the kids around to see it. Whispering closely to your ear,

“Tu es ivre. Laisse-moi te ramener chez toi.” (You’re drunk. Let me take you home.)

You changed back into your sandals as Jaehyun led you through the different alleys. Your vision was too hazy to navigate, so he had one arm wrapped around your shoulders. The weather grew cold too, shivering your bones so he draped you in his blazer.

“Wait,” You stopped, making him do the same. But before he could ask for your reason, your hands yanked him by his suspenders and your legs walked backward to reach the brick wall. Standing in his 5’11 glory, you were overpowered.

Yet your lips captured his effortlessly, raising to your toes to press yourself closer to him. He moved fast, one arm hugging your waist while the other hoisted your leg up. Tangling around his waist, the urge to move your hips against his crotch couldn’t be contained any longer.

Everyone was probably still out at this time or sleeping. The sloppy sounds you’ve produced were beyond suitable for any audience. Not to mention, the nasty words Jaehyun’s pretty mouth spoke in your ears desired you to fall to your knees.

“Not afraid of getting caught, ma chérie? You want me to ruin you right here, right now?”

“God, Jaehyun,” Your hands tugged his belt forward, the friction it gave to your core twitched the naughty side out of you. “Do it, please.”

The idea of public sex thrilled your mind into overdrive, yet you’ve never done it. In Paris, a city where several people started to know your name, you didn’t need a scandal to be plastered in your resume yet.

Jaehyun himself included, and still opted not to give it to you.

“Another time, ma chérie. Your apartment, now.”

The moment you unlocked your apartment door, Jaehyun was far from gentle like in the mansion. Ripping you out of your frilly dress didn’t take long, so was unbuttoning his trousers down to the floor.

On your knees, his hand gave you a makeshift ponytail as your tongue flicked the slit of his cock. Then slowly taking him inch by inch on your mouth, you’d let out a loud pop when you needed to breathe. Your hands fondling his balls, he groaned from the edge of your bed and tightened his hold on you. Tears formulated in your eyes as you got to swallow him whole, uncontrollably bobbing your head.

He felt like putty when he released, your throat taking the salty base. You hastily unhooked your bra in front of him when suddenly, his hand flicked on the fabric of your panties, cueing you to stop your motion.

“Keep them on when you ride me.”

Straddling on his lap, his head laid against the headboard of his bed. His arms roaming around your back to stabilize you, your fingers pushed your panties to the side as you pushed yourself down his protected length. Your moans became shaky. Up and down, you bounced while bracing on his shoulders.

Against his ear, your moans were harmonious. His hips moved against your beat, hitting your g-spot like the sexual ace he is. His thumb rubbing your clit, you shuttered your eyes at the impending high approaching you like a bus.

“I’m close.” You choked out, the overstimulation overwhelming your nerves.

“Fuck, me too.” He grunted, slapping your butt that made you shriek.

Soon enough, everything hit you both all at once. The knot snapped, and so did your body falling on his chest after a single scream. Panting, Jaehyun pecked on your temple as his cock softened up. Once you returned to your senses, you lifted yourself from his length, laying bare beside him.

His eyes started to fall, but before they did, he muttered huskily. “Je t’aime, (Y/N).”

It was the first time he’s said those words in the way they meant, and he’s more than certain that it’s what he felt with you. Sure, it started as mutual infatuation, but now, it can’t leave. Not on his watch.

Love was a concept unfamiliar to you, but Jaehyun slowly taught you what it was and how it felt like. Books and films may give sneak peeks, but to personally give and receive it back was made possible by him.

From this moment on, you could conclude that yes, you reciprocated it.

“Je t’aime aussi, Jaehyun.”

16 octobre 1957

Autumn made its way to the countryside.

The leaves switched into red-brown shades, the weather in the south was warmer, and the wine harvest was highly anticipated. Jaehyun’s camera was a common item in your outings, taking as many photos as he could so the two of you had something to look back on.

Planned and candid, his range was wide. These were moments that proved that your youth was as happy as you wished it to be. You wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

Painting in his mansion was a regular thing, having new canvases prepared at his patio. There were so many items that amused you there like you could base your entire collection on his home. It’s not like Jaehyun could argue; it meant more time with you whenever you came over.

“Jaehyun, if you smudge paint on me, so help me Go-” He refused to listen to your “threats”, smearing black paint on your cheek.

“You were saying?” He cockily pestered, showcasing his paint-filled fingers. You dipped one of your brushes into the new paint and chased after him without hesitation. The entire evening became a paint war, a laugh fit even after seeing your reflections in the mirror. But before you could clean yourself, Jaehyun’s camera was by your face and he pressed the button.

“Still breathtaking.”

But the middle of the season arrived, that’s where your planned extension you’ve reached its end. The exhibit was next month, getting calls from your boss regarding your return and the paintings you’ll present. You informed her that you already had them mailed to your studio way back, so there’s nothing much to worry about.

All your bags were packed in the private car Jaehyun rented. Here, you’re bidding your goodbyes to every friend you’ve made outside the doors of your apartment complex, saving your last words with Jaehyun.

The night before, he stayed over and helped you pack your last items in luggage bags. He even brought extra clothes for you so you wouldn’t work extra. You’ve talked it out the whole evening through what happens next to ease your worries. In your bed, he opened the wide windows and pulled you under the sheets.

“Write to me.”

“Call me when you’re free, or whenever you feel like it.”

Leaning against the railing of the stairs, watched the sorrow in your face over this parting. He sensed how bittersweet everything was, but he wouldn’t change anything about it. He’s positive that your story won’t end here, not right now.

Sauntering to him, you sighed whilst taking your bag he held the whole time from him. His touch was tighter as the two of you hugged tenderly, nuzzling his head on your shoulder. The scent of his citrus cologne that implanted in your brain felt comforting, despite the uncertainty of everything between you.

You hinted a minty taste from the menthol candies from his home as his lips brushed yours, colliding it timely. He waited when everyone left, relishing these last seconds.

Stepping inside the vehicle, you waved your summer love farewell one more time before the driver hit the pedal. Your eyes couldn’t stray away from looking back, the distance between him and your former apartment widening. Only when he was no longer in the frame, you shifted your focus back in front.

Your fingers fiddled with the charm bracelet he gifted you from the market. It was custom-made by a jeweler who was great friends with his mother in his younger years. There were two pendants chained on it: a paintbrush and the sun.

“A paintbrush to remind you of your passion, and the sun to remind you of the summer we first met.”

The man was like one of his romance books, in human form. He knew how to catch your breath effortlessly.

Your stay, for now, may have concluded, but there was always next summer. And the ones after that. The village felt like a second home, one you can’t neglect like the other places you’ve lived. Then having Jaehyun here, the more reasons to return.

Undoubtedly the best vacation you’ve ever been in your adult years, one that didn’t sacrifice for your art so you could compete with other artists. The weight on your chest poofed into thin air, and you felt ready for what the next steps as a painter were.

Appreciating the greenery you passed by, you peeked over the side mirror of the car only to find Jaehyun quickly biking in your direction.

Now, what was he up to?

You instantly requested the driver to slow down his pace, rolling down the window of the car. Not caring about the strong winds, “You fool, what are you doing?!”

Although he trusted your last words, he had the greed to see your face again. It would be a long time until he’ll see you in person again. So he pedaled as fast he could to still reach you. Oh, the things you do when you’re in love.

“Mon cœur bat la chamade pour toi, (Y/N)!” [My heart beats loudly for you, (Y/N)!]

You giggled at his silliness, throwing out flying kisses.

“Je reviendrai bientôt, Jaehyun!” (I’ll come back soon, Jaehyun!)

21 octobre 1957

Only your friends at the studio gave you a warm welcome back, receiving comments like “get back to work” from your first encounter with your boss. Popping a champagne glass open after work hours on the rooftop of your studio, they interrogated you with all the questions they could think of.

“So this village in Provence…. was it beautiful as the tourists said?” Ten, who moved from his home in Thailand to Paris at a young age, expressed his curiosity whilst leaning against the railing overlooking the Eiffel Tower.

“Beautiful is an understatement, Ten. I miss it dearly!” You heaved a sigh, twirling your glass.

“So this inspiration you were looking for…” Amélie, your dear friend since your university days, created some tension as she prolonged her last word. Playfulness twinkled in her eyes, crossing her legs. “Was a person involved by any chance?”

For a moment, your throat almost gagged on the sizzling alcohol going down.

“What do you mean?” You acted clueless, pouring your now empty glass with more booze. But the moment Ten gave you the troublesome look coordinating with Amélie, you already knew you wouldn’t hear the end of it. These two were such gossips in and out of the studio.

Ten took the seat across you on the table and leaked all his pent-up information.

“So you know Seo Youngho, the only son of the Seo family. Rich, socialite, a total hotshot… yeah, all that jazz.” He dived in, seeing you nod over knowing that man. Someone in the past you’ve slept with, but that’s another story. “Well, Amelie and I attended one of his parties at his large penthouse. He had his usual crowd there; Kim Doyoung, Lee Taeyong, Nakamoto Yuta, and Lee Minhyung. But fun fact: there’s another member in that friend group who doesn’t go to these kinds of events.”

“Here’s where it gets interesting,” Amélie excitedly took off like the pipelette (chatterbox) she is. “Youngho, who was talking to us for a bit, asked where you’ve run off. Poor him, he must’ve missed you in his bed but anyway! We told him that you went down south somewhere in Provence for a break. Oddly enough, he mentioned how the mentioned member moved back there for the same reason.”

Ten and Amélie gave each other another frisky look, merely to piss you off. So predictable of them.

“Get to the point please!” You screeched.

“Jeong Jaehyun, ever heard of him?” Amélie imitated your tone of voice. “I mean, you should since you made a whole painting of him.”

“H-How,” Speechless, that’s what you were. Ten went on a fit of giggles, signaling the build-up of his intoxication.

“Youngho visited the studio to find a specific painting for his home, and we helped him in choosing. Then when your deliveries of paintings arrived that day and were unwrapped, the look on his face when he saw Jaehyun’s painting was priceless. Things started to add up, especially when he told us that he called up Jaehyun prior, he said that Jaehyun was seeing a girl during his stay there.”

“A young, burnt-out painter from Paris, to be specific.”

They’ve put you on the edge of the cliff, and it was too close to call it a coincidence. Of all things to be revealed, this had to be the first.

“Well, I was waiting for another time to tell you guys about him though.”

Their gasps of joy could give you guys a noise complaint by the neighbors, telling all about your escapades of him and you. During it, the more you missed seeing him daily either on his bike or his car. It was stuck in your routine, but now it’s reverted to your old one.

Could the next summer come any faster?

14 février 1958

Perhaps your newest collection at the Louvre was your most successful one yet.

Entitled “Inspirez, Expirez” (Breathe In, Breathe Out), your sceneries during your stay in the village varied. An old couple slow dancing under the night sky, and the quiet district of shops Jaehyun took you, those were some of your last additions.

A multitude of positive reviews on the newspapers and art magazines came in, commending on taking on a fresher, brighter outlook for a change whilst finding your spark again. As fulfilling it was, what you longed the most was the one responsible for it.

Lately, it’s been tough to contact him. His maids always answered the calls, informing you that he was busy with work or family matters. It’s so rare for him to act like this. Whatever it was, it wasn’t grand or serious hopefully.

Back to your collection, tonight was the last night of it. Just in time for Valentine’s day, where numerous socialite lovers embarked on this event, but you’re more fixated that it was also Jaehyun’s birthday. A boy full of love born on the day dedicated for it, things made more sense. In case, you’ve sent your birthday wishes to him through letter and passing the message to one of his maids. Even on his special day, he hasn’t reached out to you.

But to momentarily forget about that, there was a closing ceremony held for this exhibit with the other artists involved, and it was your turn to give your final remarks. More esteemed socialites and journalists were present, which didn’t halt your nerves the slightest. You were a professional after all, holding pride in your craft as you stood in front of the microphone wearing your new favorite custom-made gown.

There are perks when you have close friends in the fashion industry, specifically Kim “Key” Kibum from the House of Key. After defending him from a disrespectful client when you were picking up a dress for your boss during your internship years, not only did you earn his respect, but an invite to his shows and first claiming of new items from his collections. Dining in expensive restaurants in the metro was a plus, catching up on your lives. Sometimes calling each other out for your sexcapades too.

Speaking of him, he was in the crowd that night, ordering every photographer to take photos of your gorgeous self in one of his dresses. Or in your opinion, bribing some by how he stuffed a few thick stacks of Euro bills down their pockets.

Only one of it ever made. A dark green satin v-neck off-the-shoulder gown, where diamonds adorned your neck and ears and white stilettos kept your perfect balance. Also courtesy of Key.

Because it’s the winter season, he gifted you a limited edition white fur coat every socialite tried getting their hands on. Your hair was styled in a bun, emphasizing your dark tinted lips from this new lipstick Amelie insisted you buy.

Most people would get the first impression that you were one of the socialites, a child from one of the affluent families even. But you were a lot more remarkable than that, having inborn talent in the arts that you specialized over your youth and rising to the top without any parental help.

“Thank you to everyone for their endless support towards the magnificent collections of each artist present. As for mine, I am grateful to rechannel my creative side by taking a break. Rather than romanticizing overworking our bones to the core, there’s nothing wrong with taking a step back from the pressure. Being alive is a blessing, realizing further how our youth won’t stay with us forever. Being away from the boisterous cities, I found relaxation in the countryside of Provence.”

Your lips quirked into a grin as every single memory during that time reeled in your head like a movie. “The beauty of Provence cannot be simply put in words. The muses I’ve encountered were more than lovely, especially the man behind the Poetic Rose. With that, I sincerely thank everyone from my bottom of my heart and I hope to continue to support me in the years to come.”

The applause roared once you stepped down the platform, shaking hands with every esteemed guest with more gratitude as they praised you. These days, socializing with them was a lot easier. You’ve even taken more initiative to greet people first before they do, conversing with them easily about anything.

Key definitely noticed that as you toured him around your section, holding his nth glass of wine for the night.

“You, Madame (Y/N), transformed into a social butterfly.” He nudged your shoulder, smirking once he got a better view of his favorite painting from you. “I guess that’s the thing when you’re in love.”

“I beg your pardon?”

With this free hand, he motioned it up and down at the painting in front of you. “The Poetic Rose is none other than the youngest son of the Jeong family, whom I’ve met through his older sister, Krystal.”

“Am I really the only one who doesn’t know him?!” You stressed, jokingly. Key was elated to capture you in his trap, the changes of your personality too evident in his eyes. Figuring it out that it was love took a while, but being acquainted with Krystal, she’s the one who told him that her younger brother was in love with a painter in Provence. Do the math.

“I’ve met him through his older sister, one of my highly favored clients. He’s not much of a socialite like her, so I don’t really blame you for that.”

Searching for a waiter to refill your wine glasses, a surprise emerged the both of you.

“Madame Krystal, you’re absolutely stunning.” Key complimented her, giving the engaged heiress of Jeong Tea Inc. kisses on the cheek as respect. Her recent engagement to Kim Donghyun, her childhood sweetheart and also the heir of Kim Couture, was the talk of the town.

They arrived at the event together, drawing the attention of everyone in the room earlier. Now, he was speaking to a few influential socialites he made a deal with this week about the art collections present.

“Key, you never fail to look fantastic,” She remarked positively, poking his necktie before placing her undivided attention on you. “So you must be (Y/N) (Y/L/N). You’re beyond bewildering in that gown.”

“Flattered to hear that, Madame Krystal. Such a pleasure to meet you.”

The three of you chatted as if you were the only people there. From art, passion, and love, pride filled in your chest when you toured your collection. It was like walking down memory lane for her, adding out how she used to climb the peach tree with her younger brother during their childhood. Once her eyes laid on Poetic Rose, she took her time admiring it.

“My younger brother grew up well. That’s all I could ever hope for as his only older sister.” She paused, noticing how silent you became when you stared at the painting along with her. She observed the passion lit in your eyes, yet there was longing behind it by the way your lips pouted briefly. “You must really love him, do you?”

“I do, truly. After meeting him, not only was I boosted with so much ideas, but my heart embraced him for what and who he is in this universe.” You professed confidently, earning an approving smile from Krystal.

“If that’s how you feel, why not tell him that yourself?”

Her fingers gestured you to turn around. Stood in a grey suit with his brown hair slicked back, it was like seeing a completely new person. A handsome one though. His fashion in the countryside heavily differed from his fashion in the cities. So sophisticated and refined, he looked like a prince straight out of a fairytale.

Your fairytale.

“Jaehyun.”

It’s like everything stopped once he sprinted towards you, pulling you off your feet for a snug hug. Your arms threw themselves on his neck by instinct, not wasting a single second in his grasp. Your nose inhaled the woody scent of his cologne, something more formal than his usual fruity scent.

The smell of aftershave in his jaw couldn’t go ignored either, assuming that he must have had plans to go out tonight. Nonetheless, you squealed as if you were back in Provence, giggling at his boldness. Once he put you down, neither of you could get your hands off each other.

“What are you doing here? You didn’t tell me you’d be in Paris!” Clutching your waist, you gazed at him with doe-like eyes, instilling confusion.

“J’ai voulu te surprendre, my chérie.” (I wanted to surprise you, my darling.)

He chuckled, pushing some straying strands of your hair behind your ear. His eyes evoked so much endearment towards this elegant look you prepared, making his heart race as if he were in the gardens of his manor again.

Hearing his petname for you again attacked your heart every time no matter how much time passed, he lifted your chin high. Jaehyun urged himself to kiss you senseless right there, leaning lower. And yes, you anticipated it by how your eyes instantly closed.

Only if it weren’t for Krystal to clear her throat, obviously ruining the mood. Flinching away from your sensual lover, you rubbed the nape of your neck. Towards an heiress like her, it must’ve been unprofessional.

“Couldn’t you at least wait until I left, younger brother?” Her fingers flicked Jaehyun’s forehead, a teasing trick they used to do as kids. Even if she was a lot shorter now, it didn’t mean the impact was weak. He cursed under his breath, covering his forehead.

Stifling your laughter was a failure, crinkling your eyes to unleash your emotions. So this is what their sibling dynamic was like?

“Now excuse me, older sister. You didn’t tell me you were visiting the exhibit after my birthday dinner with our parents?” He crossed his arms, exchanging a judgmental look. For his sake, he wanted to maintain his pride. “All you said after dinner was that you were going straight home with your fiancé after all the alcohol mother gave you because it made you lightheaded.”

“Well, you know Key and his persuasiveness. He insisted I attend this event last minute because all the collections were amazing.” She explained, shedding a subtle glance at you. “Plus, it’s an excuse to finally meet this lovely girl you raved so much through your letters.”

Jaehyun kept his family life private, so this piece of information was new to you. The unpredicted way the fluttering feeling drew in your stomach, all you could do was smile from the flattery.

“He spoke about me to you?”

“More than speak, my dear. He practically professed his love for you, asking me advice on how to court a girl, make them smile, etcetera. You’re the first girl he’s been this affectionate with, and I completely understand now.” She patted your shoulder, hopeful. She had such a strong older sister vibe, reminding you of your older siblings back home. “You’re a clever, talented woman. I look forward to seeing you more often.”

As you nodded in approval, she turned towards her brother with her recurring teasing look. “Yah, Jaehyun. You better take care of her. If she ever sheds a tear because of you, I’m hunting you down in the gardens.”

“Harsh of you, Krystal.” He planted his hand on his chest, feigning pain. “But no worries. Having you and mother around me kept me well-mannered towards women growing up.”

Playfulness aside, Krystal felt honored towards her younger brother. Men these days maintained their sexist beliefs and rudeness, especially those who doubted her high position in the family business once her father stepped down. Nowadays, it’s men like Jaehyun who could really challenge the patriarchy and make women pursue a lot more than being limited as a housewife.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Now please excuse me, I’ll be on my way.”

Krystal waltzed her way out without tripping from her slight intoxication, which Jaehyun worried about earlier. But anyway, that left him alone with you. Filled with so many questions, you didn’t know where to start.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming to Paris? Why didn’t you acknowledge my birthday wishes to you? Why aren’t you answering my calls and letters?” You blurted without wasting a breath, weren’t trying to come off as needy, but it became peculiar when he was contacting you like usual.

You pushed off thinking of the worst scenarios, not wanting it to ruin your drive and your emotions either. Yet you trusted Jaehyun enough to know he wasn’t the type of person either.

“Okay slow down, ma chérie.” His hands maneuvered for you to stop for a bit. “Ask me one by one and I’ll give you a solid answer for each while we roam around.”

He arrived in Paris last week, which was initially for work. Then his birthday clashing was a coincidence. It would be too lonely to go home and celebrate his special day alone, so he extended. But again, it’s his work that caused his abrupt contact.

When you were too busy delving into the success of recovering your inspiration, he also found his spur to write again too. Day and night, his mind kept him tedious with an endless trail of thoughts and words. Overall, he finalized it then brought the end product to the same publishing house where his books in the past went through.

In fact, he decided to publish them specifically today on his birthday. The only day in his itinerary he planned, where after publishing, he’d hang out with his friends, have dinner with his family then run off to reunite with you.

“I didn’t intend to make you feel like a second choice, so please forgive me for that, ma chérie.”

“All is forgiven, Jaehyun.” You held both his hands, kissing them tenderly out of habit. “I’m overjoyed that you rekindled your creative side again.”

You were so understanding and empathetic, and Jaehyun aimed to act that way too. He learned so much from you as his friend before being his lover. Quickly enough, you’re both back to his portrait in the center. Like a critic, he narrowed his eyes and scrunched his nose. Tapping his chin with his finger,

“This man in Poetic Rose, he’s quite dashing.” He commented with conceit, walking closer to it to view it better. “His freckles are on point, his dimples and dazzling eyes too. Why exactly is he described as a Poetic Rose?”

“Well sir,” You stood beside him, imitating his actions. “This man here always spoke so eloquently, like he had a very poetic approach on life. He reminded me also of a rose by his rosy tinted cheeks and his beauty. He was alluring inside and out.”

