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wondernimbus · 4 years

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two sworn enemies — draco malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x female!reader

summary: there is only one thing worse than being hated by draco malfoy; it’s being fancied by him.

requests are closed for now! please refrain from plagiarizing my work.

After being on the receiving end of Malfoy's torment for four whole years at Hogwarts—a place where she's supposed to be making friends and learning and making the most out of all her youthful years—[Y/N] is beginning to grow tired.

The last thing she’s supposed to be worrying about is a snarky Slytherin boy who always has some sort of rude remark resting on his lips every time he comes across her in the corridors. Or anywhere, for that matter—Draco Malfoy's incessant jest seems to stay within no boundaries.

Eleven-year-old [Y/N] used to be fazed by it; she used to cry herself to sleep every time the platinum blond would push past her in the hallway, yelling out something offensive on his way, usually to do with her friendship with blood-traitors and the "big-headed" Harry Potter (or so Malfoy referred to him). She used to feel angry—angry enough to want to whip her wand out at him and hex him into oblivion every time he'd even as much as lay eyes on her. But the more Malfoy tried to bother her, the more it didn't anymore.

Fourth year wasn't so bad. Malfoy had already called her about a hundred nasty names at that point and was running out of them—his creativity was dwindling and [Y/N]'s concern along with it. She'd even laughed at him, one time during Transfiguration class—genuinely laughed, not out of frustration or anger but because she found something that he said to her funny.

"How does it feel being surrounded by blood-traitors and Mudbloods, [Y/L/N]? Pity you chose the wrong crowd to hang around."

"How did it feel to get punched by a girl, Malfoy? I hear Hermione packs quite a punch."

Malfoy’s nose had wrinkled into his signature sneer before he scoffed. "Tell Granger she can improve her right hook." At which point [Y/N] had snorted out a laugh—and yes, it wasn't a full-blown burst of chortles, but it was a laugh nonetheless.

Fifth year rolls around and Draco Malfoy is the least of [Y/N]'s worries. She's gotten over his nagging at this point; all his jabs have lost a bit, if not all of their luster.

But then a week after classes have started, Malfoy starts acting—weird. Very weird. [Y/N] has no idea what's gotten into him, but Draco's cruel insults seem to have veered off course and taken a very dramatic turn. He still yells at her in the hallways, but not to make some harmful jibe [Y/N] has heard thousands of times before. Instead Draco—yes, Draco Malfoy, the same boy who has never once failed to torment her in the past years they've known each other—has now made it a habit to yell pick-up lines. At her. At [Y/N]. At the same girl he's been bad-mouthing for the past four years.

The first time it happens, [Y/N] can't believe her ears. She thinks he's yelling at someone else other than her, because there is no way bloody Draco Malfoy is shouting "DO YOU PLAY QUIDDITCH? BECAUSE YOU SEEM LIKE A KEEPER" at her from halfway across the Great Hall.

But he's definitely staring at her, grinning widely in that conceited sort of way that [Y/N] has always despised.

"Is he talking to me?" [Y/N] asks Hermione, bewildered.

"Looks like it." Hermione looks just as surprised as her. "Knowing Malfoy, he's not up to anything good. Ignore him, [Y/N]."

But ignoring Draco Malfoy is not something [Y/N] is capable of; the feistiness in her makes sure of that. So instead of moving on and turning a blind eye, she cups her hands over her mouth and yells, just as loud, "ARE YOU A BLUDGER? BECAUSE I'D LOVE TO BASH A BEATER'S BAT INTO YOUR—"

Whatever Malfoy is up to, [Y/N] isn't entirely sure she's enjoying it. The next afternoon—also in the Great Hall, while [Y/N] is doing her homework instead of eating lunch (because Snape apparently thinks it's a good idea to ask for a four-page essay when the school year has barely even started), there's a thump and [Y/N] looks up to see that there's a little red envelope sitting on her empty plate. Looking even further up, she sees an owl flying away from the table and out of the roof of the Great Hall, where the owls always come from to deliver letters—although that only happens at breakfast. Which means this is from someone else, likely another student.

[Y/N] stares.

"It's a Howler," Harry says from next to her, like she doesn't already know.

"I'm aware," she mutters, narrowing her eyes at it before she sets down her quill to grab it.

"Who would send you a Howler?" Ron has looked up from where he'd been shoveling beans into his plate. He crowds into her space, peering at the envelope she now holds in her hands; and she can't really answer him, because only her name is scribbled across the front in handwriting she doesn't recognize. Whoever sent it to her didn't bother with writing their own name.

She hesitates, brows furrowed as she, too, wonders where it's from. Her parents don't have a reason to send her a Howler—unless she's done something wrong that she isn't aware of. But it's only been a week since school has started and as far as she can tell, she hasn't done anything worthy of being sent a Howler. Or at least not yet.

"Might as well," she sighs—it's going to deliver its message one way or the other, anyway, and [Y/N] prefers to open it herself than have it burst into flames, rain ashes down upon her homework, and then start talking—so she opens the envelope.

The Howler jumps to life in front of her, hovering in front of her face, and [Y/N] has never seen a piece of stationery look so angry before. A forked tongue slips out of the envelope—[Y/N] braces herself for the worst, despite not knowing who on earth might have sent it—until a familiar voice booms around the Great Hall.

"ARE YOU A BASILISK? BECAUSE WHEN I SAW YOU, I FROZE."

Ron's shoulders automatically start shaking with laughter. Most of the Great Hall—or at least the ones close enough to hear the Howler—have turned around to watch the spectacle unfold, giggling behind their palms and pointing at [Y/N] like she can't see them. [Y/N], in the meantime, stares, completely dead to the world and everything else around her, because she knows that voice.

But then the Howler keeps talking. "IF YOU LET ME TAKE YOU ON A DATE, I CAN PROMISE YOU THINGS THOSE FILTHY PEASANTS CAN NEVER GIVE YOU."

The entire hall has fallen completely silent. [Y/N] feels her face burning up, but not with embarrassment—[Y/N] is angry. She feels it thrumming in her veins, curling around her lungs, clouding all of her senses.

With a single flick of [Y/N]'s wand, the Howler bursts into flames with a final feeble wheeze of I'm also a fairly good snogger. Ron is roaring with laughter and Harry has also joined in. Two-faced gits.

[Y/N] slams her palms down on the table and vaguely even registers the pain this gives her as she steps out from behind the bench and turns around to face the Slytherin table because of course she knows who sent the Howler. Of course she knows who would go out of his way to humiliate her in front of the entirety of Hogwarts, because that extremely irritating, maddeningly haughty voice can only belong to one person—and sure enough, the idiot in question is standing there on top of the benches, arms outstretched towards her and that proud, snooty look on his face like he expects her to actually be impressed.

Over Ron and Harry's laughter, [Y/N] shouts angrily, "Malfoy!"

Malfoy drops his arms to his sides, hops off the bench, and swaggers towards her. She meets him halfway—and when she does, she doesn't hesitate to shove him angrily by the shoulders. He stumbles back a little, but he's still grinning annoyingly wide. "Have you come to me bearing an answer?" he says, his tone mocking, and [Y/N] just barely suppresses herself from whipping out her wand and jabbing it somewhere she wouldn't want a wand anywhere near. They are still surrounded by teachers. "I imagine it's a yes—who would turn me down, after all—"

"Drop the fucking act," she hisses; all eyes are on them, because Hogwarts never passes up a chance for gossip, and this might be the most exciting one yet. Draco Malfoy publicly asking out the girl everyone knows he's hated, and has hated him, for a long time—what a spectacle. But [Y/N] knows that his intentions are far from genuine; this is just another way to humiliate her and get on her nerves. And as much as she hates to admit it, it's a pretty good fucking move, because she hasn't been this annoyed by him in a long time.

Her teeth are gritted together so hard her words barely come out coherent. "I don't know what you're playing at," she practically growls, taking a step closer to get in his face, "But I encourage you to get yourself together."

But Malfoy seems unaffected. "Pity you didn't let the Howler finish," he drawls, still with that same smirk on his lips as he wriggles his brows suggestively. "I could've told you more about my superior snogging skills."

"Which is exactly why I didn't," she fumes. "We're in the middle of lunch—any more of you talking about your 'superior snogging skills' and the entirety of this hall would've thrown up on themselves. I know I would've."

At this, the smile on Malfoy's face droops a little, a ghost of his familiar sneer seeping in. [Y/N] takes a step back away from him, because she can't stand being more than a few feet near the prat. "You've got a lot of nerve, pulling this," she scoffs. "Try it again and you'll regret it. Now excuse me while I go do my bloody homework."

And then she turns around, goes back to the Gryffindor table, and does her bloody homework.

—

But Malfoy, as it turns out, isn't as weak-willed as he lets on. She's started receiving Howlers every morning at breakfast, all of which burst into flames every time to rain ashes upon her innocent plate of eggs and toast, but only after loudly blurting out some ridiculously bad pick-up line. It's been four days since the first Howler and they've only gotten progressively worse ever since—"you must be a Boggart because I'm terrified of pretty women"—and [Y/N] is beginning to grow so very tired.

Today, she hexes him in the middle of the hallway just as he's coming out of Potions class. She had warned him, all those days ago, that he'd regret it if he didn't let up. So [Y/N] watches, terribly amused as Draco starts wailing in the corridor, his hands splayed over his face in a measly attempt to cover the sardines falling out of his nostrils. It's an irreversible hex—or at least for eight hours—but until then, Draco will have to deal with the tiny fishes that shoot out of his nose at random intervals. [Y/N] can't bring herself to feel bad, not when he's humiliated her time and time again in front of so many people.

No Howlers arrive the morning after. There's a sense of what feels like disappointment coming off of the Great Hall; some people have actually turned around in their seats to watch her in anticipation for an owl to come swooping down upon her bearing a red envelope. Unfortunately for them, it doesn't happen. [Y/N], meanwhile, is finally at peace.

Or at least until Ron jabs her in the side and goes, "So are you?" he's grinning. "A Boggart, I mean."

It's a reference to the Howler she received yesterday. Her movements are dangerously swift; immediately she smacks the back of his head, sending him into a complaining frenzy. She rolls her eyes. "Stupid Malfoy."

"As much as I hate to say this," Harry begins, "I kind of wish you hadn't hexed him into stopping. His pick-up lines were pretty funny."

"Ha!" [Y/N] points a finger at Harry and nods approvingly, laughing a little. "That's a good one, Harry."

Harry stares at her dead in the eye. "Oh, I wasn't joking."

Her face falls.

"I suppose being on the receiving end of Malfoy's affection isn't any better than being hated by him," says Hermione, offering [Y/N] a sympathetic smile. "It's a good thing you showed him not to mess with you any further, [Y/N]."

[Y/N] tries for a smile of her own, but it comes out all stiff and crooked. "I feel like the past few days have been a fever dream," she says, shuddering. "This new form of—bullying, I don't know—has just been so weird. The bad names I've gotten used to, but—the compliments? The pick-up lines?"

"D'you think he's gone off his rocker?" Ron suggests.

"Maybe he fancies you," says Hermione off-handedly.

The effect this has on the three is instantaneous; Ron, Harry, and [Y/N] simultaneously blanch as though they've all swallowed something sour at the same time. Ron is choking on a piece of toast and Harry has spit water everywhere.

"Absolutely not," [Y/N] is shaking her head, nose wrinkled in distaste. "He can't possibly—that's ridiculous. We've hated each other for years."

"Feelings do change," Hermione shrugs, rolling her eyes at Ron and Harry, who have yet to recover from their initial shock. "And besides, it was just a suggestion. Although I don't see why he'd go out of his way to send you Howlers repeatedly asking you out if he doesn't fancy you."

"Because he wants to humiliate me in front of everyone!"

"Oh, alright, alright," Hermione sighs, sensing her defeat. "But you never know."

Ron has gathered his bearings once more. He turns to Hermione, genuine concern flooding his features, and blubbers, "Did I hear you right? Malfoy—fancying [Y/N]?"

"Yes, Ronald." Another eye-roll. "It's not that outlandish. Boys are boys—even Malfoy."

"Merlin's beard," he slumps down in his seat, shaking his head. "I don't think I've ever been this surprised. Not since I heard that Percy managed to score himself a girlfriend, and that was three years ago."

A few days pass, and while no more Howlers arrive, Malfoy is still as insistent as ever in his attempts to "woo" her—or, well, whatever it is he's trying to do. [Y/N] doesn’t quite know what to call it anymore; for some reason, it no longer feels like an attempt to bully or humiliate her. It's not as though he's insulting her, and it's not like her reputation is in any way being lessened. In fact, most of Hogwarts, it seems, enjoys the so-called "love-hate relationship" they've got going on, and expects them to get together sometime in the near future.

[Y/N] learns all of this from Fred and George, who are always a good source of gossip.

"What better love story than two sworn enemies falling in love?" George gushes, clasping his hands together.

"So romantic," Fred sings, closing his eyes and swaying his hips as though listening to a sultry tune only he can hear. “Setting aside their differences to answer the call of their hearts."

"Oh, Malfoy's still an arse, of course."

"But it's still romantic."

Part of [Y/N] wishes that the twins hadn’t told her that, because it makes it all the more confusing on her part. If, by some miracle, Malfoy does fancy her—what is she supposed to do? Ride off with him into the sunset? They are enemies—they have been for four, supposedly five years now, except this year Malfoy is being an insufferable twat who won't stop yelling pick-up lines at her in the hallways.

[Y/N] decides to turn a blind eye on him. If she ignores him for long enough, he's bound to stop.

Right?

—

Despite being a close friend to the famous Harry Potter, [Y/N] can say she’s made a name for herself at school that stretches far beyond just that girl who hangs out with the Chosen One. She’s been playing for the Gryffindor Quidditch team for two years and has contributed to some of the house’s most fantastic wins as a Chaser, and she’s also a fairly good student. She may have a penchant for trouble-making, but she knows how to limit herself. She prides herself for her work ethic and thus her grades are above average—enough for her to earn the favor of most of her teachers and for eager first-years to sometimes come up to her asking for help doing homework.

But enough for those very same first-years to come up to her in the hallway ready to do all of her biddings for the day, practically demanding her to hand over her books so that they can carry them for her? No. Certainly not. [Y/N] may have made a name for herself, but definitely not one renowned enough to earn the eleven-year-olds now crowded around her moments after she steps out of potions class, telling her that, “We’re here at your disposal! If you need us to do anything, just say the word!”

[Y/N] stares at the three children clustered around her, all wide-eyed and for some reason incredibly eager for her to start bossing them around.

Taken aback, she ushers them into a corner; the hallway is busy and people will keep bumping into them if they stay in the middle of the hallway like that.

Once away from the bustling main corridor, she bends down a little so that she’s at eye-level with all of them. “At my disposal?” she repeats, eyes narrowing playfully. “What do you mean?”

“We’re here to carry your books for you or grab you snacks from the kitchens or tie your shoelaces if you need us to!” one of them exclaims, bouncing on his toes.

Alright—this is getting ridiculous. [Y/N] pauses, lips pressed together into a thin line as she stares at each one of the first-years in turn; all three of them are staring at her as though waiting for her to start asking them to do push-ups.

She inhales. Someone must have put them up to this, because there is no way these children woke up this morning and simultaneously decided to become her servants for the day.

“Well,” she begins, smiling at them—and good grief, did she really look that young when she was eleven? “Thank you for offering to help me. I appreciate it, really—but lucky for me I’ve got some very capable arms and I think I can handle tying my shoelaces and carrying my books around and whatnot. But again—thank you. You’re all very nice.”

She pauses to look at their reactions; the smiles on their faces have drooped a little as they turn to one another, seemingly at a loss for words. “But,” the one girl says, frowning, “We’re supposed to help you.”

[Y/N] raises her eyebrows. “Supposed to?”

Someone definitely put them up to this—[Y/N] is certain of it now. And she has a good guess as to who.

She starts by saying, tone gentle, “Did someone tell you to do this? Because that’s really kind, and I’d love to thank them.”

The girl bunches up her lips in thought, shuffling her feet against the ground. “We’re not supposed to say,” she mutters, glancing at the two boys next to her nervously.

[Y/N] inhales. She needs confirmation, so she crouches down so that she’s the same height as them, and offers them all the friendliest, most trustworthy smile she can muster. The kind that wins over eleven-year-olds. “You won’t get in trouble if you tell me,” she tells them gently, and waits for them to nod in understanding before she goes, “Was it Malfoy? Draco Malfoy?”

They don’t have to respond—the looks on their faces are enough confirmation. [Y/N] suppresses the urge to roll her eyes, because of course Malfoy is the kind of person to somehow get first-years to do something like this. And she’s pretty sure it has something to do with bribery.

“Did he promise to give you anything, maybe?” [Y/N] presses on patiently.

The girl leans in and cups her hand over her mouth to whisper excitedly, “Chocolate frogs. Five for each of us.”

Ah. Of course. [Y/N] sighs inwardly and nods, standing up properly to once more tower over the tiny first-years. As much as she would love to have her own personal butlers, there is absolutely no way she is agreeing to take any part in exploiting these young kids. So she ruffles all of their hair in turn and promises to give them much, much more chocolate frogs than Malfoy will ever be able to offer if they swear to ignore him for the rest of their lives.

So she stands there in the hallway, a minute late for Transfiguration, watching the three first-years skip down the hallway, grinning excitedly to themselves—no doubt because they’ve just been promised what could be an infinite supply of chocolate frogs.

Which [Y/N] will now have to spend a lump of her summer savings on. Great. Bloody fantastic.

She didn’t think she could hate Draco Malfoy even more than she already did, but now, with the burden of buying chocolate frogs resting on her shoulders, she realizes that anything is possible.

[Y/N] finds Draco later on in the day when she’s heading to the Great Hall for dinner; as she’s passing by a window that coincidentally overlooks the Quidditch pitch, she sees him zooming around the stadium by himself, no doubt practicing to better his (in [Y/N]’s opinion) ghastly Seeker skills.

So she trudges off to the pitch, arms folded over her chest as she yells, “Malfoy!”

He notices, stops in mid-air, and immediately flies down to land in front of her, one hand on his hip and the other resting on top of his broom. That signature smirk is already on his face, mirrored by [Y/N]'s angry scowl. “Here to take me up on my offer for a date?” he grins, shaking his (sweaty, wet) hair out of his eyes. [Y/N] watches the movement, unimpressed. “Or were you just planning to watch me practice?”

She scoffs, tearing her eyes away from the way he’s running a hand through his blond hair. “Neither. I thought you were bad enough, Malfoy, but bribing first-years into doing my bidding for me? In exchange for bloody chocolate frogs?”

Malfoy’s hand pauses in carding through his hair. He drops it back to his side. “So you figured it out.”

”Why else would first-years be so eager for me to boss them around?”

”Maybe because they find you just as beautiful as I do?” he suggests, eyes glinting, the smile on his face growing even wider. [Y/N] lets out a quick breath of incredulous laughter, because is he really still keeping this act up when no one is around to see? Is he that desperate to get on her nerves?

“Just stop it, Malfoy,” she says through gritted teeth, taking a step closer to him. At this, he whistles a little, eyebrows rising, and for some reason [Y/N] tries very, very hard not to look at the sweat trickling down his forehead, the pale pink hue of his cheeks from the strain of practicing—“Please for the love of Merlin can you just drop the whole I’m-in-love-with-you act? You got what you wanted. You’ve annoyed me enough.”

Draco's nose wrinkles. “Oh, but that’s not what I wanted,” the smile on his face falters a little. ”Did you really think I did all of this just to annoy you?”

[Y/N]’s eyebrows furrow—and is that her heart skipping a beat? No. No, definitely not. Falling quiet for a few moments, she finally sniffs and says, “Why else would you go out of your way to act absolutely smitten by me?”

An echo of Hermione's voice from several days ago reverberates through her head. Maybe he fancies you.

Malfoy shrugs, his smirk falling just the tiniest bit to be replaced by a semblance of sincerity. But that can’t be. And then he says, “Maybe I fancy you,” and [Y/N]’s eyes widen.

That can’t be right. Flabbergasted, she blinks, taking a step back. This has to be some sort of joke—no, yes, that’s exactly what this is: another way to crawl under her skin and annoy the daylights out of her. She has to applaud him for his creativity.

Pinching the space between her eyes in irritation, she looks up at Malfoy, inhales, and says, deadpan, “I’m being serious.”

“I am too,” Malfoy counters, eyebrows raised innocently, and [Y/N] has never wanted to smack him more than she does now.

She lets out another incredulous laugh, because this entire situation is just so bloody ridiculous that she can’t quite wrap her head around it. Throwing her hands up in the air in frustration, she turns to him and says, “Alright—okay. Let’s say you do fancy me. I’m going to pretend for a few seconds that you do—okay?”

Draco watches her, evidently amused judging by his grin, shrugs, and nods.

“Okay,” she huffs. “If you do fancy me—why on earth would you?”

Draco opens his mouth, but she cuts him off: “We hate each other, Malfoy. We’ve hated each other since the moment you laid eyes on me and I laid eyes on you. What could have possibly changed your rotten mind?”

He rolls his eyes at this, shifting a little on where he stands. “For starters,” he begins, like he’s talking to a five-year-old, “I didn’t hate you. I disliked the fact that you hung out with the wrong sort of people.”

”The wrong sort of people,” she repeats, deadpan.

“The Weasleys. Blood traitors. Mudbloods.”

She scowls at him, brain struggling to fathom what the bloody hell he’s trying to tell her. Managing to once more plow through her confusion, she says, “Your point is?”

“I’d have asked you out long ago if only you were smarter with who you chose to befriend,” and there it is—that familiar, distasteful sneer [Y/N] hasn’t seen in a long time. “Your family’s one of the oldest wizarding families around. It’s a shame.”

She lets out another scoff of disbelief, but the first few of Draco's words have something inside of her stirring. She refuses to address it and instead says, “So—and again, I’m pretending—you fancy me because of my family?”

He lets out a little sniff. “Not what I said.”

”What is it you’re trying to say, then?”

“Blimey, how long is it going to take you to realize that I actually bloody fancy you?”

Draco has dropped all pretense of nonchalant arrogance; he’s staring at her, obviously frustrated and a little annoyed. He stops leaning on his broom and lets it drop to the ground in favor of advancing towards her until he’s mere inches away from her face.

”I fancy you,” he repeats, and it’s funny, how he says it, because declarations of love are supposed to be sweet and gentle—not scathing and angry. He’s scowling down at her, lip curling, brows drawn in together in the middle in a tight frown. “I’ve decided that I don’t care who you hang around anymore because I fancy you. Do you get it now?”

[Y/N] swallows, staring at him, momentarily frozen. Malfoy doesn’t seem as though he’s joking—and now she doesn’t know what to say. She’s never been this close to him before—close enough to see herself in the reflection of his eyes, which are a striking grey and remind her of thunderstorms brewing behind dark clouds—

She takes in a deep breath and swivels around, turning away from him. “Stop sending children to be my servants,” she says, and starts to walk away—until Malfoy grabs her wrist and forces her to look at him again.

For a moment the look in his eyes convinces [Y/N] that he’s about to apologize, but then his lips are splitting into a wide grin again and he says, “What if I bribe a seventh year into doing your homework for you?”

Another scoff. She tears her wrist away from his grip and stalks off, in complete and utter disbelief.

”Or a house-elf to bring you food?” he calls after her. “Someone to do your hair for you in the morning? Or someone to yell at me for you?”

She halts at the last one, and for some odd, unknown reason, she feels like smiling. But she doesn’t, because that will open a door into something she isn’t sure she wants to explore. So she turns around, suppressing that mysterious little smile, already twenty feet away from Malfoy as she says, loudly, “I like doing that last one myself, thanks.”

From this distance, she thinks Malfoy might be smiling. But she doesn’t stay long enough to find out.

click here to read pt. 2!

#harry potter #harry potter oneshot #harry potter oneshots #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy #draco malfoy oneshot #draco malfoy oneshots #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy imagines #harry potter fanfic #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfic

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chibinekochan · 3 years

Note

I don't know if your requests are open, but if they are

Can you please do the brother + Diavolo reaction to MC hiding behind them because of something that scares MC

Like it shows how much MC trusts them

Something of that sort!

Thank you!!

PS I absolutely love your reactions and you art!! 💜💜

They are always open. I'm just slow lol - and thank you so much!

(Writing long fanfiction takes most of my time.)

How I wish I could write two things simultaneously.

Lucifer

Always the brazen one.

One that is somehow always at the center of the chaos.

Someone that he counts on.

The one person that never seems to be afraid of anything.

Truly a miracle in the form of a simple human.

Yet here you are.

Hiding behind him, basically covering in feat.

Lucifer looks at the menace that scared you so.

A simple spider from the human realm.

He looks at the spider with slight amusement.

Then he throws it right out of the window after you tell him not to hurt the spider.

The sheer audacity!

Ah well, he can't fault you at all.

Especially when you look at him with your big, tearful eyes.

He pats your head, inviting you for some tea and classical music.

Leviathan

He is so confused.

Why are you using him as some sort of meatshield?

Especially when he is equally scared by this random huge demon.

Not that he can blame you.

He is flattered that you think he would be able to defeat this demon.

Okay on paper he is very powerful, but look at this guy.

What can he even do?

Levi is lost.

Then you cling to his clothes.

Out of sheer embarrassment, Levi summons Lothan.

This is enough to beat the demon.

Levi is pretty surprised.

You call him a hero.

Well, who is he to correct you?

Mammon

Don't worry, the great Mammon got this!

You can always count on his strength!

No matter what, the great Mammon will protect you.

The reason you are hiding is Lucifer.

You completely forgot to complete your assignment.

Now he is out to get you and punish you.

With one of his trademarked speeches.

Mammon takes a deep breath, turns to you, grabs your hand, and then just starts to run.

Really nothing else he can do.

Time to hide until the storm passes.

Asmodeus

Using him as a hiding spot?

This is certainly unheard of.

Of course, he is happy about the amount of trust you have with him.

Asmo understands that you want to get away.

This demon has pestered you for too long.

Honestly, their choice of clothes alone is enough reason to hide.

Asmo gladly pretends that he hasn't seen you.

While you barely hide behind him.

It's only due to his dazzling beauty that you are unseen. Or the lack of eyesight of the pestering demon.

Regardless, you are safe.

You better praise Asmo a lot for this.

I mean, you basically owe him your life.

Belphegor

He wakes up from you hiding behind him.

Belphie is confused until he notices the cause of your distress.

He has to work hard to not laugh.

You have seen many scary things, yet this completely harmless little snake scares you.

Belphie chuckles, he can't even be mad that you interrupted his nap.

You hug him so tightly that it's pretty hard for him to remove the source of your distress.

Belphie just shoos the snake away and you are glad once it's gone back to where it belongs.

For payment, you are now Belphies pillow for the rest of the day.

He thinks about ways of getting you to cling to him again.

Beelzebub

He is kind of taken aback when you suddenly hide behind him.

Beel gets ready to fight whoever scared you.

Nobody scares you and gets away with it!

Somehow he can't see anything dangerous.

Maybe it was a ghost?

Well anyhow, you are safe now!

You then tell Beel that you got scared by a frog.

Beel then spots the frog, it's really just minding its own business.

He doesn't judge you at all, he simply catches it and brings it to a nearby pond.

Then tells you the scary frog is all gone.

You are very relieved.

Then you treat Beel to some good food.

He will gladly keep you safe from anything scary.

Solomon

You hide behind him, well, mostly behind his cape.

Solomon is very baffled.

Usually, you aren't scared by anything.

Of course, he will help you but it's pretty funny.

Then he sees what scared you so much.

A random decoration that just somehow fell down.

Now he just can't hold back any longer.

He laughs so much his sides are hurting.

Then he dangles the 'oh so scary' decoration in front of you.

Of course, you feel very offended.

I mean it's embarrassing enough without him laughing like this.

He says how sorry he is but he won't forget this.

Well, at least until you give him some sweet payback with a bit of makeup and a well-placed jump right in front of him.

After this Solomon never mentions it again.

Diavolo

He needs a second to even realize what you are doing.

This is a pretty big deal for people, right?

I mean trusting someone enough to seek shelter behind them?

Seems pretty important to him at least.

Nobody else has ever done this to him so he can only guess.

Well, regardless he is totally ready to protect you.

Now to find out what upsets you this much.

He finds a ghost that is missing its head.

He is also one that is keen on spooking random people.

Diavolo gives the ghost a stern talking.

You have never seen Diavolo like this before.

Then the ghost apologizes to you.

You forgive him and Diavolo is pretty happy about this.

You then thank Diavolo for everything.

He invites you to have dinner with him.

Barbatos

You are in the kitchen with him.

Just chatting with him over the latest stuff.

Then you suddenly yell out and run and hide behind Barbatos.

He is surprised and looks around.

Only to see a huge rat.

His worst enemy!

A rat in his kitchen.

Now, this is personal.

He moves quickly and gets a broom.

The rat manages to escape, for now.

Well, the kitchen will definitely be torn apart later.

For now, Barbatos has a much more important mission.

Which is to calm you down and make you feel safe again.

So he brings you to the couch and you two have some pleasant tea and cake together.

My Obey me! Masterlist

#obey me #omswd #obey me headcanon #obey me!#om!#om! shall we date #obey me shall we date

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kyanmapng · 4 years

Text

lee suho boyfriend headcanons.

listen to love so fine by cha eunwoo.

˗ˋˏ author’s note ˎˊ˗

i shall ignore kdrama suho and it’s all about webtoon suho. it’s finally time for me to (hopefully) do him some justice when tb writers decided to make him...like that. i tried to focus on different things from seojun. hope you will enjoy it. feel free to talk to me about any headcanons!

suho is all about nagging you about your health and studying, making it seem like he is harsh and blunt, but his eyes always soften after. sometimes he pushes too hard and it can hurt, but he realizes his mistakes early on and learns from them. he doesn’t make them twice, ever.

since he is used to being alone, he still gets little spooked by incoming messages and calls. it always makes his heart melt when you call him just to tell him you wanted to hear his voice and that you are bringing some snacks while he studies.

at first, he is little unsure about texting, is he bothering you? does this sound too bland? should he add some emojis? but he never uses them, so will you be creeped out? he is the king of overthinking for no reason.

looks up so many date ideas and creates folders on his pc for them. and he learned the hard way about asking people on the internet for advice.

suho does the whole gentleman shebang - opening doors, pulling out chairs, walking on the side closer to cars,... people look at him with heart eyes wherever you two are because he is so prince-like, but he is focused on you and ignores it.

but suho is not all prim and proper, he knows how to tease once he is comfortable (and to ever date someone he has to be).

since webtoon suho is taking cooking classes, imagine this. suho teaching you how to cook, him being all focused and explaining in simple terms and looking out for you so you don’t cut yourself, while you get dazed by the visuals and his calming voice. before you know he is looking at you and asking if you are listening (even though he already knows the real answer). “once more than, but i won’t repeat it again.” he says and steps behind you showing you how to safely cut the onion. (he knows it’s sort of a low blow, but he can’t help himself)

asking suho for pads or tampons is such a funny thing. he has a poker face throughout but inside his mind, there are sirens and alarms blaring. he agrees right away and listens tentatively for what to buy and comes back with the crazy amount and pink cheeks because the ladies in the there cooed at him and gave him tips (more than he bargained for). he has a hard time meeting your eyes for a few minutes.

suho does a lot of things with a poker face but internally screaming. he had a whole plan for meeting your parents, but then your parents just decided to show up without calling you and he was severely underprepared with your pink frilly apron on and his bangs up because they’ve gotten too long. you had to jump in and save him, but he still has nightmares about it.

suho enjoys all domestic vibes he can. since he didn’t get to enjoy them while he was young, he wants to have a fill of it now. if you sleep over he likes to braid your hair and play with it while you are watching movies together, bonus points if it puts you to sleep he melts inside and just carries you to bed and looks at you for a while, pushing the little hairs out of your face. (definitely teases you for drooling on his pillow in the morning, because he can be cute AND savage, it’s a package deal.)

your favorite thing is when suho gets so serious talking about ghosts or aliens and horoscopes. he throws scientific studies and numbers like it’s nothing and moves so animatedly. you zone out halfway through but keep on smiling at him like an idiot because he is just such a dorky nerd. (just for the fun of it sometimes you send him his daily horoscope and when it comes true suho gets huffy lol.)

he is big on forehead kisses and hair kisses. arm over your shoulder and soft smooch into your hair. doesn’t get embarrassed by pda (but he has limits - holding hands, pecks, hugs,... but no make-out sessions outside.) he is a private kinda guy.

somehow he always knows what you need and has it prepared. be it notebooks, pens, sweets. he definitely stocks up on sweets for you but he doesn’t let you overeat ever. his main priority is your health.

even though i say he is a softie for his lover, he doesn’t bend rules for his lover often. the sweets things is one of them. but he still changes throughout the relationship, before he was a lot harder on himself, but thanks to his significant other he learns to stop being his own worst enemy, he starts enjoying being more spontaneous and let loose.

suho doesn’t date without thinking about the future. he wouldn’t waste time with someone he couldn’t see having a future. not that i’m saying he is thinking about marriage but … yes i am. this ties to the domesticity, when he feels like these everyday things feel so good and fun he can’t help it but feel fuzzy inside. he wants to be the best for you, he would never let himself become like his father.

also imagine reading sessions. sitting on a couch, your legs over his lap and his hand resting on your knee, while you sneak peeks over your own book. this often leads to cuddle sessions where you talk about the books you read and fall asleep in each other’s arms. being lazy and letting time fly.

living with him would be a dream because he never skips on doing chores but also always makes sure you don’t forget them either. (sometimes you wish he won’t remember to tell you, but he does EVERYTIME without fail. but there are times where you just don’t have the time and he does your half of chores as well without telling you, after you come back and panic about chores, he just pats your head and tells you not to worry about it.)

i feel like since he has quite a bit of time, he would maybe consider having a pet (if you ask he can’t say no honestly). i think he would start off tame, with maybe a hamster and he would read up all about taking care of it. and seeing him playing with the hamster is truly a highlight, he even lectures it if it bites him or you (when he thinks you can’t hear him that’s it.)

#true beauty #true beauty writings #lee suho #lee su ho #true beauty webtoon #cha eunwoo #lee suho reader insert #lee suho x reader #lee suho headcanon #true beauty headcanons #moon writes to the stars

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forever-rogue · 4 years

Note

Congrats on the milestone!!! I found your blog thanks to "In Name Only"- haven't read an Oberyn fanfic that good in years!!! <3 <3 Buuuut could I have one with Javi, pretty please? :3 “Why aren’t you with her?”; But because I've seen you're already done some with Javier and maybe you'd like sth else: Din “ I thought we were family!”. Happy New Year!!!!

So, I had to go with Javier on this because I am in it for him 💕

Javier Peña x Fem!Reader ; warnings: language

Javier Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Oh no, no, no,” Javier shook his head fervently as he picked up his glass of whiskey, downing it in one go before he took a long drag of his cigarette. He seemed amused as he spoke in rapid Spanish to his companion for the evening, a man you hadn’t met before. A small smile tugged on your features as you noticed just how relaxed he seemed for once; normally he was tense and tired, just like you and Steve as well. It had been a last minute decision to come here for a drink by yourself, and you definitely hadn’t expected to find Javier here, but you weren’t upset in the slightest, deciding to go in and say a quick hello and see how it went. But his next words caused you to freeze in place.

“She’s nothing to me,” he commented as both burst into gruff laughter, “she’s just a kid, but good for a fuck now and then. A good rookie, but that’s it. If you want something worth your time, you know where to go.”

Your heart felt like it froze before dropping into your stomach at his words; they were so cruel and vile, laced with amusement at your expense. It didn’t long to figure out who he was talking to. Rookie? There was no one but you. Fucking every once in a while? Also you - well the two of you. But it had never been just...sex to you. It had always held so much more weight and somehow you’d thought it had for him to.

“Move,” a man, clearly drunk, shoved you slightly as stood in the doorway, rooted in place. Your eyes were focused on Javier, and you made a small sound as you were jilted to the side. Javier’s head snapped up at the slight commotion and he paled as he noticed that it was you; shit, shit, shit. Judging by the broken hearted look on your face, he knew you had heard everything.

You mumbled a quick apology before meeting Javier’s eyes for the briefest of moments before tearing out of the bar and out into the cold, dark street. It wasn’t but a moment before tears were spilling down your cheeks as you tried to control the sobs that threatened to rack your body. No - you weren’t going to let him or anyone see you like this. If he even cared enough to come after you and see if you were okay or what you’d heard. Judging by the cruel sharpness of his words, you highly doubted he would give the situation as much as a passing thought.

Well, you huffed lightly to yourself, dabbing at your tears with the sleeve of your sweater, no one to blame but yourself. Everyone had warned you about Javier Peña - you just hadn’t listened.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“What’s wrong, Peña?” the man across the table looked at him and laughed, flagging down a nearby waitress and signaling for her to get two more beers, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Javier closed his eyes and let out a long breath, running a hand over his tired eyes. Part of him knew he should have come after you, but another part of him figured it was pointless. You’d probably never want to see his face again. It was supposed to be a quick comment to his contact, a blaise comment so the man knew to stay away from you, so you were protected - at least as much as he could ensure it. Instead he royally fucked everything up, and naturally you’d had impeccable timing.

“Nothing,” he lied as he accepted the beer and downed half of it in one go, “nothing at all.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

Part of you had wanted to call in sick to work the next day - and the rest of your days. But you’d decided that that was not the way to handle things. You were going to steel yourself and offer him as much indifference and disregard he had afforded you. May it was stupid and childish, but in the moment you didn’t care. He didn’t want anything to do with you and only viewed you as a good fuck now and then, then you would give it right back. You were finally going to take everyone’s advice and keep Javier Peña out of your personal life. At work it was unavoidable, but everywhere else, you were done with him.

“Good morning,” you offered Steve a kind smile before handing him a cup of coffee just like you did most mornings. Javier was already at his desk, pouring over paperwork, but stopping to glance up at you. Steve offered you his own greeting before eagerly accepting the coffee and getting back to work; you could feel Javier’s seeing gaze on you, but weren’t about to break down and gave into him.

“Morning,” Javier offered, looking intently at you, as you sat down at your own desk and busied yourself with paperwork. There was a ton of it to do after last week’s raid, and that meant the three of you would be stuck at the office for the next few days. Not exactly ideal, to be stuck in close proximity with the man you desperately wanted to avoid, but you’d deal with it. You nodded and made a small, noncommittal sound.

Steve looked between the two of you, opening and closing his mouth a few times as he realized something was wrong. Javier and yourself were normally thick as thieves, so this was a sharp contrast to what he had come to know as normal. While he didn’t know the full extent of your relationship, he knew it was more than friendly, and it didn’t long to figure out that something had happened. But he wasn’t going to push it or say anything; it wasn’t his place and he was sure that the two of you would figure it out.

The rest of the day continued in much the same fashion...as did the day after...and the day after that. You played the role of cool and collected, not hurt and unphased by anything, while Javier felt like he was slowly breaking down. He just wanted to speak to you for just a moment, to explain what had happened and that none of it was true - he’d never meant to hurt. He’d just wanted to protect you.

By Friday evening, he couldn’t handle it anymore; he needed to explain himself, to just get you to listen for a few minutes. Whether or not you chose to believe him would be another case.

“Dulzura-”

“I have a name, Javier,” you snapped at him, trying to push past him and head out of the office for the weekend. You’d planned to meet up with Connie to grab a drink, a much needed girls’ night, and that didn’t include Javier. You’d spent all week trying to get up and over him, and even though you weren’t sure it had worked, you liked the illusion that it did.

But the seasoned agent was quick, and was able to grab your wrist and keep you from walking away. You looked at him, a frown on your features as you tried to pull out of his grasp, but he was stubborn and steadfast and didn’t release you.

“We need to talk,” he insisted softly as you huffed impatiently. You didn’t dare to meet his eyes for fear of breaking down and giving in to him. Instead you stared at your feet and wished the ground would open and swallow you whole.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you hissed, the venom in your voice causing him to recoil, “you made that crystal clear. I’m just...what did you call? A good fuck every now and then? What could you - the wonderful most amazing agent - possibly want with me? A rookie?”

“You need to listen and let me explain-”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you’d caught him off guard and he dropped your wrist, allowing you to pull out of his grasp and take a step away, "if you thought that's all I was you could have made it clear. I never...I don't know what I was thinking. I guess I should have listened, huh? Stay away from Javier Peña and I was just thinking dumb rookie that didn't listen. Joke's on me, right?"

"That's not - that's never what this was. Not to me," he insisted as you'd started to walk, causing you to stop dead in your tracks. Slowly turning around, you cocked your head to the side in confusion, "that's not what this started out as or what I wanted."

"Oh really?" you were stuck somewhere between shock and disbelief as you laughed bitterly, "do you mean it or are you saying that because you're trying to look good? Is that what you tell all the girls when you want them to get back in your bed?"

"Would you just stop and listen to me for one fucking moment?!" the sharpness of his tone caused you to look at him in surprise, "I've been trying to talk to you all week and you've been avoiding me like I've got the fucking plague. You won't even look at me."