“Is he your favorite muse?”

“I never quoted him as a muse because he’s more than that. Muses can be replaced once they no longer serve purpose towards the artist. Though with him, he’s the never-ending flame that I want to keep for the rest of time."

You held on to his hand, interlocking your fingers with his. The apparent reddening of his ears proved that he was flustered, yet you spoke no lies.

“Joyeux anniversaire, ma flamme.” (Happy birthday, my flame.)

“Merci beaucoup, ma chérie.” (Thank you, my darling.)

Something about his new release piqued your attention so you brought it up again.

“So tell me about your new book.”

“Let me show you instead.” Inside the blazer, there was an inner pocket that sealed a small hardbound book. Taking it out, he handed it over to you. “This is your copy.”

The cover of the book had an illustration of two young adults running down the fields under the bright sun, with the title written in cursive and placed in the center.

“L’Été de 1957.” (The Summer of 1957.)

Like a child who received a new gift in the mail, you flipped the book open. Seeing the table of contents and credits to other important people involved in the process, there was a detailed dedication right before the starting chapter. It’s an unexpected page, noticing that he never put anything like this in his last works.

“Pour ma chérie, qui a peint les couleurs manquantes de ma vie.” (For my darling, who painted the missing colors of my life.)

Although Jaehyun planned to write about the couples he met in the countryside, he chose to change his perspective. Instead, he based this new book on your summer romance, installing more original characters who made your romance blossom more.

“I was once so engaged in listening to people’s love stories, hung up on what they felt.” He expounded, pacing around the floor whilst you skimmed through the pages. There were black and white photos from your adventures too to wrap the reader further in the story.

“While I was struggling to find the next story, I realized late that my story with you was a perfect choice. When I fell in love with you, it’s like I didn’t have to fret anymore about anything. Everything slowly yet surely aligned into place for me. Like how we found inspiration in each other.”

A poetic speaker meant having a poetic, wise mind. You kept an open mind whenever Jaehyun shared his thoughts on life with you, an intimate time that didn’t require using your bodies. Whether you were stargazing or drinking wine by his patio, his soulful personality never changed.

“So I recapped every single memory we had and compiled them,” He resumed, taking a closer step towards yours. His warm hands grasped your waist again, catching a glimpse of your astonished face. Mostly, towards your lips that he missed feeling against his.

“This book expressed my own take on love this time, the one I want to grow in.”

You’d care less if you dropped the book and your coat right there, your major desire to kiss him again was driving your senses to the edge of a cliff. Nothing could’ve braced yourself the second you fervently collided your lips with his. It didn’t feel like you were in this exhibit, but somewhere back in his mansion engulfed in each other’s presence.

Your legs almost melted by your daring move, if it weren’t for Jaehyun’s arm moving upwards to your back to stabilize you more. Your body tingled with goosebumps due to his relaxing fingers all over your body. His tongue caved in your lips, and you couldn’t ban its access.

Such an explicit sight, it felt forbidden as you were inches away from the public crowd. Yet it was the least of your worries if they made a big fuss over it. Jaehyun was here again with you, and that was more valuable to you. He savored every trace of your touches, taking his delicate time with you. No past birthday could defeat this, especially when it’s the first one to celebrate with you. The first of many.

As much you wanted to keep this up for hours, your lungs started feeling constricted of air so your lips timidly let go. Though your hands couldn’t, your overwhelmed eyes couldn’t shift away from the heart-stopping view of your lover. Wherein even after such a fearless session, his eyes fused with love and need with his plumper lips.

“Everything about Provence, especially you, that’s the life I want.” You confessed this concealed secret that’s revolved your head for a while now. Yet its certainty was true.

“Are you sure, ma chérie? What about work?” As an artist, he believed you should stay where everything is accessible. Yet as his woman, he wanted you to follow your heart. Jaehyun didn’t want you to choose or struggle.

“I’ve grown out from the idea that the city life was the only life meant of an artist like me.” You replied, confident enough to discuss it after deep thought. “Cities like Paris hold exciting, vigorous flames that will have you clinging on to them. But then, they’ll eventually die the longer you stay. You get burned in the process too. However, I stand by what I said earlier. I found an endless flame when I met and began loving you, Jaehyun. It doesn’t sting at all; it illuminates strongly every living day.”

Urging him to lower his stance with your fingers, you stated one last phrase. “Wherever you are, that’s where I want to be.”

“If that’s the case,” Jaehyun acknowledged, sticking his arm out for you. “Let’s get out of here.”

Astounded expressions crowded the socialites in the event as they watched the both of you exit together. If the news of Krystal and Donghyun weren’t crazy enough, some journalists figured the mysterious man behind The Poetic Rose and spread it like wildfire.

How was the youngest son of the Jeong family turned renowned romance novel author connected to the impressive, up-and-coming painter from London?

What really went down in Provence?

“How can you miss out on the signs? Did you not see them share a kiss earlier?” Key protested to those who weren’t approving whatever relationship you guys had. He loved his tea but hated those who simply were money hungry. Wanting a chance to be a part of the rich family, only to fish them out of their riches sooner or later.

Meanwhile, the winter season didn’t stop any of you from roaming the streets of Paris. Moments like these were a preview of the future you’ve envisioned with Jaehyun. Youthful, free, and fiery, a love between two artists created more magic not just in their crafts but to those around them.

Promenading a street overlooking the Seine River, Jaehyun took out a smaller instant camera from his pocket and took a candid shot of you. Stunned, you slapped his chest with your bag.

“Hey! Just how many more things are hidden in your blazer?”

“Just my wallet and a few condoms. Why’d you ask?” He raised a suggestive brow, feigning good intentions.

You hummed, faking your deep thought mindset. “At this rate, I don’t think we’ll make it back to my apartment alive.”

Jaehyun tugged you by your coat, his lips hovering your ear to whisper. “If we call a cab right now, I can finger you in the backseat.”

You chuckled at his vulgar idea, but it seemed ideal. You loved the thrill of getting caught or having someone overhearing you two, just like him. Besides, his fingers don’t match up to yours when you touch yourself alone in your apartment. You bat your eyelashes, giving in.

“Deal.”

6 ans plus tard (1964)

Summer returned, the sun strongly smiling down to the plentiful flowers at your family garden. By the patio of your home, your canvas was already laid by the easel stand. Shades of yellow were applied first to symbolize the brightness of the day, following the outline of your desired scenery for this piece.

Dipping the brush in water to change colors, you took another glance at the breezy sky. Light blue with clouds resembling soft pillows, you inhaled gently as your brush faintly stroked the canvas again.

Your hair was tied in a bun, meaning that you’re in for a busy session. But a more soothing one as the jazz music flowed from the vinyl player inside. Stress was the last thing you needed right now.

“What’s madame artiste up to right now?” Your husband piped in from behind, placing down a tray of tea and crackers. With some top buttons of his white top left unattended, you glimpsed on his toned chest when he leaned down. But you mustn’t pry whilst working, even when temptation was calling your name repeatedly.

“The summer sunshine healed me of my discomfort, so I think it’s about time I painted again.” You chewed on the snack, looking back and forth to the view. As enchanting as all the flowers you and him planted over the years grew, you’re more amused by a little boy strolling around it with his magnifying glass and tiny wooden basket with his furry puppy by his side.

His tiny legs often troubled the two of you because he enjoyed spending time with nature. Only God knows what he found in the garden this time.

“Adrien est explorer encore. Devrais-je lui dire qu’il change de place, ma chérie?” (Adrien is exploring again. Should I tell him to change places, my darling?) Jaehyun cautiously asked, not wanting his 3 year old son to impair your perspective.

“Non,” (No,) You held on to his hand, kissing it sweetly. Although you peeved any unnecessary details found in your scenery in the past, Adrien was an exception. As his mother, it’s hard to say no to him unless necessary.

“Il est un garçon curieux, alors il devrait explorer et flâner où il veut.” (He’s a curious boy, so he should explore and wander wherever he wants.)

Life ever since you returned to the countryside shifted into something more precious than you imagined. From moving places constantly, you found a home to settle in for good. A home with overflowing love and inspiration. A home within Jeong Jaehyun.

Recently, you halted your work-related activities in Paris and came home because you were heavily homesick. It even affected your health as a whole. So you made adjustments with your schedules, postponing appearances to events to next year.

On the plus side, you could be more active as a mother to Adrien. It felt like you burdened Jaehyun to take care of Adrien most of the time because he mainly worked from home, wherein important people who wanted to meet him would have to fly out to the countryside.

Back and forth to Paris, your presence towards Adrien often lacked. Here came your biggest fear, which was Adrien forgetting you. But Jaehyun told you over and over again that it wasn’t the case. As he listened to every wrenching thought you had, but he’d combat it with heartfelt words of reassurance so you wouldn’t overanalyze things.

He vowed to love and take care of you when times get hard, and he will continue doing so.

Remember when you said how his mansion felt too big?

It no longer did after getting married.

It gave more room to grow and breathe more life into it. When Adrien was born, he was the prime reflection of your and Jaehyun’s love. He mirrored his father’s physical traits but with a daring personality like yours. A perfect mixture, the world worked amazingly to bring a boy like him into your life.

“Maman! Papa!” Adrien bolted to where you and Jaehyun stood. From the clothes he wore, it’s very much clear that his father was in charge of it whilst you slept in the entire morning. Suspenders, capri shorts, a white shirt, and a red beret, he deserved his title as Jaehyun’s mini-me.

Jaehyun swelled with pride and love for his only son, peeking over what he brought to show and tell you both. “Oh Adrien, what do you have for us today?”

In his basket, there were 3 sunflowers stuck out from the edge. It’s been a while since you’ve seen some in full bloom, lowering your stance to get a more vivid view. He took them out to hand them to you and your husband.

One flower for Jaehyun and two for you. You let out a gasp, scrunching your brows to the center. He always gave one of each item to you and Jaehyun, never more or less.

“Ooh, deux fleurs pour Maman. Pourquoi, Rien?” (Ooh, two flowers for Mama. Why, Rien?) Jaehyun let his nickname out for his lips while you grasped his small hand.

“Well, I heard from Olivier next door that on his birthday, he gave extra flowers to his mother so he could have another sibling. And it worked!” He spoke so innocently, yet it hitched a choke from Jaehyun’s chest. Your eyes widened from disbelief. The information he collected due to his curiosity, no boundaries truly.

“Le mois prochain, c’est mon anniversaire. Je me demandais si je peux avoir un frère ou sœur comme Olivier? Tu es toujours occupée, comme Papa. Je ne veux plus être seul, alors je veux une amie aussi.” (It’s my birthday next month, and I was wondering if I can have a sibling like Olivier? You are always busy, like Papa. I don’t want to be alone anymore, so I want a friend too.)

You exchanged looks with Jaehyun, not knowing how exactly to respond. Although you and Jaehyun did agree that you wanted more than one child when you were younger, neither of you brought it up again since your careers were always loaded with plans.

Adrien was a surprise child actually, conceived on the night where you and Jaehyun celebrated after L’Été de 1957 was announced to be the best-selling romance novel of the decade in the country.

In Paris at his family home, where his parents brought out all their prized liquor, the two of you drank the entire night away to the point Krystal and Donghyun had to push you away from each other from your public affections because their children were present.

But it didn’t stop you two once you reached his bedroom, far away from everything and everyone. And you’ll never change it.

“Oh, Rien,” You eased in, consoling him. “Je suis désolé. Mais c’est franchement une grande demande, n'est-ce pas?” (I am sorry. But that’s quite a big request, right?)

“Mom and I will think about it first, okay? Another kid is a big responsibility, and you’ll be their older brother. That’s another important job, can you do it well?”

“Yes, I can, Papa!” He beamed with glee, his covered head patted by his father after. As you placed the sunflowers beside your palette, Adrien then proceeded to ask you if he could paint with you like old times.

Never you refuse especially with his sparkling round eyes and chubby face that makes you want to squish every time.

As you lifted his light body to sit on your lap, you placed your brush between his stubby fingers and carefully aimed in whatever angle seemed fit so the painting process would run smoothly and perfectly. He let out sounds of amazement when the strokes get bigger, jumping slightly too because the picture became more vivid. You’d smile and coo at him, commending whenever he followed instructions well. As his mother, you only encouraged your child in whatever they want to excel in.

Adrien was the child of two artists, so it was only natural that he had an artistic side in his veins.

Too caught up in your fun, hearing the automatic shutter of the camera from your side was delayed. The source was none other than Jaehyun hiding behind his camera. Jaehyun’s heart soared at the heavenly view of the most important people in his life, wanting to treasure the moment as a lovely memory.

“Hey!” You shouted, placing down the messy brush by the palette. “Je suis très laid!” (I am very ugly!)

“Shh! Tu est rayonnant, ma chérie. Papa est juste, Rien?” (Shh! You are glowing, my darling. Papa is right, Rien?)

Jaehyun politely quizzed the peppy boy, nodding excitedly. His dimples deeply showed up, the main trait he claimed from his father.

“Oui, papa! Maman est toujours belle!” (Yes, papa! Mama is always beautiful!)

He exclaimed, pecking your cheek numerously. You squealed, attacking him with tickles and kisses back. His shouts of delight, then he was suddenly carried by your tall husband in the air like he was flying in the sky. Adrien enjoyed that motion highly, ending up on Jaehyun’s shoulders shortly after to play by the garden again.

“Go paint. I’ll take care of him now.” Jaehyun persuaded, roaming through the long rows of flowers in full bloom. Though seconds after adding some strokes to your piece, you let down your hair, put a hat and sandals on, and ran to the cute duo to join them.

And that’s how your family spent the entire afternoon. By the garden, running around and taking photos and short videos from Jaehyun’s camera. Freezing these valuable memories, this was truly the life you loved so much.

After your break, you could convince the company you worked at that you’d prefer fewer trips to Paris and stay in the countryside longer. How badly you’ve wanted to hold your exhibits here instead. Plus like Jaehyun, let influential people visit you. You’ve already made a big name for yourself now, so that should be valid enough.

Dinner time passed by quickly too, eventually putting Adrien to a smooth slumber as you massaged the roots of his soft hair while Jaehyun sang him a lullaby. This was your joint parenting technique with him since he was a newborn, and it worked quickly as lightning.

You redressed into your silk nightgown after bringing your canvas to the master bedroom, opening the balcony doors to invite the cool breeze in. You tweaked some bits of your painting, including a silhouette of your small family. Regarding where to place it, probably by the living room as it matched the theme.

“What a spectacular day, don’t you think, ma chérie?” Jaehyun conversed, admiring the calm movements of your brush. He noticed a quirky smile grace your lips.

“It’s been a long time since we had quality time like that with Rien. He’s a feisty ball of energy these days.” You replied with a nostalgic daze. “It’s so crazy how one day, he was still crawling to us. Now, he could outrun the both of us.”

“Comme le temps passe vite, hmm?” (How time flies fast, hmm?) Nodding, nothing braced for what your husband had in mind. You almost dropped your brush mid-way. Jaehyun’s lips impatiently devoured your neck, his huge hands fondling your breasts. Violently throwing your head back against his chest, a needy moan parted your lips.

“Jae-” His touches reaching south to where you desired him highly, dampening hastily as your legs naturally spread apart. Rushed exhales, “À quoi tu penses maintenant?” (What are you thinking about right now?)

“Rien se sent seul,” (Rien feels alone,) His hot breath whispered against your ear, his fingers dangerously trailing your thin panties up and down. With your hands tightly clutching on his bicep,

“Alors, donnons-lui une amie.” (We should give him a friend.)

Ever since Adrien mentioned such a daring topic, it hasn’t left Jaehyun’s mind the whole day. After seeing you in utter bliss with your son earlier, he found you so majestic and radiant. It’s a different kind of happiness, especially for parents.

Now you went on hiatus, he thought that it was the right time to have another. He enjoyed his younger years with Krystal, and he wanted Adrien to experience it too. 3 years was quite a wait, and it seemed ideal to try again.

From his nude chest, you flipped around to intensely clash his lips with yours. Draping your arms behind his neck, Jaehyun lifted your entire figure from the chair. His hands gripping on your butt, he delicately lowered you down your bed.

Drowning into his sensual kisses with his hands all over you, this could prolong for hours. Reddening love marks started to resurface whilst your fingers tugged on the drawstring of his pajama pants. Jaehyun’s fingers dove under the fabric of your panties, his index finger rubbing figure 8s the sensitive bundle of nerves.

You struggled to swallow your moans, not wanting Rien to hear it. You wouldn’t want to repeat history, covering it as Jaehyun massaging you after a hard day.

“I know you want one too, ma chérie.” His fingers began to drape down the straps of your gown, presenting your breasts in its full, perky view. But before his lips could suck on your erect nipples, you parted momentarily from him and got up on your feet. Pulling up your straps again, Jaehyun simply laid down but he wasn’t pleased from how you left him hanging.

“Où vas-tu, ma chérie?” (Where are you going, sweetheart?)

He was growing impatient. You were never to interrupt such a sexy atmosphere ever.

From one of your drawers in your vanity table, an important, half-opened envelope was hidden. You were supposed to give it tomorrow but now seemed like a perfect time. Reading it as soon one of the maids handed it to you gave you the jitters, but in a positive way. Sitting back down on the edge of your bed, you exhilaratingly passed it to your husband.

“Qu’est-ce que c’est?” (What is this?)

“Ouvre-le.” (Open it.)

Jaehyun slowly opened the edges and once he took out the contents. Reading it thoroughly, he couldn’t believe it as his jaw dropped, pacing from the letter and you back and forth.

“Vraiment, ma chérie?” (Really, my darling?)

It was from a doctor you visited in Paris a few days before you left, who confirmed just exactly what caused your health to go feeble suddenly. You already had one certain suspicion, which you addressed in your leave of absence letter. Amelié, who finally got the position as the head, couldn’t believe her ears and insisted you take all the time off you needed.

“On dirait que Adrien a reçu son cadeau d'anniversaire en avance.” (It looks like Adrien received his birthday gift early.)

Overall, it turned out the headaches and repeated vomiting you mistook as motion sickness from traveling was a surprise hello to your second child.

A girl specifically, thanks to the blood test she recommended.

“Je t’aime, (Y/N).”

“Montre moi combien tu m’aimes, Jaehyun.” (Show me how much you love me, Jaehyun.)

The whole night through, the two of you vigorously celebrated with the moonlight from the windows and a few scented candles set in the room. Wet kisses left on your collarbone, words of devotion exchanged, holding his hand as he groaned from heartily thrusting in you, the number of moans from your lips overlapped with the vinyl playing in the room. The intimacy between you two increased, almost as if you made love for the first time again all those years ago.

Excluding being drenched from the rain.

Once the two of you grew tired, Jaehyun lied down beside you. Wrapping one arm around, one hand trailed down your naked skin again. His wedding band flashed your eyes, reminding you of the commitment you promised each other. For better, and for worse.

Jaehyun promised to love you endlessly as a woman and his wife, and it didn’t cease when you became the mother of his children. He respected how strong you are, physically and mentally. He helped you in any way he could as you endured the struggling process.

At the end of the day, his family was his biggest priority. More than ever now, you needed him as you go through the pregnancy phases again. Specifically, his index finger lingered on your stomach. There was no bump or other signs of showing, except for that glow he complimented you earlier on.

“We met and fell in love over the summer, got married in summer, had Adrien mid-summer, and now found out about our daughter at the start of summer.” He smiled, blessed at all the good he’s received during this time.

“The summer gods must adore us.” Your vacant hand with your wedding band topped his. To love and to cherish. “Ils m'ont amené à toi.” (They brought me to you.)

His power on you was simply addicting, as if your early twenties revisited you. You straddled himself once again, your fingers caressing his face sweetly. When it reached his lips, he placed longing kisses there and pulled you closer again for another kiss on your lips. In between, you mumbled in a silvery tone,

“Then they led us to say I do. Pour toujours et à jamais.”

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starrconch · 3 years ago

Note

First of all, if you are uncomfortable with this topic feel free to skip this request!

Is it possibile to request a angst/comfort with Xiao and Albedo with s/o who has major self-harm issues. For example, how they would react if they came in during the act itself, or how they would support s/o after the fact.

There have been a lot of things going on lately and really all I need right now is for the boys to reassure me that even if these things happen I am still worth loving.

Thank you in advance if you decide to write this.

Remember to take care of yourself!

S/H COMFORT

★ Includes: Xiao, Albedo, GN reader, major trigger warning for S/H, comfort

★ Word Count: 1107

★ Master List

★ Notes: Hey anon! I hope you're doing okay! My DMs are always open if anyone needs to rant ♡ Please don't read this if you are triggered by S/H. I focused more on the comfort rather than the act of it.

XIAO

★ The adeptus had come back to Wangshu Inn earlier than expected after dealing with some hilichurls for Verr as they were blocking the road for some guests. They were pretty easy work considering his skill, and he was eager to return to you.

★ For most of the day, Xiao could sense that you were feeling down. He couldn’t place what was causing it or the exact mortal emotion you were going through, but he didn’t like it. However, he also was unsure whether to approach you about it or not.

★ When he returned, you were sitting on the floor shaking, a blade in hand that was pressed close to your skin, poised to cut.

Without even thinking, your partner dashed over to you and disarmed you, snatching the blade from your hands and tucking it into one of his pockets. You hadn’t even noticed him enter your room. As he held you in his arms, you couldn’t help but lean into him and break down.

You hadn’t intended for him to see you like this, he didn’t need to. There was already a lot on his plate without you being an added worry, but it was extremely comforting to have him rock you back and forth, rubbing his hands in soothing circles across your back.

Xiao had been in a similar place before when he felt as though his karma was too much for him, so he knew how much pain you’d be in at that moment.

“It’s alright,” he whispered, “it’s okay, I’m here.” Whether you decide to tell him what’s running through your mind or not, it doesn’t matter. As long as you’re in his arms safe. “I love you so much, Y/N. You’re worth so much more than this and don’t let anyone else persuade you otherwise, okay?”

Your partner began to hum a soft tune next to your ear that you recognised from somewhere. It was a melody that Xiao had heard the anemo archon play once a couple of centuries ago, a song that had helped him through his tough times that he hoped would help you through yours too. Something to guide you back to the light from your darkness.

After you calmed down, your sobs that wracked your body quietening to a few whimpers that were muffled into his chest, he picked you up to place you on your bed and then vanished into thin air. He returned seconds later with a plate of almond tofu and a glass of water in hand. It’s not much as the adeptus doesn’t know how to cook too well, but he wishes it will be a little something to help take your mind off of things for a while.

As you eat, he takes a seat on the bed and his eyes scan any skin he can see on your body for signs of wounds that he may not have been able to stop. When he can’t notice anything visible he refrains from trying to look at the places that you’ve covered up.

“If you ever find yourself in a place like this again, call my name and I’ll be here. No matter what I’m doing, I’ll drop everything for you.” He meets your eyes and you lie down on his chest.

“Thank you.” They were the first words you had spoken in a while, shaky and scratchy, but the relief that washed over Xiao couldn’t be hidden.

★ You fell asleep like that, your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as a source to ground yourself.

★ Your partner stayed awake, running his hands through your hair and guarding you against any nightmares that may attempt to come your way. He had long since given up his act of eating dreams, but for tonight, he would happily do it again for you.

ALBEDO

★ The alchemist had been eager to set out that morning for a new experiment he was excited to get started on. When he started a new project, you knew your partner ended up holed up in his lab for potentially days on end, so you figured he wouldn’t be home for a while.

★ Just as he got to his lab in Mondstadt, he realised he forgot his keys to it at your shared home, meaning he had to trail back to get them.

★ When he returned, he didn’t expect to see you shaking with a blade pressed to your skin.

Albedo stood there for a while, shock rendering him useless. He wasn’t quite sure what you were doing. Your eyes met in a silent question before he sprung into action. He came to your side, prying the blade from your hands and looking for any wounds you may have made without him being there.

After his search, he took your hands in his own, bringing them to his lips to kiss them. His reassurance that you were okay.

You could do nothing but lean into his chest, absorbing the warmth he gave as he wrapped his arms around you, cradling you and massaging your back gently. Your partner wasn’t sure of what you were going through, but he knew that it must have been bad. So bad that he knew he wanted to keep you from ever feeling that way again.

“It’s all okay, I’m here. You’re safe.”

When you seemed to relax, a few tears having fallen down your cheeks, Albedo placed a kiss on your forehead and led you into his study. He sat down on the chair and brought you onto his lap so you could still snuggle into him. While he hugged you, he retrieved one of his sketchbooks and began to flick through the pages.

“Hey.” He nudged you with his hand to get you to look at some of his sketches.

You turned to see a whole double-page spread full of images of you. Some were of you smiling at him, another was of you focusing on doing your work, there was even one of you with a flower tucked behind your ear.

“They’re all pictures of me,” you murmured, still a little dazed from what had just happened.

He hummed in agreement. “Because I love you so much. You’re stunning, kind and very talented at the things you do. You’re perfect in my eyes, even if other people don’t agree. You’re my everything.” Your partner rested his chin on your shoulder, breathing in your scent. “You are perfect inside and out, please believe me when I say that you deserve all the good in your life that you can get. I love you so much that you couldn’t comprehend it.”

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin x you #xiao #genshin xiao #xiao x reader #xiao x you #albedo #genshin albedo #albedo x reader #albedo x you #genshin scenarios #starrconch

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preciousthingsareprecious · 3 years ago

Text

Hearts Painted on Skin

Written for @damianwayneweek's Day 4. I selected Soulmates for this. I've never written a soulmate AU before, so this was fun to explore. Thanks @audreycritter for the idea! She flooded me with ideas for this week and I am so thankful for them all.

Characters: Damian and Dick

Summary: Damian has a mark just under his collarbone in the shape of a feather. Mother has always told him it was a scar. He was mostly okay with that until he came to Gotham and saw more marks. Marks that could not possibly be scars. He is starting to wonder if she lied, and why.

AO3 Link

Damian looked in the mirror, his shirt in his hands, prepared to pull on. For what felt like the thousandth time, he paused to look at the little mark on his skin. It was a feather, unmistakably. Damian had held enough up to it for comparison, whenever he could get his hands on one.

“It is a scar.” Mother’s voice echoed in his head.

It was a statement she’d told him time and time again. Each moment he brought it up. Every moment he looked at a League member who had a darker patch on their cheek, or wrist. Whenever his eyes lingered on flowers and swirls and shapes painted on fingers, arms, feet, and one time an eyelid. She would lean down, her voice soft, promising, full of truth, hard as law, and whisper those four words. It. Is. A. Scar.

“But others have similar.” Damian had asked once.

“Of course they do, they are fighters as well.” she had told him.

Damian believed her. Why would she lie? What reason had she to speak falsely about such a thing?

And yet.

He dropped half of the shirt to run his fingers over it, it was smooth as the skin underneath. It was skin, just of a darker color. A warm chocolate to his tan. It was not raised, not pinched. Nothing about it was creased or seemed to be anything but natural. As if it had always been there.

“But I do not remember getting it.” he had said again, in response to her once.

“You received it when you were young. A baby.”

He had furrowed his brow. Who would harm a baby? Even in the League? Especially Talia’s child? She’d never told him.

Damian tugged his shirt on, covering the spot with soft cotton and a bright pattern of animal silhouettes that somehow did not look childish. He ran his hand over the fabric, again pausing by the not-scar. His eyes flit to his dresser. In the drawer rested a bottle of concealer, matched to his skin tone exactly. It was empty now, used up and he had yet to replace it.

Normally, Damian would cover his not-scar with it. Careful layers blended to hide the fact that anything blemished his skin. It was a dangerous mark. Made when he was a baby, and carrying a weight on it that Mother insisted would draw catastrophe to him if it were seen.

He had complained about the concealer once, hating the time it took to apply and how it made his skin feel itchy sometimes.

Mother had run her fingers through his hair, gentle and loving, “I know, dear, but it is not safe to bring attention to. If others learned of it--you would be in danger.” She had even gone so far as to insist Damian not tell Grandfather.

It was a dangerous secret so terrifying the leader of the League of Assassins could not know. One Damian had to protect him from. At least, that was what Damian had thought then. Now, he wondered if Mother was protecting him from Grandfather.

He tugged on his shirt, testing the collar, even stretched it hid his mark with ease. No one would see it today. Perhaps his new concealer would arrive soon. Pennyworth had approved the order, as something useful to help them hide their identities better. Bruises from patrol were hard to explain, especially when Richard was under scrutiny for caring for him.

A knock immediately preceded, “Damian? You ready?”

Damian turned and nodded at Richard, “Yes, I believe I am.”

He looked over his brother, searching his skin for anything like Damian’s own mark, but beyond real scars, Richard was unblemished.

His brother, and guardian, smiled at him, “Great, let’s go! It’s a beautiful day and I promised you some ducks.”

Damian allowed a smile, “Yes you did.”

They spent the day at one of Gotham’s parks. Richard said they were doing recon to determine if Wayne Enterprise should fund a beautification project, but Damian was well aware his brother was using this as a day of relaxation. He was taking the day off work, and Damian had been excused from classwork for the outing.

He’d intended to take the recon seriously, by marking down elements both in favor of, and against selecting this park as the location for beautification funds. And for a little while Damian had. Then he’d flipped to a blank page in his notebook and started sketching the scene ahead of them.

Beside him, Richard lounged on their picnic blanket, reading what looked to be a romance book, and picking at grapes Pennyworth had packed for them. Normally, Damian would take the opportunity to berate him for laziness, but they had faced a number of difficult patrols over the past few nights and Damian was inclined to let him have his break.

Richard consistently drilled into him the importance of caring for one’s body all the time, mentally and physically. Damian knew this day would make Batman safer in the field, and also--he was kind of enjoying the quiet time. It was new to him, learning to relax and feel safe outside of the very few places he’d had at the League, but he could see the appeal to it. It did help keep him sharp, and he was always better rested after.

So he focused on on relaxing. He sketched for a while, drawing the pond first, and the trees around it. Then flipping the page to work on his figure drawing. As he drew, Damian’s eyes caught on marks. On birthmarks, and scars, and tattoos. Most importantly, his eyes locked onto various not-scars. Which is what they had to be.

He doodled them on another sheet. Drawing each unique one. Even those that were similar in style usually had little differences. A star might have one arm longer than the other, while one was perfect.

The only time he saw two of them match perfectly were on a couple pushing a stroller. The couple had little numbers on the back of their hands, one on their left, the other on the right. Damian pressed his lips together. They could have been tattoos, many people had them, but Damian couldn’t help but wonder.

He had been wondering since he’d arrived in Gotham months ago. People here all had marks. They had marks and they showed them off. Confused, Damian had messaged his mother to ask her. She’d said they were scars, tattoos, birthmarks that were meaningless. They were the marks of a different type of people than Damian had been raised around.

Distance had a way of stripping his mother’s voice of it’s old comforting truth.

But he had been busy learning. There was so much to learn in Gotham that had nothing to do with the mark on his body. Damian had spent more time frustrated about rules, and fearing he’d be sent back to a place that felt less and less like home every day. More and more time learning to be a good Robin to his Batman, and learning to trust Richard.

The question of his mark was rarely on Damian’s mind, and mostly relegated to moments he was alone or like this.

He glanced over at Richard. The man was still immersed in his book and Damian’s question died on his lips. He flipped his book to a new page and focused back on the pond, specifically the ducks swimming around on it. He had, after all, been promised some ducks.

That night they returned to patrol. Damian almost suggested they take a break, but they’d been working a drug trafficking case over the course of the week and were close to wrapping it up. If all went well during this patrol then they could rest. Damian would insist upon it if Richard did not.

They staked out an old appliance store. Richard figured the drugs were being shipped out either in the appliances or the crates. They just needed to intercept a shipment, incapacitate the team working on it, and confirm the drugs were there. Then they could call in Gordon and be done with all this.

Batman and Robin were crouched together. Richard had declared that they should stick close tonight. Damian wondered if it was because he knew they both were still feeling a little worn down. He could read it in Richard’s body language, and he knew his mentor could read the same in his.

After around twenty or so minutes, a truck pulled up to the building and the shipping door opened to allow it to back in. They watched for a moment, confirming no other trucks were on their way, and then both pulled back from the edge of the roof they’d been peering over.

Richard pointed to a large vent they could drop in on the store from. Damian nodded, and followed his mentor. The slipped into the vents, then moved like mice over to where the shipping area was located. Damian paused behind Richard as the man peered through an exhaust vent to watch the proceedings below.

“They’ve started unloading.” he whispered, then tapped something on his cowl and was silent for another long moment, “And they’re talking about the drugs.”

“So we go?” Damian asked.

“I’d say so.” Richard said, “Stick close tonight Robin, I’ve seen a couple guns swinging around and I don’t want to explain a bullet wound to Al tonight.”

“The same goes for you.” Damian responded.

“There’s twelve by my count, two of those are still in the car. Try to get to them first. I’ll grab the guys with the guns,” Richard directed.

“Affirmative.” Damian agreed. Taking out the ones that could remove the product, and the ones that were the most dangerous first was a good idea.

With that, Richard kicked out the vent, tossed a handful of gas pellets, and they dropped into the smoke.

Damian bolted through it for the truck. He was able to easily dodge the men and women in the room, now sent into a flurry of action and confusion over the smoke. He ducked around the driver’s seat of the truck and yanked the door open.

The man inside was shocked, and Damian was able to use that element of surprise to yank the man out of the front, sending him tumbling to the ground. A few quick blows had him unconscious.

Damian straightened, and turned back towards the truck cab. His eyes went wide, seeing the passenger leaning over both seats, a gun aimed out the door at him. Damian dodged to the side as the gun went off. Pain sliced through his arm as the bullet nicked him, but at least it hadn’t hit him in anything vital.

He swore, Richard had just told him not to get shot.

He snarled at the man, immediately returning fire with a batarang. It caught fingers, and the gun went tumbling to the floor of the cab. Damian then lurched forward, and dragged the passenger out of the car. Twisting his arm as he fell to drag it up behind his back.

In another movement, Damian grabbed the man’s other hand and yanked it behind his back, securing them both with a zip tie.

“Stay.” he growled into his ear, “Or you will regret it.”

He climbed up into the cab and jammed a pole under the steering wheel, locking it in place to keep it from moving if anyone tried to drive the truck.

With that, he turned back into the fray. At this point the smoke had begun to clear. Damian could see that Batman had knocked out a few men already, they were down to 8 enemies to fight. Richard’s warning to stay close was fresh in Damian’s mind, his throbbing arm a reminder that maybe his Batman had wanted him to not quite jump ahead like he had. But then again, Damian should have been able to handle two men in a truck.

He huffed, and fell into line beside Batman.

“Robin, you get the car under control?”

“It will not be going anywhere.” Damian confirmed.

“Good.” There was something tight in Richard’s voice Damian didn’t recognize, but there wasn’t time to explore the reason for that the other men and women were on them already.

Damian had to admit, he and Richard worked well as a team. They were efficient, and quick. Richard’s insistence on having them run drills and practice together before they’d ever gone out into the field had paid off early on, and since then they’d only built on that success.

They managed to take out the rest of the criminals quickly, and they prevented any of them from escaping. After that, Richard directed Damian to zip tie the unconscious thugs while he checked out the boxes of goods.

As Damian was finishing up with the last man, Richard called out, “Found them! I’m calling it in.”

“Good, I am finished here.”

They paired back up outside the building as Batman called the car to their location. Damian had his cape tugged over his arm in an attempt to hide the bleeding, but as they waited, a breeze caught him by surprise and tugged it up, and out of the way.

“Robin!” Batman said, “Why didn’t you tell me you’d been injured?”

Damian tugged his cape back in place, scowling, “You told me not to get shot.”

Then his eyes caught on Richard’s left arm, it too was visible and bleeding. Damian pointed at him, accusing.

“You as well! How could you not tell me you’d been injured?”

Richard opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again, “I-For the same reason as you. It happened right at the start.”

That must have been why Damian hadn’t heard it, they’d been shot at roughly the same time.

His brother shook his head, “Amazing, we both managed to do the one thing we didn’t want to. Alf’s going to have a field day with this one.”

When they returned to the bunker Alfred directed them both to a shared cot.

“Shirts off young masters, I’ll need to dress both of those wounds.”

Damian rolled his eyes and started tugging off his vest, then undershirt. It wasn’t until it was off that he remembered he still had not covered up his mark. Hopefully they would lump it in with the other scars across his chest.

It was not to be however. Next to him, Richard had stilled. He was staring at Damian’s chest. Damian could feel it, his eyes locked on the feather just under his collarbone.

He froze, his spine stiffening. He didn’t know what to say. His mother’s excuses felt like lies on his tongue and he knew he couldn’t give them to Richard. The man wouldn’t believe him for a moment.

Richard’s gaze was strangely soft. Not angry or upset or any of the things Damian had come to expect from what someone might do when they saw his not-scar. It made him want to squirm in his seat, but he was Damian al Ghul-Wayne. He did not squirm.

“Damian--” Richard’s voice was terribly soft, his eyes glittering, “I had no idea.”

Damian swallowed, there it was. The sadness that he had thought might come. It was dangerous. Seeing it put people in danger, and Richard had seen it, and Damian--Damian did not want him in any kind of danger.

He reached up to put his hand over the mark, and looked down, “I am sorry--I forgot. Had I remembered I hadn’t covered it I would not have--I would have dressed my arm on my own.”

“Do you not want me to see it?” Richard sounded hurt.

Damian looked back up at him, surprised. Richard sounded like he did when Damian was particularly cruel. He tried not to be that way sometimes, but--well pain or frustration drove him to saying things he regretted.

“I--Mother told me no one was allowed to.” He pressed his palm against it a little tighter.

“Why?” Now Richard sounded confused.

Damian was confused. Shouldn’t he know? The way Mother spoke of it had made Damian believe it to be something that anyone would recognize. A black mark.

“It is dangerous.” Damian said simply, “Just seeing it would put myself and others in danger.”

Richard’s brow was furrowed. Behind him, Alfred cleared his throat.

“Master Damian, might I ask, do you know of soul marks?”

“What?” Damian asked, looking up at him, “No, I have never heard of the term.”

Something twisted in his stomach. Sour and warm. He was certain now Mother had lied. He didn’t know why she had lied, but it was making him sick. The warmth was a kind of hope. An answer to the questions plaguing him since he’d arrived.

“A soul mark is a mark each of us are born with. It is to help us find the person most suited for us in the world. Some people never meet their soulmates, but find love all the same but others do and their marks always match.”

Damian remembered the couple he’d seen in the park, their matching hands.

“So then--this is one of those? Not a scar?”

He let his hand drop, fingers grazing the feather.

“I can confirm that it is indeed a soul mark.” Alfred said.

Damian frowned at him, “Have you seen its match?”

Alfred smiled at him. Richard cleared his throat and Damian returned his attention to him. Understanding now blooming, Richard had thought he’d keep something like a soul mark from him. Had believed Damian wouldn’t want him to know something so personal. He must apologize.

Before he could get the words out, Richard had tugged his own shirt off and there, under his collar bone and just above his heart was a feather. It was the feather. Damian’s feather. The one he had seen every day in the mirror. The one he’d traced a hundred times wondering about.

“Oh.” Damian said.

And then, “I don’t understand. I--we would not be romantically compatible?”

Richard snorted, “Soulmates don’t have to be romantically involved, Dames. It can be totally platonic. Often best friends will have matching marks, or a father and son. It just means--well it means we fit together in a special way. That we’ll always be precious to each other.”

Damian could have told Richard that, and it seemed his body had already done the work for him. Or fate? Damian felt he may get a headache if he tried to figure this out.

The point was, Richard was the most important person in his life. He just--he’d had no idea that it had been declared before he’d even met the man. Before he even knew that they would get to the point where they’d trust each other with their lives. It felt right. Instead of a declaration these marks were a promise.

Richard had chosen to love Damian with his whole heart before even knowing who Damian would be to him. And Damian? Well Damian had done the same.

“I hate to break up this moment, but you are both still bleeding.” Alfred said, “You may continue to talk but I really must begin caring for your wounds.”

Damian blushed, “Yes, of course.”

Instead of talking, they fell into silence, both Damian and Richard lost in their own thoughts. Soon, Alfred was finished, and had dismissed both of them.

Damian looked from Richard to the elevator that would return them to the penthouse and back, “I still have questions.” he said, not wanting to be sent to bed with his mind still racing.

“Me too.” Richard said, “How about some cocoa? We can talk upstairs.”

“That sounds nice.”

They moved up to the penthouse, and Damian sat at the bar, his hands pressed into the marble countertop of it. They’d both dressed in pajamas, but even with a shirt tugged over his soul mark --and how nice it was to have a real word for it-- he still felt exposed. Raw. Like there was something new and strange about him.

But nothing had happened with it. It was still there, still the same color and size. Still just a part of him that he’d always had.

“So.” Richard said, taking the seat next to him, and sliding a mug of steaming hot chocolate over, “You have questions?”

“As do you.” Damian said, taking the mug to hold between his palms, “Why don’t you ask yours first?”

His brother hummed, “I think yours will probably answer mine, but let’s start with something easy or maybe not easy, but, well what do you know about soulmates or marks?”

Damian nodded, “I--Mother never explained soulmates to me. I know the term only in a general sense. A phrase used not literally, but figuratively to describe two people romantically entwined. None of my teachers spoke of it, and no one at the League did either.”

He tapped his mug, “I was not blind, I saw the marks. But I believed them to be other things. Scars, birthmarks, or--well I did not have a word for what they were.” Damian could not look at Richard, it was silly. He should have asked more, pressed Mother for answers or done his own research, “It was not until I arrived in Gotham that I saw so many and began to wonder. Surely not everyone in the world could have gotten tattoos? But--not all were visible and so I did not ask.”

Richard was quiet, listening and taking in Damian’s words with rapt attention. He hadn’t even sipped his cocoa. Damian took a gulp of his, just to do something that wasn’t watching his brother.

“And yours?” Richard asked, “What did Talia tell you about it?”

“I--Mother told me mine was dangerous.” Damian pressed his fingers to his chest again, “I was not to talk about it or ask about it. It was supposed to be a scar, from an attack on me when I was a baby. But I always knew it was not. Still, she was insistent I not tell anyone or let others see. Especially Grandfather.”

Damian frowned, “I thought for a long while it was to protect him. That I was cursed.”

He looked up at Richard, into his brother’s eyes, and knew at last why Mother had been so insistent he stay silent, “But I was wrong. Mother was protecting me, and you. If Grandfather knew I had a soulmate, he would have hunted the world for them, and then used them against me.”

Damian did not think he could have stood having Richard in danger because of him. He hated the very thought that anything would happen to his brother. Especially because of him.

He sipped his drink again, “Mother used to rub her wrist. I saw a mark there once. A little bat. I never asked her about it, and she never offered to tell me--Richard? Do the marks have special meaning? Or are they obscure?”

“They do have a meaning, there’s a lot of meaning in their placement and look and well everything.”

“Teach me?”

His brother smiled, “Of course. I’d be happy to.”

They worked their way through their mugs, and second rounds while Richard spoke. He talked about how soul marks that were hidden usually meant that the relationship was more intimate, but not always. How marks mirrored each other, one on the left, one on the right so that the pair could be face to face and match, like looking in a mirror. How if one’s soulmate died the mark faded to be almost invisible or if their relationship broke and shattered how it would line with cracks.

“Just because someone has a soulmate doesn’t mean that things will work out perfectly. We are human after all.” Richard said.

Some people could be born without marks, and very rarely one would change, and shift to take on the form of another. Most often that happened if a soulmate had died, but sometimes it happened for other reasons.