"You broke my fucking heart!" you yelled back at him, feeling something snap within you as a few tears rolled down your cheeks, "and the worst thing? I was never even supposed to know. You couldn't even tell me to my fucking face! Was I supposed to find out or just be a laughingstock for you and your buddies? Or what about your informants? Why aren't you with her?"

"Stop! Just let me talk and listen for a moment," he ran his hands over his face as he groaned in annoyance, "fuck - if you never do anything else just please listen now. A few minutes is all I'm asking for."

"Fine," you agreed quietly, crossing your arms over your chest as you quirked an eyebrow, "you've got five minutes."

"You weren't supposed to hear those things I said," he agreed with a heavy sigh, as you tried not to sniffle too loudly at his declaration, "because it wasn't true - not in the way you think."

"How...what-?"

"My turn to talk," he reminded you, "your turn to listen. That man I was with...he's not a good man, Dulzura. He's an informant, but that doesn't mean he has any honor or virtue. If he knew you were mine, or anything if the sort, he would have used that against me in a heartbeat. He's not a good man. And all I wanted to do was protect you. The only way I could think to do that was to make it seem like I didn't care - if you don't matter he won't think twice about you. If he knew even a fraction of how much you mean to me, you'd be his first target if the tables ever turned. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

"Javier…" at some point your mouth had dropped and your mind was reeling as you tried to figure out what was going on. Had you really jumped to the worst conclusion with knowing only half of the story? He leaned against the door-frame and let out a long sigh, "do you...really?"

"I just wanted to protect you," he confirmed with a small nod, "I didn't mean for you to hear it because none of it was true. Of all the times for you to walk into that shitty bar...amazing timing, Dulzura. I'm sorry you had to hear it, especially since none of it was true."

"Wait," you looked at him with wide eyes as your heart sank when you realized you'd been giving him the cold shoulder for no reason. You felt like a fool; you should have known better than just to give into your flighty emotions. You knew Javier - the real Javier. You should have known you could have trusted him - talked to him from the start. But...shit.

"I would have told you that already if you'd just let me talk and not run away every time you saw me," he admitted with a shrug, "maybe it wasn't the best way to say it but I just...I want to keep you safe. Always."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

And just like that, you threw your arms around his neck and pulled him close before crashing your lips onto his. He kissed you back without hesitation, his strong arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you close.

"What if someone sees?" you suddenly remembered between kisses as grinned at him. He shook his head and easily played it off.

"Doesn't matter," he insisted as he kissed you softly, this particular kiss filled with more longing and saccharine intensity, "I'll protect you. I'm sorry for how things seemed. I would never mean anything like that."

"I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions," you whispered softly, sneaking in a few more kisses, "I should have known better. I should have just come to you."

"Next time," he insisted as he gently touched your face, "Dulzura - you know how much I…"

"I know, Javier. Now I truly know," you grinned at him, "me too."

"Want to get out of here?"

"Sorry babe," you teased, "its girls night. I would not be opposed, however, if my two favorite partners happened to make a surprise appearance at the same bar…"

"See you soon," he grinned, "and then you're all mine."

"I'm counting on that."

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x fem!reader #javier peña x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #narcos #forever-rogue's follower celebration

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ackermanslov4r · 3 years

Text

request :HI! I love your writing! i was wondering if you could write an enemies to lovers one where Levi and (Y/N) are roommates but they hate each other, and then something bad happens like (Y/N) her brother or sister die and she gets really sad and levi is just being mean because he doesn’t know how to comfort her and they end up having an actual conversation and get to know each other a bit more and they start catching feelings but they don’t know what to do so (Y/N) gets a boyfriend to take her mind off levi and he gets jealous and gets a girlfriend but both of them are really just trying to make each other jealous and they end up getting angry and confronting each other and finally get together? That was really specific but it would be cool. THANKS

thank you! it’s quite long,it literally took me two weeks to write it lmao,so i hope you’ll like it <3

“I’m going to throw your shit away if you don’t clean your space.”

Standing in the middle of the room,Levi looked at your side of the room,a disgust expression on the face. It wasn’t that messy or that dirty , compared to some other room you’d seen,but it was enough to get Levi’s clean-freak-personality out.

“It’s not your space,why should you care ?”

“Because...” he stepped toward you,anger in his eyes.” First of all,that’s fucking disgusting ,and second ...” he bend,grabbing a shirt laying on the floor. “Your stuff is invading my personal space.”

In a quick move,he threw the shirt to your face. You grabbed it,groaning a bit. Levi was the worst roommate someone could have. He barely talked,and when he did ,it was usually to roast you. He wanted everything to be clean,didn’t tolerate too much sound... and the worst thing was that he barely ever slept,keeping the light on when you tried your best to rest. Bad luck wasn’t even enough to describe what happened to you when you were assigned as his roommate.

“Really sorry,sir . My dearest apologies.”

Anger flashed on Levi’s face,and he let out a “Tch” before turning his back on you. With a smirk,you threw the shirt away,back on Levi’s space.

............

“Y/n ? I...you should sit.”

Your ears buzzing,your brain still trying to proceed what was happening,you let yourself fall on the chair,barely noticing the tears on your cheeks.

“I’m sorry . It’s not my fault of course,but I’m sorry to be the one telling you this.”

It was as if the world had broke into pieces. Your brother... you couldn’t say it. Think about it. It was too painful,and you might be destroyed from it,from how your heart will break just by admitting that he was gone.

“I should...” you coughed,your voice rough because of the sobs you were containing. “I’m going to go ...to my room.”

“Do you need something ? Or do you want me to stay with you ?”

Your vision blurry because of your tears,you shook your head,thanked Armin for ... for what,you didn’t know,and went back to your personal space. It was a miracle that your legs were still carrying you,that you still knew how to walk. With a shaky hand,you opened the door,after many try.

“Stay silent,I’m working.”

Blinking through your tears,you glimpsed Levi,sitting at his deck. He looked calm,lazily writing on a paper,and seeing him like that,hearing his voice,when your world was falling apart ,made your blood heat into your veins.

“Why can’t you fucking leave me alone for once ?”

Levi’s angry eyes flew from what he was doing,and ,when they met yours,when he noticed your tears,his brows furrowed and he stood up a bit. He was half standing,half sitting,his arm pressed against the deck.

“What the hell happened to you ?”

Your sadness and despair turned into anger,even pure hate. It was better to feel this,better to be angry at him then falling apart.

“Stop acting like you care.”

Levi’s jaw clenched,and his grip on the deck tightened.

“You come here crying your eyes out and looking like shit, of course I...wonder what’s happening.”

A sharp laugh escaped your mouth,slowly turning into sobs. Levi stilled,throwing an awkward arm to you before letting it fall beside his leg. He took a step back,the anger in his eyes turning into what looked like worry. But,while someone else would have took you in their arms,holding you,telling you everything was okay...Levi did the opposite. He walked far way from you,his eyes scanning the room while he tried to think of what to do. He didn’t know how to comfort someone,and he disliked physical touch so much that he couldn’t bare himself to hold you,or get close to you. His whole body was screaming to him,screaming and telling him to go and help you,but he couldn’t bare himself to move.

“What’s happening is that ...” you said,your hand on your mouth,trying to contain your sobs . “It’s that my brother...died.”

The reality of it hit you like a storm,and your legs stopped working,dropping you to the floor. You were crying now,crying as if someone was taking your heart away,as if the world was burning in front of you. You felt ,more than you saw,Levi get closer to you. A few seconds,or a few minutes you didn’t know,later ,he laid his hand on your shoulder.

“I’ve known...”his voice was low,rough.” I...Many people die,and died, you know and ...”

Before he could even finish his sentence,you rose,pushing his hand away. You could barely stand,barely look ,but your ears worked perfectly ,and you didn’t want to listen to him. You didn’t want to listen to what he was going to say,because the words were obviously going to be harsh,and we’re going to hurt you even more.

“Get the fuck away from here Ackerman.”

You tried to wipe the tears from your cheeks,from your eyes,and looked at Levi. His eyes looked ancient suddenly,painful. The great,almost arrogant Levi Ackerman now looked miserable,helpless. A flash of pain appeared on his face at your words.

“Get . Out . Of . Here.” you grabbed some of his stuff and threw it to him. “I don’t want to see you,or hear you ever again. So get you damn stuff,your damn tea,your damn work,and leave me fucking alone.”

Each of your word was followed by you throwing something at him. He wasn’t even moving,didn’t flinch once,as you destroyed the room,his perfectly cleaned and arranged space.

“Y/n...”

“I said , get out !”you shouted,putting all your anger and sadness in the words. He didn’t deserve to be the one receiving it,but the thing was that he was the only one around,and that it was better for you to do that,better than turning these feelings on you.

Levi opened his mouth,and slowly closed it. He grabbed the papers he was working on when you came,and went away,leaving you standing there,in the messy room.

..........

Weeks passed,each day more blurry than the other. You could barely get out of bed,stuck inside of it by your sadness. You didn’t have any news of Levi and didn’t see him once,but there was some signs in the room,missing papers,some stuff suddenly clean ,that showed he had been there. You felt guilty of the way you had treated him , because even if you’d never been close to each other,and weren’t even friends,he didn’t deserved to be yelled at. Maybe he really wanted to help you,but you had pushed him away,and pushed him from his own room.

Lost in your thoughts,your dirty hair falling on your forehead,you suddenly heard the door open. You grabbed the blankets,pulling them to your shoulders,trying to hid your dirty and messy body behind it. The door was supposed to be closed,so this could only be one person.Someone who had the keys.

“Levi ?” your voice was rough from not talking to anyone for weeks.

The man appeared in front of the door,a worried expression on the face. You couldn’t tell if the worry was for how miserable you looked,or if he was afraid to be yelled at again.

“I thought you were sleeping.I’ll come back later.” he paused,quickly taking a look at the room,the dirty dishes, the clothes on the floor.

“No,no,you can stay . I mean,it’s also your room. You shouldn’t ...I shouldn’t stop you from coming here.”

His eyes studied your face,for so long that your cheeks started to blush. His eyes were haunted,and his gaze so piercing that when he looked at you like that,all his focus on you,it felt like he was reading in you like you were an open book.

“I don’t mind staying away if it makes you feel better.”

A small chuckle escaped your mouth. “ I don’t really look like i’m doing good right now, i don’t think you being here will change anything.At least the room will be clean if you ...move in again.”

Levi nodded,and took a step in the room. He stood there for a few seconds,apparently waiting to see if you’ll change your mind. When he was sure that you weren’t going to ask him to go again,he went to his side of the room,and started cleaning.

« I’m sorry »you said,your voice low,after a few minutes. « I shouldn’t have talk to you like that. You’re annoying most of the time,but i understand now. Understand that you wanted to help me. »

The man froze,his back on you,and then slowly tilted his head,meeting your eyes.

« Good. I wasn’t really being nice with you all this time,i guess i sort of deserved some of the words you said. »

As he went back to what he was doing,you understood that this was his apologies. He’s not the type of person to the « sorry » our loud,but cleaning the room,leaving you alone ,his acts were his way of apologizing.

« I didn’t know you could be nice. »

This usual sound,a « tch » escaped Levi’s mouth,and you hadn’t realized how much you had missed it. How much you missed talking to people,having company.

« It’s not how i prefer to act but yes ,indeed,if i try i can at least be agreeable. »

« I’d like to see this side of you. You know,since we kept fighting ,maybe if you ...force yourself to be agreeable it won’t happen again. »

Levi turned,the ghost of a smile on his face . « This place is supposed to be were i relax,you really want me to torture myself and act nice ? »

« Spending time with me can never be a torture »

With a wink,you watched Levi’s ears blush a bit as he started cleaning again. This,the conversation you just had ,was so different from the others. You talked,really talked,without insulting each other for the first time. And you had to admit that it had made you feel good,for the first time in weeks.

You suddenly realized what you looked like,with your dirty hair,the clothes you’d been wearing for weeks.What a difference between you and Levi ! He was all clean,and didn’t even have a piece of dirt on his shirt.Standing quickly,a bit ashamed,you ran to the bathroom.

...........

Time passed,and surprisingly,you grew to enjoy Levi’s presence. His presence brought you comfort,and you had to admit that ,if you went out of this period of sadness ,it was all thank to him. Even if he never told you kind words,he kept bringing you stuff,making you tea,just being here,making you feel alive.

His words were still harsh,but there was something more in them now,more sweetness. He knew what you went through,how you were feeling,and all he wanted was to help you. And sometimes,late in the night,the two of you even had real conversation,about serious topic or just about each other.

You felt guilty of how you had treated him before,how you hated him even though you never tried to talk and know him. But now...now that you knew who he really was behind these cold features,now that you knew a bit of what he went through...You couldn’t help yourself from liking him. From having feelings for him. He had been there for you,even if you had pushed him away and treated him in the worst way ever. And now,even if you felt better,he was still there,and you had the feeling that he’ll always be.

But it felt dangerous. Liking Levi Ackerman was the most scariest thing you ever experienced. You couldn’t talk about it to anyone,because everyone around was scared of him. And you were afraid,afraid that he might not feel the same about you. He never showed how he felt,never showed any particular sign of affection toward you,and you were so afraid that ,if you told him how you felt,he’ll reject and leave you. He was too important for you.

So this is why you were now standing in front of that boy who had been crushing on you for years. You knew that what you were about to do was bad,but it felt like the only choice you had. You couldn’t stop yourself from thinking of Levi,so maybe,getting a boyfriend,spending some time with someone else will help you to get ride of these feelings.

« You’re ...serious y/n ? I mean...I can’t really believe it,after everything. »

The boy’s hope,his red cheek made your heart break. He was really deeply in love with you,and you were going to use him.

« Yes. I’d love to go on a date with you. »

« Amazing ! I...I’ll give you the details during the week ! I’m so ... I’m glad ! »

He waved at you,before running god knew where,a huge smile on the face. He was a nice boy after all,and maybe,maybe you’ll start to like him.

Lost in your thoughts,focused on what you were going to do,you didn’t notice the man behind you until he spoke.

« Why the hell are you going on a date with this dumbass ? »

Levi’s brows were furrowed,and his expression looked more angry than ever. It was the first time that you saw him without his usual cold mask,and you weren’t sure to like it. He took a look over the room,making sure that no one was around,before taking a step toward you.

« He asked me ,so i said yes. I didn’t know i needed your approval. »

Something flashed in Levi’s eyes,an emotion so quick that you couldn’t really tell what it was. But it was enough to make you regret your words. You blamed Levi for not showing his feelings for you,but you were doing the same by talking to him like that.

« You don’t. I just thought you’ll settle for a bit more than an idiot. »

You turned your eyes away from Levi’s,trying to hide your disappointment. You wanted him to tell you not to go,you wanted...him. You wanted to be wanted and loved by him,as much as you wanted and loved him. But he was Levi Ackerman,and even if he felt like this,he’ll never tell you. He’ll rather die than face happiness.

« You know,i think i’ll do that too. » Levi continued,his voice lower on each words

« Do what ? »

« Go on a date. There’s this girl who’s been turning around me for a while. She’s as dumb as a fly,but if you’re going on dates too,i don’t see why i couldn’t do it. »

Your heart,or what was left of it,stopped working for a few seconds. His voice was serious,everything in his behavior was serious,but a part of you kept yelling,hoping that he was joking. You couldn’t blame him from doing what you were doing,when there was nothing between you but still...you didn’t know it’ll hurt that much.

You hardly swallowed,holding back your tears.If he saw it,saw how you felt,he kept it to himself and didn’t say anything. Maybe that was better after all. Maybe you and him had been damned from the start. If even there was a start.

« Fine. You can take her to clean with you. I’m sure she’ll enjoy being yelled at for hours because she’s not sweeping the floor in the right way. » you said,barely recognizing your voice and the coldness of it.

« And you can be mean to this dumbass you’re going on a date with. I’m sure he’ll love it. »

You turned,your face so close to Levi’s that ,if you weren’t holding yourself from killing him,you’ll just have to move a bit to kiss him. His gaze was deadly,filled with anger,and his usual cold aura was now so sharp that it almost hurt to just stand next to him.

« Why are you talking to me like that ? »

« Why are you acting like a child ? »

You both stood there for a few seconds,looking at each other,your breathing uneven.

“Do you really want to go with this guy ?” he asked with anger,but also with something else,almost like ...like he was begging you to say no. But it was probably your imagination,your feelings for him that wanted to convince you he felt the same.

“Why do you care ?”

“Can you stop asking questions and fucking answer for once ?”

His voice,how his voice was the same as usual,how he didn’t even raised it while you were starting to yell....It made you so angry against him,and you had never wanted to punch someone so much.

“You’re doing the same ,and don’t tell me how to act.”

He snorted,and took a step back before passing his hand through his hair.

“You know what y/n ? I don’t care. I don’t even know why were arguing. Go on that date,have fun ,if it’s possible with a guy like him,and don’t come at me if he turns out to break your heart.”

Your heart,your whole body was hurting from his word. You had acted like that because you didn’t want to lose him,you didn’t want to confess and lose him,but it still had happened. You were loosing him,not because of how you felt,but because of how dumb you’d been.

“And ...And what if i don’t go ? What if i tell you i don’t want to go on a date with him ?”

Levi studied you for a few seconds,and it looked like he was thinking of what to say. He opened his mouth,close it,started a sentence,and stopped in the middle of it. The angry man was replaced by someone else,an awkward one,one who didn’t know how to deal with stuff like that.

“Then i guess you’ll break that boy’s heart.”

“But what about you Levi ?” you said,hating how your voice was breaking. You were going to loose him anyway,so you could at least try to understand him,hold into that tiny hope that he might feel the same. “What about you if i go to that boy,and tell him i changed my mind ?”

His eyes,his damned eyes were locked into yours,and you glimpsed an image of how you looked,desperate,pathetic. He remained silent,and his lack of words was enough of an answer. You nodded,and turned your back on him. Leaving him,taking a step away from him felt like the most difficult thing ever,but you couldn’t hold into someone who didn’t care about you.

As you were almost out of the room,he cleared his throat ,and finally said : “If you don’t go on this date , i guess that ...that you’ll break that boys heart,but ...but save mine.”

You froze,your heart pounding against your chest. Slowly,aware of every breath,you turned to him. His eyes were on the floor,and he looked like a boy ,a little boy who was afraid of being yelled at.

“What does it mean Levi ?”

“Oi,don’t make me say it again,you perfectly understood.”

With a small chuckle,almost a sob,you walked to him and gently grabbed his chin,moving his head so his eyes were facing yours. You felt his breathing on your hand,and you were aware of how close you were now.And by the look on his eyes,he was aware of it.

“I guess i’ll only refuse to go on this guy’s date if someone else take me on one.”

“Is this a threat ?”

“No” you said,tilting your head toward Levi’s,your mouth almost touching his. “I’m just giving you ideas.”

Your world exploded in colors when your lips met his.

#attack on titan #levi ackerman headcanons #aot hcs #levi ackerman #levi headcanons #captain levi #anime #levi aot #levi x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi x y/n #levi x reader #submission

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honsoolie · 4 years

Text

don’t rush | 04

pairing: Yoongi/reader

genre: slight enemies to lovers, college au, fluff, smut, classical pianist!yoongi, violinist!reader, they’re both actually really into each other but won’t admit it

warnings: excessive amounts of pining, explicit smut, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk, semi-public sex, mutual masturbation

words: 10.3k

rating: +18

summary: You know, when Min Yoongi’s face isn’t screwed into an accusatory scowl, he looks exactly like the kind of guy you’d have no trouble falling in love with. Or, the conservatory au where Yoongi helps you get over your stage fright. In more ways than one.

a/n: thank you for waiting... if you've stuck around this long :") i've tried so hard for the past couple months to condense this story into the original length (3 chapters) but i've gotten attached and i'm afraid that this will turn into a longfic at the rate i'm going. so after this chapter, i'll be sure to post lots of drabbles of the scenes i couldn't fit in!! thank you so much for the wild ride, and without further ado, i present to you don't rush 04.

start from the beginning?

You can’t bring yourself to fault Yoongi for what happened that morning. You also can’t bring yourself to say that it was your fault either–or even that there may be a single person to blame.

24 hours of radio silence. No good morning text, no morning after–or really, afternoon after–text. Nothing.

The thing about silence–absolute silence, with the exception the low hum of the air-con, or the distant sounds of a city, or footsteps from the room above you–is how slowly it passes. Maybe that’s why you’re a music student, spending all your time filling the silence with your own music.

Silence is such an empty space–and can breed such bored thoughts. And where else for your mind to wander but Yoongi?

It’s not that you were waiting for a text from him, it’s just that… you were half-expecting a text from him. Like he owed it to you. Even if none of this had ever happened, he would have texted you good morning by now.