“And the meaning?” Damian pressed, wanting to know, to understand why a feather? Why this mark on his skin and not something else?

His brother hummed, “There’s books and stuff out on their meanings, especially for marks of similar styles. But when it all comes down to it, the meaning really comes from the pair. Some people know instantly why a mark looks the way it does. A shared memory or love of something. Maybe it is the first line a lover traced across another’s wrist, or an idea that is important to them.”

He leaned forward, elbow on the bar’s counter, “Want to take a guess at ours?”

Damian furrowed his brow, “Robin?” he guessed, “or your previous title, Nightwing is indicative of a bird and flight?”

Richard nodded, “Those are good thoughts. I’ve always looked at it as a symbol of flying and of freedom. But feathers have other meanings too. Trust, loyalty, hope, a connection between the creature who had the feather and where it has gone now.”

“I like those.” Damian said, and then looked down at his mug, “You have given me many of those things.”

“And you’ve done the same for me.” Richard said, “We don’t need to name why it is a feather you know. We can feel the meaning here.” he pressed a palm to his heart, “and just know.”

Damian nodded, “I am glad I share it with you. And--I am glad I did not know before now.”

His brother frowned, then nodded, “I see, if you did, and we’d have seen each other’s marks, then you might have thought our relationship was because of the soul mark?”

“Is that silly?” he said, peering up.

“No. It’s a worry a lot of people have.” Richard reached out and took Damian’s free hand, “But soul marks don’t make relationships Damian. They just indicate potential, and while they are incredibly accurate in that indication, it’s up to us what we do with it.”

Damian squeezed Richard’s hand, “I see. We are--doing well?”

Richard laughed, “I’d say so. We had a rough start, but yes, Dames. I think we’re doing just fine.”

Damian smiled, “Excellent. Thank you for answering my questions.”

“Of course.” His brother stretched, “Now, it’s later than either of us should be up. We can chat more tomorrow.”

“Yes.” Damian said.

They got up, rinsed their cups and moved to the hall with the bedrooms. Damian paused, hesitating before he entered his own.

“I was planning to suggest we take the night off patrol, but our injuries have cemented that. Perhaps we can return to the park tomorrow?” he said.

Richard smiled, “Sounds like a plan.” In a motion he tugged Damian forward into a tight hug and pressed a kiss to his forehead, “Love you, kiddo.”

Damian returned the hug, “You as well.”

#damianwayneweek2021 #Damian Wayne #Dick Grayson #day 4 #soulmates #platonic soulmates #soul marks #fluff #canon typical violence #hurt/comfort #injury #precious posts #fanficiton

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prfctethereal · 4 years ago

Text

ghostin. | james potter

thank u, next x marauders

alexa, play ghostin by ariana grande

pairing: james potter x reader, remus lupin x reader, james potter x lily potter

summary: a recounting of the events that lead up to james and lily’s death, and the guilt you hold with it

word count: 2,510

warnings: mentions of death, mentions of anxiety, jily death

a/n: this is the first fic in my thank u next x marauders series. i hope everyone enjoys it. - kennedy

***

Ever since I knew what love was, there had only been one person in my heart. Only one person could make me laugh, could make me smile, could make me feel pure ecstasy, but he was just out of reach.

Our friendship blossomed beautifully throughout our years at Hogwarts. Those evenings in the library spent gossiping, chatting, arms thrown around each other, bathing in each other’s presence. Something so special that was ours. Every moment spent with him was one I remembered forever, locked away in the darkest depths of my soul, knowing that it was for my eye’s only.

James Potter and I were close, exceptionally close. He had been my first friend I met at Hogwarts and was certainly not my last. Though I met others, the connection I made with James never faltered. That was the problem. I admired him too much.

It wasn’t my fault when the time we spent with each other changed. It wasn’t my fault when my eyes lingered over his a little longer than I intended to. It wasn’t my fault that my stomach fluttered everytime his fingers brushed over mine. I didn’t intend on falling in love with him, but I did.

Yet, James never looked at me that way. I endured it, year after year, watching him pine after perfect Lily Evans, the most gorgeous, charming girl in our year. James was in love with her, instead of me. Unfortunately, we were still close as anything, which let him confide in me all this time.

Sixth year. Lying across James’ lap, I carefully flicked through the pages of my potions book, unable to complete my homework, but feeling the need to be productive. Feeling the need to be close to James. Moments had passed and we were the only ones left in the common room. My eyes had drifted away from my book and flickered upwards towards his face.

The faint light of the fireplace illuminated his features. His soft hazel eyes shone bright, with flecks of blue and green shining in the light. Shadows cast down on his face, accentuating his features. My hand played gently with his hair unconsciously as I tried desperately hard to concentrate on my work, but I couldn’t. But nothing good can last forever.

“[Y/N]?” James muttered softly, breaking my ever so strong attention from his face. I fluttered my eyelids self consciously, turning back towards my book. “Hm?” I answered, acting calm, even though my heart was beating out of my chest. His voice was soft and gentle, soothing my anxious thoughts.

“Do you think Lily knows how much I love her?” And in that moment, my heart shattered into a million pieces. It was that moment that I knew that my love for James was unrequited. I met his eyes in that moment and I searched them for anything I could find, desperation hoping for something, even if I didn’t quite know what I was looking for.

“H-how much do you love her?” I stumbled over my words, my voice croaking out as I held back the emotion I felt. Something flickered in James’ eyes at that moment, but was swept away by a grin the size of Jupiter creeping up his cheeks.

“More than anything.” He said. Whatever love that was showing in James’ eyes weren’t for me and would never be for me. Lying in James’ lap, I decided that I needed to push down any feelings I felt for him, for the good of my own heart. I couldn’t love James any longer.

So I settled. Remus Lupin was one of James’ friends, naturally making him one of mine. Not long after James and Lily had finally gotten together, I noticed eyes lingering on me, the same way I had looked at James. Well, the same way I still looked at James.

Remus was quaint, soft, and supportive. He was comfortable. He may not have been everything I had ever dreamed of but he truly looked at me as if I was his world, and I loved him. I wasn’t in love with him, like I was with James, but I loved him.

***

Halloween. 1981. Warm air drifted in through the window of my home that I shared with Remus. Nervously, I sipped quietly on my tea, palming through an old edition of the Daily Prophet from a few days ago, toying anxiously with the engagement ring around my finger.

Of course I said yes when Remus got down on one knee; I would’ve been foolish not to. His pleading eyes looking up at me with admiration and affection melted my heart. Before I registered the situation, the words fell out of my mouth. Now, I had a wedding to plan, one with the man I didn’t love.

The dining room table was littered with bits and pieces for our wedding. Cloths and cards picked out specifically, each with the intention of pleasing the eye. In front of me laid the sketch of the dress I was supposed to wear, the one I drew when I was just a little girl, who dreamed of her big day in white. A tear fell down my cheek as I remembered that I could never wear that dress to my own wedding. Lily had fallen in love with the same dress and asked if she could use the design for her own wedding dress. Sheepishly, I agree, immediately regretting. Not only did Lily marry the man I loved but she married him in the dress I loved too.

The memories of James and Lily’s day came flooding back into my head. A bright day in the summer of 1978 was filled with joy as I helped pin Lily’s dress a few hours before she would be walking down the aisle. I had my work cut out as I perfected Lily’s gown, certain on having her look like a princess. Her auburn hair was pulled gently into an elegant bun at the back of her head. Green eyes gleamed with excitement as she thumbed the soft material of the dress cascading down her. I couldn’t help but wonder what I would look like in the dress. I couldn’t help but wonder what I would look like walking down the aisle instead.

“It’s absolutely gorgeous, [Y/N]. I love it more than anything.” Lily gasped as she looked at herself in the mirror. More than anything. The words stung deeply, my hand wiping across my cheek to stop a tear from rolling down. Lily’s face dropped as she saw my solemn state.

“What’s wrong?” Lily crouched down next to me, resting her hand on my back, gently tracing circles to calm me down. Looking back at her, I smiled, not wanting to ruin her day.

“You just look so beautiful.” I lied through my teeth, standing up from my position and heading for the door. “I just need to grab some more pins and I’ll be back.” I muttered while racing out of the room.

Tears were pouring down my face now like a thunderstorm. I tried to compose myself but I couldn’t, running away, far away, the destination unclear in my mind. The next thing I knew, I had bumped into a person, falling into their arms. Unsure of who it was, I stayed in their arms, falling to the ground, about to pass out from exhaustion.

As I looked up, my eyes met the eyes of none other than the groom himself. Concern boiled up in his irises as he looked down at me. Smiling as I felt his fingers stroke the soft skin of my arms reassuring me, he helped me up to a standing position, keeping one arm firm on my waist so I didn’t topple over again.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, love?” The nickname James used hurt more than he could imagine, but I kept smiling, not wanting to ruin his special day.

“She looks so beautiful,” I started, talking about Lily, his future wife. “She looks like a goddess, I just know I’ll never get to look like that.” I tried to laugh to lighten the tension but it only resulted in James pulling me into an inviting hug.

“Don’t say that.” James whispered, his soft voice sending goosebumps down my spine. “One day when you get married, you will too.”

A moment passed as I just stayed in James’ arms, not wanting to let go. The moment was ruined unfortunately when James spoke again. “Remus is one lucky guy.”

My heart dropped, pulling away awkwardly, tucking my arms close to my side. “Haha, yeah, um, Lily is one lucky girl.”

In a flash, my eyes looked up to meet James. His grasp had pulled me close to him once again, my eyes darting from his eyes to his lips repeatedly, his doing the same. I was so close to him; an inch or two closer and we would’ve kissed “Where’s Lily?” A voice from down the hall snapped up both out of our trance. James immediately pushed me away from his body, looking for the source of the noise. From around the corner, Sirius appeared, all dressed up in his best man tuxedo. I smiled naturally, heading off to look for Lily, the girl who was about to marry the love of my life.

Looking back at that day, I could’ve said something. I could’ve objected to the union, but seeing the look on James’ face when he saw Lily walk down the aisle was priceless. I would’ve been a criminal to rob James of that happiness. So I had stayed silent in the pews. I said nothing.

A few tears had fallen on the table, pulling me back to the present. It was Halloween. By now, all the trick or treaters had dispersed, leaving a quiet hum of the tree breeze alone. Remus would be home soon from a meeting with the Order. Yet, he should’ve been home an hour ago. Anxiety rushed through my veins, until I heard a knock at the door. I relaxed, opening the door.

Instead of seeing my normally happy, calm husband, I saw my husband, puffy eyed, tears brimming in the corners of his eyes. Then, he collapsed on the ground outside the door. Rushing to him, I enveloped him in a gentle hug, letting him sob into my neck.

It had been a few months since I last saw Remus cry like this, which made me on edge. Last time he was in this state, someone had died. Now I was just waiting for the news.

Yet, he kept crying. For at least ten minutes, he sobbed into my shoulder, the warm wind passing us every now and then. After a moment, he pulled away and stood up with no words, leaving me on the ground. I followed him, putting the kettle on.

Remus sat wordless on the couch, playing with the ring on his finger like I had been doing not long before. As I brought him a cup of tea, I sat beside him, waiting for him to start speaking, but he never did. All he did was place his hand on my thigh, tenderly stroking it as he looked blankly into the darkness of our house.

“I’m sorry darling.” He eventually spoke, turning to look me in my eyes for the first time that evening. I reacted to his voice, pulling him in close to me. My arm draped over his shoulders, tugging Remus closer to my side. “James and Lily are dead.”

My face dropped. My heart ached. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t process what Remus was saying. My arm fell from his side as I pulled away from his touch. He called out to me but my head didn’t register his words. Hazily, I stood up, needing to be away from him. Nothing seemed right.

Seemingly in a drunken state, I walked up the staircase and found my way into our joined bed. I was sure that Remus was calling to me but I didn’t respond. I couldn’t respond.

That’s when the tears started falling. Curled up in my bed, I pulled the cover to wipe my eyes, but it was pointless. What was once silent tears was a full on breakdown. My eyes were puffy and crimson, dry as a desert. Throat hoarse from screaming, no proper words could come out my mouth. I was empty.

The man who had stolen my heart, the man whom I loved dearly, was dead. He was the one who spent all those long nights talking to me. He was the one who held my hand when I was too anxious to stand in front of a crowd. He was the one who supported me throughout the strife we went through from the order. He was the one who grounded me when I was distressed. And he was gone.

My bed had never felt colder. My heart had never felt emptier. I was alone.After what felt like hours, the door to my bedroom opened, a small light blinding my eyes. I didn’t move or even speak as Remus slipped under the covers next to me. I was unable to do anything as he whispered that he loved me and kissed me on my forehead.

***

Morning broke and the reality of everything had yet to settle in. I had expected that James and Lily’s death would have plagued my nightmares but the opposite effect had happened. My night was full of dreams of James and I, memories of the time we had spent together coming back to me. Memories that I once thought I had lost.

The spot next to me in bed was empty when I turned around so I knew Remus must’ve been downstairs. Quietly, I slipped out of the duvet and trotted downstairs. I didn’t even say good morning as Remus placed a cup of tea in front of me when I sat at the dining table. My eyes darted away, not wanting to face all our wedding planning. It all just felt wrong.

Remus picked up on my hesitation and sat down next to me, sighing. He wasn’t dumb. He knew that I didn’t love him the way he loved me. He knew that my heart was reserved for someone that wasn’t him. He knew that I was in love with James, and so he said so.

“I know you were in love with him.” Remus broke the uncomfortable silence, grabbing my attention. My lip quivered, my eyes threatened to spill out more tears, but he pressed on. “I knew you will never love me the way you loved James, so please [Y/N], tell me.”

“Tell you what.” I mumbled, not daring to look Remus in the eyes, which rubbed salt further into the wound.

“I won’t press you on, as I know you’re hurting, but please, I have to know.” He paused, looking for the right words to say.

“Do you still want to marry me?”

#harry potter #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders era #James potter #James potter x reader #James potter fluff #James potter angst #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin angst #James potter x you #remus lupin x you

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emy-loves-you · 4 years ago

Text

Sanders Sides AU-gust Day 3: Soulmates

Your shadow is the current silhouette of your soulmate. Only you and your soulmate can see your shadow. Shadows of animals and objects (non-humans basically) can be seen by everyone. Most people have human soulmates that grow up with a human shadow. Logan is not most people.

Logan POV, Intrulogical, Prinxiety and Moceit

Day 2 | Masterlist | Day 4

Logan was smart.

At just four years old, Logan could count to one thousand, tie his shoes, and knew how to read books meant for kids twice his age. Logan knew other things too. He knew that the earth moved around the sun, not the other way around. He knew that Mrs. Smith didn’t like Mr. Smith and that they were getting a ‘dee-vorce.’ He knew that rainbows were like giant water mirrors. And he knew what soulmates are.

Soulmates mean different things to different people. They appear as shadows, but your shadow is actually your soulmate’s shadow. Logan didn’t really understand how that worked, but he didn’t ask about it. Mama’s shadow disappeared when she was little, and she doesn’t like to talk about it. Logan didn’t understand why Papa married Mama if they weren’t soulmates, but he didn’t ask. Because Logan was smart, and he knew that if he asked about their soulmates, they would ask about his. And while Logan didn’t know a lot about soulmates, he knew that his shadow was different.

Logan’s soulmate was big. Bigger than Mama and Papa. Sometimes Logan would lay in bed and his soulmate’s shadow covered him like a blanket. It made him feel safe and protected. One time Logan was almost hurt by a big doggie, but the dog saw Logan’s shadow and ran away. Logan knew that big shadows weren’t good. He heard about how Susie from down the street had a ‘peddle-file’ for a soulmate. But Logan knew that his soulmate wouldn’t hurt him.

Sometimes the shadow would change into something smaller, closer to Papa’s height. Sometimes the shadow grew so big that Logan couldn’t see the end of it. But most of the time, Logan’s shadow stayed the same size and shape. Logan knew it wasn’t normal to have a soulmate that changed shape. He knew it wasn’t normal for his shadow to have long, spindly arms with pointed fingers. He knew that most shadows didn’t have long devil horns, or give off an aura that scared all animals and most humans away. Logan knew that Mama and Papa wouldn’t understand if he told them.

Because Logan was smart enough to know that his soulmate wasn’t human.

-----------------------------------------------------

Logan was brave.

Most people wouldn’t see that at first glance. Logan was a 17-year-old nerd. He was such an oddball that even bullies steered clear of him (Logan never commented on that. He knew it was his soulmate’s aura scaring them away. Which was interesting since human shadows don’t have detectable auras). Logan always had his nose in a book. Most people expected him to be a teacher’s pet, but Logan never answered questions. He never reached out to others, and he never spoke unless he was spoken to, so most people didn’t know how brave Logan actually was.

Even those who considered themselves close to Logan didn’t see him as brave. In fact, most people saw him as emotionless. He rarely smiled or spoke out of turn. He was the perfect child in terms of behavior and intelligence, but he never showed signs of actually enjoying the world around him.

But there was something that Logan enjoyed: his shadow. While it was disappointing to have no one to talk to about his soulmate, Logan wouldn’t give his soulmate up for anything. It was fascinating to watch, and every time Logan interacted with his shadow he felt safe and loved. Most people would scream if their shadow’s jaw unhinged to impossible lengths, most likely to swallow something whole. Logan watched with rapt attention, itching to write it down. He never recorded anything about his soulmate, paranoid that someone would find it. Instead, he attempted to memorize every new detail on his soulmate. His soulmate was 8 feet tall exactly, with an extra four inches added for the horns. While his largest form was immeasurable, his smallest form stood at 6 ft 6 in with no horns to see. Logan assumed that this form was meant to mimic a human, though he had no other data to support that hypothesis. Logan’s soulmate was also extremely fast, occasionally moving its limbs at a speed that Logan couldn’t track with his eyes.

Logan participated in activities that made sense to him yet baffled others. He spent hours holed up in his room, his shadow comforting him as he read a book. He ran for an hour every afternoon, though he had no interest in joining any races. He also went to the gym every other day. Logan’s logic behind this was that he needed to be quick and strong in case his soulmate meant him harm (this was a lie and Logan knew it. Not only did Logan still believe that his soulmate wouldn’t harm him, he also doubted that he could physically run away from a creature that could potentially travel at inhuman speeds, much less fight one. The truth was that Logan wanted to have something vaguely in common with his soulmate). While Logan liked to read philosophy and chemistry books, he could also be seen reading books on soulmates, fairytales and cryptids. While Logan did not believe that humanity was aware that Logan’s soulmate existed, he hoped he would one day find something that would even slightly match his predicament.

Logan was actually reading another book about soulmates as he sat under the apple tree outside of the library. The tree’s shadow loomed over him, but Logan could still easily see his soulmate’s silhouette. He wasn’t sure if that was a soulmate-thing or a my-soulmate-isn’t-human-thing. That’s actually why he was reading this book: Everyday Occurrences for Soulmates. It was mainly a description of how soulmate customs were treated around the world, but Logan hoped that it would give him more insight into how human shadows should look and behave.

“Get back here, freak!” Logan’s head snapped up to see another teen run past him. Logan vaguely recognized the patchwork hoodie from his biology class. Virgil Storm, Logan’s memory supplied. Emo and social outcast. Logan watched as another group of teens chased after him. Virgil continued to run until he tripped and fell. Logan stood up as the gaggle of teenagers approached Virgil. This won’t do at all.

“What do you think you’re doing?” The teens looked afraid for a moment before they turned and saw Logan approaching.

The one in the middle laughed. “Run along, nerd, before you end up like this freak!” Micheal Scott, if Logan’s memory was correct (it always was). Senior, quarterback, was held back three times.

Logan continued to step forward, ignoring the way his shadow lashed around his ankles. “Virgil has done nothing to warrant your ire, Micheal.” This was true; Virgil talked less than even Logan did. Other than being exceptionally talented in art, Virgil was essentially a nobody (and while Logan knew that looks could be deceiving, he- like everyone else- saw reason to interact with Virgil).

Micheal scoffed. “Of course he does! He’s a freak and he deserves to be put in his place-”

Now, Logan was very smart. He knew that acting violently would most likely result in negative consequences. But Logan also knew that Virgil didn’t deserve Micheal’s… anything, Micheal’s an asshole. But either way, Logan knew what it was like to be the odd-one-out. And while Logan was nervous of the consequences, when he heard Micheal call Virgila freak, Logan’s bravery shined through.

Logan was satisfied to feel Micheal’s nose break from under his fist. Those visits to the gym were actually useful. Huh. Logan watched impassively as Micheal fell down to his knees. Logan kneeled so that his face loomed just above Micheal’s. Micheal started shivering, and Logan couldn’t tell if it was him or his shadow that was causing him distress. He also didn’t care. “If you even look at me or Virgil the wrong way I will not hesitate to make your life a living hell. Understood?” Logan’s voice remained cold and emotionless. While his surge in confidence was making him slightly uncomfortable, it produced the intended outcome. Micheal blanched before scurrying away. It took only a look to get the other teens to do the same.

Logan knelt down next to the now safe teen. “Are you alright?” He held out his hand for Virgil to grab.

Virgil stared at the hand in shock, seemingly surprised that someone had stood up for him. “Yeah, thanks.” He took the offered hand, pulling himself up onto his feet. His sketchbook fell out of his hand, which Logan didn’t realize was even there. Logan bent down to grab the sketchbook for Virgil when he froze.

The sketch was of some kind of fae/eldritch horror combination. The creature’s face was youthful, appearing to be a man in his early twenties. Its arms were long and spindly, and his nails were sharpened to a point. It wore a white prince suit with a red sash. But what really grabbed Logan’s attention was the pair of devil horns that sat on top of its head.

Logan looked up at Virgil, who was suddenly pale and shaking. “Virgil, what was your inspiration behind this piece?”

Virgil grabbed the notebook and shook his head. “It’s nothing, just a nightmare I had. Nothing more.” He went to walk away.