At least in your head, it seems fair that the onus is on Yoongi to text first. After all, he was the one who dragged you tightly by the wrist back to his apartment. He pushed you down on his couch, and in a very roundabout way, made you late for class.

It’s not that you let this whole affair happen to you, but he started it. So it’s his job to text first. That’s the excuse you use, for not being brave enough to do it instead.

It honestly feels a little pathetic that most of your thoughts outside of music and school are occupied by Min Yoongi. Even now, weeks after you’ve started talking to him, even mere thoughts of him elicit physical reactions from you.

Your heart rate picking up, skin flushing where your neck meets your collarbone… maybe you’re allergic to Min Yoongi.

It’s hard for your mind not to run wild with conclusions and assumptions after what happened between the two of you, even if a day hasn’t elapsed yet.

Why hadn’t he texted? Does he do this often? Did he hate it? Did he ghost me, and now I’m never going to hear from him again? Should I text him first? Why is this so hard?

Why do I care so much?

The worst part is, you can’t turn it off. The thoughts follow you throughout the day, a weight sitting on your shoulders as you flit from class to class, building to building, rehearsal to rehearsal. Once the sun dips below the horizon, you’ve almost completed the process of resigning yourself to never knowing the answers to any of your questions.

You make a note to yourself that you might start grieving the loss of any sort of closure–other than what Yoongi had given you the day before. All evenings this semester have been relegated to the confines of the practice room, so that’s where you head next after chamber music rehearsals end. Finally, the Bach partita has a purpose in your life other than plaguing your waking dreams–something to focus on other than Yoongi. But for God’s sake, it sounds pathetic when it’s put like that.

Your. Life. Doesn’t. Revolve. Around. Min. Yoongi. You tell yourself, punctuating each word as you march down the stairwell in the music building. You clutch your violin case to your body, seeking warmth in the cold plastic.

The universe likes to play tricks on people, and its language is irony. Yoongi taught you that lesson, the hard way.

So it almost makes sense that the next time you encounter Yoongi is when you collide head-on with Yoongi’s smooth chest as you speed-walk through the doorway once you’re at the foot of the stairs. Just as you dreaded (and knew was going to happen anyway), your cheeks light up, some light from deep within you turning on. You kick yourself for the fact that your entire body perks up in his existence, erasing the cold and the tiredness from the night before.

“Oh–I didn’t expect to see you here.” At the very least, Yoongi doesn’t look like he hates you. Or is disgusted by you. If anything, he looks a bit coy. If you could let yourself believe it, there might even be the warmth of fondness in his eyes, and even more incredulously, maybe the hard edge of guilt.

“Didn’t expect? Yoongi, I’m here more than my own room.” You laugh despite the thoughts that have been trailing you all day, sounding something like cherry blossoms floating on the new breeze that spring has brought. You feel like you’ve forgiven him for something that he didn’t do, even if he hasn’t said anything yet.

Just seeing him makes you feel better, the devil in the back of your head whispers.

“Right, right.” His answering laughter is familiar. Even now, ever after everything, he still has the audacity to smooth his hands over your shoulders, make sure you’re intact and okay. “Violin okay? You okay?”

You try not to let his scant touches send a shiver down your spine, just so you don’t give him that satisfaction, but you fail all the same. You manage a nod, but can barely bring yourself to look in his eyes. But is it for fear of seeing that warm tenderness again, or something else?

“So…” With no prompting from you, Yoongi slides a fingertip underneath your chin. It feels simultaneously casual and momentous, and you’re not sure which one you prefer.

Is this really happening right now?

He looks deep into your eyes, taking inventory of something that you’re too self-conscious to think about right now.

Of course, you’re self-conscious. You bump into your hookup a day after the fact, now that it’s nighttime in the practice rooms on the second floor of the music building. Both of you should be somewhere else, anywhere else, preferably drunk. How could it not be awkward, and how could you not feel self-conscious?

His eyes flick lower, to your lips, and you avert your gaze. Yoongi’s hand returns to his side, and he coughs.

“Sooo…” You say, digging your foot through the carpet, the warmth of his hands lingering on your skin. You play with the buckles on your violin case, just to give your hands something to do. You hope he says something first, because you’re sure as hell not going to do it.

“Got something to say?” There’s a hint of a laugh in his words. He coughs again.

“I thought you were going to say something,” You say, still not looking at him. It’s all you can do to not shrink away. In the dim lighting of the mouth of the hallway, there’s no way he can see your blush, but you turn away all the same.

He’s smiling like he knows something you don’t, or maybe like he’s purged the last thirty-six hours from his memory. “Let’s not be strangers, come on. Are you busy?”

“Not… particularly.” You commit to the words before you can finish the thought.

“Can you do me a favor?” Right. So he wants something from you. Of course, of course he wants something from you.

“What kind of favor?”

“I was going to print something downstairs, but now that you’re here, can you listen to my piece? I need a second opinion.” He sighs, as if remembering something sweet. “It’s time I made it even, right? I’ve kept you waiting for long enough.” He smiles, just barely, and yet it feels like a gift.

So that’s it. It’s confirmed. This is officially Not a Thing, you consign yourself to the fact. It’d be a lie to say that you aren’t a little bit relieved. At least you have an answer.

There’s no need for a great step forward that’s necessary. No more awkward conversations like these, no admitting of feelings, let alone reciprocation of feelings.

Nothing has to change between the two of you. Isn’t that what you wanted?

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” You say, like it shouldn’t have been a question in the first place. You hate that even despite his silence on the matter, you’re running back to his side. You hate that you’re happy that he still wants anything to do with you. You ignore the empty kind of ache in your chest, too hollow and too full at the same time.

You follow him down the narrow hallway, past the couch where it all began, and into the practice room. Of course, Yoongi’s already booked the only one isn’t a dingy cesspool.

He pats the space next to him on the piano bench, beckoning you closer.

“Sit down, don’t stand the whole time.”

“Don’t you need the space?”

“No, no, it’s okay. Come here.” If it’s even possible, your face burns even hotter when you sit down next to him, shoulders brushing just so. It’s harder to forget about the fact that you are hopelessly crushing on Min Yoongi when you’re literally touching him again.

It reminds you of all his touches from before, because it was good. The sex was good. If it had been awkward and fumbling, if Min Yoongi hadn’t been able to push you over the edge with only his mouth and that look in his eye, you would be a lot more inclined to leave those memories in the past.

You don’t need to relive the memory over and over, an endless reel. And yet, glimpses, flashes, disjointed stills of that morning still follow you everywhere. But you look at him now, silently flipping through the marked pages on his score, and now you see more than just a good lay. Looking at him now, in his natural state, you’ve fallen down the rabbit hole, you’re whipped, there’s no chance for you.

“I don’t have it memorized yet, please don’t judge me.” You try not to think about the way he had pulled you closer by your hips. You try not to think about what you might have thought was lovesickness in his eyes. You try not to think of the timbre of his voice, when he told you to come for him. You try not to think about that.

“Really, a pianist who can’t memorize his pieces? Sacreligious.” The delivery of your jibe falls flat. You steady the ricketing breath in your lungs. You’re nervous, and tired. Accepting that your Min Yoongi has absolutely no interest in you other than when he needs you for something isn’t easy, you know.

“Oh come oooon y/n, this is something I’m learning this semester.” He pouts, just like he had before the both of you had fallen into this nebulous mess of feelings. Or maybe, it’s all one-sided and you’re the only one feeling like things have gotten messy.

You poke him in the side, which you regret immediately after doing so. “I’m just joking. Show me your piece. Are you warmed up?” Yoongi turns pink, again.

You remember the pink dusting his cheeks when he was–right, you’re supposed to be forgetting that ever happened.

He runs his tongue along his lower lip, everything moving in slow motion. Your head is swimming.

Well, maybe things aren’t moving in slow motion, and it’s the proximity to Min Yoongi that’s making time distort. “Yes, yes, yes, I’m fine. Are you ready to listen?”

“Yeah. Go ahead.”

Yoongi hovers his hands over the keys. He does that pianist thing you’ve always loved, where he pauses before the keys, preparing to play.

He leans in slowly, sinking his hands down, pulling out a sound so sweet and, so, so solemn. This is a different Yoongi than the one thirty seconds ago.

You realize somewhat belatedly that the fluorescent lights, the same ones that erase any sort of proper time telling in windowless rooms like these, still make Yoongi look good. The light bounces off of him just right, his cheekbones casting a gentle shadow on the sloped panes of his face. Like the rest of him, there’s no harsh angles, just soft gentle slopes that feel like home. Like comfort. Your gut twists in yearning. The hollow of his cheekbone is the perfect place to kiss, you ponder.

Things should be easier now. All of it was a mistake. It’s in the past. It seems that Yoongi doesn’t seem to care at all. It should be forgotten about. Things, in theory, should be easier now. You should be able to carry on as you’ve always been able to. The path of least resistance, right?

He pauses, and begins what must be the main theme, cascading sixteenth-notes that sound about as tumultuous and troubled as you feel.

He looks like he’s about to cry. Sure, you’ve seen sleepy Yoongi, cranky Yoongi, even a little bit of earnest, pleading Yoongi. But whoever is in front of you is entirely different. He’s approaching the main theme again, hands jumping over the keys as if they were hot irons. You can see all the versions of him laid out before you. Younger Yoongi, hands too small to reach the tenths written in his score. Hungover Yoongi that shuffles into class a couple minutes late, remnants of a late night out drinking written all over his face. The Yoongi that holds your hands between his and tells you that everything is going to be okay.

When he reaches the final cadence, he doesn’t look at you immediately, still trained on the keys. His hands are still placed in the final chord, lifting them off slowly so the sound doesn’t quite fade away yet. The both of you stay like that, in the aftermath of what he just played. You hear the click as he takes his foot off the pedal. The tension that he was churning out doesn’t fade away when the sound stops. If anything, it gets worse. Blood rushes to your cheeks, the room warmer than it was before.

“So… that’s what I’ve been working on so far. I, uh, hope you liked it.” It’s shocking how that compelling spirit from just minutes ago dissipates into thin air. He looks vulnerable, naked despite the fact that he’s fully clothed.

“You’ve been holding out on me, Min Yoongi.” You laugh in disbelief, blinking away tears. God, you are so fucked. Sure, you’ve heard him play before, practicing with him. But you’re not practicing with him now, you’re watching. You’ve become the audience, and the dynamic has changed once again.

There’s been many a night where you googled his previous performances and competitions on Youtube, but this doesn’t compare. Not in the slightest. So this is what all your teachers were talking about when they were lecturing you about the importance of stage presence.

“Uh, wow. Wow.” You’re still tearing up, no matter how much you try to will it away.

You’re not even really sure why you’re tearing up or why you can’t stop. It’s usually difficult for music to elicit such a visceral reaction from you. Goosebumps, sure. That very specific thrill down your spine when you hear music that isn’t so much as something that you hear, but feel in your blood, thumping, alive, real.

But tears, no. That doesn’t happen.

It feels like your body is reacting to something that isn’t tangible, that you can’t see with your eyes or hear with your ears. Like there’s something else in the room that you can’t quite register. Like you’re crying despite yourself.

You desperately want to kiss him. You want to pull him close and breathe in his familar scent and feel him pull you closer. It feels like the only appropriate thing to do, rather than just say “wow” over and over, in that stupid longing voice because you don’t what else to say. This is too overwhelming. More overwhelming than what it feels like when he finally puts his hands on you.

It’s the only thing you want to do. You can’t imagine the night ending in any other way. It seems like it was prewritten in the stars, like the universe came together to stitch this scene together. Like it was fate for you to find him here, long after the sun disappeared over the horizon, practicing just like you were.

But you can’t, so you hug him. Like an absolute idiot.

You regret it as soon as your arms circle around his shoulders. Yoongi stiffens, as if startled, as if he wasn’t expecting the hug either. Then his hand come to awkwardly pat the space between your shoulder blades, as if this couldn’t get any worse. This feels like a consolation prize.

He can’t see your face nestled against his shoulder, but you cringe.

You feel the vibration of his laughter against you, his shoulders shaking, “You liked it that much?” You can feel the way his voice resonates in his chest, and like everything else about this ordeal, it’s overwhelming.

“Yeah,” You pull back away from him, relieved that the moment is over, “Yeah, I liked it. Winter Wind, right?”

“Yeah, fitting for this fucking weather.”

You laugh. “Look, thanks. But I gotta go, it’s getting late and I have a paper due tonight. Thank you, again. It’s really good.” You pick up your case, “You have good start, but keep practicing. Can’t stop until you have it memorized, ha.” You try to force a laugh.

You hope you don’t look like you’re fleeing the scene. (Except you are. You leave the building without even practicing. But you don’t tell him that.)

As you stream down the steps leading to the music building, the cool night air blotting away the swelling tears in your eyes, there’s something else that takes up residence in your heart: jealousy, and initiative.

You envy the lucky bitch that ends up with Min Yoongi. And if Yoongi won’t talk about it, then you will. You won’t let him drag you around on a whim without a real answer. You can’t bring yourself to wait any longer.

Min Yoongi doesn’t like you back.

At least, that’s what he tries to tell himself before he goes to sleep, as if lying to himself might make sleep come more easily.

The truth is, you are Min Yoongi’s favorite bedtime story. Like many other nights before, Yoongi falls asleep thinking of you, hashing and rehashing all the little details and inside jokes and past conversations. It’s a small comfort during this semester, thoughts of you keeping him warm.

Tonight, Yoongi is replaying the conversation from earlier, the way he saw you nervously rubbed at the tough calluses on your left hand while he was playing for you, out of the corner of his eye. It made Yoongi want to make you smile, laugh at his bad jokes, and maybe, if you’d let him, gasp against his lips. It’s been less than a day since he saw you and yet he misses your laugh.

That morning after class, you had sat up, blinking away the sun filtering through his shades, or maybe trying to clear the post-orgasm fog. Post- orgasms fog. Then you mumbled something about being late for class, a thin layer of sweat shining down to your chest.

You had thanked him, then laughed at the misstep. God, you were so dorky that you thanked him. How was he ever supposed to resist you?

How had the two of you come so far?

And the guiltiest indulgences Yoongi would allow himself in the middle of the night were the things he hadn’t experienced with you. Like a kiss. He hasn’t gotten a chance to do that, not yet. Maybe not ever. Would it be chaste? Slow and romantic? Or would it be impassioned and angry?

Yoongi is particularly fond of the image of taking you to the jazz cafe a little ways away from campus. Would you wear a dress, once the weather warms up a little bit? What kind of coffee would you order? Do you even like jazz? What would it feel like to feel your hand slotted against his?

He definitely wasn’t been thinking about pushing you up against the mirror in the practice room and seeing if the soundproof padding was actually properly installed. Or about that morning after classes, and those little mewling noises you made to urge him on. You were so desperate. It was cute, to say the least.

But Yoongi wasn’t trying to think about that right now. He was thinking more about your unwavering diligence. Or the merriment in your eyes despite the tired shadows that hung beneath them. Or the way you didn’t back down from the way that he was obviously flirting with him, fighting fire with fire.

How much longer can the both of you live in denial, waiting for the other to make a tentative step forward?

The more he thinks about it–about you–the less he can comfortably stay in his little bubble of denial. Denial can only get him so far. He tells himself that whatever relationship between the two of you is inevitable, and someone is going to do something eventually, and that’s why he’s not making a move just yet.

Much of your relationship (or lack thereof) has been stepwise progression, slow steps. Graduating slowly from classmate to study partners to friends and closer, still. And now Yoongi had made this great leap and it felt like the both of you were lost amid the signals and the truths neither of you knew how to broach.

And no matter how brave he is on stage, it’s nothing compared to being up close and personal with you. Cheesily enough, it’s easy enough to show a crowd what he’s been working on for months, but with you, he has to improvise.

Truth be told, Yoongi knew he was being idealistic. The space that you two existed in had become precious to him, and he didn’t want to do anything to upset the balance, until now. There’s no easy way to make this all go away. Both of you were in too deep now.

He saw the way you sighed into his touch, the way your eyes would go unfocused when he said something that was even remotely flirtatious, then then snap back to reality, as if you were reminding yourself of something. He knew you wouldn’t do anything any time soon. The past evening had shown him that.

And how was he supposed to admit his feelings for you… when he could hardly admit them to himself, in the privacy of his own room?

And now, how could Yoongi make sense of anything? Every quiet moment carried the ghost of your voice. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was the way you had squeezed your eyes shut when he brought you to rapture. Even when you’re not with him, you’re filling up his senses. His thoughts.

Am I in love with my friend? Are we friends because we’re in love? Am I feeling like this because of the way she says my name? Am I feeling like this because of the way she touches me?

So those are all the reasons. To not talk to you. To talk to you. God, how the fuck was Yoongi supposed to know?

You (5:03pm): hey, I think we should talk soon

The minutes tick by. Does the time always pass this slowly, you think to yourself. Your hand hovers over your phone keyboard.

Fuck… what have I done.

You (5:15pm): that sounds sooo scary lol no pressure okay?

You grow desperate in the wake of his silence. Have you ruined it all?

Yoongi (5:30pm) yeah

Yoongi (5:31pm): sorry I was practicing

Yoongi (5:31pm): wasn’t looking at my phone

Yoongi (5:31pm): let’s talk then

Yoongi (5:32pm): where are you?

You find yourself at his apartment once again, the closed door spelling out all the possibilities in front of you. At least give him the benefit of the doubt, something reasons inside of you, but something darker says, think of what he’s put you through.

Think of what you’ve put yourself through, you finally think. You’ve stood outside long enough. You’ve overwrought this, alone, long enough.

Each knock that you rap against the door sounds like another nail in the coffin, but you still cling onto the last dregs of hope left in you.

The door opens immediately, a rush of warm air enveloping you from outside. “Hey,” Yoongi says, shyly, almost demure in his lounge clothes and undone hair.

You want to take him apart.

“Hey,” You mirror, and try to pretend like Min Yoongi hasn’t stolen the breath out of you for what seems like the thousandth time. You hate that he has this effect on you. With nothing but a simple greeting, it seems like you’ve forgiven him for all your grief already. You try to push that feeling further down, trying to stay objective.

Yoongi leads you to his couch. “Here… sit down. It’s cold outside, I made tea,” He says, padding into the kitchen. He doesn’t say anything else, but it looks like he knows exactly what you want to talk about. There’s something in the little tick in his jaw that tells you he’s just as sure as you are, but you’re tired of guessing. Your eyes are blurring from looking in between the lines for so long.

There’s a big difference between overt facts and implied certainties. Fact: You and Yoongi are friends who study together, and now, ex-hookups. Implied: There’s something more there, something between friend and one-time hookup.

“Um, what did you want to talk about?” Yoongi says, setting down a steaming mug in front of you. You don’t reach for it.

“I–” You steel yourself for the words to tumble out of your mouth, but you lose your nerve. You had prepared a whole monologue on the walk to his apartment, but it doesn’t seem right now. You sigh, loosening the tension in your shoulders. “I wanted to talk about… about the last time I was at your apartment.” You hope it’s enough for him to get your point, and you hope that he’ll be honest and direct. He owes at least that much to you.

“What about last time? Like specifically, what about last time?” Yoongi says, not flippantly. Please, you silently plead, please… just say something good.

“Yoongi,” You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what’s to come, “What happens now? What does it mean? Please, just be honest.” When you hear your voice leave your body, you can hear how pained you sound. It wasn’t something you intended. You match his gaze and his eyes are like mirrors. “Yoongi… whatever you say, I won’t be angry. I just–I just want to know how you feel.” Your voice trembles. You hope you don’t sound as pathetic and humiliated as you feel, the scorned hookup.

Worse yet, the scorned hookup who didn’t get the hint the first time.

“No, no. You deserve the truth.” He sets his mug on the table, and you bristle at the fact that he doesn’t use a coaster. “I’ll, um, tell you my side of the story. Just to be clear I’m not like, mad at you, or anything like that. I’m also not the type to fuck and go… even though it looks like that. And I’m not like, going to ghost you or anything. Unless you want me to do that. In that case,” Yoongi runs a hand through his hair, lingering on the nape of his neck, “I’ll do that.”

“Can you do something for me, y/n? Can you just–” Yoongi holds his hands out in front of him, and he clasps his hands between yours. He always knows exactly how to comfort you, even now.

He sighs. “I wasn’t… expecting everything to happen like this. y/n, I… Just let me think about what to say for a second. But I promise, you’ll get the explanation you’re owed.” Another deep breath in. Another deep breath out.

You sit like that for what seems like a long, stretched out moment, your hands clasped in Yoongi’s, his brow furrowed.

“Why didn’t you say something yesterday?” You burst out.