Logan grabbed Virgil by the hoodie sleeve. “Please do not lie to me.” Virgil stared at Logan in horror. Logan stood there, feeling his desperation claw at him. “Please,” He whispered. “Please tell me I’m not alone.”

Because Logan was brave, and he didn’t want to be alone anymore.

--------------------------------------------------

Logan was observant.

While his observations didn’t help him in finding his soulmate, it did help him take care of his two new (and only) friends.

Virgil Storm apparently had a soulmate similar to Logan’s, as did Virgil’s best friend Patton Heart. Virgil also had a nightbond, a rare form of soulbond that allowed soulmates to visit each other in their dreams. Apparently, the creatures did not have a name for their species. Roman, Virgil’s soulmate, appeared to have very little knowledge on his species. While this did disappoint Logan, he was still grateful to have someone to share his findings with. After knowing each other for over a year, the trio were never seen apart, finally having friends who weren’t scared away by their shadow’s dark auras.

Virgil and Patton both had similar opinions to Logan on their inhuman soulmates, mainly that it was more fascinating than terrifying. Virgil was interested in the darker aspects of their soulmates, while Patton was just happy that he had a soulmate. Logan grew to care for the two teens. While Virgil was quiet and awkward around others, Logan learned that he was actually very snarky and cynical. Patton pretended that life was perfect, but Logan had seen enough to know that Patton only genuinely smiled when thinking about his soulmate. Logan had become quite protective of the two, as his shadow tended to scare off more potential threats than Virgil’s or Patton’s did.

Logan was currently running around the perimeter of the highschool as he waited for his friends to finish their activities. He had asked if they would like to join him, but Patton was asthematic and Virgil detested running. So, it had become a common occurrence for Logan to do his running while Patton and Virgil participated in their after school clubs.

Logan allowed his mind to wander as he completed another lap. He was disappointed that he’s so far unsuccessful in terms of meeting his soulmate. None of them had met their soulmates in person, even Virgil. According to Roman, the creatures had a much deeper connection to their souls compared to humans. He had also said that the creatures wouldn’t be found by their soulmates until “our loves are ready.” Ready for what, Logan didn’t know. But that didn’t stop him from exhausting every possible way to find his soulmate.

Logan saw a flash of yellow and almost tripped over his feet. Not stopping as to draw suspicion, he glanced towards the forest behind the school and saw something… odd.

Standing at the edge of the treeline was a man. He was tall and young, probably in his mid 20s. He wore an impeccable black suit with yellow accessories, which was odd since he appeared to have came from the forest. Logan followed his gaze and just as the gym doors opened. Patton sprinted out of the school, most likely grabbing something from his car. Logan watched as the man’s gaze followed Patton as he walked towards his car. Logan tsked as he darted into the treeline, attempting to not be spotted. The man was stalking Patton, and that was not acceptable. But Logan was observant, so he’d learn more about the man before making his move.

Logan had just reached where he’d last seen the man when he noticed something important: his shadow wasn’t moving. Any time Logan was heading towards potential danger, his shadow would move erratically around his feet, as if it was trying to stop him. Any time potential danger was heading towards him, Logan’s shadow would lash towards the danger, it’s natural aura deterring most creatures. But his shadow wasn’t moving. It was calm. Complacent.

Logan was so busy analyzing his shadow that he almost hadn’t realized that the man wasn’t there. Logan felt a chill go down his neck and he spun around, to find himself less than a foot away from the man. Logan stifled the urge to scream. His shadow wasn’t acting up, and Logan trusted his soulmate to protect him. But now that he was almost touching the man, Logan quickly realized something. How his smile was a hair too wide. How just standing close to him made Logan’s fight-or-flight reflexes go haywire.

Logan was observant, but it didn’t take much to realize that this man isn’t human.

Logan cleared his throat as he forced himself to articulate a response. “Hello. Might I ask why you’re trespassing into a high school to observe minors?”

The man looked guilty (bullshit) as he spoke. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met before.” He held out his hand, presumably for Logan to shake. “My name is Declan Brown. I was sent by the school board to observe the school’s management of extracurricular activities-”

“Stop.” Logan suddenly said, resisting the urge to physically shake his head. A part of him was already nodding along to what he said. It’s a perfectly reasonable assumption- Logan did his best to shove the thought away. The creature obviously had a talent in mental manipulation.

The (not)man gaped for a second. “Excuse me?” He seemed shocked. The thoughts became more intense and repetitive.

Logan started rambling, less focused on his words and more focused on getting Declan’s (that’s probably not his name) manipulations out of his head. “Stop lying to me. No member of the student board would support stalking a minor from the school’s perimeter. Check up on your human facts before stating such a bold lie. And will you shut up with the thoughts!” Before Logan could acknowledge what he had said, the thoughts ceased completely.

The creature looked at Logan with unguarded curiosity. “Who are you?”

Logan crossed his arms as he ignored how terrified he felt. “My name is unimportant for this conversation. Now I’ll ask again: Why are you stalking my friend?”

Logan’s shadow chose that moment to respond, shifting forward so it brushed against the creature’s ankles. Logan then realized that not only did he seem to acknowledge Logan’s shadow, he also didn’t have a shadow. Which means that he has a soulmate. The creature stared at the shadow before laughing. “Ah. That makes much more sense.”

Logan frowned. “Please answer my question.”

The creature’s smile seemed more genuine as he held out his hand again. “Call me Janus. I was sent by Roman to check on his soulmate. And I wanted to check on my soulmate at the same time.”

Logan blinked as he processed the information. The creature knew Roman, so it was most likely the same (or similar) species. And since it was staring at Patton…

Logan grabbed Janus’ hand, giving it his firmest shake. Logan was not submitting to this creature. “My name is Logan. I assume you are Patton’s soulmate, correct?” At Janus’ smirk, Logan tightened his grip. “If you harm him in any way- physically, emotionally, you name it- I will find a way to make the rest of your existence a living hell.”

Janus laughed as he also tightened his grip. “He’s gonna LOVE meeting you.” Logan remained impassive, knowing that a single sign of weakness could cause his end.

Because Logan was observant, and no way in hell was he letting his friend get hurt.

-----------------------------------------------------

Logan was loved.

Logan never really realized that. Sure, his parents said that they loved him, but Logan never really depended on his parents the way most children did. When Logan had a question, he read a book. When Logan was scared, his shadow protected him. When Logan was hurt or lonely, his shadow would comfort him. Most people depended on their parents to raise them. Logan raised himself. Most people saw shadows as a way to find their soulmate. Logan saw his shadow as a friend.

Maybe that’s why at 21 years old Logan confidently (and drunkenly) states that he’s never felt true love. Sure, he’s felt kindness and support (Patton and Virgil) but he’s never felt love. Sure, some nights he has long conversations with his shadow and lets himself believe that the way it twists and turns means that his soulmate can hear him. Sure, he sees Janus a few times every year (Logan knows by this point that Janus is letting himself be seen. Logan never told Patton about meeting Janus and they have yet to officially meet. If Janus wanted to be seen by Patton or not seen by Logan he could) and every time he begs to learn more about his soulmate. But that’s not love (he never says that around Janus. The creature can smell lies like Logan smells Patton’s perfume).

Maybe that’s why he drunkenly kisses a stranger at his 21st birthday party, ignoring the fact that he’s too short and his hold doesn’t feel safe.

Maybe that’s why when he goes to visit Patton weeks later and sees only a note that says His name’s Janus he crumples it up and throws it away. Maybe that’s why when Virgil texts him the same day simply saying Found my soulmate TTYL, Logan lets hope claw its way through his chest. Maybe that’s why when the sun sets and Logan gets no sign from his soulmate he curls up in a ball and sobs. Maybe that’s why he decides that he can’t wait any longer and he leaves his shitty apartment in the middle of his shitty town and heads towards the shitty forest that he knows is empty but he has to try.

Maybe that’s why when Logan’s so deep in the forest that he can’t find his way out and the moon hangs high over his head and he hears wolves in the distance he doesn’t get scared or sad. No, Logan gets angry. Angry at the world for rejecting him because of his menacing shadow. Angry at Patton and Virgil for leaving him for their own soulmates. Angry at his soulmate for making him believe for 21 fucking years that he had a chance at being truly happy.

A wolf broke through the tree line, lowly growling as he approached Logan. Logan growled right back, his irritation and heartbreak and anger clouding his judgment. The wolf howled, and Logan screamed. It was an odd feeling. Logan hadn’t screamed in a long time. He trusted his shadow to protect him, so he never screamed in fear. But the way his throat burned from his anger was exhilarating.

The wolf lunged, and it took Logan a few moments to realize that it never reached him. Logan heard a satisfying crunch as the wolf head landed inches from his feet. Logan looked up and saw a monster of nightmares.

It was at least 8 ft tall, with long, spindly limbs sharpened to a point. Green horns protruded form his head, and his eyes glowed acid green. His bloody teeth stretched into a too-wide grin, and Logan did not smile back.

Instead Logan screamed again. But it wasn’t out of fear (never out of fear). It was out of anger, and exhaustion, and relief, and something else that Logan couldn’t name. He lunged at the creature, wrapping his arms around the black and green tunic as he continued to scream. The creature continued to smile, using his too-sharp claws to hold onto Logan’s back. And Logan broke. He started to sob, losing the ability to stand as he leaned further into the creature’s chest.

They stayed there for almost an hour, Logan sobs being the only sound in the vicinity. Eventually, the creature spoke up. “It’s nice to finally hold you, Logan.” Logan continued to stay silent, burrowing his face into the creature’s chest. “My name is Remus. I know that it hurts, but you weren’t ready until now. I wanted to come get you the moment I saw your shadow, I swear. But I’ve always been there, even though ya couldn’t hear me. And I promise I won’t leave ya ever.”

Logan felt himself smile as he relaxed further into the creature’s his soulmate’s hold, listening to Remus babble out apologies and promises. Logan allowed himself to finally feel.

Because even though this was the first time they touched, Logan knew this wasn’t the first time they’d met. Remus had always been there to support Logan, even if he was hiding in Logan’s shadow. He was always there, and even though Logan was hearing him for the first time, Logan knew that he was in love with Remus.

And as they separated and Remus asked if Logan was okay, Logan let himself admit it. “I love you.”

And Remus repeated him, with no doubts or uncertainty. Because even though Logan refused to believe it before now…

Logan was loved.

#sanders sides #AU_gust_2020 #soulmate alternate universe #intrulogical #moceit #prinxiety #logan sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #Janus Sanders #my fic

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years ago

Note

for the meet uglies, 55 indruck sfw? sorry apollo

Here you go! For those wondering, Apollo originates in my Amnesty Super Hero AU

“Okay sir, I’m gonna say this as nice as I can.”

Indrid looks up from his drawing of some mushrooms. The ranger, a man about his age whose little bronze name tag reads “D. Newton”, has the look of someone choosing his words very, very carefully.

“You are this close to me writin you up. And I mean this. Close.” He puts his thumb against his finger.

“I, is this not allowed?” The log he’s sitting on is technically on the trail, just next to it.

“This ain’t the problem. It’s everythin you done since this morning that’s the problem.”

“I-”

“First there was leavin your breakfast trash on the picnic table by the visitor center so chipmunks got into it--it’s real bad for them y’know, makes ‘em too bold--then there was the selfies on off-limits spots, then you had the fu, uh, freakin nerve to be rude to Juno when she asked you to stay in safe areas, you littered left and right, then you left a beer can in the reeds by the plover nestin’ grounds. I don’t even know where to start with that one; you know we don’t allow alcohol in the park. Campgrounds sure, but we don’t want fellas like you gettin drunk and then fallin off a rock. How can you be so careless, or not give a shit for a place people put time into protectin?

The smile that’s been spreading across Indrid’s face since the word “selfie” is wide enough that the ranger spots it.

“Man, if you think this is funny, you won’t when you’re too drunk to swim or run from a bear. Then I’m gonna have to bail your ass out, which I will, and you’re gonna eat a slice of humble pie big as that overinflated ego of yours.”

Indrid snickers. The ranger glares. Slowly, Indrid pulls back the hood of his sweatshirt and retrieves his glasses from the front of his shirt (he doesn’t wear them when drawing in color due to their red lenses). The other mans expression slides off confusion and tumbles into horror.

“Aw hell, I’m sorry sir. Thought you were your, uh, well, guessin you got a twin runnin around this park.” He pulls the brim of his hat down in a charming attempt to hide his face.

“I do, and this is far from the first time I’ve been scolded in his place. Less so since I dyed my hair” he indicates the artificial silver framing his face, “I’m mostly amused by how accurately you captured his orientation towards the world. It’s also bitterly funny to discover he made someone else's day as unpleasant as he made mine.”

The ranger studies him, seems to notice the creases by his eyes and mouth, “Seem a little old to be gettin forced into family time. Not that you look old. Just, uh, I mean, you might be younger than me, hard to tell with the hair, uh, yeah.”

Indrid points in the direction of the beachside campsites, “The Cold Family Reunion can only be begged off so long.” His phone dings, the reminder that it’s his turn to help his aunt with dinner, “speaking of which, I should pack up.” He quickly gathers his supplies, sends the other man a final smile, “thank you for the laugh, Ranger Newton.”

“You’re uh, you’re welcome. And tell your twin to throw his damn trash away.” He smiles as he says this, suggesting a joke, but Indrid resolves to remind Apollo of his manners anyway.

----------------------------------------------

The fog caresses the coastline, hiding the dawn entirely. Indrid pulls his hood up against the chill, the wooden bench and viewing deck damp from the weather. He’s not going back to camp until he’s captured the sight before him; dozens of fishing boats on the dark water, their lights beautiful and soft against the grey world.

Sandy gravel crunches to his right, and then Ranger Newton appears. He keeps glancing at Indrid as he writes something indecipherable on a clipboard.

“I’m the nice one.” Indrid says in response to the quick, searching, looks.

“Thank fuck.” He turns so they’re actually looking at each other, “guess we’re both on the early shift.”

“Normally I wouldn’t be, but the cold and quiet is preferable to my twin snoring. I brought my own one person tent, but then my aunt and uncle had their monthly argument and she needed a new place to sleep.”

“That was mighty kind of you.”

Indrid shrugs, “Not really. I just want to get through this reunion with as little conflict as possible.”

“How’d you end up on this thing? Said you couldn’t get out of it but-”

“I just moved to town a month ago. Turns out this is a place my parents have always wanted to visit. Not enough to see me, mind you, or refrain from criticizing my choice of towns, but enough to host the reunion here so I had no escape. And if I want to eat with the family, I have to spend the night in the camp and not at home. And since money is tight after moving, well..."

The ranger whistles, “Damn, that’s rough. But uh, since you live in town you’ll actually get to see this place in nice weather.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” He shivers, “though I enjoy the cold when I can be in my nice little apartment. In a tent, not so much.”

“If you get a good sleepin bag or good company, gets a lot better.” The ranger smiles, then looks at his notes, “sorry, that ain’t appropriate talk around a visitor.”

Indrid meets his green eyes, “If you have recommendations for either, I’m all ears.”

A gust of wind carries salt spray all the way to the platform, Indrid shivering as it mists his glasses.

“Here” the ranger holds out his hnd, “I gotta go open the visitor center; nice and warm in there.”

“...Could you possibly come back in ten minutes? I’d like to finish my sketch.”

“Sure, won’t kill me to check on the tide measures while I’m out here.” He tips his hat and soon Indrid sees him winding down a path to the beach. Eleven minutes later he’s back, telling Indrid about a huge starfish he saw.

On the walk to the visitor center, he learns the “D” on his nametag is for “Duck,” that he’s a transplant from West Virginia, and that they’re actually the same age. When Indrid explains that he’s a tattoo artist who sells his drawings on the side.

“You’ll appreciate this, then” Duck bends down to roll up his pant leg. Indrid appreciates the view and the well executed geometric tree tattoo on his ankle.

“Juno and I got ‘em together. Had to go with the ankle because I already got some on my arms. Can’t show those off right now though.”

“My, my, Ranger Newton, you’ll flash a scandalous ankle at a guest but not take him to the gun show?”

Duck laughs, the sound like the mating call of a strange tropical bird; absurd and enchanting.

“Glad you’re in town to stay, Indrid. Think you’re the kind of fella I’d like to get to know.”

----------------------------------------------

Maybe he’s being childish. It’s not wrong for Apollo to say he’s making their father proud, that he’s successful, that he’s a golden boy of his field.

It’s just obnoxious for him to do this the one time their extended family expressed Indrid’s professional accomplishments. With that smile, the one Indrid knows for a damn fact he had fixed, that tone, that, that….

That voice sounds familiar.

He reverses course, takes the path he passed by that points towards the amphitheater. What he gets is more a firepit with a small stage, but standing at the center and addressing fascinated families is Duck.

Indrid sits on the rickety bench furthest from the stage, lets Ducks explanations of night blooming plants and the creatures that pollinate them drown out the echoes of family dinner. When the program ends and the parents shepherd their children off with instructions for bedtime and brushing teeth Indrid stays, not ready to leave but not intending to attract Duck’s attention.

He gets it anyway.

“Enjoy the talk?” Duck stays two steps down from him, rests a foot up on the bench, “this one is always real popular; when it gets warm, the little animal rehab place south of town brings education animals in. Y’know, bats and owls, stuff like that.”

“I’ll have to come back to see them.” The thought of seeing bats up close excites him, but he’s too tired to sell the emotion.

Duck frowns, “You okay?”

Indrid shakes his head, tells him about the constant comments, the threat of living forever as the family disappointment, a threat he can deal with until he’s around them all. Then he’s right back to being seventeen and afraid of failing them.

“....Apollo’s always been the golden boy, ruthless and goal focused like our father. He always knows just what to say to get under my skin and dig out the scar tissue,” Indrid sighs, “All I wanted tonight was to roast marshmallows and go to bed early.”

The ranger moved from the steps to the bench beside him as he told his story. Now, Duck looks at him, smile more soothing than the thrum of the distant waves, “I got an idea. Guessin’ you don’t gotta tell your family where you’re goin, right?”

“No, most of them will assume I’m off sulking and Apollo will hope I’ve fallen off a cliff.”

“Then leave ‘em to be their shitty selves and come home with me. Uh, not, not-not like that, fuck, like what you’re thinkin, uh. Fuck. What I mean is; I got a fireplace and some marshmallows. You want in?”

Indrid watches the dying fire flicker of the curves of his face, thinks back on the last week. The ranger has been a frequent companion, brings him hot cocoa from the little cafe and tells him where he’ll be for chunks of the day in case Indrid needs a break from his family. Last night, all Indrid could think about was wanting Duck to be in the tent beside him.

“Absolutely.”

On the drive over, Indrid points out his apartment complex and Duck points out the best places to eat and the cheapest laundromats. His house is tiny, looks like it was built when the town was a logging hub and not a tourist destination.

“Make yourself at home, it’ll take me a sec to get the fire goin’--uhuh, Taco, stop tryin’ to open that cabinet.” He hoists a yowling, blonde ball of fur on the couch. The cat directs a suspicious look Indrid’s way and then settles on top of the pile of blankets.

“You a s’more man?” Duck calls from the kitchen.

“No, thank you. I prefer my sugar in a single bite.”

“You eat marshmallows in one bite? I’m always worried I’ll choke.”

“I have an accommodating mouth.” Indrid smirks when Duck audibly drops the bag. He’s not always the best with social cues, but if the way Duck kept brushing their hands together on the center armrest in his car is any indication, the ranger is trying to pick him up.

Once the fire is going Duck sits on the rug, patting the spot to his left. Indrid joins him. Caramelizing sugar and increasingly sleepy laughter soon fills the air. Neither of them keep their knees from touching, and Duck keeps dropping his head to Indrid’s shoulder when he giggles. The whole scene is so heavenly Indrid isn’t paying attention to their marshmellow consumption. He reaches into the empty bag and makes a disappointed noise.

“Damn, we really went through ‘em.” He catches Indrid’s eye with a playful grin, “you still cravin’ sugar?”

Indrid licks his lips, “Yes.”

Duck cups his cheek, guiding him into a sleepy, close-mouthed kiss, brushing their noses together when he pulls back to murmur, “That do the trick?”

“Hmmmmm?” Indrid cocks his head, “no.”

The other man guffaws as Indrid pulls him down on top of him, kissing him happily and wiggling his hips when Duck digs his fingers into his hair. His own hands migrate under Duck’s shirts, finding his body just as warm and wonderful as he hoped.

He nips Duck’s lower lip. The ranger growls and Indrid is no longer tired.

“Care to see just how accommodating my mouth can be?”

Duck rolls them twice so they’re a safe distance from the fire, “Hell yeah.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Indrid saunters into camp late in the morning, some of the Colds already packing up to depart. His twin is stuck on dish duty, grins like a barracuda when he spots Indrid.

“I don’t know why you’re here. You missed breakfast, and you weren’t in camp last night, so you don’t get lunch or dinner either. May as well skulk back into the shadows.”

“Mmm, yes, I was rather undutiful.” Indrid spots a figure checking campsite permits, who stealthily blows him a kiss, “but at this moment in time, I don’t particularly care.”

#indruck #meet ugly #indrid cold/ duck newton #taz amnesty #reader request

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glassworkspiderlilies · 3 years ago

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interlinear

Genshin Impact | @albelumiweek 2021 Day 2 | Touch | AO3 Summary: “Hello, Albedo,” Lumine says, her voice amused as she slips into his workshop, gently closing the door behind her, “It seems that your boredom is causing trouble of its own.” Notes: day 2!!! featuring a distinct lack of touch, or does it? Σ(-᷅_-᷄๑)

True to her status as a hero of Mondstadt, Lumine arrives at the Knights of Favonius headquarters as a balm to aid of their ailing members. It is a severe affliction, one not so easily contracted nor treated in a man such as Albedo, and the news he is affected is kept only among the Acting Grandmaster’s and Albedo’s close circle.

“Hello, Albedo,” Lumine says, her voice amused as she slips into his workshop, gently closing the door behind her, “It seems that your boredom is causing trouble of its own.”

He is sitting by the window, elbow resting on a stack of finished books that has risen tall enough for him to do so, propping his head up with his cheek against the backs of his fingers. In his free hand is an ancient-looking scroll, quite a bit of it already unraveled and pooling onto the floor. Despite the assumption that surely it must be occupying his time, a sense of displeasure radiates off of the Chief Alchemist anyway, though his expression remains impassive. His workshop is in a state of disarray—even more so than usual—with various experiments bubbling away in isolated spaces, scribbled notes and charts both strewn about and pinned up, and half-used ingredients still scattered along surfaces.

His demeanor brightens, however, when he sees her, the oppressive pall within the room dissipating like smoke as he lifts his head.

“Hello, Lumine,” he greets back, “Is that what you would call this?”

“If not boredom, then a slump,” she amends thoughtfully, leaning her back against the door. “You’ve said so before that specimens are finite, and the enlightenment of investigative process is fleeting in nature. I expect this is a rather severe dead end, isn’t it?”

His gaze turns more piercing as she repeats his words back to him, and she tilts her head a little, giving him a pointed look. She had been concerned back then, on Dragonspine, as it was evident his list of worthy specimens and points of interest was already being exhausted. That seed from another world was a rare thing—wholly new and exciting, a problem difficult enough for him to have to enlist the help of someone else. He’d been satisfied at the seed’s transient blooming, but also perhaps a bit disappointed that the experiment had come to an end.

“…Even so, there are plenty of more mundane studies to be done,” he says lightly, turning back to his scroll, “I will confess I did not think I could be subject to ennui.”

Lumine chuckles a little at that.

“To be honest, I didn’t think so either. But if you keep doing things that you already deem dull when you’re bored, it just makes it worse, doesn’t it?”

Albedo sighs, finally putting down the scroll entirely. She’s right. It is unusual indeed for him to get to this point; between his work as both Chief Alchemist and Captain of the Investigation Team and taking care of Klee, normally his days are very full, even without new studies to pursue. But there’s a brief dry spell in the work for the Knights, which does happen every so often and thus signals a well-deserved break. He does spend more time with Klee, but there are also days where she goes out adventuring with her friends, and it would not do for him to be overbearing either. It is the same with Sucrose and Timaeus; they need time to continue their studies and garner results, and to hover too much would be more detrimental than beneficial.

At first he had turned his hand to busywork—stocking the Knights on potions and other supplies, reading lesser known manuscripts and theses, also walking around and sketching more. But too soon did the Knights’ stores become overstocked, that his focus for reading all these texts flagged, that his artistic inspiration and motivation dwindled.

Albedo with nothing to do was something of a menace. Not because of his attitude or any such thing—though he did become more intimidating to talk to, as the air of dissatisfaction hung about him—but because he was so capable that there was simply nothing he could be given at the moment that would be considered up to par.

Except, Kaeya had brought up, when he, Jean, and Lisa had met, the Traveler, whom Albedo had a continuing interest in. Jean had brightened at this, while Lisa had raised a slender brow at the mischievous twinkle in Kaeya’s eye but said nothing.

“I shall send the Traveler to Albedo when she arrives,” Jean had said with a relieved smile, “I’m sure she’ll be happy to assist; if I recall, they are good friends as well.”

Kaeya had chuckled, and all but purred his response.

“Indeed they are. I’m certain her company will be very…stimulating.”

And so Lumine was sent, though not without her own agenda.

“You’re correct,” Albedo admits, then gives her a wry smile. “I suppose I am in need of assistance.”

“Lucky for you, I’m here.”

“So you are. Tell me then, how shall I occupy myself?”

“With me,” Lumine says, continuing without a change in expression while Albedo blinks hard, “I’m offering myself as a study.”

There is a silence. Albedo regards her carefully, but she does not flinch under his gaze.

“I subjected you to my research back on Dragonspine, and you went out of your way in being cooperative with a total stranger. You needn’t go so far again just to humor me,” he says politely, and Lumine smiles.

“It’s only partially a favor to you, and besides, we are far from strangers now. You told me back then…I function much like a human from this world, but the fact still remains that I am not from this world. So, what about the percentage that I am not like a human from Teyvat? It is difficult to see a situation for what it is when you are in the center of it. So I’d like your help, to find answers to my own questions. Symbiotic, isn’t it?”

Albedo’s face is impassive, but he remembers the sediment that formed at the bottom of the vial which she drank from, the sediment that should not have been there. He had made a point to tell her how ordinary the results were at the time, but she was starting to probe at the loopholes in his explanation herself. He is not entirely sure what she should know, but…there are countless questions that could be posed in regards to the Traveler from another world, countless avenues of research.

“I’m in no position to refuse,” he says, inclining his head. “But I am glad that this will be a mutually beneficial endeavor.”

“How sweet,” she says, her eyes crinkling, and he blinks. “But so it is. And with that, I shall give myself over to you.”

But he doesn’t yet move from his seat, and the two stare at each other from across the room. Her lips are still curved in an amused expression, and the fact that they are wholly alone in his space strikes him more clearly now. Paimon isn’t even here, he realizes, and he belatedly thinks that she would make a wonderful study as well if she allowed it. But oddly, he does not particularly feel like asking where the fairy is.

This shouldn’t hit him the way it does. They’d been alone for stretches on Dragonspine too, and many times after that when gathering materials or having lunch or just making simple conversation. But at present there is the particular manner in which she speaks, the words that she chooses, and the fact that she is still leaning against the door.

There is another brief silence before he speaks again, very slowly, his eyes not leaving hers.

“I suppose I should warn you that I intend to be thorough, as is my nature.”

Her amusement deepens.

“I would expect no less,” she says easily. “I would be disappointed otherwise.”

“I would not want you to be uncomfortable at any point in the process.”

“I would tell you, if I took issue.”

“The experiment may take quite some time, as well.”

“Don’t worry, my schedule is cleared for you. Barring anything drastic, of course.”

“And I’m afraid that my workshop is lacking in amenities.”

She glances around the room, inclining her head towards a small, squashed couch that is shoved against the wall, its seats occupied by various books and paraphernalia.

“That will do just fine, once it is cleared off,” she says.

There is a pause. He does not say these things to deter her, merely to confirm her will.

It is his turn to be amused, that she answered all of them so readily, and he tilts his head, measuring. He has to marvel at her, as well as the situation they are in.

She senses his mirth, and tilts her head back.

“May I?” she asks, gesturing.

“It is probably for the best.”

She opens the door a little, reaching out and flipping over the sign hanging outside to say Experiment in Progress. She closes the door with her back, the same way she did when she first came in, watching him as she reaches one hand towards the doorknob.

The lock clicks.

Albedo stands, removing his gloves as he crosses over to her and cups her cheek.

“Well then,” he says, and she finally pushes away from the door. “Shall we begin?”

(Kaeya comes by sometime later and knocks, the sign indicating that Albedo is free. He steps in once permission is received, and smiles when he sees Lumine reading a book on the unearthed couch, Albedo on the opposite side of the room observing one of his bubbling concoctions.

“Hey, you two!” Kaeya says cheerfully, holding up a bag. “Brought you some snacks. How’d it go?”

It is a very nonspecific question.

“Lumine has been very helpful,” Albedo says without pause, attention still on his experiment, “I think I’ll be making a breakthrough on this soon.”

“How nice,” Kaeya says, turning to Lumine. “And you? I hope our frustrated Chief Alchemist didn’t work you too hard.”

“Albedo is always a gentleman,” Lumine says smoothly, her eyes revealing nothing, but her direct stare also lets Kaeya know she knows exactly what he’s doing and is having none of it. “I’ve learned a lot about advanced alchemy.”

“How nice,” Kaeya repeats, his lips quirking up. “Say, how about we all go out for a drink? You two have been cooped up all day, so why not a different kind of diversion?”

“No thank you,” Lumine and Albedo say together, their tones unfailingly polite.

“I am at a delicate stage in this experiment now,” Albedo explains, gesturing in front of him. “It will require careful monitoring.”

“And I’d like to master the process this book details before I have to leave Mondstadt again. But perhaps another day, before I head out?” Lumine demurs.

“Sure, sure,” Kaeya says with an airy wave of his hand. “I’ll grab Rosaria instead, then. We’ll be at Angel’s Share, if you change your mind.”

Lumine and Albedo make noises of acknowledgement.

Kaeya gives a lazy salute before walking out, leaving the door askew as though by carelessness.

He does not turn around, but he smirks when he hears the very quiet but telltale sound of the door closing behind him.)

#genshin impact #albelumi #albelumiweek2021 #genshin albedo #genshin lumine #fanfiction #every time i write implied content im like. why do i do this.#but alas i got no time to stop and think about what i've done THE WEEK ROLLS ON--

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cowboypossume · 4 years ago

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At This Moment

so! this is inspired by this post by @theunmappedstar which means we need some credit baby !! so Bon Appetit

Summary: Fitz is a model, Keefe is his makeup artist, and after a big fight Keefe still has do his makeup because it’s too late to reschedule.

Pairing: “platonic” keefitz

Trigger Warnings: cursing, and let me know if there’s anything else

AO3 Link: here <3

Fitz had been a world famous model for years now. He could have gotten anybody to do his makeup, but he always insisted that Keefe did it. Keefe knew his work was good, sure, but he never understood why the world famous Fitz Vacker insisted that he did the the makeup for all of his shoots. Of course, Keefe would never turn down the chance to get Very Close to the model’s face and notice all of the little details on it. Like the splash of green hidden in the deep blue in his eyes, the tiny freckles right below his checks, the scar hidden on the boy’s hairline from acne, and Keefe’s favorite, the tiny smile that would appear when Fitz looked in the mirror when he finished the makeup look. Obviously he knew these things because it was his job to.

At this moment however, Keefe wished nothing more than the Fitz to not have assigned him to this shoot. He wished he didn’t have to stand in front of the door that he’d just closed and face the model he’d gotten into a huge fight with. Both of them were angry and said things they didn’t mean, which only fueled that anger. He wished that he didn’t have those few minutes alone to regret everything that he said. And now, his pride didn’t want to be alone with the model and apologize, although so much of him wanted to. He wished that he could just leave, but they couldn’t reschedule this shoot. They’d been planning this one for far too long and there were far too many other people involved. Besides, they’re both legally adults, so they can put aside their personal problems for a bit and just work, right?

“What the hell are you doing here?” Fitz angrily snapped.

Keefe gestured to the bag in his hands. “I have to do your makeup, remember?”

“Is there anyone else who can do it?”

“Look I don’t want to be here either but everyone who can is on set working and it’s too last minute for us to call in someone new. Besides, they already paid me.”

“Fine just do it quick.”

Keefe walked over to the dressing room mirror and started setting up. He’d done this before, a million times before, but at this moment it felt wrong. This didn’t feel like the warm environment the two of them normally created. They didn’t create the summer day kind of warm, though. The two of them seemed to share the kind of warm that resembles a hug from the person that you’ve hugged countless times before but gets better every time you’re together. Their warm environment felt comforting to the other with the stressful environment of a set. At this moment, there was no warmth or comfort. There was only the silence that filled the air between them with anticipation.

“Well, you know the drill.” Keefe said pulling out the final set of brushes. As Fitz sat in the chair, Keefe was reminded why he absolutely despised the model in front of him: he was the definition of the media’s version of perfect. He didn’t have bags, or acne, or anything that wasn’t good enough to go on a magazine cover. It made Keefe’s his job a hell of a lot easier, but it made Keefe despise him. How did someone manage look like royalty without any help? If Keefe was honest, the boy in front of him didn’t need anything to make him look like a movie star, but Fitz always wanted to cover up the freckles, so Keefe followed the request with concealer. Also, he needed to add some designs to fit the theme of this photoshoot, floral.

Wanting to avoid Fitz’s eye for as long as possible, Keefe started to sketch the outline carnations and gladioluses across his cheeks. As he gently held the model’s chin and cheek underneath his fingers, the stiffness of Fitz’s body reminded him of their first set. When they first met, it was one of Keefe’s first sets. He tried to break the silence with a joke, which lead to conversation. By the time Keefe finished the makeup, the two boys separated, finding themselves oddly excited for the next time they’d see each other. This moment, however, felt more irksome than that first meeting. Now the two of them were, well the two of them had grown up with each other. That first set they were both so young, and as they grew into themselves, the other person was there. They felt like they had a relationship, whether it was best friends, friends, or good colleagues, they trusted each other. They felt like they knew each other inside and out. Keefe got to see the man under the model, and Fitz got to see the makeup artist without the cover up.

Fitz slightly moved his head which lead to Keefe focusing on where the flowers sat on his face. Fitz had worked as a model long enough to move without messing up the makeup despite it still being a work in progress, and it still amazed Keefe every time. Keefe grabbed the paint that wouldn’t cause Fitz’s stupidly perfect face to break out and started to fill the carnations with a coffee cream white and the gladioluses with a shades of red and orange that would make a romantic movie’s sunset look dull in comparison.

Normally Keefe and Fitz would talk about nothing and everything during this time, but they weren’t. At this moment, Keefe was left alone with his thoughts which were just screaming ‘This Was Wrong’, and they weren’t lying. This wasn’t their normal, but Keefe didn’t know how to fix it. Could he? He wanted to. He wanted to fix the relationship with the only friend he had, but words typically failed him. He wasn’t good at words. He was charming with them, but he couldn’t say what he needed to. He couldn’t make his words serious, so relationships would normally fizzle out because of that.

Keefe’s negative thought spiral went to a screeching haunt when the nearly finished gladiolus in his hand was had a streak of a tear on it. A tear from crying? Wait it was a tear from crying. Why was Fitz crying?

“Wait, why the fuck are you crying?” The fear in Keefe’s voice made that question way more concerned than the angry tone he intended.

“This feels wrong.”

Keefe handed him a tissue. “Push this under your eyes and make the tears stop while we talk through this. Bloodshot eyes will ruin the photoshoot and you better not ruin the makeup. What feels wrong?”

“This” Fitz gestured between the two of them. “Us. Being mad with you feels wrong. Because I’m not mad at you. Or maybe I am? I just-. Right now my life is completely changing and not talking you just,,, feels wrong. Not just because it feels different, it,” Fitz paused to find a way to describe the way he felt. “Do you not feel it?”

Keefe walked over and kneeled next to Fitz and looked directly into the eyes that still looked amazing despite the fact they were full of tears but not yet covered with a layer of pink. He gently took the hand that Fitz wasn’t pressing away the tears with. “Of course I feel it, but now’s really not the time Fitzy. Come find me after the shoot, ok? I need to finish the flowers and start on the eyeliner and we only have 20 minutes until the other people need you.”

Fitz looked at himself in the mirror and the stupid tiny smile -that Keefe knew would ruin the lipstick Fitz would be wearing if this shoot needed it- appeared a little wider this time.

“These are my favorite flowers.” He said, clearly wanting to touch all of them. There was a small gleam in his eyes that only showed up when he felt extremely happy. Keefe was the world famous Fitz Vacker’s makeup artist, it was his job to know the model’s face. They were friends, and Keefe didn’t need to ruin another friendship with something stupid.

So, Keefe grabbed a paintbrush as he said “I told you before Fitz, I have a really good memory, and I wouldn’t forget something about a friend.” He restarted the flowers and didn’t catch the disappointment in the model’s eyes at the lack of a nickname and the word ‘friend’.

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lovelivingmydreams · 4 years ago

Text

A story by heroes and villains

Virgil Anker: better together

Virgil learns to accept help from others.

“Ugh! I am done!” Virgil glanced up from his assignment to see Roman let himself fall back into his chair with relief. Their first study session had gone rather well. They should probably reserve one of the discussion booths next time. The poor librarian had needed to remind them to be quiet multiple times. They’d just had too much fun. But Virgil could understand Roman’s exhaustion. It was time they wrapped things up. “Give me a sec, I have to finish this thing for English,” he muttered absentmindedly as he focused once more.

“Want me to read it trough for you?”

Virgil looked up in surprise. “You don’t…” he started. He didn’t even know why he was feeling like he’d done something wrong right now. Picani might be able to help him figure it out during their session after Virgil got back from his trip to the zoo with uncle Thomas tomorrow.

“We’re here to help each other Virgil. If I didn’t want to help you I wouldn’t offer. I thrive on being of help to my friends. It’s no trouble.” Right. Roman was like that. For everyone, not just him. It was okay to let him help. Virgil found himself smiling a little sheepishly and nodded. “Alright. You can read it when I’m done,” he allowed quickly turning back to his work.

When he finished his essay he looked up to find Roman in the zone. Which was excellent. It made it easier to sneak up on him. Apparently those with ADHD were extra susceptible to his cloak. Did he have proof for that? Well it was more of a hypothesis, but he had no means to test it. It made sense though.

And Roman had yet to prove him wrong.

Virgil cloaked himself, moved to stand right next to Roman and looked over his shoulder. It looked like he was designing a fashion line. Trans girl dresses, Pansexual messenger bags… as well as formal clothing inspired by broadway and Disney characters it seemed. He dropped his cloak.

“Seems I’m not the only one who can draw up some clothes.” Virgil had to stifle his laughter when that observation nearly made Roman jump 4 feet in the air.

“Will you stop that!?” he hissed.

“Not a chance,” Virgil chuckled as he picked up Roman’s sketches.

“This looks good though… You ever thought of becoming a fashion designer?” he suggested casually, allowing himself to imagine starting a brand with Roman someday.

“You are a genius!” Roman exclaimed, making Virgil’s heart jump.

He played it cool though. He’d gotten good at that over the last two years. Pretending that Roman’s smile didn’t turn his insides upside down. “It’s the least I can do. I sent in the designs like you said… I’m kind of excited.” He was. He hoped to catch a glimpse when he went out tonight.

“I’m sure next time you see DreamPrince on the news he’ll be wearing your design.” It was nice, having someone believe in him like that. Other than his dads that is.

“We’ll see,” he smiled as he handed Roman his laptop.

“Well,” Roman announced after a while. “I think you can hand this in with confidence Virge.”

Virgil felt himself relax at that. Roman wouldn’t say that if he didn’t mean it.

“So… I recall something about pizza? I’m starving!”

Virgil chuckled and lead the hungry Hispanic to the restaurant he’d suggested.

Virgil reminded himself over and over that this wasn’t a date, but it was very hard. Especially when, near the end of their meal Roman suddenly started acting nervous. “So… Um… There’s this… Shoot wait a minute,” Roman got up and picked up his phone.

“Si mama…? Que?” Virgil watched Roman look at his watch and jump.

“Perdona! I’ll be there soon.” With that he hung up and took out his wallet. Rambling all the way.

“So sorry Virge! Time got away from us I’m afraid. I swear I intended to give you that ride… Can you call your dad… You know what? Just use the change to take the bus or a cab or something alright? My treat! I’ll call you later!” he promised as he tossed down a few bills before rushing away. Leaving Virgil behind a little stunned. Maybe it was a family thing? It looked urgent.

He took the bus as it was cheaper and there was a stop in his new street.

The house was nice. Though Virgil wasn’t used to it yet. Especially now, when his dads weren’t home, it felt weird being here. Luckily he didn’t plan on staying too long.

He texted his dad while getting dressed. By the time he left the house, he got a reply.

“Don’t wait up. Patton and Thomas say hi. Thomas wants to remind you of the trip to the zoo tomorrow.” Virgil smiled, he didn’t know uncle Thomas was going to be there too… Maybe these projects were just poker nights with the boys. He might have to ask them about it when they got home.

Regardless, duty called.

Virgil was starting to think that he might need to do take a break from turning in evidence for a bit. The criminals were getting agitated.

“I say we attack now! They are weak! We can take them down easily!” he heard one guy suggest. No, turf wars were a bad idea. Clearly he hadn’t thought about maintaining the power balance enough. Good thing he was about to even the playing field again. All these idiots had to do was get caught on his camera with something very illegal, preferably saying the bosses name or any clue the police could use for some kind of big bust.

The leader of this troupe seemed rather well respected. Virgil had learned to spot the difference between the ranks, and if this guy wasn’t answering to the big guy himself, then he was pretty close.

“Boss says we have a truce until the rat is found,” The big dude in question stated.

A truce? Was he that much of a threat? Should he feel flattered or scared?

The tugs argued back and forth a bit more and Virgil was seriously considering just getting out of here. Maybe he could trip up some lower tier members. Or go back to helping lost travelers for a while. Just enough to make the higher ups relax again. They wouldn’t rebuild their ranks too much if they thought it was an inside job or something. Right?

And if they’d realized someone was giving the cops everything they needed to stop them, they wouldn’t plan anything major for a while. Unless the boss was stupid.

Suddenly Virgil saw a figure descend from the roof. He made a hero landing, straight from a superhero movie.

Virgil’s eyes widened. It couldn’t be…

“Do you gentlemen have permits for those weapons?” Dream Prince asked with a deep, booming voice as he rose up, wearing the full costume Virgil had designed. Including the cape. What was he doing here? Stupid question. He was government sanctioned. The chief was on the news a few days ago claiming him as one of theirs.

Which meant she probably asked him to look for Virgil. Does that woman never give up?

The gang was confused by his appearance. One of them calling the young hero ‘prince clown’. Virgil was too far away to see it, but he was willing to bet the clown in question was not too pleased with that.

With a gesture from the leader the gang was silenced. “Sure kid,” he said in a voice that made Virgil stand on high alert. “Got mine right here.”

Or find the stories of Logan and Roman in the Master post

Before Virgil could react in any meaningful way, Prince had shielded himself with his cape and the leader fired at least four rounds at him. The hero was unharmed though. The sounds of bullets falling to the ground the only evidence that they had ever left the barrel in the first place.

“Well now you just pissed me off. This is brand new!” Prince complained as he dropped the cape. And Virgil had to admit, it looked very cool. “I suppose you won't surrender peacefully?” he deduced.

The sound of guns being armed was his only answer. Which was stupid. That was already shown not to work. But sure, shoot with more guns. Don’t actually use your brain or anything. Prince let out an annoyed sigh as he hung his cape from a water pipe. “Fine.” And just like that, he sped towards the criminals through a rain of bullets.