Yoongi clears his throat. “Okay, look. I have… a lot of… okay, I just, I wasn’t sure how to go about this whole thing. And that morning in class, I rushed everything and after that I wasn’t sure how to approach you. Then when I saw you in the music building afterward, I just wanted to talk to you… to make sure you were okay. I saw you and I blanked. I didn’t know what to say, and I didn’t know what to do without making it weird. That’s a shitty reason, but I blanked and didn’t know what to say. I’m sorry.”

“So,” You blink, frustrated, confused, flushed hot with embarrassment and maybe a little bit of arousal, “Okay,” You say. At least you’re getting somewhere. “So… why did it happen? Why… why did we…”

Your eyes sting, and you breathe deeply, as if you might run out of words. “Was it all in my head?”

Yoongi’s clammy hands tighten around yours, as if he’s afraid you’ll leave.

“No,” Yoongi exhales, “No, it wasn’t.”

Your body is running hot and cold. It feels like something in the air has been punctured, all the tension, all the doubts, rushing away. Something new rushes in.

“I spent all this time guessing and wondering and hoping. I ran myself ragged with all my thinking. It’s not your fault, mostly, but I’m so tired. Of guessing.”

He smiles. Well, smirks, in that Yoongi fashion that makes it feel like the top of your head is spinning. “Stop thinking so much then.”

“It was–” Yoongi’s voice breaks, rips in half. “It was a mistake,” Yoongi lies. You know he’s lying. You can tell from the way his eyes are looking everywhere on your face but your eyes. You can tell from the way that he wrings his hands, like he’s reading a pre-written apology from behind the camera. “I’m so, so confused about everything. This isn’t going the way I thought it would–not that–it’s just my words aren’t coming out like I thought they would. I’m sorry. I don’t mean it like a bad thing.”

Yoongi sighs, “I thought this would be easier.” And when you look at him again, you can see the pink on his cheeks. And how dilated his pupils are, and the decreasing proximity between his lips and your lips, because again Yoongi is still death-gripping your hands in his. If you could let yourself entertain the idea, he might be pulling you closer.

“You’re going to need to be more specific,” You say. You lean away from him, hoping that the energy in the room will simmer down if you’re not centimeters away from falling into his arms. You need to hear him talk more, say everything, explain himself. You can’t leave this room without knowing more, you won’t be satisfied with anything but the truth and the full truth. You really don’t have the energy to wait more.

“Well, even before everything–” And this is where Yoongi waves his hands in the air, gesticulating wildly. He doesn’t elaborate, although you suppose “before the almost-handjob in class and the whole mouth-fucking each other on your couch” is a bit of a mouthful.

“Even before everything– I knew you liked me. Like, you can’t even be surprised that I knew. Because you were really obvious. Like so obvious. But yeah. I knew, and I thought it was cute, and it was super flattering.”

You open your mouth for a response, but you concede that he’s right. You flush ever hotter.

Yoongi’s voice drops a little lower, like he’s telling you a secret, “And it was so fun to mess with you. Like, I could make this cute fucking girl blush and giggle and squirm and it was all because of me, how can I not be flattered? How can I not want to spend more time with you, push all your buttons? I figured you’d eventually do something about it. But you never did, no matter how much I pushed it with you. I wanted you to make the first move. But we started getting closer, and I thought maybe you were never going to do anything about it. Like we agreed to be friends, but on the inside we both liked each other? I didn’t want that to happen, but I was too scared to just go and ask you out. So I was getting frustrated. So that morning, I was just messing around with you again. I wanted to annoy you during class, I wasn’t expecting anything to come out of it. But you–I guess you were frustrated too, because you called me on my bluff. And then, you know, one thing leads to another and we’re somehow at my apartment, which I barely remember how we got there in one piece before–” Yoongi stops, breathless and something tender sparkling in his eyes. His hands aren’t gripping you like you might run away, just resting on the tops of your knees. Reminding you that he’s there.

“And now, in the present, I’m just confused? Did I like you before or after we…” He trails off, bashful still, even now. “Or do I feel like this now because we were together? And does that even matter now, because I like you regardless?”

All the blood has rushed away from your chest. It feels like someone has knocked all the air from you but also as if a winch has tightened ever-so around your heart.

“Let’s take it slow, if that’s something you want. Nobody…” You grapple for something to say, after that hell of a fucking lovesick speech, “Nobody said that you needed all the answers now. Don’t rush.” You take his hands back into yours.

The weight of it all hits you slowly, in successive waves. You don’t have to filter anything out, never have to make yourself feel appropriate for him. When you practice with him, study with him, eat with him… all the quiet spaces and body-wracking laughter just feel like a perfect fit. Nothing out of place. There’s never a conversation topic or something to stray away from, other than circumventing the feelings you have for him. Even then, it’s not like Yoongi pretends like the attraction isn’t there. He doesn’t skirt around it, avoid it like taboo conversation. It really only serves to amplify your conversations, a red thread pulled taut underneath everything else.

And now, you can give into that? You can show him how you really feel, and there’s just one less thing to hide?

“You know, you’re not blameless. I was super stressed out at the time, and with the Bach Festival and midterms and everything I guess… you gave me the opportunity to lessen that a little, so. I know, I know. It’s a shitty excuse. But I wanted things with you and with the way that things converged, it seemed like–”

“Serendipity?”

“A bit like that, yes.” You tighten your hands around his, and he pulls you a little closer. You’re leaning over his lap now.

You can’t choose whether to look into his eyes or at his lips. It looks like Yoongi has the same problem. He pulls you imperceptibly closer.

“Can I kiss you? If that’s not rushing, of course.”

“Yeah. Yes, please.” You soften yourself into his lap, Yoongi pulling you closer by the shoulders, sliding down to rest on your arms. You relish in the sensation, knowing it’s something that you can enjoy with a reassured heart now.

He plants a closed kiss against your lips, and somehow that makes your heart flutter more than anything else he’s ever done before. The pads of his fingertips are soft and gentle against your arms, pulling you closer by the bicep.

“I like you… I like you a lot…” Yoongi whispers against your lips, laughing at the confession. So sweet, so soft.

“I like you too…” You whisper, kissing back. Slow, chaste, if a bit restrained. The realization hits you again, slowly, like an ocean wave washing over wet sand.

Yoongi likes you back. Yoongi wants you back. You laugh at how absurd it sounds, even in your own head, nipping at his lip. “Say it again, Yoongi.”

“I like you…” Yoongi sounds coy.

You smile against him, “Say it again,” You gasp, pushing him back on the couch, gentle but firm, “I like you too, in case you didn’t know.” You can’t help but laugh. Not at the absurdity at the situation, but just out of happy shock.

“y/n, I like you…” Yoongi chuckles, deep in his chest, looking up at you. His hair falls out of his eyes.

“Do you know how happy it makes me, to hear you say that?”

You’re honestly surprised that you don’t have whiplash. Whiplash from the weeks of tension and denial, feeling like you would never get this relief, but now you have a whole new set of problems. Dating Min Yoongi.

This whole “taking it slow” thing is fucking bullshit. The past couple weeks have been one long sustained effort, some kind of marathon in testing the waters, drawing back and then pushing forward.

Maybe you spoke too soon. You have to admit that the slow build, chaste romantic courtship is nice .

The study dates are more than nice. The coffee shop dates feel almost luxurious, expensive in time in the same way that the actual coffee is cheap.

Actually, all of this is a lot nicer than having to guess his every intention, the message between the lines. But you already know what it’s like to have Min Yoongi.

In fact, things have been largely the same for the past couple weeks, except now you can feel the weight of his flirtatious jokes. You can now confidently say that Yoongi says what he means. The more time you spend with Yoongi, the more liberated you feel in letting yourself delight in the feeling of being allowed to show your feelings for him, and having them be duly reciprocated.

After the confessional evening the both of you had, Yoongi had agreed to take it slow. In your lovesick state, you probably would have said yes to anything that Min Yoongi put on the table. Which is probably why you agreed to the whole courtship thing.

“y/n… think about it like this! If we take our time then when the time finally comes… to… uh, you know, then it’ll be so much more gratifying. And I want to be with you more, like this,” Yoongi says, as you lean against his chest, feeling it rise and fall with his words.

“Delayed gratification, have you ever heard of that?” Yoongi had said, smiling wider than you’d ever seen.

“Although from my experience with you, I think you like instant gratification more,” He said, a touch darker. Your memory blurs now, because that was about the time he started tickling you relentlessly. And then kissing you relentlessly.

And at the time, you had agreed. The delayed gratification would make everything better, make the world a little more rose-colored than before.

You don’t want to push his boundaries, he doesn’t want to push yours, but now it’s begun nearly feels both of you are so afraid of each other that you haven’t touched each other in what seems like fucking forever–and it’s reached a boiling point, from what you can gather this evening.

The newfound tension between the two of you is new, maybe a day or two at most, but annoying nonetheless.

“Y/n, how many times have I told you? Stop rushing. Do you need me to count your part out? One, two, three, four.” He punctuates every count with a clap in your face, and a sneer to boot.

Yoongi has been especially volatile this evening. His normal jokes and jabs at you fall just short of endearing. Your initial approach at remedying the situation by focusing on the music at hand has only seemed to make things worse, and you’ve given in to your slowly-growing temper.

“I am fucking counting, and I’m not the one playing fucking half notes, okay? How about you just focus on making the harmony, I don’t know, harmonious ?” You lower your violin, face screwing up in anger, only you don’t know how much of it is joking anymore.

You don’t know how much longer you can take this kind of tension in the air. It feels angry and red and biting, but you can’t help it. The stale air-conditioned air in the practice room only seems to make your face warmer and warmer as time passes.

All this tension, and no release. That’s what music is all about. The build-up of musical intensity, the expectation and anticipation for resolution. It’s like you’ve been stuck on the same chord of a cadence, waiting for a release that feels like it isn’t coming anytime soon.

You take a deep breath, the frustration tightening in your chest. “From measure eighty-four, and take the fucking repeat this time. Let’s just move onto the next section after this, we’ll just come back to it later.”

You fight the urge to huff and sigh, knowing it would only earn you a comment from Yoongi about being, as he had put it, ‘wound up.’ Yeah, no shit, you’re wound up. Wound up is putting it lightly. Just last week Yoongi had made a mess of you at his apartment, teasing you apart and then stopping just short of an orgasm. And he said the same thing last week too: delayed gratification.

You try again, cueing him in with a sharp breath and the uptake of your bow.

And again, and again, and again.

“This isn’t working.” You set your violin on the soft lining of your case and rub your temples, resting your upper body on the body of the piano. You swipe the back of your hand across your face, breathing in the clean smell of the hand soap from Yoongi’s apartment bathroom, from when you were there a couple hours ago. Warm. Brown sugar. It feels like his embrace–if only you’d ever feel it again.

God, why did you let him push all your buttons? All evening–ever since the two of you left his apartment to come to the practice rooms–he’s been acting like this. You know it has something to do with you, another game. But you don’t have the energy to divine his ulterior motive, whatever it is. You shut your eyes to provide some reprieve from the strain of staring at the same phrase that you have been stuck on for what has felt like an eternity.

“Yeah, this isn’t fucking working,” He says. It reminds you of the way he talked to you when you found him practicing in the early morning that one Tuesday. You only open your eyes when you hear him get up from his bench.

Min Yoongi is standing too close to you. His eyes are on your lips and not your eyes. Even in the dim light of the practice room, you can see how dilated his pupils are.

You meet his eyes. “You’re ridiculous,” he says, more breathless than he’d like to admit, “You’re provoking me. Why?”

“Who said I was trying to do that? I think you,” You point a finger at his chest, looking into his eyes, “Are provoking me.” You try to sound as petulant as possible, and it works.

Yoongi’s lips meet yours before you can even take your hands off of him.

In the best sense of the word, you are cornered. Backed up against the piano, enclosed by his arms. He slips his hands up underneath the cotton of your sweatshirt, pulling you flush against him. His cool fingertips grazing the small of your back have you gasping against his soft lips.

“Tell me, why are you provoking me?”

“I, well-” You don’t continue with an excuse, because you’re finally getting what you want. What you both want.

He presses on. “Gonna answer my question, or are you just gonna keep being a little brat?” He wedges his thigh between your legs, closer to where you need him most. You stifle a moan, it’s too soon to be making those kinds of sounds, but you grind down on him anyway. “What?” He laughs, the sound sitting deep in his chest. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

You try to focus on the possessiveness in the way that he holds you by the waist, so you’re not thinking about how weak your knees are.

He sighs, as if in disappointment. Only you’re not sure who it’s directed towards.

“If I touch you right now, will you be wet?” He laughs. “I don’t even have to guess.” The ghost of his breath fans against your upper lip. “Is this what you want? Do you, do you, want to keep going?” Yoongi stops his ministrations. When you meet his eyes, both of you breathless, you can see the inquiring concern in his eyes again.

“Yes, yes, don’t stop,” you say, trying, and failing, not to sound frantic, “Only if you’ll see it through to the end this time,” You bite.

He laughs, devoid of mirth. “You say that like it’s not hard for me, either.” His hands trail down your torso to rest at the waist of your jeans. You don’t want to pseudo-argue with him anymore, so you just whine a little from the back of your throat, hoping he’ll get the point.

You don’t want him to think that this isn’t what you want, because truth be told, it is exactly what you want. Your hands come to meet his when you reach to undo the button.

“You know exactly what to do.” He laughs, lighter this time. He’s laughing like he’s not mad at you. He helps undo your jeans, pushing them and your panties just past your thighs. You gasp when he starts rubbing gentle circles on your clit. His fingers slip against your wet, slippery pussy.

Yoongi is everywhere. He’s crowding your space against the wall, hand down your pants, the other holding your neck in place. It’s getting overwhelming with his beautiful hand rubbing little circles on your clit. So simple, and yet it feels like you’re breaking apart underneath him. It’s getting harder and harder to bite back the moans, stay in control.

“You know, these rooms are soundproof. Let me hear you,” He murmurs, pulling you closer. “Stop hiding from me.”

Yoongi shifts his attention from your wet cunt to the collar of your shirt. “What’s this? Getting busy without me?” Yoongi brushes his free hand over the circular dark mark coloring the crook of your jaw. You’re starting to get impatient with all this teasing, how much more can you take?

“Haven’t you ever heard of a violin hickey?” You spit, grinding down on his hand, but it’s not enough. God, it really has been too long since he last touched you. He never stops the gentle advance he makes on your clit, never faster, never slower. Just barely enough. “We were just practicing, it gets darker when I play.” You try to explain yourself, as if that might make him show mercy later on.

“You’re not in any position to talk back right now, don’t forget that.” He leaves open-mouthed kisses down your neck, sucking gently. “I’ll just help you add to your little collection.” Your eyes roll back, unable to help yourself. It’s been so long since anyone has touched you. It’s been so long since anyone has held you so closely.

Your desperation is beginning to show. With every movement of his hands, Yoongi starts to lessen his touch, your hips dogging his hand. You come to the realization that you’re not above begging to get what you want. He doesn’t even have to ask.

He continues his gentle assault on your clit. “Do you know what these mirrors are for? They’re for checking your posture as you practice, but I guess this is just a different kind of practice.” He turns you around, your hips digging into the wood panelling of the piano. You’re confronted by your own fucked-out reflection, flushed and panting. You’re still mostly clothed, and yet you look debaucherous, like some ancient painting of a study into the nuances of female pleasure. “Look at you. All messy. And for what? I’ve barely touched you.”

The frustration is too much, reaching a boiling point. “Please, I swear to God.” You bury your hands in your head, wiping away frustrated tears. Your legs are trembling now, now that Yoongi is only using one of his arms to brace you against him.

“Please, what?” He digs his nails into the soft skin of your hip, and you can’t help but like it. He lowers his head so it’s level with your ear, sultry, low. “Use your words.”

“Can’t you just, just-” Again, you buck your hips against his hand, as if that might make him get the point, only for him to nip at your inner thigh with his hand.

“Don’t rush me, babe.” Babe. Min Yoongi is calling you babe. Is the universe playing some trick on you?

He takes advantage of your position and leverages his knee on the inside of yours, spreading your legs further. “That’s it, just take it. Take it.” Finally, he takes pity on you and slips a finger inside. He earns an answering gasp. You can tell he means business, because he doesn’t take it slow, he doesn’t let you adjust, going directly at that spot inside of you that makes you keen for him.

You struggle to stay upright, eyes rolling back. Your fingers scrabble along the dark wood of the piano, struggling to find purchase.

“Fuck, Yoongi…”

“So needy, look at you, so fucking needy...” He drives his point home further by adding a second finger.

“I’m sooooo sorry… how can I ever make it up to you…?” Even despite the mind-bending pleasure and the prospect of Min Yoongi blowing your back out this evening, you roll your eyes.

“What if someone hears?” Your point is lost when Yoongi changes the angle of his hand, and you break off into a ragged whimper. It’s loud enough to make you embarrassed to have made that sound in the presence of another person.

“Oh, so you care about that now?” “What about that one time in class,” Yoongi all but pants in your ear, digging his nails into your thigh, “That you were being a desperate little cocktease?”

You don’t answer, shame stoking the embers in your belly, driving lower and lower. You hate, and love, that he can make you feel like this with only some stern wording and a firm hand. Because it feels that good. Because you like him that much.

“What then, hmm?” Yoongi doesn’t wait for a response however, before he’s yanking your jeans and panties further down your thighs. “Do me a favor. Touch yourself for me. Show me.”

“Why?”

“Wanna see you all messy for me,” Yoongi says, voice silky soft, liquid sex. He guides your hand down to your pussy, and god, you realize just how embarrassingly wet you are for such little foreplay. “Please?” He presses his chest flush to your back, leaning his forehead into the crook of your neck.

You oblige him. You’re wet to the point where it’s difficult to find purchase against your clit. “Okay… but you have to forgive me.”

“Forgive you for what?”

“For being needy…” You say, sweetly.

“Sure. I’ll forgive anything you do if you do this every time.” He says it like it’s a matter of fact.

You giggle, like a lovesick idiot. At the very least, you’re glad that Yoongi can make you laugh even when you’re half-play-fighting, half-on-the-verge-of-having-sex-in-your-favorite-practice room.

The vibrations of your laughter traveling through your body have you moving in new, novel ways against your own hand, and you break off into a moan.

“You’re so beautiful,” Yoongi murmurs, voice barely above a scratchy whisper. He sounds genuine, and the tenderness of the moment isn’t lost to you, even despite your pleasure. At least now that you’re touching yourself, you don’t have to suffer the patient wrath of Yoongi and can touch yourself the way that you see fit.

You feel his free hand nudge against the back of your thigh and when you look, he’s dragging the heel of his hand across his pants.

Fuck. Fuck, you are so wrecked for Min Yoongi.

“No, you too,” you say, “Show me too.”

Yoongi moves away from you, pushing his waistband past his hips. He’s gripping his cock in one hand. He’s reaching for your waist again, his hand traveling up to grasp your throat. He jerks your head back. “Look, look at yourself.”

The combined sensation of his hand on your neck and own hand on your pussy is too much. Your eyes water. “Yoongi,” You gasp, “I’m going to come.”

“No, not yet. Not yet.” He wrenches your hand away, and the sudden lack of touch is almost cruel.

You buck against him, his back to you. “Please, please let me come, I can’t–you can’t do this again, fuck,” Your desperation comes out in whines, all shame lost.

“Be patient, come here.” He turns you around again, your back against the wood of the piano. And you’re looking into his eyes, dark and filled with something like lust. Min Yoongi wants you. You reach up to brush his hair out of his eyes.

Yoongi’s on your clit again, drawing light circles, testing the wetness before slipping a finger inside again. “I wanna hear you,” He says, adding another finger, more tenacity behind his strokes. He rocks his thumb against your clit. “I wasn’t asking.”

Up until now you’ve been biting your lip, muffling your cries as best as you can. You look up at him again, drawing up your courage. You feel exposed–how can you not, half-naked in the practice room, when you’re not completely confident that the soundproof padding on the walls can contain the sounds of your rapture.

“You-you fuck me so good Yoongi–” And you keen, just because he asked you to.

He stops in his fucking tracks. Again.

“Well. You fuck me so well. You can’t describe a verb with an adjective. God, I really shouldn’t let you come…”

“Oh my God, are you really going to do this right now.” You bear down on his hand with your hips again, seeking more friction. “Please… please, I can’t wait anymore.” You can hardly finish your sentence, as Yoongi fucks into you with a particularly hard thrust. You’re finding it difficult to keep your eyes open, instead opting to rest your head on his shoulder.

God, he smells so good. Like fresh laundry and the melting snow outside, warm and human and reassuring.

You can feel his smile ghosting over your neck as he leans down to suck another mark into your collarbone. “Yes, yes, I am.”

“I’m–I’m getting close again,” You say, fisting your hands in his shirt, “Just, ah–” It takes you by surprise, crashing over you. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to stay upright, pulling Yoongi against you. You can feel his satisfied smile, as he pants against the curve of your neck, hot and heady and everything you need.

“Good?” He asks, after your breathing has calmed, even though you know that he knows that he’s done more than a good job.

“Okay, okay, enough bragging,” You half-laugh, half-scoff, pulling your pants up past your hips again.

“I wasn’t bragging,” He whines. It’s endearing, and you pepper his face with kisses before you get to business again.

You sink to your knees before him, and his expression immediately softens. You try to bridge the gap between the two of you, placing the palm of your hand on his thigh. Asking for permission.

“Are you sure?” He says, but the expression in his eyes saying something to the effect of “I really hope you’re sure.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” You say, smiling as you tease the head of his cock with your parted lips. You replace his hand with yours. It’s barely any contact, really, but Yoongi closes his eyes in pleasure nonetheless, head tilted back. Normally, in any other situation like this, you’d be at least a little bit nervous. Or shy, hoping that Yoongi keeps his eyes closed so he’s not looking at you. But the absolute deprivation you’ve felt for the past couple weeks is enough for you to not care.

You sink lower, in the wake of remembering how pent up and frustrated you’ve felt for the past couple weeks. You even, at least try to, bat your eyelashes at him. But like you guessed (or had hoped), his eyes are squeezed shut. You try not to delight in the sudden change of power too much, but it’s impossible not to.

He tightens his grip on the back of your neck, groaning. “You’re so good to me.” You take him further in your mouth, eager to please. Eager to hear him make more of those sounds. Eager to take this further.

You try your best to make it slick, flattening your tongue against him. You’re a little out of practice, after months of being alone, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to notice. And if he does, he’s still enjoying himself. Thoroughly.

“Fuck, fuck,” He gasps, in hushed whispers.

“What a mouth on you…” Yoongi moves stray hairs out of your face, surprisingly tender given the lewdness of the situation. The sounds of your mouth fill the practice room, although hopefully not loud enough to expose your vulnerable position. You truly hope that the soundproof padding lining the walls works as advertised.

“Ah–ah wait, I’m getting close, wait–ah, y/n, fuck,” He rasps. You don’t let up quite yet, letting him sit in that in-between space between ‘on the edge’ and ‘letting go’. His free hand makes a weak fist against his leg.

Someone knocks on the door. Your first thought is that it may be security wrapping up rounds for the night.

Your eyes widen in shock as you stand upright and zip up your jeans. The surge from adrenaline at the prospect of getting caught in the act makes your head pulse and spin. Your heart seems to have fallen from the left side of your chest all the way into the pit of your stomach.

It’s hard to remember how aroused you were, not thirty seconds ago.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” For someone who was quite literally about to be balls-deep inside you, Yoongi tucks his dick back inside his pants with a surprising amount of tact and speed.

Yoongi is fixing his hair in the practice mirror as you cross the room at the piano bench, pulling out your phone to make it look like the two of you were just dawdling or taking a practice break.

Maybe twenty seconds have elapsed since the first knock at the door, which you reason might be a reasonable time for someone to stop practicing, and walk to the door to answer it. You hope it might seem reasonable.

You can feel the pulse in your neck moving as Yoongi opens the door. You train your eyes on your phone screen, as if that might make you more nonchalant.

“Hey, Yoongi-hyung.” The voice at the door is youthful, and energetic. You can even hear the smile in his voice. “I didn’t know you were here this late. I was looking for you!” You finally muster up the courage to stop staring at your phone, your eyes venturing to the other side of the room.

It’s… Jungkook?

Jungkook, as in, the only bassoonist in the department, Jungkook?

Jungkook must have had the same idea as you, because he looks over at you at the same time you do.

His smile falters, albeit briefly. Whatever replaces it is something akin to a smirk. A knowing smirk. An accusatory smirk. A proud smirk.

“Hyung, who’s that?”

#armywriterssupport #btsgoldnet #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #bts smut #yoongi fanfic #yoongi scenarios #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #min yoongi x reader #bts x reader

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danganronpasurvivoraskblog · 3 years

Text

The Taste of Relief.

[The High Roller, 8pm]

So he managed to get back safely?

Minako: Yes.

And he’s being taken care of as we speak?

Minako: Yes. When I heard what happened to him I was rather shocked. Not often you hear of people surviving being hit by a train...at least, not as much as you do with road vehicles.

Ok...good...

Minako: Though Mr Naegi, I know that Setsuka allowed you to keep a hold of that cell for the meanwhile, but that doesn’t mean you can use it to call me about 45 times. You’re just like all the other men that come pining after me.

S-Sorry...I was just...worried is all.

Minako: I’m only joking. But if the situation changes, let US call YOU. Try and rest your head for a little while first, alright?

Yeah, I’d love to but...

...

*Makoto looks outside the window in Kokichi’s office towards the balcony. Mukuro is quietly looking out to the city.

I’ve got something I need to deal with.

Minako: Well, get to that, and get some rest. We head out as soon as we’re finished analysing the information you gave us.

Thank you Mrs Tomori. Goodnight.

*Makoto hangs up and steps out onto the balcony.

...How is he?

*Mukuro responds to him, but doesn’t look at him.

He’s gonna be ok. The Kisaragi doctors are looking at him now.

Think they can take good care of him?

Of course! Well, I guess they probably don’t have anyone on the same level as Mikan or Seiko, but Tsurugi Kinjo would only settle on the best.

Kuripa’s in safe hands, I’m sure of it.

What I mean is are you sure they won’t try to pull the plug on him? Kuripa and Kinjo don’t exactly have the best relationship...And our alliance with them is, suffice to say, a very shaky one.

Tsurugi is definitely an extreme protector of justice but...that’s going a bit far. I’m sure he’ll be alright.

*Makoto leans on the balcony and watches the city with Mukuro.

...The air feels nice and cool this evening. Helps relieve some of the stress we’ve been through lately.

...It sure is bright...I’m jealous that Ouma gets to see this view every night.

You know, you get a similar view from the top of Hope’s Peak academy.

When this is all over, let’s go there and watch the city light up together.

...Just the two of us? Or do you plan on inviting the others?

Well, I’d sure like the others to come too. Do you want it to be just us two?

I would prefer that...I suppose...

No, never mind. That’s selfish of me.

No it’s not. Everyone needs their alone time. It can be just the two of us...

...

But...of course, we’ll need to solve this whole case before we can do that...and before anything else...

We need to have a chat.

...

So was this your strategy? Lure me into a false sense of security before you bring the pain?

I underestimated you.

Bring the pain? Wh-What’s that supposed to mean!?

Don’t act like I’m some sort of fool. You told me earlier you wanted to talk to me, and I know exactly what about.

[Flashback]

But even now, you still see the ghosts, right?

Even now, you’re living your life in constant pain. In regret. Because your emotions are your worst and most unbeatable enemy.

Are you really going to take HIS words over my own?

In case you forgot, that’s the man who not only killed Kuripa’s only family, murdered an entire bar full of people, but ALSO pushed Kuripa in front of a train, which is why he’s hospitalized.

He is our enemy. Why would you believe him over me?

I don’t Mukuro. I don’t trust Gyalusetsu as far as I can throw him, and given how badly he was kicking Kuripa’s ass, I’m willing to bet that that’s not very far.

Then why-

Because while I don’t trust him, I can’t completely dismiss his words. Especially from the way you reacted to them.

...

And to top it all of, he’s not like any other enemy we’ve met so far.

He knows his place, and he doesn’t think himself above us. Nothing he says is without meaning, and he was even honest about it when it came to his reasons for attacking Hiyori and taking his laptop.

From the brief meeting we had, he doesn’t give me the impression of someone who will bring up something personal just for the sake of getting to your head. And even if he’s lying, that’s exactly the reason why I need to talk to you! I don’t believe it, but that’s why I have to check!

...

So tell me...What the hell is with all these talks of “ghosts” and “pain”!? Have you been hiding something from me!?

...You wouldn’t be able to understand it...

*Mukuro turns away from him.

Wh-What do you mean?

You’ve never known what it’s like to feel Despair Makoto...You’re such a beacon of hope that not even the most awful thing can break your spirit? Not even something like this...

You don’t know the meaning of the word “Trauma” even though you’ve lived through both the first killing game and the tragedy. And yet look at you. Not a single physical or mental scar on you to tell the tale!

Don’t you dare even suggest something like that is true!

*Makoto’s grip on the railing tightens.

No one can live their life without feeling Hope and Despair! No one normal at least.

And that’s all I am. A NORMAL guy! I feel Hope and Despair like any other person!

You don’t know how many nights after the killing game where I fell asleep and relived that moment! That moment when I first laid my eyes on a corpse!

Sayaka’s back with us now, but even that didn’t save it. In fact, it only made things worse, and I did whatever I could to make sure that I fixed whatever holes we had in our relationships...And I was honest with her about the nightmares I’d had.

So I do feel Despair Mukuro. I just always find a way to make my Hope overpower the pain I feel. And if I can’t do it? I open up.

I have friends around me. Kyoko, Byakuya, Kuripa, Sayaka...and you...and everyone else. If things ever get to hard for me, I always talk to them, even if they can’t do anything about it.

But you aren’t doing that. If you’re hurting, then you need to tell me.

You think that’s so easy? What makes you think that you can help?

Because we’re friends! Best friends! And as friends we need to be here for each other! I refuse to abandon any of my frien-

CUT THE CRAP!

!!?

*Mukuro’s sudden scream stuns Makoto into silence.

Are you trying to help me, or are you just trying to make things worse!? Stop repeating “friends!” We can never be friends!

You’re complaining to me about how I never open myself up, but if you and I were as close as you think we are, you’d be able to tell that yourself!

And I don’t have the right to call everyone my friend! I’m half the goddamn reason we’re in this mess in the first place!

And...And...? It hurts you know...!? You never realized! After however many years we’ve stood side by side...You...You never realized...!

JUST HOW MUCH I LOVED YOU!!

...

Wh-What did you just say...?

...!

(I said it...!)

*Mukuro grips the railing tightly.

I am the second half of the Ultimate Despair...A monster...a murderer...

So you’ve got to wonder what it was like when I opened my eyes inside that pod to find myself alive, after Junko betrayed me.

You were the first thing I saw...and I couldn’t quite believe it when the Future Foundation told me the whole story.

Even now, I have my doubts. I don’t think I deserve any of this...Nor do I deserve to fall head over heels for you...

But I did...And the punishment for that came when you proposed and married HER right in front of me. It showed me the truth...that I didn’t deserve to be happy.

I deliberated on it for some time, and in the end, I accepted it. I accepted that I had agreed from the start to be no more than your soldier, and your follower. And in the time I’ve been with the Future Foundation, I’ve grown to respect Kyoko by quite a lot, so I know she deserves you.

And yet...

*Mukuro hangs her head.

This is exactly why I don’t want to open my heart to anyone. There’s no happiness to be found in there...any happiness I feel is crushed right in front of me...

I am not allowed to know Hope. I can only ever know Despair and death...and the faces of people who I’d very much rather forget appearing in front of me like a hallucination are a grim reminder of that...!

So...quit trying to help me...I’ll only drag you down...In fact I bet that you hate me now that I’ve told you all that...

...

*The night air is silent for what feels like a long time.

I see...so you’re saying that this is all my fault then?

Wh-What!? Th-That’s not what I said at all!

It’s alright. I know that’s not what you meant, but...it is the truth...

Hehe...Kyoko did tell me there were many things that I was oblivious to.

And that’s a problem that I can’t stand to have anymore. I need to improve, and now.

*Makoto firmly grasps Mukuro’s shoulder and makes her look him in the eye.

You said that you no one should know what’s really inside of your heart. You’re worried that simply knowing that will hurt people...and bring them Despair.

Isn’t knowing that, and avoiding that proof alone that you’re not the person you were? The old Mukuro wouldn’t have given a damn.

Besides, you and Kuripa told me the same thing. That the two of you would be willing to go through hell and back again to protect me, and from the way you’ve both conducted yourself so far, I’m inclined to believe that.

But by shutting yourself off? You may as well not be here. Sorry if that sounds rude, but it’s the truth.

It doesn’t matter if things stay the same way they are now, if things go south, or if this somehow gets sorted out. It’s not gonna matter to me now knowing that you’re shutting your heart off like this!

But I’m ok with that!

I don’t know what I’ll do if I open the door, so stop trying to come in!

*Makoto suddenly takes Mukuro’s trembling hand.

No...! L-Let go of me...!

No! I won’t!

Listen...it caught me off guard you know? That... “confession” let’s say.

I...I still love Kyoko. Nothing will change that...and I’m continuing to survive so I get to see her again...But...

I...I’m really happy you know? Happy that you told me all of that.

...!?

I can’t understand what you’re going through, you’re right. And...maybe you’re right that I don’t feel the same way about you as you do for me.

Though, I do love you a lot. Not just as a friend either...

But even if I can’t help, or can’t understand...I’m really, really glad that you told me.

So...is it too much to ask for you to tell me more? I want to hear everything...And I want to know things about you that I might not have known before.

But...How do I know that I’m ready to tell you that?

It’s not up to me to decide that. I can’t tell you whether you’re ready or you’re not...because if you’re not...

Then I’ll keep waiting until you are.

*Throughout the whole conversation, Makoto does not loosen his grip on Mukuro.

...

I know...that the person I am is someone who doesn’t deserve forgiveness...

And I’m sure that one of these days you’ll just come to hate me...And I’d never be able to recover from that despair.

I’m scared...I’m so scared...But...

A-Alright...I-I can tell you...Even if it’s selfish, when I’m ready...I’ll tell you...

*Mukuro falls into Makoto, and the two hold each other tightly.

Can we...stay like this? Even if just for a little bit?

That’s fine, but let me just say one more thing. You aren’t a monster Mukuro, and...While you don’t need to believe me, there’s nothing you could ever do to make me hate you, and nothing you could do to make me think you were needy or selfish.

...

*Mukuro pulls away.

Not even this...?

...!

*She leans in and makes their lips meet, initiating a deep kiss.

...?

...

No...not even that.

...

*They kiss again, and stay like that for a while.

(I know that this can’t last...but...I’m never going to forget this taste...This taste of pure relief...)

#danganronpa survivor #danganronpa #danganronpa 1 #dr1 #danganronpa another 2 #sdra2 #oc #makoto naegi #mukuro ikusaba #matta gyalusetsu #minako tomori #naekusaba #the fugitive arc

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dani-halfa · 4 years

Text

Danny Fenton appreciation post

Danny as protagonist is a very interesting character. He's a complex teenager with both virtues and flaws. Throughout the series he learns how to control his powers and the responsibility that comes with having them.

On the surface, Danny is your average teenager: He likes hanging out with his friends, wants to fit in, likes to have some fun every once in a while and is a bit impulsive.

One defining characteristic of Danny is how he's struggles with his own insecurities. He's not very popular at school and is often the target of bullying, specially from Dash who frecuently teases him in the series.

One of the reasons Danny is considered "weird" by his classmates is because of his parents: They are ghosts hunters. They sometimes embarrass Danny in front of his peers without meaning to. This has lead him to have a few arguments with his dad like it was shown in 'A million dollar ghost'.

His own insecurities sometimes cause problems with his friends as well. For example, in "Attack of the Killer Garage Sale" he left his friends behind to hang out with the 'popular kids', who didn´t care too much abou him.

Danny dumps on himself many times during the series, in 'My Brother's keeper' he describes himself as a "screw up" and believes he's loser:

"Great, he (the ghost) got away again. Another ringing endorsement for the town screw-up." (Blaming himself for not being able to catch the ghost)

He also has a complicated relationship with his ghost half. He thinks he's a freak of nature because of his ghost powers.

Spectra: "What are you? A ghost trying to fit in with humans? Or some creepy little boy with creepy little powers?"

Danny: "Both! Uh...neither! I don't know."

Spectra: "You're a freak! Not a ghost, not a boy! Who cares for a thing like you?"

He's usually very afraid of people finding out about his secret identity as a ghost. Since ghosts are seen are evil in Amity Park he's scared that they would not accept him or would try to hunting him.

One of his deepest fears is his parents finding out about his secret and trying to run experiments on him. He knows that his parents will "accept him no matter what" but he still can't help being scared everytime he hears them talking about dissecting ghosts.

'Identity crisis', while a funny episode, it's very important for understanding Danny.

In this episode Danny separates his superhero ghost half from his human half. In one scene we get this exchange between ghost Danny and human Danny:

Ghost Danny: "And that's the sort of irresponsible attitude that makes you such a disappointment to our family".

Human Danny: Uh.. hello. Not our family. My family. You're the full time superhero, remember?

Keep in mind that they are both part of Danny's personality which means:

1) He thinks he's a "disappointment" to his own family.

2) He sees Phantom, his ghost half, as a different person. He thinks that 'he' doesn't belong to his family. This must come from the fact that his own parents don't know about his ghost identity and thus, Danny doesn't consider Phantom a Fenton until his parents accept him for who he is.

When it comes to be the hero, Danny thinks it's job to protect Amity Park,even though no one asked him to carry the burden of such heavy task.

He sometimes blames himself for things that are out of his control or weren't his fault to begin with. He thinks that its his responsibility to fight evil ghosts from harming any humans.

A few episodes focus on him learning how to use his powers with responsibility and not taking advantage of others. 'Reign Storm' is mainly about him choosing to use his powers to stop the Ghost King instead of using them to get back to people he doesn't like.

Danny:"All of my enemies. Everything I thought I could handle, but couldn't."

Tucker:"Dude, you can't blame yourself for this. It's not your fault."

Danny:"Maybe not. But it is my responsibility."

Danny really cares about his family and friends. He would do everything he can to protect them from getting hurt. In the episode '13' it was shown that he´s very over protective of her sister Jazz, as there was a ghost who was trying to trick her into falling in love with him.

Aside from learning to overcome his insecurities and becoming more responsible, overtime Danny learns that not every ghosts is completely evil and some of them can be friendly.

A good example of this is when he meets Cujo in 'Shades of Gray' and helps him with finding his toy that he lost when he was alive. In 'Public Enemies' he befriends Wulf, after freeing him from Walker, who was keeping him prisioner.

It's worth of pointing out that Danny knows there are times to talk and times to fight. At the start of the series he usually prefers using his fists first before asking questions but as he matures, he starts to see when it's better to solve conflicts when fighting is not necessary.

Another flaw he has its that he's a bit short tempered. He often lets he temper get the worst of him, which makes him have arguments with his friends and not think things straight. But,to be fair, his life is a bit difficult: having to fight ghosts at night, getting late for school, being bullied and not knowing how to manage his time must be exhausting for a teenager. It's not suprising he's bit moody in some episodes.

For my last note i think it's important to talk about talk about his rivalry with Vlad Plasmius as their relationship in the series is quite interesting.

In a way, Vlad exists to remind Danny of everything he shouldn't be. Vlad prefers to use his ghost powers for his personal gain. He cares very little about how his actions affect others. He sees people as their pawns. He usually manipulates them into doing what he wants.

Vlad sometimes likes teasing Danny about how they very alike, and in part, that's a bit true, they are both half ghosts who gained their powers after an lab accident. They are unique, since there are barely more halfas outside them.

Danny has shown to be manipulative when it comes to dealing with him. He knows that Vlad is very emotionally vunerable since he is desperate for Danny to become his ¨son¨. He takes advantage of this to trick Vlad and beat him in his own mind games.

In conclusion: Danny is complex character who grows into a confident superhero overcoming his own insecurities and flaws. He may not be perfect, nevertheless he cares about family and friends and it´s always going to be there to protect Amity Park.

#Danny Phantom #Danny Fenton #DP post #DP analysis #Vlad Masters #Jack Fenton #Cujo DP #wulf dp #reign storm #indentity crisis #my brother's keeper

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writesowhatnext · 4 years

Text

just how fast the night changes // george weasley

Summary: epilogue // the yule ball, in fact, was a pleasant surprise

Request: sort of oui

A/N: people asked for an epilogue and I am very pleased to provide

Reader: female, Slytherin

Warnings: making out?

enemies // friends // lovers // epilogue

You were more nervous than you cared to admit. As you smoothed down your dress, turning to the side in the mirror, you tried to quash the butterflies in your stomach. This was not you. You were not about to be all goo-goo eyed and giggly over George Weasley of all bloody people. You frowned at the lump that formed in your throat at even the thought of his name. How annoying, you thought. He’d love that.

You and George’s relationship had taken a strange, but not entirely unpleasant turn since he asked you to the Yule Ball. Being around him was surreal at the best of times. At the worst of times, it had you shaking like a chihuahua. You still managed to volley witty remarks back and forth off of one another like you’d grown used to doing; except now there was something more to it.