It seemed like he had it handled, and Virgil was pretty sure that he would notice he was there no matter how well he cloaked himself if he got involved. And if he was here to look for him and bring him in for whatever the chief had planned…

Still, he couldn’t make himself just stand by.

He jumped in and helped disarm the criminals and caught a few punches, Prince seemed unlikely to dodge. Pretty soon he felt like Prince was adapting his fighting to his presence which told him that he was in fact spotted.

Soon the gang was down on the ground and their disassembled guns were on a pile on the floor. Virgil returned to the shadows once the sirens lit up the alley.

Prince donned his cloak once more and walked up to where the leader laid, showing off his boot.

“So… how does it feel to get your butt kicked by a guy in heels?” Virgil’s eyes widened as he saw Prince show off the boot. He was wearing the heeled boots? Sure he pulled them off, but that wasn’t a smart move. He couldn’t have had that much time to practice with them yet. Virgil sent the design on Tuesday. Unless… Maybe he’d worn heels before? That was a possibility. Though crime fighting in heels couldn’t be comfortable… Still, it did make the whole thing extra cool, Virgil had to admit.

Suddenly Dream Prince looked up at him and gave a playful wink. So he had noticed him. And he could see him even though he was cloaked right now… Or not quite. He wasn’t looking directly at him. So he knew he was there, just not where exactly.

“Good job Dream Prince. We've got it from here,” one of the police officers who’d come to make the arrests told Prince. The young hero turned to him and bowed.

“It's my pleasure to be of assistance to the police of this fine city.” While he turned around he made a gesture with his hand. Virgil could tell he was being asked to follow.

Part of him wanted to run the other way. But he was curious.

He wanted to take a good look at the costume. He wanted to scold Prince. He wanted to give him a message for the chief. Maybe find out what she wanted from him.

So he followed him all the way to a rooftop.

The city lights illuminated Prince from the back, his cape floating in the wind.

Virgil wished he could take a picture. Roman would love this.

Prince took a step forward and bowed for him. He was really sticking to this Prince thing huh?

“Greetings Phantom. I must thank you for the assist now and three months ago. I am Dream Prince, he/him if you please. A pleasure to officially meet you.” So he had figured out when they’d met.

Virgil couldn’t help a chuckle. He was still cloaking himself. He’d never talked to someone like this before so he had no clue if and how that affected his voice.

“Phantom huh?” Hmm. He kind of liked it. Sure it confirmed that prince was here due to chief. But it was a cool nickname.

“Sure you can call me that. He/him… mind telling me what that was about? I thought you officials weren't let of your leash unless you could be responsible enough to not get yourself killed?” Did he sound a bit catty? Maybe. Was what Prince did idiotic? Absolutely.

Prince didn’t seem to agree. “Says the guy who has half the criminal underworld out for his blood.”

Virgil looked away. Damn. He’d hoped Prince was going to live up to Virgil’s original nickname for him. But he was no idiot.

“Do you have something against the program?” Prince pressed.

“No I…” Virgil tried to steady himself. It wasn’t Prince’s fault that he was pissed at his boss. “Sorry I’m just pissed at the cops for sending you, I guess,” he admitted reluctantly.

“Yet you chose to follow me up here?” Okay, so he really should give this guy more credit.

“Um… Well… I just…” He couldn’t tell him he was curious about him. That would give away interest on his part and he was not ready to let anything personal slide. He hated being put on the spot like this. Damn, this was not helping the stoic, mysterious guy aura he was going for.

“You interrupted my stake out!” he recalled. Right, one of the reasons he was mad at Prince. The lecture he’d interrupted with his observations.

“Do you know how long it takes to work my way up the ranks? First I have to find a low level runner, then I follow him to his boss, that guy to his and so up the ladder I go. I was getting real close to the big guy of this group. And now…” Sure, he had been thinking about needing to go more low profile for a while to let the rumors simmer out. But still.

“I apologize,” Prince replied sincerely with another bow. It was hard to be mad with this guy. Perfect hero material. “I merely intended to help. They were talking about killing you.”

He appreciated the concern really. But he overlooked one crucial detail.

“And now there is a price on your head! The leader of that little club is like two steps away from the big boss. They won’t be happy with you taking him in.” He couldn’t let him get himself on the bad guys’ list. Not because he thought he needed to protect him. Or maybe a little. When had he started feeling responsible for Prince? Was this how his dad felt? Why he’d tried to keep him from being overly self-sacrificing as a kid?

“You got dirt on them?” Prince wondered.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Yes… But that’s not the point. They have no clue about me. Not really,” just some guesses and rumors. “But you are out in the open.” They’d know who to go after with him. “This is not your kind of mission Royal pain. And now that you are out, you can’t expect me to hold your hand any longer…” Virgil got distracted when Prince crossed his arm and smirked smugly. “You’ve been looking out for me all summer huh?”

That smug little… Fine he got him there.

He rolled his eyes with a scoff, trying to dismiss the statement. “It’s not like I came looking for you.” He just… Did the right thing when they met up.

Prince was the one dreaming if he thought he felt any kind of responsibility towards him. He was just trying to… To be someone he could be proud of. That was why he was doing this. To not feel week and useless. To help people, even if he couldn’t always help those he felt closest to.

“Still… Thank you…” Prince said gently, about to step forward again. But then he cringed and clutched his head. “Ow!”

The young hero sounded more annoyed than in pain.

He pressed a finger to his ear. Communicating with whoever was on the other line no doubt. “One. Loud. Two. Rude! I am in the middle of something! And did you seriously remotely reactivate my com?” Virgil could hear him hiss in the communication device, dropping the regal persona completely. Virgil bit back his amusement.

“I am fine, not a scratch on me,” Prince replied annoyed. “I’ll call you when I’m done here.” And then he seemed to take something out of his ear. He was so lucky Virgil wasn’t a bad guy or he’d just made it a lot easier on him to take him out.

“Sorry,” Prince sighed. “My mentor is… intense at times.”

“Mentor?” Virgil wondered. He’d heard about the GTA program and it’s monitors in the past. But mentors… that sounded a bit more one on one than just people who told you what to do.

“One of the people helping me practice my powers, test my limits. Comes with the program. It’s not just a babysit and a nice suit,” Prince joked.

“Oh…” Virgil didn’t know what to say to that. It was… Something he’d been wanting for a while now. For a way to test all that he could do. To figure out the shield, push the limits of his cloak and try and use his healing for others. Someone to help him strategize, to talk with when he’d had a tough night. But unless he was ready to come clean with his dad, that was out of his reach.

“Listen, I admit I was sent by the chief. But I didn’t come here to recruit you. I wanted to thank you and tell you… If you ever need someone to talk to, to help you figure something out… I’d be more than happy to oblige. No need to tell me your name or anything about yourself.”

Virgil looked at the offered hand. Maybe, it wasn’t impossible after all.

He considered his options. But it seemed like there was no catch to this offer. So he closed the gap and shook his hand.

“I’ll see you next time,” Prince offered kindly before letting go and running straight of the rooftop as if there was a walkway just for him.

Virgil smirked. Maybe he should wrap it up for tonight. Prince and the other heroes had the area covered. He’d collect the information he had on the tugs that were arrested tonight. Next time he saw Dream Prince, he’d hand that information to him.

If things went well… This could be a good partnership.

End of this part. Meet Janus and learn his side

@cirishere @hestianerd1 @moonlightshow00 @naturallyunstablegamer @alias290 @meowthefluffy @frida0043 @angelic-cali @selenechris @theblackveilinreverse

#sanders sides #ts sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #prinxiety #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #tw: guns #tw: violence #tw: gunshot #hero au #fic

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gemstoneconstellations · 4 years ago

Text

Request: Two Nerds for the Price of One

Summary: What do you do when you have two crushes? By Bakugo’s logic, find a way to date them both of course. (Bakugo/Reader/Midoriya)

Wordcount: 2142

A/N: this is a request from AO3. I hope this okay. I don't generally write poly fics cause I primarily write only about things that I have experienced or been in a similar situation, and I never been in a poly relationship so how it works is still something I'm learning about.

You ran as fast as you possibly could down the hall to class 3-A, slamming the door open harder than you intended. But you couldn’t help it! “Izuku! Izuku! Look at this!” You hopped over to Izuku’s desk, holding a flier out in front of you, unable to hold still.

“I can’t read it when you’re jumping all over the place ___chan,” Izuku giggled at you as he grabbed a hold of the paper. He gasped when he read it and started vibrating in his seat as well.

You plopped yourself at the empty desk in front of Izuku, resting your chin in your hands on his desk. “There is a sale of limited first generation hero merch with a chance of winning free tickets to the grand opening of the Hero History Museum! We have an opportunity to learn about some of the first vigilantes that changed our society and created the hero occupation! These are the people that inspired heroes who inspired heroes that inspired us!”

You grabbed both of Izuku’s hands in the air, your fingers interlacing. He smiled back at you, just as excited. “The first quirks to be recorded in history! Laws we have now were shaped by them!”

“The vintage costumes!” You squealed.

Izuku nodded with you and both of you yelled out happily, “New heroes to learn about!”

The two of you were kindred spirits. In first year, you took one look at his hero costume and knew instantly who he was inspired by. As a fellow fan of All Might and his amazing costumes, it was your duty to intervene when Hatsume tried to change the looks of his costume. That girl may be a genius when it comes to inventions, but as a designer she just threw things together. When she made Izuku new arm supports, you jumped in to adding some All Might esthetics.

Izuku was so thankful, it led to the two of you talking and finding out that the both of you were major hero otakus. It was so nice to have someone come over to your dorm room and not instantly judge you for the amount of hero memborbila you had.

You continued to gush. “Soon, you’ll have merch for sale and a museum with all the great things you’re going to do! I’m going to buy all of them! I’m your number one fan!”

“___!” He tried to pull his hands away to hide his blushing face, but you locked your fingers with his.

“Nope, no hiding Izuku! Take my compliments like the hero you are!” you laugh happily, making Izuku turn into an adorable strawberry, not noticing the eyes watching the two of you intently.

“There’s two of them,” Bakugo mumbled, leaning against Kirishima’s desk as he watched you and Deku gush about some hero nerd crap. “Two fucking nerdy ass Dekus.”

Kirishima chuckled to himself as he finished the assignment he’d forgotten was due next period. Thankfully, Bakugo is more lenient when it comes to helping with homework now. “Midoriya has really come out of his shell. He’s made some good friends outside of our class now.”

Bakugo starred as the two of you got up to walk out of the classroom. He tilted his head to get a better view. “I want to bite his ass.”

“Kats-”

“Her’s too.”

“Ew. Here, take my drink since you're so thirsty.” Kaminari thrusted an unopened juice into Bakugo’s chest jokingly.

Bakugo hummed, crossing his arms. “I’ve decided.”

Kirishima and Kaminari looked up at him, waiting for him to explain further as Bakugo paused to take a sip of the drink. “I want them both.”

Kaminari burst into a fit of laughter, holding his stomach, while Kirishima looked at him in horror. “What? No!” What the hell does his bro have planned?!

“I'm gonna make them both mine.” The ash-blonde just nodded in affirmation.

“Katsuki, no.”

The bell rang; the break was over and Kirishima hadn’t finished his homework! “Shitty Hair, I’m doing it. One way or another, their asses are mine.” Bakugo quickly wrote down the answer to the last question on the assignment before making his way to his seat, a suspicious-looking grin on his face.

“Well at least we know Bakugo has a type.” Kaminari leaned back in his chair, grinning as Kirishima sighed, giving up on trying to contain the chaos that is Bakugo Katsuki.

You groaned, completely depressed. Izuku and you had had a lot of fun at the hero merch sale; you’d both been able to buy so many items you never seen before. Of course Izuku bought everything All Might there. But when you two went up to the cashier, you were sadly informed that there were no more tickets. The museum was also sold out; you’d found out too late about the event. You lazily sketch out a new hero costume design for a first-year that needed more complex material for their quirk when a shadow hovered over you.

You looked up in time for a hand to slam down on the table and a body leaned in close to you. As you clutched your pencil to your chest, Bakugo smirked a few inches from your face. “Hey Nerd Number 2. What’s got you fucking moping?”

“Uh...I um…” You were completely tongue tied, heart pounding in your chest.

He just chuckled at you; you weren’t sure if it was a good sign or if you were about to be murdered. “I assume it has to do something about this?”

Two yellow strips of paper were thrusted into your face, “Hero Origins Exhibit” written on them. You gasp and reach out for it to see if it was real. He rudely dangled them above your head, out of reach.

“How’d you get that?!” You shouted. How on earth did he get two when you couldn't even get one?!

“I have my ways. I’ll give you them if you want...,” you nodded excitedly. “...but there is a price.”

Your eyes were locked on those tickets. Whatever it is, be it some gear or money, you’ll do it. If it means you and Izuku can go together to the museum. “What is it?”

He grabbed your chin with one hand, making you look at him. “You go on a date with me to the museum.”

Your breath hitched for a second as your brain translated what he’d just said. Date?! “Huh? Me and you? But I promised that I’d go with Izuku…”

Bakugo leaned in more, his nose grazing against your cheek as his lips made their way to your ear, and huskily whispered, “Then don’t tell him. How about if you agree, I’ll make sure Deku and you can go to the museum together. He’ll never have to know.” He bit at your lobe and then kissed the sensitive skin underneath. A shiver went down your back as he kissed your neck between words. “You want to see him happy, right?”

“Just one date?” You were completely melting in the palm of his hand.

He hummed, nuzzling your hair. “Sure.”

“Okay…” You dreamily whispered. If this is how he treats you, maybe it won’t be that bad...

The moment you agreed, he let go of your face. You blinked at his receding back, awakened from the dream-like state his warmth had put you in. “Good. I’ll text you the details later. And don’t be fucking late.” He threw you one more smirk over his shoulder before leaving the Support Course classroom. What….what just happened?! The shocked look on your classmates’ faces was all the evidence you needed to prove that, yes, that did just happen.

“Kacchan, I can’t believe you got these! You’re amazing!” Izuku was practically squealing on the common room couch, holding the tickets in his hands. Bakugo was sitting beside him, an arm resting on the back of the couch behind the smaller boy, bodies pressed right up against each other.

Bakugo had been casually instigating more physical contact over the past year so Izuku didn't even bat an eyelash as he leaned in closer. “I know. Now about the price for them….” Bakugo pulled the tickets from Deku’s hands gently as he whispered into the nerd’s ear, making him blush deeply.

“Kacchan! You want what?! But I promised…” Izuku fidgets with his hands in his lap, mumbling and slowly falling into the depths of his mind.

Smirking, Bakugo firmly wraps his arm around Izuku’s shoulders, practically pulling the other boy into his lap. “Don’t worry, I know about your little nerd best friend. I got connections and I could get you two to the museum. If you make it worth my while, Nerd.”

Bakugo tried not to chuckle when he felt the nerd shiver; gotcha. Izuku held up a pinky to Bakugo shyly. “Okay, if you promise?”

“Of course. I’m not a fucking liar, Deku.” He links their pinkies together, pulling their hands to his face to kiss Izuku’s.

He heard the nerd loudly swallow before launching to his feet. “Okay…okay. Deal, Kacchan! Thank you for this!” Bakugo watched his nerd escape to his dorm room with an amused and triumphant smile on his face.

Kaminari and Kirishima watched the entire situation play out, in complete disbelief. They walked over to Bakugo as he texted on his phone. Kaminari flipped himself onto the couch to sit beside the other blonde, looking to see he was texting you where to meet up on Saturday. “This can’t possibly go well.” Kirishima sighed from behind the couch, leaning on his elbows as he read the text as well. When did he become the voice of reason in this group?

“It’ll be fucking fine, Hair-For-Brains,” Bakugo snorted, waving a heart filled text from you up, bragging as Bakugo does.

Kaminari laughed, actually enjoying watching his bro finally make a move. Leaning back with his arms behind his head, the electric blonded asked, “How did you even manage to get tickets and they didn’t?”

“Easy. Bribe the cashier to tell them that they didn’t have any more tickets while I bought three.”

“So glad you are on the heroes’ side.”

You waited in front of the museum, messing with your hair and clothes every five seconds while looking at your reflection in a shop window. The girls in your dorm had helped you decide on your outfit. In fact, you’d pretty much had a miniature fashion show in your room. You sigh to yourself, mumbling, “What are you doing ___?” Going on a date with Bakugo Katsuki was not what you had planned.

If there was anyone you were more likely to go on a date with, you’d expected it to be Izuku. Oh Izuku…he’s so sweet and the two of you can geek out on a whole other level together. You wish he was going to the museum with you. But Bakugo did promise that he’d make sure that you guys got to go together for going on this date….maybe it won't be so bad.

“___?”

Your head whipped over to the side. “Izuku?”

Izuku came over to you, wearing skinny jeans that you’d bought him and an open flannel shirt over one of his regular shirts that said, “t-shirt”. You swear one of these days, you are going to burn all those shirts and buy him a whole new wardrobe. “What are you doing here?”

“Simple, I invited you both here.” Bakugo strolled up to the two of you, smirking with his hands in his pockets. You and Izuku look back at each other, confused.

“Uh…but I thought….” You fiddled with your hands, not sure how to say it in front of Izuku. This is so embarrassing.

Izuku didn't hesitate though. “Isn’t this a date?”

Bakugo just smiled proudly. “You are right, this is a date. All three of us.”

“Huh?!” you both yelled in shock.

He sighed, leaning in as he placed a hand on each of your shoulders. “Really, do I have to fucking spell it out? I like both your nerdy asses.”

“Kacchan, you should have just asked one of us out at a time if you were confused about—”

“Not confused. I just don't half-ass.” He spun both of you around, his arms resting around your shoulders as he steered all three of you towards the museum entrance. You were completely at a loss as Izuku looked like he was going to continue to protest.

“If I chose one then I would only be able to give the relationship half of my attention since I’d still like the other. So I’m gonna sweep both of you off your nerdy-ass feet.” Bakugo left no room for argument.

You looked back at Izuku, his face was as red as your face was hot. Both speechless, you were only able to go with the flow of Bakugo Katsuki.

#bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #bakugo x reader x midoriya #bakugo katsuki x reader x midoriya izuku #poly relationship #bakugo knows what he wants

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one-boring-person · 4 years ago

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Just A Babysitter. (Part Three)

The Lost Boys x reader

Warnings: theft, some blood imagery, some mentioned drug use, fluff (some)

Context: This part revolves around Michael's first night with the boys, which (Y/n) partakes in.

A/N: I felt like I should post this to make up for the short one I posted earlier, so enjoy!

Part One, Part Two , Part Four , Part Five , Part Six , Part Seven , Part Eight

A strong reek of motor oil hangs over us as we linger on the Boardwalk, waiting for Star to finally rejoin us, the boys restless again, though each for different reasons. None of them have said more than a few words to me since last night, though one of the things they did tell me is that I have to stay with them all night, which annoys me to no end. The silent treatment is also a little tedious and frustrating, but at least it gives me time to think without being interrupted by Paul's constant jokes and pranks, or David's weighted questions, not to mention Marko's sweet yet sometimes irritating habit of making comments in my ear about random people passing by. Out of all of them, the only one acting vaguely normal to me is Dwayne, who treats me with the same quiet friendliness he treats nearly everyone in the group.

"Isn't that her?" Marko suddenly speaks up, pointing to a spot not too far from us.

Following his line of sight, I manage to spot the half-vampire weaving through the crowd with a familiar brunette on her tail: Michael. The boy seems to have bought himself a new leather jacket, probably to appeal more to his intended audience of one, Star, sauntering along behind her with some confidence as they converse together amicably, laughing with one another in response to some joke I can't hear, but the others can. David's jaw seems to clench a bit as he watches them, Paul and Marko smirking at each other as if they know something we don't, Dwayne leaning back a bit to whisper something to Laddie, who is perched on the back of his motorcycle once more. He rode with me on the way up, but quickly swapped when Star told him to do so, though he was clearly a little reluctant to do as he was told.

"Let's go." The blonde leader commands us, expecting us to follow him as he kicks his bike into gear, allowing Marko and Paul to take the lead, followed by Dwayne and then me, though it is obvious by the way he instantly moves his bike next to mine that I won't be a major part of this conversation. Loudly, we pull up in front of Michael as he goes to help Star onto his red motorcycle, the brunette's eyes widening at our sudden appearance, flicking his gaze between us until it lands on me. I smile in greeting, sitting back on my own Triumph as David makes a show of asserting his dominance, trying not to show how much it bothers me.

"Where you going, Star?" The vampire questions, tone neutral for now, though it will likely become harsher very soon.

"For a ride." She responds, trying to turn her back on us, as I have many times in the past.

"Let's go." Michael says to her, voice quieter than it was last night, though this is likely just because he wants to impress the girl trying to get on his motorbike with him.

Obviously, David can't let this slide.

"Star." This time, his voice is laced with authority and suggestion, his icy blue eyes watching her pointedly.

A low laugh emanates from the boys as the half-vampire gives in, climbing onto David's motorcycle with him, but not after making a show of dragging her hand over his chest with her eyes fixed on mine. Rolling my eyes, I zip up my jacket again, knowing that we'll be taking the wild ride home tonight, just to show off.

"You know where Hudson's Bluff is, overlooking the Point?" David inquires, raising an eyebrow at Michael as a downcast expression makes its way onto his face.

"I can't beat your bike." Michael confesses, hands tightening nervously around the handlebars.

"You don't have to beat me, Michael. You just have to try and keep up." With that, he revs his engine and puts the motorcycle into drive, speeding off the Boardwalk and onto the beach with a startled cry from Star, followed swiftly by the others. I take off after them, leading the way for Michael to chase me, grunting when the impact with the beach winds me, reminding me that I need to get the suspension on my motorbike fixed. Behind me, I hear the tell tale sound of Michael hitting the sand, his bike quickly catching up to us as we hurtle over the beach towards the cave, Paul and Marko weaving in and out of my path as we continue on, exhilarated whoops leaving them as they ramp up the speed.