That something more was what had your heart beating loudly in your ears and a smile eating away at your cheeks after every interaction. It didn’t help that he’d also found a way to touch you more: whether it was a lingering brush of your arm as he passed you in the corridor, or a nudge from his elbow as you shared a joke. Between that and his boyish grin, you found yourself falling further and further into the wormhole that was George Weasley.

Worse than anything, you reluctantly had to acknowledge that you were quite excited for the ball, if not just to spend the whole evening with George. As if it wasn’t embarrassing enough to admit to yourself, by the way Hermione was staring at you, it was written all over your face for everyone else to see too.

“You look very lovely,” she said, tilting her head to the side and watching you closely. Her fingers played with the hem of her pretty blue dress and the smile on her lips was rather kind.

“Shut up,” you said distractedly, your tone light as your eyes flicked nervously to meet hers in the reflection.

“You’ll take George’s breath away,” she promised, stepping closer to hug you. You tentatively wrapped your arms around her, swallowing and frowning as you dug your chin into her shoulder.

“Why would I care what George thinks?” you said, pulling away. You were grateful that she didn’t reply. “You look wonderful,” you added, looking at her properly for the first time. “I’m wildly impressed with this dress.”

She giggled, shaking her head and grabbing your wrist, pulling you towards the door.

“Let’s go get ‘em, then, Granger,” you sighed, your tone betraying your words.

The walk down to the Great Hall was a long one and had Hermione’s grip on your wrist been any less ironclad, you would’ve chewed your fingernails down to the quick. The thought of the dance made your insides swim and you felt sick to your stomach as the noise from the crowd grew louder and louder. You almost didn’t notice George at first, your attention too focused on the newly decorated walls as your eyes trailed across familiar faces. You raised your eyebrow at Harry and he sent you a somewhat awkward smile in response, a typical interaction for the two of you.

“Bloody hell,” George said, a low whistle escaping his lips as you looked at him for the first time, immediately aware of Hermione’s hand slipping from your own. She shot you an encouraging glance as she was dragged away by Krum, leaving you all alone to deal with George’s vastly overwhelming presence.

“You do scrub up well,” he said, grinning as he stepped closer. You pursed your lips to contain your smile.

“My, aren’t you a charmer?” you said sarcastically, crossing your arms and rocking your head to the side.

“I’m a man of many talents.”

You scoffed.

“So, humble, too.”

“What can I say?” he beamed, offering you his hand. “It’s easy when you’ve got the most beautiful girl at Hogwarts on your arm.”

You opened your mouth to retort, your words dying on your tongue at the sincere look in his eyes. Staring at his hand, you frowned at the amusement growing on his face and a huff slipped past your lips.

“Piss off,” you said as you grabbed his hand, struggling to avoid thinking about how warm his skin was against yours.

“Quick and witty as ever, love,” he said, his tone mocking as he interlinked your fingers, an action that sent you spiralling slightly.

He led you across the room towards the dancefloor, the music drowned out by your heartbeat echoing in your ears.

“What can I say?” you parroted, swallowing as he twisted you around, his palm in yours shifting and the fingers of his other hand finding your waist. “It’s easy when you’ve got the most annoying twat at Hogwarts holding your hand.”

He tipped his head back and laughed and the sound was so heavenly to your ears that you couldn’t help but smile, especially when he squeezed your side. You squeaked, letting your hand fall to his shoulder.

“There she is,” he whispered, dipping his head down briefly so his lips ghosted over your ear. “That’s the Y/N I recognise.”

You twisted your lips to the side, a newfound confidence flowing through you.

“Why?” you said innocently, tilting your head to the side to look him in the eyes. “Did you miss me?”

He exhaled out of his nose; his eyes trained on yours as he wet his lips with his tongue. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it immediately, humming instead.

You raised an eyebrow at him, enjoying how nervous he looked. It was a lot more fun when the shoe was on the other foot, you decided triumphantly.

“You do look very beautiful,” he said, suddenly very sombre as you side-stepped around the other couples. You paused, wondering absentmindedly if that’s what you and George were now.

“You’re so-“ you started, stopping yourself short as you realised what he’d said. “What?”

“I said you look beautiful,” he repeated, his serious expression foreign to you.

“Oh,” you breathed, visibly floored.

“You don’t have to thank me; I know that’s hard for you.”

He laughed when you scowled, not letting you release his hand to hit him.

“I could thank you if I wanted to,” you said indignantly, pouting slightly.

“Oh really?”

He raised an eyebrow as you stopped dancing and at that moment, a strange urge overcame you. Looking at his handsome features and that deeply annoying yet somehow still oddly charming grin, you couldn’t help yourself. And so, against any form of higher cognitive function, you leant in and pressed your lips to his. Very quickly, you pulled away, your eyes wide, but his impossibly wider.

“See,” you said, clamping your mouth shut and swallowing, conscious of his fingers tightening around your palm. “That was a thank you.”

“Right,” he said, the cogs in his head almost visible as a smile began to tug at his lips, lifting your hopes with it.

“That was not a thank you.”

“That was so a thank you.”

“I’ve never seen you thank anyone.”

“Luckily for you, I don’t thank anyone by kissing them.”

“Luckily for me?” you snorted. “Aren’t I just blessed?”

You both stared at each other for a moment, fighting smiles as you bickered. You couldn’t deny that somehow, someway, George Weasley had become one of your favourite people, if not your favourite entirely.

“So,” he said, pulling you closer by the waist until you were pressed against him. “Wanna thank me again? Properly, though, this time.”

“And what am I thanking you-?“

And then, he kissed you, his lips surprisingly soft against your own as your eyes fluttered shut and you were kissing him back. He leant away all too soon, but his hand squeezed yours as he looked at you with a cheeky grin. You forced your legs to move again.

“You’re welcome,” you said, slightly breathless and definitely trying to hide the way your stomach was swarming with butterflies.

“I’m welcome?” he said, also breathless. “I believe you were thanking me, love.”

“What would I thank you for? If anything, you should thank me for that excellent snog.”

“That was not a snog; that was a kiss at best.”

“Oh, alright, snog police, I’ll retract my previous statement, then.”

You slowed to a halt near one of the tables, but he didn’t let go of your hand or your waist; something you were most grateful for.

“All I’m saying is that if you want a snog, I can give you a-“

“Are you two still arguing?” Fred asked, appearing beside you for a moment as he danced with Angelina Johnson. She offered you a smile, but you just averted your eyes to look at Fred. “Can’t you just get a room already?”

“Actually, Fred,” you said, pulling back from George but making sure to keep your hands linked. “That’s a brilliant idea, thank you for the suggestion.”

“What?” George whispered as you pulled him towards the doorway, ignoring the way Fred’s whistles weren’t quite drowned out by the overbearing music. You stopped short, enjoying his warm grasp in your own.

“I’m taking you up on your offer,” you said plainly, your shoulders sliding back as you assessed him in all his tall, stupid and handsome glory. “Unless-“

“No,” he said, far too quickly for it to be considered anything resembling cool. His eagerness made you smile and a smirk crept onto his lips as he looked at you and once again that night, you felt strangely nervous under his gaze.

“What?” you asked crossly, trying to appear much less apprehensive than you felt. His grin widened at your sharp tone, too familiar with it to be offended.

“Nothing,” he said, wetting his lips. “Just didn’t think we’d be here, did I?”

You rolled your eyes, but he recognised the fond curve of your smile.

“Don’t get soft on me now, Weasley,” you said lightly, biting your lip.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Your footsteps were loud down the corridor, but, between your poorly aimed kisses, your laughter was louder as it echoed through the hallways.

harry potter tag list: (includes taglist for nightchanges!series!!!)

@creator-appreciator @decadentwastelandtrash @loveisblindness @xinyourdreamsx @brainlesspasta @hariosborn @staringmoony @rexorangecouny @alittletoomanyobsessions @peachesandpinks @yuptha-tsme @obsessedwithrandomthings @dreamer821 @iprobablyshipit91 @in-slytherin-we-trust @haphazardhufflepuff @princesof-theuniverse @whovianayesha @msmimimerton @extra-trash77 @potterverseimagine @my-own-mindpalace @sxrensxngwrites @damonwhitlock @ickle-ronniekins @harrysweasleys @theweirdsideofstuff @igotmindcontrol @fandomscombine @mytreec @tallyovie @strawberriesonsummer @parkeroffline @everandformore @okkulta

#george weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley x reader #Harry Potter imagine #harry potter #writing #imagine

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egelantier · 4 years

Text

Tian Guan Ci Fu

where is it and what is it

it’s a chinese webnovel by mxtx, the same author who did untamed; it exists as a webnovel, finished and kindly translated here, the manhwa, the donghua (animated adaptation) happening right now, and there’s a live action adaptation in plans, directed by the same guy who did untamed. the donghua is gorgeous, the adaptation i’m unsure about but prepared to be hopeful, the manhwa seems to be very pretty. but all the adaptations only cover the very beginning of the novel for now, so i went ahead and read the novel, and i have no regrets. it helps that the translation is very good - not without awkward translatorese, but it has consistent and engaging flow and style, and it’s also pretty good at conveying mxtx’s humor without awkwardness. it reads pretty well.

what’s it about?

the world is split into two parts: mortals and various ghosts and demons and entities share the land, while ‘heaven officials’, aka gods, live in the heavenly kingdom in the sky. pretty much anybody can become a god if they do something really heroic or memorable and/or cultivate (meditation, training, virtuous behavior) really hard. when above, the gods rule their domains and fulfill their believers’ wishes; they work sort of like pratchettian gods, dependent on their followers’ beliefs and getting influenced by them. heavens are strictly hierarchical, with their own economy and pecking order, and the gods aren’t particularly sinless or benevolent; mostly it’s a question of scale.

our hero, xie lian, is a prince of a prosperous kingdom who’s been on a fast track to ascension for most of his very short life; he’s talented, he’s virtuous, he’s kind, he’s strong, and his only peculiar flaw is (somehow naive, but well-meaning) obsession with equality and value of human lives and so on. he becomes a god, unexpectedly, at seventeen, after slaying one especially dangerous god, and rises in heaven at the peak of his faith, influence and happiness.

…and then he finds out about drought and incipient trouble in his own kingdom, and, being a young and righteous god too close to his mortality, eschews heavens and returns to save everybody. it, to put it lightly, does not go well. at all. in fact, it goes catastrophically wrong, and, having lost everything, xie lian ascends again, only to get into a fight with the heavenly emperor, and get banished again, this time for good. he roams the mortal lands for next eight hundred of very lonely, luckless and hard years, technically immortal but not invincible, with his powers and his luck stripped away, and leans to make do, eking out a living as a scrap collector. his temples are desecrated, his name is forgotten, his kingdom is long gone, and - well. so it goes.

so it goes! until one day, to everybody’s great surprise, he ascends once again: a humble, gentle, immune to embarrassment, unflappable man, an embarrassment to heavens, a 'laughingstock of three realms’ who just wants to be left well enough alone. he’s Tired.

instead of rest, he gets sent to investigate a dangerous ghost stealing brides who pass through its mountain, and there, during the course of the interrogation, has his first (he thinks) meeting with a terrifying, old-powerful and vengeful ghost king named hua cheng, who likes to terrorize heavens from time to time. but said ghost king seems to be very benevolent and very interested in helping xie lian, and xie lian is pretty instantly smitten… with knowing what’s the cause of such interest.

…and meanwhile, in the beginning, there'was an unlucky boy, born under the worst stars, whom xie lian saved from falling once, while still mortal, and promptly lost track of. a lot of things happened to this boy, who wanted to be the most devoted worshipper to xie lian the god of the sword and the flower. as one does, you know.

that’s the beginning! from there on: investigations, heavenly secrets, old friends and enemies and acquaintances, thematic parallels, old tragedies, more pining than you can shake a stick at, grand acts of love.

is it good?

it’s very, very good. it’s the first fantasy cnovel i read (aside from the hilarious one about a guy traveling back in his own timeline and becoming a sugar baby to a mafia boss, which was in a very different league), so i don’t know which things are baseline and which things are unique, but it had a very solid foundation: ambitious multilevel, multi-timeline plot coming together in the end both events- and emotions-wise, beautifully iddy main relationship, maybe multifaceted characters who change and grow and clash together in fun ways, a clear and heartfelt understanding of its own core themes.

it’s also, unexpectedly, very funny, in this visual, slapsticky, begs-to-be-adapted way - i found myself laughing out loud over it a lot of times, and it possesses this gift of swerve between understated but earnest emotions and all-out jokes that i associate with… a bit of prattchett and a bit of gintama, honestly. take it as you will.

(oh my god the mecha. i will laugh over this one until i die.)

it also made me cry several times; granted, it’s not like it’s this time, but those were very heartfelt tears.

and the main duo?

first let me say that xie lian was lifted out, wholesale, out of my deepest character preferences. he fell really, really far, and did some bad things, and some very horrible things were done to him, and by the time we meet him he went through everything and achieved this effortless kind of traumatized, humble, accepting, wryly self-deprecating, utterly competent chill that makes a character incredibly appealing to me. he’s kind, and he’s sweet, and he’s gotten any possible embarrassment at least a couple of centuries ago, and he kinda made peace with himself and kinda didn’t. i love him.

and, thankfully for me, hua cheng, the ghost king, loves him a whole damn lot, a ridiculous amount, an epic, over-the-lifetimes, life-shattering amount, and he’s a terrifying presence to everybody else and a shy, protective, sweet dork to xie lian, and every time they’re together on page my entire heart is just. it’s AMAZING. he’s a great combination of playing the obsessive protective yandere stalker-lover trope straight and putting it on its head, by making hua cheng not just revere but respect xie lian, in all his good and bad decisions.

they are just so - good for each other, holy shit. they get each other so well. they’re the best ever power team. i love them.

(the rest of canon is various character reenacting “really? in front of my salad?” meme at them. it’s hysterical, and it’s the best. everybody teams up to tell xie lian that his boyfriend is Problematic way, way before xie lian clues into the fact that he does have a boyfriend, and he’s having none of it. i love it.)

and the themes?

okay, so. roughly half of this novel is ridiculous iddy pining, and a fourth of it is various tropes (off the top of my head: soulbond, sex pollen, body switch, de-age, various shades of identity porn… crossdressing…) played very shamelessly. but it also really benefits from having an overarching set of ethical questions, and while it deals with them a bit shounen-style, it still deals with them, and it makes the whole text fresh, and sweet, and bold.

is it possible to save everybody? should you try to save everybody? if you lack the powers to back your convictions, does it make you complicit? when is it possible to stop the cycle of suffering, what can you do if you want to but can’t? if you tried and people you failed turned on you, whose fault it is, where does the blame stop?

Detailed spoilers begin from here, and i would REALLY advise to stay unspoiled, because the domino reveals are very fun

i loved the various ways the novel sets all those pieces up and then overturns them and then returns to them. xie lian wanted to save everybody and it was arrogant naivete of an untried, untested, privileged young man who never had a real challenge before; his presence made things escalate quicker, and yet everybody around him pretended it was his attempt to make things better that ruined everything, and not a combination of factors outside of his control. and yet he accepts the blame, because it dovetails with his shame at not having enough powers to back his intent up; and yet his triumph over bai wuxian is that he doesn’t, after all, renege on his initial drive to help people.

my most favorite part of this novel is that its turning point, the lynchpin of the whole novel, the moment that keeps xie lian’s soul and safety intact, is not his personal purity and drive; it’s not even hua cheng’s devotion and sacrificial love. it’s just a moment of little, grudging, human kindness from a little, petty, rude man whom the history will sweep away soon. the bamboo hat in the rain. the rest of the plot keeps twisting and turning and coming back to itself, but this? this was unquestionably, beautifully clear, and i loved it. it’s never about the gods, it’s all down to - fallen human is human, ascended human is human, and human is not some state, virtuous or sinful, you get stuck with - it’s a multitude of choices, and there’s never a final one.

and incoherent spoilery screaming for people who read it already

oh my god i had SO MUCH FUN. i’ve been flailing on meme for days, because somebody just finished reading there too, and i’m still bursting with ALL THE FEELS. ruoye origins oh my god! that hat! jin wu’s backstory and ultimate end! e-ming’s praise kink! pei ming’s little shippery 'hoho’! hua cheng’s horribly handwritten stick and poke tattoo of xie lian’s name! the lanteeeeeeeeeeeeerns. feng xin and mu qing on the bridge, making up with each other and with xie lian! hua cheng trying to explain to xie lian that his habit of using himself as bait and pincushion at any given moment is deeply emotionally upsetting to him, and succeeding! banyue’s learning from xie lian to be a truly horrible cook! the entire deal with shi qingxuan and he xuan and the wind fan in the end. THE CAVE. THE GIANT MECHA. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa and aaaaaaaaaaaaa and aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa and i am beset, beset by feelings. come scream with me.

#tgcf #tian guan ci fu #heaven official's blessing #xie lian #hua cheng #cdramas #cnovels #mxtx

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ibijau · 3 years

Text

Futures Past pt6 / On AO3

Lan Xichen comes to Yunping City with a secret mission in his heart. Things don't quite go according to plan.

Huang Quiling bowed deeply and thanked Lan Qiren and Jiang Fengmian once more for their help dealing with that gang of fierce corpses, which had escaped from the Burial Mounds of Yiling and made their way to Yunping City. He had explained, when they'd arrived, that he’d asked two Great Sects for their help because it had seemed to him that anything concerning the Burial Mounds required close attention. It had made sense at the moment, but Lan Xichen now realised that above all else Yunping Huang was a very small, very young sect that just didn’t have the manpower to deal with such a threat.

Not that the threat had been too great, in the end. The fierce corpses had been dealt with quite easily, just like in Lan Xichen’s memories. More easily, perhaps, since he’d remembered exactly how and where to strike them for a quick victory. For that reason, young Jiang Cheng had been particularly impressed by his performance, and Nie Huaisang even more so.

Nie Huaisang who shouldn’t have been there.

While his uncle and sect leader Jiang discussed with sect leader Huang about precautions to be taken, and what to do with the remains of those fierce corpses, Lan Xichen allowed his gaze to drift toward Nie Huaisang. The younger boy was standing on his own, near the lined up corpses, observing them with bored curiosity as if he’d never seen fierce corpses before and wasn’t too impressed by the sight.

It might well have been the case. Lan Xichen knew that Nie Mingjue had rarely managed to drag his brother on Night Hunts, and always had to select very easy preys even when he did… not that Nie Huaisang ever did much when he was brought on Night Hunts anyway. Lan Xichen doubted he’d ever so much as subdued a small ghost, at an age when other boys already had killed several monsters and conducted exorcisms.

And yet, as soon as he’d heard about this Night Hunt near Yunping City, Nie Huaisang had begged to come.

Lan Xichen had been so stunned by the request that he'd almost refused on principle. Night Hunts were serious business, even one he knew would go smoothly, and idle observers always brought trouble. Besides, Lan Xichen had big plans for that trip to Yunping City, and knew that agreeing to let Nie Huaisang come meant he’d be put in charge of the other boy, which would disrupt his efforts to find and recruit Meng Yao into Gusu Lan.

The very last thing Lan Xichen wanted was for Nie Huaisang to be following him around while he tried to change that part of history. Partly because he dreaded anything that would bring together those two future enemies, but mostly because Nie Mingjue would never forgive him for taking his precious little brother into the brothel district.

Lan Xichen had wanted to refuse.

He should have refused.

He hadn’t, and even pushed against his uncle’s reluctance when Lan Qiren said, not without wisdom, that it might be a dangerous Night Hunt for someone of such a low level. But Lan Xichen had insisted, knowing as his uncle did not that the fierce corpses would reach the borders of Yunping City already weakened and too disoriented by their long walk to put up much resistance.

Besides, Lan Xichen hadn’t expected Nie Huaisang to do much except stand around and allow others to deal with the threat.

He’d been right. Nie Huaisang had stayed close to Lan Xichen the whole time, having apparently decided that this was the safest place to be.

That, along with the request to come to this Night Hunt, was giving Lan Xichen an impression of progress. That was something he desperately needed, he realised while watching Nie Huaisang wander among their group. The younger boy had proven surprisingly reluctant to the concept of making friends. Or at least, he’d been resisting all of Lan Xichen’s efforts, and showed no interest in the other guest disciples either, while developing an apparent obsession with Su She, of all people.

A mutual obsession, judging by the way they were both always seeking each other. A dangerous obsession, Lan Xichen thought, and so when his uncle had wondered about taking Su She with them, Lan Xichen had been forced to disagree.

They didn’t need a traitor in their midst.