Despite the thrill, I ride the entire way with a grim expression on my face, knowing Michael is unlikely to survive the night without being encouraged to join the boys - and from the impression I get of him, I know he won't refuse their insistence. I briefly break the facade when Laddie calls to me under the peer, his voice high over the howling wind in my ears, reassuring him that I'm still here, as well as letting the others know I haven't run off from them again. A curse escapes me when I recognise the small ridge the boys enjoy springing off of looming up, my own bike often struggling to follow them over it. Determined not to be outdone by a newcomer, I put my foot on the gas and pop off the top of it, overtaking Paul and Dwayne with a loud roar of the engine, a dry smirk making its way onto my face when Paul protests loudly, revving his own engine so he can catch up again. As usual, this begins a small race between us, one which he will undoubtedly win, even though I try my best to out do him each time.

Sitting lower on the bike, I push the accelerator up again until it reaches its highest, a shriek of exhilaration finally leaving me at the pure speed that follows, the uneven ground beneath me causing the motorbike to leave the ground a few times. To my left, Paul calls out teasing encouragement, goading me on to push the limit again, though I can already see the edge of the cliff approaching, so to up the speed further would be suicide. He might be able to survive a trip off the edge, but I certainly won't, which is why I have to pull up short when I get in range of the precipice.

"One more win for me! What's the score now, like a hundred to zero?" The triumphant vampire floats as he stops closer to the edge, sending me a proud grin as I flip him off, breathless but smiling, too, my mood having brightened considerably.

"Shut up, Paul."

A laugh leaves us both before we're interrupted by Michael and David pulling up a little way away, the former skidding on his bike as he overshoots the turn, falling to the floor with a grunt. The latter smirks down at him, a chuckle threatening to escape his lips even as Star looks on with worry. Dismounting, the rest of us approach them, quickening our pace in alarm when Michael lunges for our leader, punching him straight across the face. Anger flares up in me at the newcomer's boldness, quickly joining in with the boys as they go to hold him back, only to stop when we see David's reaction, my eyebrow raising a little at the cunning smirk he is carrying.

"...just you!" I finally tune into what Michael is saying, rolling my eyes at his stupidity, hanging back behind the boys with Laddie as I try to stop myself from laughing.

"How far you willing to go, Michael?" David challenges the brunette, features sharpened in the harsh white light from the lighthouse just offshore.

Confused, Michael can only watch as we hide our bikes and make our way down onto the steps leading to the cave, following behind David as we enter the sunken hotel. Immediately, I head over to my usual spot in the corner: a dusty old armchair covered in my notebooks, comics and other useless trinkets I've picked up, or been given, over the years. Plonking myself down, I busy myself with one of the sketchbooks sitting on the arm, taking a pencil and starting a rough sketch of the hotel interior, one of many. Marko approaches me as David begins his spiel about the history of the hotel and that, a pigeon held gently in his hand, the other stroking it as carefully as possible, a small smile gracing his lips.

"What're you doing?" He asks me, leaning over me to see the page, chuckling a little when I lift it to my chest to hide it out of instinct.

"Drawing." I reply, the corners of my lips twitching up into a smile at Marko's eyeroll, sitting up to get a closer look at the pigeon, "May I?"

The young vampire's smile broadens and he nods, holding the pigeon out to me in offering, allowing me to run a finger over its soft head, the bird chirping as it wriggles a bit in his grip.

"Marko! Food!" David's voice suddenly interrupts us, drawing a small groan of irritation from the vampire in question.

"Want me to come with?" I offer, putting aside the sketchbook as I stand up, stumbling over a fallen comic.

"If you want to." He accepts, releasing the pigeon with a flurry of feathers as he and I climb back out of the cave and into the cooling night air.

"One bike, or two?" I muse, looking over at him in curiosity.

"Two, and we race there." Marko grins, heading over to the hiding spot where we keep them, wheeling his out and waiting for me to do the same.

"Oh, you're on. Where to?" I agree, swiftly accompanying him on the road and pulling on my gloves, shivering a little in the cool wind blowing up from the sea.

"The Chinese place." He decides, starting his engine.

"Sure. On the count of three?" I do the same, adjusting my grip on the handlebars as I prepare myself to race.

"Sure."

"One..." I begin, sitting lower in the seat.

"Two..." He continues, sending a smirk over at me as he revs the engine loudly.

"Thr-" I start to finish, only to catch a mouthful of dust as Marko takes off, drawing a protest from me. In seconds, I've recovered from the shock, thundering after him at the highest speed I'll risk this close to the edge of the cliff, quickly catching up to him with my minorly faster bike. On sand, the Triumph struggles to keep up with their lighter motorctcles, but on roads? Now that's a fight I can win.

Cries of excitement leave us, mingling with the growling of the engines, both of us yelling friendly insults at each other as we turn corners and weave in and out of the thin traffic, my motorbike quickly taking a good position a little way ahead of him. Pride in the vehicle fills me, though I don't let myself get arrogant, upping the speed once more in order to stay ahead, lowering myself in the seat to increase my aerodynamic stance, grinning deliriously to myself as the wind rushes through my hair and clothes, only adding to the exhilaration. Around me, the few other road users call out words of protest and anger at my reckless driving, one car even swerving completely to avoid me when I accidentally take up a place on the wrong side of the road. By the time the lights of Santa Carla come into view, my heartbeat is already at it's highest, tears forming in my eyes at the barrage of air attacking them.

Luckily, the Chinese is just outside the beach town, so there's no need for me to adjust my speed to a pedestrian friendly one when I approach the restaurant, the bike even skidding as I pull up in the parking lot outside, the brakes complaining at the sharp application even as a mother and daughter do the same, the former mentioning something about unruly teens before directing her ten year old away from me. I'm pleased to see that I'm the first here, glad that I've finally won a race against one of the boys after all these years of trying, a burst of pride and triumph filling me as I watch Marko enter the area a few minutes later, a large grin on his face.

"Damn, that bike is fast." The young vampire compliments, reaching out to clap me on the shoulder as he comes to a halt beside me. Climbing off, we make our way into the takeaway restaurant, Marko slinging his arm around my shoulders affectionately as we go, giving me a pointed look when a blush creeps onto my cheeks, his sweet scent clouding my nose briefly until we enter the restaurant itself, at which point all I can smell is food, which makes me hungry.

Going to the front, we order a few things, mostly rice and noodles, and wait for them to make it up. As we do so, I lean up to whisper in his ear.

"We paying for this one, or?"

"I don't know, should we?" Comes the reply, both of us exchanging a secretive glance, "How fast do you feel tonight?"

A mischievous grin makes its way onto my face at his words, my pulse instantly picking up at the idea.

"Very."

"Good." He responds, smirking at me.

For a couple more minutes, we wait for them to prepare the food, before going up to collect it with a neutral expression on our faces. I reach into my pocket for one of the fake notes we tend to carry around, just as a decoy, handing it to the poor worker with a polite smile, taking the food and leaving the restaurant with some speed. As we emerge, we break into a sprint, racing to our bikes and quickly starting them up as the owner bursts through the doors, screaming at us to stop. Giggling to ourselves, we speed off, the food secure on the back of our bikes, trying to get as far away from there as we can before the police are called on us, though it is very unlikely that they will catch us. Triumphant laughs and calls escape us as we hurtle down the road, keeping an eye on our tails to make sure we're not followed, and that the food is still there, making our way home with considerable speed, once again avoiding all the traffic possible. Dust flies up around us as we turn onto the smaller road leading up to the Bluff, a surprised yelp erupting from my lips when my motorbike skids on the dirt, nearly sending me flying over the handlebars, though I manage to hold on with as much strength as I can muster. Just ahead of me, Marko looks back to see if I'm still in one piece, his momentary worry fading into amusement at the look on my face, my pulse having picked up considerably from my near-accident. As we approach the head of the cliff, his smirk still hasn't faded, it has only grown, finding it funny that the traction on the bike very nearly got me badly injured. Upon stopping, he starts his small comments, pestering me as we make our way back down into the cave.

"Feeding time! Come get it, boys." The vampire announces, chucking the boxes of takeaway at the others before handing me a pot of noodles, allowing me to retake my seat in the corner.

"Chinese. Good choice." David acknowledges, taking two from Marko and opening the first, offering it to Michael, who is sat across from his wheelchair. The brunette declines, to which David responds with his usual wit, "You don't like rice? Tell me, Michael, how can a billion Chinese people be wrong? Come on."

The others laugh at David's words as Michael grudgingly takes the pot, starting to eat as the rest of us do, looking up with confusion when David begins to play his first trick.

"How are those maggots?" He asks nonchalantly, looking inquiringly at his target. Instantly, I know he's decided to use his mind tricks.

When Michael fails to reply, David tries again.

"Maggots, Michael, you're eating maggots. How do they taste?"

At his words, Michael looks back down at his food, quickly throwing it on the floor and spitting the contents of his mouth at it, trying to clean it out. A laugh erupts from the coven of vampires at the brunette's expense, a dry smirk creeping onto my face at the confused expression on Michael's, Star scolding them a little.

"Sorry, no hard feelings, huh?" David apologises, picking at the pot of noodles in his own gloved hands, "You like noodles?"

"They're worms..." Michael states, rolling his eyes a little at the joke.

"What do you mean they're worms?" David says, shovelling a few noodles into his mouth in his usual messy fashion, returning his icy blue gaze back to Michael as he chews, "They're only noodles, Michael."

In disbelief, Michael snatches the pot away from him, picking some up with the chopsticks to inspect them, looking incredulous as they turn out to be inanimate, rather than alive. Another laugh escapes the group until Star butts in from her position a little way behind them.

"Leave him alone."

I try to fight the eyeroll that threatens to leave me, biting my lip when I see David call Marko over, whispering something in his ear. My eyes follow the young vampire as he goes to fetch the familiar jewelled bottle for his leader, handing it to him almost reverently. Having been given it, David opens it and takes a sip, shuddering at the metallic taste that accompanies it, before offering it to Michael.

"Drink, Michael, be one of us." The vampire encourages, smirking a bit at the brunette as he takes it, sniffing it. By now, Star has moved to stand behind him, looking nervous as hell, even though Michael's choice will not affect her in any way.

"You don't have to," She argues, speaking directly into his ear, "It's blood."

Michael scoffs, giving her a quick "Yeah, sure" as the boys start to chant his name, encouraging him to drink, whooping and cheering when he does, taking a long drag from the bottle before pulling away.

"BRAVO!" David calls out, ordering Marko to start pushing him around in the wheelchair as the others start to get excited, Paul swiftly lighting what is probably his fourth joint of the night to add to his buzzed state, Dwayne carrying a smile as he parades around with them. Sighing, I busy myself in my pot of food, picking up my sketchbook once more and carrying on with my previous drawing, knowing this will be a boy's night, preparing myself for yet more babysitting duties.

The hours drag on, the boys becoming more and more active as the night wears on, each of them drinking huge amounts of alcohol and smoking large amounts of cannabis and tobacco, ignoring the fact that Star and Laddie are trying to sleep in their beds. The former eventually manages this, but the latter struggles, coming over to me after around two hours to sit with me, watching the boys mess around, as well as me draw, holding himself close to me as if to keep himself safe - he might like the boys, but his trust in them is yet to become a steady thing. Somehow, he drifts off in my arms, causing me to stop sketching and hold him instead, rocking him a little to keep him asleep, which is where the boys find me when they finally decide to take the party elsewhere.

"We're going to the bridge, want to come?" Paul announces, shooting me a guilty look when I hush him, gesturing to the sleeping child in my arms.

"Sure, let me drop this one off in his bed first, then I'll be up." I agree, carefully standing and taking Laddie over to the cot the boys (I) prepared for him when they first came to us, tucking him in before stepping over to leave the cave, following the boys up and out.

As I emerge, I decide to myself that I don't want to ride by myself, so I go over to Paul with obvious intent, smiling thankfully at him when he lets me take a seat behind him. Doing so, I wrap my arms around his waist, holding on tightly when he and the rest of them take off, riding in formation with David at the front, though only after he gives me an odd look, most likely expecting me to ask him for a ride, even though he hasn't said more than two words to me all night.

The journey to the bridge isn't long, especially not at the speed the boys are going at, a small sense of regret welling up in me at Paul's particularly reckless driving, wishing I'd chosen someone safer instead. He seems happy enough that I chose him, though, so I sit tight and deal with it, wondering who'll take me home after this little show the boys have planned. As we approach, I'm quick to get off and pull off the gloves I forgot to remove earlier, wiping my sticky hands on my jeans so they won't slip off the bars of the bridge. As Paul dismounts, he throws himself onto my back, almost pushing me over with his sudden weight, a giggle escaping him as I grunt in surprise, my hands flying to grasp at the arms he has thrown around my neck.

"Jesus, Paul, you're heavy as hell!" I protest, wriggling out from underneath him as we step onto the train tracks running across the bridge.

"Hey, I'm not that weighty!" He laughs, quieting when Michael speaks up.

"What's going on?" He asks David, the platinum blonde throwing an arm around his shoulders.

"Michael wants to know what's going on." The boys chuckle at his words, though I don't, still trying my best to brace my muscles in preparation for the hang that will soon follow, "Marko, what's going on?"

David's voice is laced with sarcasm and heavy emphasis, drawing yet another laugh from the group.

"I don't know, what's going on, Paul?" Marko replies, grinning behind Dwayne's shoulder at us.

"Who wants to know?" Paul inquires, laughing with us as I finally crack a smile, their teasing amusing to me as it always has been.

"Michael wants to know!" Marko confirms again, stepping up onto the edge of the bridge as we come to a halt in the centre.

"I think we should tell Michael what's going on." David says suggestively, giving Marko a pointed look.

With one last smirk, Marko steps off the edge, looking down as he goes.

"Bombs awayyyyyy..." His voice trails off as he drops, as if he's fallen to the bottom, though I know full well he hasn't.

Paul goes next, letting out one of his odd noises as he goes. Dwayne follows, and then David steps up as if he's forgotten I'm here.

"Come with us, Michael." He says before stepping off as well, the brunette turning to me with a worried expression. I can only shrug as I step up, dropping off the edge with a wry smile.

For a second, I feel weightless, before I feel an arm grab hold of me, pulling me against their chest. Instinctively, I wrap my own arms around their neck, looking up at them to find David smirking down at me. Thanking him, I allow him to use his superior strength to lift me up a little, letting me grab hold of an overhanging bar, only releasing me when I have a firm, comfortable grip on it. I laugh nervously as I start to swing with the others, trying to avoid Marko and Paul as they take part in their usual kicking antics, Dwayne grinning across at me widely.

"Michael Emerson! Come on down!" David taunts up at Michael as the brunette finally realises we're all safe (ish), blue eyes piercing into each other.

Finally, he decides to join us, the rest of us greeting him with cheer of our own, allowing ourselves to swing for a little while before I hear the tell tale sounds of a train approaching, and not a light one, either. Adjusting my grip on the cold bar, I try to roll my cramping muscles a bit in time for the heavy vehicle to pass overhead, the metal structure of the bridge shaking under its weight, our bodies vibrating with the shuddering surface above us. Around me, the boys - barring Michael - whoop and cry out in exhilaration, their muscles much more capable of holding on than our human ones, their words distorted under the hooting and chugging of the engine above us, though it is clear when David yells at Michael to hold on. A quiet voice in the back of my head wants to speak up and ask what else he's supposed to do, but I ignore it, instead focusing on the hanging vampires surrounding me, grinning when Paul decides he's going to be the first to go. I don't catch what he says as he allows his hand to slip from the bar, crying out in mock terror as the fog swallows his lanky body, Michael's eyes widening in panic as his newfound friend meets his apparent demise. Marko goes next, though once again, I don't quite hear him as he opens his mouth to speak, my concentration now turning to the aching in my arms, my muscles starting to shake violently as they struggle to hold my body weight up. Sweat beads on my forehead despite the icy air around us, my hands becoming clammy and slippery around the smooth bar in their grip, my palms sliding on the metal, dangerously. I don't notice Dwayne has dropped until he's gone, the dark haired vampire shooting me a reassuring look as he vanishes into the mist. On my other side, I hear David shouting at Michael again, his voice just audible over the pounding above us.

"Michael, you're one of us! Let go!" The vampire encourages, most likely giving the brunette one of his signature grins.

"And do what?!" Michael calls back, incredulously, terror evident in his eyes. At this point, the adrenaline in me at the thought of falling, voluntarily, has made my pulse spike, my heartbeat pounding in my ears as I watch David let go, the black-clad vampire falling into the fog in silence, as usual.

"DAVID!" Michael screams after him, eyes wide and panic-stricken.

The train finally passes by, the new silence eerie until the familiar whoops and cries of the boys below us start to float up from the mist, once more reassuring me. Across from me, Michael tries one last time to pull himself up onto the bridge, before he looks at me.

"What do we do?" He questions, voice laced with fear.

"Let go." I confirm, giving him the most ressuring look I can, though I know it's still daunting to him, and me, even if I have done this many times before, "On three, ok?"

He nods, wincing as his muscles start to hurt him, just as mine are.

"One..." I start, eyeing him carefully, "Two..."

As I reach this, he let's out a groan of terror, fixing his eyes on me.

"Three..." I finish, allowing my hands to release their grip on the bar as I say this, the weightlessness of the freezing air around me only adding to the adrenaline racing through me, a giddy shriek of excitement ripping from my throat as we fall. Spreading my arms, I use them to slow the descent, knowing one of the boys will catch me, Michael unaware of this fact as he screams the whole way down, clearly not enjoying the experience at all. Eventually, they cut out; by which time I've stopped paying attention to him, relishing in the sensation of the wind howling around my body as it tumbles through it, the cold barely registering in my mind.

Just as I start to think the boys will let me fall to my death, I feel my body suddenly stop, a pair of strong arms halting me in my path, the impact drawing a grunt from me as the air is knocked from my lungs.

"Gotcha, Princess." Dwayne's familiar voice sounds in my ear as he pulls me into his chest, smiling gently down at me as the floating vampire notices my exhausted state.

"Thanks, Dwayne..." I murmur, trying to recover from the fall as best I can, a breathless laugh leaving me when he grins in response.

"Of course."

Panting a bit, I allow my head to fall into his chest, my arms looping around his neck so I can hold on with more safety, breathing in his familiar scent: motor oil, dust and cologne, the dark haired vampire often preferring not to reek of his meal's blood when around other people. Sighing, I let myself relax as I feel the air around me shift, signalling Dwayne's ascent to the bridge, my attention now fully on holding onto the tall vampire as I try my hardest not to give in to my sudden exhaustion. I barely notice as he takes me to his motorcycle, the boys all joking around us, David carrying Michael's limp body briefly before passing it on to Marko, who looks swamped by the taller boy's frame, the blonde rolling his eyes when his burden lets out a small groan in his blacked-out state, sweat still coating his pale brow. Gently, Dwayne props me up on his bike, climbing on in front of me and allowing me to wrap my arms around his waist, chuckling when I squeeze his muscular torso in thanks again. Energy dwindling, I feel my head fall forwards onto his shoulder, grunting when the motorcycle sparks into gear, the sudden noise jolting me briefly from my trance-like state, causing me to tighten my grip a little, hoping to secure myself better.

Dwayne drives slowly, Marko doing the same beside us as he provides a taxi service for the passed-out Michael, the two vampires conversing as they ride, voices only just audible to my human hearing, though I can barely make out what they're saying. My eyes remain fixed on the crimson tail lights of our companions a little way away, the bright dots bouncing and jolting as the corresponding bikes go over uneven parts of the ground below them, the two drivers calling out encouragement at each other, most likely racing one another. A smile forms on my lips at the sight of them, even if I can't technically see them, my former anger at them mostly forgotten for the minute; instead, I'm just happy to be with them, realising how grateful I am to them after all they've done for me. With this in mind, I decide to pay a visit to Santa Carla tomorrow night, whilst they're feeding, to think up some way to repay them.

Just as I figure this out, I feel Dwayne's motorcycle come to a halt, meaning we've reached home, a relieve sigh escaping me at the prospect of finally going to bed after this long night. As the engines cut out around me, I feel another pair of arms lift me up off the bike, cradling me against their chest as they start to move with me. A quick glance up confirms this person to be David, the blonde vampire catching my eye with a soft smile as he takes me down into the cave, the rest of the boys - except Marko, who has gone to drop off Michael and his motorcycle - trailing along behind him, both equally as glad as I am that their leader finally forgave me. Struggling to keep my eyes open, I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face in his jacket, enjoying the smell that lingers around him, even if it does have the same sour odour I've come to associate with blood, the fabric of the garment making a comfortable headrest for me.

Minutes later, the feeling of my jacket and boots being tugged off makes it's way known, before quickly being replaced with the relieving sensation of a bed below me. Cracking my eyes back open again, I notice the boys standing around me, an unsure look on Paul's face as he twitches, itching to join me, the other two giving me more intent stares. I lift my arms up, gesturing for them to join me in the large bed, even if it is only for an hour or so, sighing happily when they all slip in beside me, David swiftly pulling me to lay in the crook of his arm, my head on his chest, whilst Dwayne moves to my other side, resting his head on my shoulder contentedly. Paul, as always, takes up his place in between my legs, placing his head on my abdomen as his hands move to hold my hips, pulling them closer to him as he lets out a groan of appreciation. Hazily, I feel a blush start to creep into my face as David starts to caress my hair, Dwayne tracing his fingers up and down my side comfortingly as Paul continues to rub circles into the skin of my hips, the attention from them all making me rethink my former inhibitions.

I fall asleep to the reassuring motions of the boys' affection, feeling as safe as I've ever been.

Part Four

#david(thelostboys)#joel schumacher #the lost boys #vampire #dwayne(the lost boys)#kiefer sutherland #marko(the lost boys)#paul(the lost boys)#star(the lost boys)#laddie(the lost boys)

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