Truly, if Lan Xichen had had the power, he’d have ordered Su She away already, even if it was unfair when he hadn’t yet committed any crimes. Still, since he intended to bring Meng Yao to the Cloud Recesses and keep him there, then Su She couldn't be kept around. It would be better to avoid…

“Lan gongzi, did I do something bad?” Nie Huaisang cried out, suddenly appearing in front of Lan Xichen, startling him. “You’ve been looking at me for a while and you’re frowning… I’m really sorry I wasn’t much use at all, you know! I swear I didn’t mean to drop my sabre like that, and then it would have been dangerous to get it back!”

Lan Xichen smiled, and tried not to wonder if Nie Huaisang had dropped his weapon on purpose.

Tried and failed. It was hard to not suspect Nie Huaisang of secretly scheming every time he cried out about being stupid, every time he failed at some easy task.

“You’ll have to try to train a little harder,” Lan Xichen gently scolded. “You could have gotten hurt. You’re lucky there were others to protect you, but it might not always be the case.”

“I’d never go anywhere dangerous without someone strong,” Nie Huaisang retorted with an insolent grin. “Or anywhere dangerous at all, if I can help it. I thought maybe Night Hunts would be more fun without my brother shouting at me, but in the end this was still scary and boring. I don’t think I’ll try again.”

Only years of good education prevented Lan Xichen from rolling his eyes. “I hope Nie gongzi realises that these things aren’t about having fun,” he said. “It is about helping those in need, and defeating evil before it can cause harm to innocents.”

“Is it?” Nie Huaisang asked, looking sincerely surprised. “I thought that was just something people said. But I guess Lan gongzi is such an honest person, of course you’d really believe that, right?”

Lan Xichen tensed.

It was amazing, really, how Nie Huaisang always found exactly the most awful thing to say, and to make something like ‘honest’ sound like an insult.

“What’s going to happen now?” Nie Huaisang asked, blissfully unaware he’d said anything wrong. “It’s still pretty early in the day, do you think we’ll have a chance to visit Yunping City a bit? It'd be really neat if we could. I even brought my pocket money in case I see something nice.”

So that was why Nie Huaisang had wanted to come, Lan Xichen realised, instantly relaxing. For tourism, and to get a break from lessons. It was such a simple and innocent reason, perfectly fitting the sort of person Nie Huaisang appeared to be, but Lan Xichen had been too taken by his future memories of a ruthless manipulator. Perhaps it hadn’t all been a comedy. Perhaps until his brother’s death, Nie Huaisang had really been just silly. Just an ordinary, lazy teenager whose only agenda was to make as few efforts as possible.

It gave Lan Xichen some comfort. He would have been blind in that future he wanted to avoid, but perhaps that was because for the longest of times there really had been nothing to see.

“We need to do some clean-up first,” Lan Xichen explained, gesturing toward the defeated fierce corpses. “But I’m sure that won’t take too long. We might have the afternoon off at least, if shufu and Jiang zongzhu wish to talk with Huang zongzhu.”

They would, as Lan Xichen already knew. In fact, they had so much to say that the Lan and Jiang wouldn’t start heading home until the following afternoon. It should give Lan Xichen plenty of time to look for Meng Yao and find a way to bring him to Gusu, so he could be prevented from ever joining Lanling Jin.

Somehow.

“Will this take long?” Nie Huaisang asked, glancing toward the city.

“It’ll take less time if you help,” Lan Xichen suggested. “You’re here anyway, so you might as well. And I’m sure your brother will be proud of you if he hears you did your part.”

The advice caused Nie Huaisang to grimace and sigh, as if being asked to participate was the very worst thing he’d ever been ordered to do. In the end, he was more of a hindrance than anything, until Lan Qiren told him to get out of the way. That order he obeyed quite efficiently.

When all the fierce corpses had been purified, their group headed back into town, toward Yunping Huang's home where they had all been invited to stay. It wasn't a very large place, so while Lan Qiren and Jiang Fengmian were offered their own rooms to freshen up, the juniors had to share one room between all of them, Lan and Jiang mixed together.

Several basins were offered to them to clean a bit, as well as some light collations to help them last until the next meal. Some of the boys were more interested in chatting than in getting clean. The Jiang boys in particular seemed quite talkative, blabbering between themselves about their great deeds, talking about how much they'd boast to Wei Wuxian about the great Night Hunt he'd missed out on, and even trying to start conversations with the Lan disciples to comment on their technique.

Even Jiang Cheng, who Lan Xichen remembered from his future as severe and joyless, was chatting with enthusiasm. He also kept glancing toward Lan Xichen, as if wishing to say something but lacking the nerves to actually do it. Lan Xichen found it a little amusing to think that the terrifying future Sandu Shengshou had once been shy, but didn't pay it much mind.

He had a goal to accomplish while in Yunping City, and mingling with peers would have to wait.

It did not take too long for Lan Xichen to clean up and be ready to head out again. As he prepared to do so, he stumbled upon his uncle who asked him whether he’d seen Nie Huaisang. It appeared that while everyone went to rest and freshen up, Nie Huaisang had left the house, and alone at that.

Although he tried his best to look suitably worried, Lan Xichen almost leaped from joy at the news. Nie Huaisang’s mischief gave him the perfect excuse to head out as well… and since none of the other juniors were done cleaning up, since the adults had much to discuss, Lan Xichen had no trouble at all arguing that he could go alone after his friend’s brother. He promised to be careful, and to bring back Nie Huaisang as soon as he found him. He’d have promised anything, really, and only felt mildly guilty for immediately heading in the direction where he thought Meng Shi’s brothel should stand.

Lan Xichen had not often come to Yunping City, in that future he remembered, and the town had not left a very big impression on him. On this present Night Hunt, he’d mostly been worried about supervising other juniors while his uncle discussed politics with the other two sect leaders. Then, on his second visit, Lan Xichen had been a prisoner, weakened and worried that after having been kidnapped by the man he had trusted the most, he might get murdered once he outlived his usefulness as a hostage. In such circumstances, in neither of his visits Lan Xichen had really paid attention to his surroundings. Adding to this the fact that Yunping City would change a good deal in the twenty years to come...

Lan Xichen got lost.

He got immensely lost, and realised, a little late, that he couldn’t ask for direction. He’d never learned the name of the brothel where Meng Shi worked, partly because he’d never thought to ask. Why would he have ever needed that information? Why ask a question that would only have upset his dear friend by reminding him of his origins?

Of course this wouldn’t have been a problem if there had only been one brothel in Yunping City.

There were many more than one brothel in the city, as Lan Xichen discovered when he reached the right neighbourhood. Wrong neighbourhood.

A neighbourhood.

Since it was only afternoon, there wasn’t too much activity going on, aside from the different brothels starting to get ready for the night, or welcoming a few special clients. Walking in the streets, Lan Xichen heard laughter coming from the buildings, and arguments as well. He found himself forced to mostly keep his eyes to the road in front of him, because looking up meant he risked catching a glimpse of a lady or young man in a partly undressed state, arguing from a window with someone in the street or just enjoying some fresh air. But of course, refusing to look up made it virtually impossible to try and recognise the building he was looking for.

After well over a shichen of aimless wandering, Lan Xichen felt himself fall into despair. This plan of his might not have been very well thought out, and he was well and truly lost now. If his uncle came looking for him and found him in such a place…

“Lan gongzi?” a squeaky voice called out, startling him. “What are you doing here?”

Lan Xichen turned, and found himself staring at Nie Huaisang.

It would have been hard to say, between the two of them, who was the most embarrassed one. Nie Huaisang certainly looked quite stunned, but perhaps also a little upset that he had cried out like that instead of escaping unseen. Lan Xichen had a feeling the younger boy wasn’t quite as lost as him.

“I was looking for you,” Lan Xichen explained. “And then I ended up here.”

Nie Huaisang let out a curse. “Damn, I thought I’d been more discreet than that,” he grumbled, confirming Lan Xichen’s suspicion. “Well, cat’s out of the bag, uh? I’m here because I figured I might buy some spring books without anyone breathing down my neck. So, uh, I’m quite well as you see, so you can go back. I’m sure I won’t be very long. Well, I hope. I’ve just got to find what I’m looking for.”

Lan Xichen couldn’t refrain a small smile upon hearing this. He knew, distantly, that Nie Huaisang had eventually become quite well known among guest disciples for having smuggled some spring books into the Cloud Recesses. Apparently, it was a hobby in which he was already quite invested, if he’d dared to venture alone in such a part of an unknown city.

“You really should head back to the Huang sect's home,” Lan Xichen gently scolded. “It’s getting late, and you might get in trouble.”

“I’m in trouble already since you found me,” Nie Huaisang muttered, nervously glancing around. “I’m… I’m not really finding what I want so far, so I’d like… please Lan gongzi, can you pretend you didn’t see me and let me look a little longer?”

“I promised I’d take you back as soon as I found you.”

Lan Xichen paused, and considered the situation. It was obvious that Nie Huaisang wasn’t quite as uncomfortable as him in this place. Maybe if they walked together, Lan Xichen himself would feel more at ease, and even manage to actually look at the buildings surrounding them to try and recognise those that had been near that temple, twenty years in the future.

“Nie gongzi, if you must really stay here, then at the very least I should stay at your side to make sure you don’t get in trouble.”

Nie Huaisang startled so badly at the suggestion that he nearly tripped and fell. His face turned very pale, and he started fidgeting nervously with his sleeve. He hadn’t yet gotten into the habit of always carrying a fan, as he would during the following year, or else Lan Xichen knew Nie Huaisang would have opened such a fan and hidden behind it.

“Lan gongzi! This really isn’t a place for you!” Nie Huaisang squeaked.

“And it is one for you?”

Nie Huaisang grimaced. His face was turning grey with anguish, while his eyes looked red, as if he might cry.

“I’d really rather be alone, it’s too embarrassing if you’re here,” he whined miserable.

“You’re just here for spring books, right?” Lan Xichen asked, worried that the younger boy might have wanted to do more than merely look while in such a neighbourhood. “You’re not here to…”

“No!” Nie Huaisang urgently shouted. “No, I’m just here to… I just wanted to… I was…” He took a deep breath, and wiped his eyes with the back of his hands. “Lan gongzi, believe it or not, but I had no bad intentions at all. But something like this… how could I do it with you around? I just can’t… you’re too… And it’s getting late now, and it’ll be impossible to… ah, I messed this up, I really messed this up!”

He’d burst into tears, sobbing loudly and attracting the attention of a few passerbys. Lan Xichen knew he should have said something, tried to calm the other boy, but the sight of those tears, the tone of his voice, brought back unpleasant memories.

Lan Xichen found himself frozen, and unable to breathe.

Nie Huaisang had sounded, would have sounded the same all those times he’d come crying for help after the death of Nie Mingjue. The same pathetic tears, the same stuttering, all lies, all pretences.

Lan Xichen couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t…

“Lan gongzi?” he heard Nie Huaisang call to him, voice distant, as if coming through a thick wall. “Lan gongzi, are you unwell?”

Lan Xichen didn’t answer.

One needed air to speak, and he still couldn’t breathe.

He was feeling as if he might pass out from the lack of air, when the feeling of a burning hand on his own freezing one pulled him back to the present.

Lan Xichen took a deep, shaky breath, then another, and another, until he found himself in control again. The whole time Nie Huaisang held his hand, still sniffling and crying a few tears. His face was splotched with red, and his nose was runny, when Lan Xichen had always taken him to be the sort of person blessed enough to become more handsome with tears. Perhaps it meant this fit of crying was real, when other ones had been staged.

He couldn’t imagine the man Nie Huaisang would become holding anyone’s hand while they were unwell, nor indeed letting anyone’s discomfort distract from his own antics.

There was comfort to be found in that.

“Sorry, I sometimes have episodes like this,” Lan Xichen explained when he felt capable of speaking again. It hadn’t been the first time his other memories provoked an intense reaction, and he feared it wouldn’t be the last either. “I hope I didn’t worry you too much.”

“It was really scary,” Nie Huaisang said, squeezing his hand tight. “You looked like you were going to faint. Actually, you still don’t look too good.”

Lan Xichen didn’t feel so well, truth be told. He knew from experience he probably would be a little uneasy until he’d slept.

“I can’t leave you here alone,” he still insisted. “It could be dangerous.”

After glancing around at the now busier streets, Nie Huaisang sighed deeply. He let go of Lan Xichen’s hand and quickly wiped a few new tears.

“It’s too late, I don’t think I can do this,” he mumbled, sounding rather more emotional than he should have been about mere spring books. “I’d get in trouble now that the brothels are opening for the night. I’ll just… I don’t know. I really don’t know what I’ll do,” he sighed, and for a second Lan Xichen thought he was going to lose his breath again, until Nie Huaisang spoke again. “I can’t leave you on your own when you’re unwell, anyway. Da-ge would never forgive me. So let’s head back, and like that I can help you if you start feeling bad again.”

At some other time, Lan Xichen might have laughed, or at least smiled at the idea that Nie Huaisang could help him in any way. Whether he was a foolish boy or a scheming avenger, Nie Huaisang wasn’t one to help others.

But it was the other boy’s hand on his own that had called him back to the present, and Nie Huaisang certainly looked sincerely worried.

“Thank you, I think I’d like that,” Lan Xichen said. “I’m really sorry for ruining your fun.”

“It wasn’t much fun anyway,” Nie Huaisang replied as they started walking back toward the local sect. “And anyway, this is important too.”

Lan Xichen said nothing, a certain tiredness slowly creeping up inside him as a consequence of his moment of panic, but he smiled faintly.

Maybe he really was making progress with Nie Huaisang. And as for Meng Yao, there was always the following morning to try and find him.

Nie Huaisang was scolded by Lan Qiren when they returned to the Huang sect's dwellings, promised punishment, and ordered not to wander off again. He looked as if he might cry again, being talked down like this in front of everyone, but he just pinched his lips and nodded along, as if accepting he would be punished this harshly. It was not quite in character for him, since he usually was more the sort to argue and whine to get out of trouble, and he looked utterly depressed, almost as much as he would in a few years upon losing his brother.

If Lan Xichen hadn't been so exhausted by his moment of panic, he would have made a note of it and tried asking the younger boy what was wrong. As it was, he could barely stand anymore and had to excuse himself to go sleep before even having dinner. He thought his uncle looked a little disapproving, aware surely that such a simple Night Hunt shouldn't have tired him so… but Lan Xichen didn't care. All that mattered was sleep, so he could leave that day behind him.

Sleep, however, brought less rest than Lan Xichen would have liked. He had nightmares throughout the night, though he couldn't remember them when he opened his eyes. He thought they'd had to do with Nie Huaisang and Meng Yao, perhaps also with Nie Mingjue, but he couldn't be quite sure.

He didn't want to remember those dreams.

It wasn’t quite dawn when Lan Xichen woke up one final time. He quickly decided that he probably wouldn’t manage to go back to sleep, not when it might bring more nightmares. Instead he got up quietly and got dressed. As he did so his eyes scanned the room he shared with other juniors, and noticed that Nie Huaisang wasn’t present, his bed slept in but currently empty. Lan Xichen, who had wanted to meditate until the other Lan disciples awoke, changed his plans and instead went to look for Nie Huaisang.

He didn’t have to go very far. Yunping Huang’s home wasn’t large, and there weren’t many places a guest might wander off. After checking at the door with the Huang disciple on watch duty, Lan Xichen learned that Nie Huaisang had indeed tried to go out only to be denied, and had been directed to the courtyard if he didn’t want to go back to bed. That was where Lan Xichen found the younger boy, sitting on a bench among some potted plants, restlessly moving his legs in small jerky movements and chewing on the skin around his nails hard enough to draw blood.

Lan Xichen walked closer, making sure to step a little harder than he normally would so Nie Huaisang would hear him coming. Even like this, Nie Huaisang appeared startled when he noticed he wasn’t alone anymore, and went completely still for a moment. He quickly recovered though, and without getting up bowed to Lan Xichen.

“Good morning, Lan gongzi. You’re up early, are you still unwell?”

“I’m much better. Thank you again for helping me yesterday. May I ask why you are up so early? I never took you for a morning person.”

“Well, I am, actually,” Nie Huaisang said, wringing his hands. “Early mornings are good for bird watching, you know. And I’m a night person too, because, well, there’s a lot of birds in the evening too. It’s the middle of the day I don’t like so much.”

Lan Xichen smiled, pleased that Nie Huaisang, for once, would speak to him so freely. He gestured at the bench. “May I sit with you?”

“You’re not scolding me for being awake when I shouldn’t be?”

“I’m awake too, how could I scold you?”

That answer appeared to satisfy Nie Huaisang, who motioned for Lan Xichen to sit.

"I really should be sleeping, I know that," Nie Huaisang said, words shooting out of his mouth at high speed. "I tried, but I couldn't. And then I wanted to go for a walk, but I was told I can't, because the city has a curfew on because of those fierce corpses and also to avoid smugglers, and what if I got in trouble, or someone attacked me because I look like I have money, and also your uncle said I'm punished so I wouldn't be able to go out anyway. But I'm really bored, and I really need to go into Yunping, it's very necessary."

Nie Huaisang paused to take a breath, then resumed speaking at a more resonable speed.

"Lan gongzi, do you think you might help me go out? I have something really important I have to do, you see. I think I'll be in huge trouble if I don't do it. And if you help me…"

"What is it you need to do?"

"Can't say," Nie Huaisang muttered, instantly closing off.

"Then you have to understand I can't…"

"I can't say what it is, but I can say it's important," Nie Huaisang corrected, starting to chew on his nails again. "It's very important, and I'll owe you a favour if you help me. Please, Lan gongzi? I swear I won't do anything bad, please believe me!"

His hands clenching on the fabric over his knees, Lan Xichen felt on the verge of another attack of breathlessness. If only Nie Huaisang had come to him in that horrible future, if he'd asked his help then…

Before panic could really seize him, Nie Huaisang grabbed the hem of his sleeve and pulled on it like a child demanding attention.

"Please Lan gongzi, please help me and I'll do anything you want!"

"Anything?" Lan Xichen asked in a voice he barely recognised, as if he'd already started struggling to breathe. Nie Huaisang didn't appear to notice, and nodded eagerly.

If Lan Xichen had slept better, if he hadn't had so much on his mind, he might have told Nie Huaisang that his help didn't need to be bought, or invoked a friendship that didn't exist yet between them. But he was only half awake still, and there was in fact one thing he wanted from Nie Huaisang, something which had caused him immense distress and worry for weeks now.

"What if I asked that you distance yourself from Su She?"

Instantly Nie Huaisang let go of his sleeve and jumped to his feet, his face twisting into a mask of contempt.

"Then I guess I'll just do this on my own, if you're going to be like that! I can't believe… well, maybe I can,” Nie Huaisang laughed darkly. “In the end, Lan gongzi is no better than others, eh? You hold just the same ideas as the rests! It's fine. I don't need your help, if you only give it upon such a condition!"

Lan Xichen stood up as well, and grabbed Nie Huaisang by the wrist to stop him from leaving.

"I didn't mean that," he lied, terrified he might have ruined all his efforts already. Terrified, also, by the apparent strength of Nie Huaisang’s attachment to Su She. "I was just trying to tease you, but I'm not very good at it. I thought…” He hesitated, looking for a decent excuse only to panic again. “Isn't it common to tease people on their crush?"

"My what?" Nie Huaisang sputtered, so shocked he stopped struggling to free himself. "He's not… I'm not… I don't think? I mean, I do like him a lot, I guess..."

Seeing the other boy's growing confusion, Lan Xichen winced. From watching other boys his age make friends, he had assumed it was normal to tease on such a matter, and that the accepted reaction was always to vehemently deny having a crush on anyone, let alone on another boy. He had hoped that the unexpected accusation would confuse Nie Huaisang enough to make him forget his anger.

If instead, after having forced the encounter with Su She, he ended up causing a romance between the two…

"Huaisang, I swear I'll help you sneak outside if you forget I said anything," Lan Xichen pleaded. "I was just… I'm still a little tired and I said nonsense, please forget it."

Nie Huaisang kept silent a moment more, still thinking over that matter, before turning his attention back to Lan Xichen. It seemed to the older boy that something had changed in Nie Huaisang, who now stood a little stiffer and watched him with even less warmth than before.

“I’ll take Lan gongzi’s offer,” he said coldly. “The second offer, to be clear. But I have to say, I don’t think you should make jokes. You’re really not good at this.”

On that matter, at least, they could agree, Lan Xichen thought as they both sat again, and silently waited for a more reasonable hour to head into Yunping City. He was starting to realise that making friends was a much harder endeavour than he’d ever expected.

Lan Xichen had never tried to make anyone like him, be it in this life or the other one he remembered. His uncle had always taught him that only inferior men needed to go out of their way to obtain the good will of others, while men of true quality would let their actions speak for them and find peers of equal rank in that manner. Lan Xichen strove to be polite to people regardless of rank or affection, because being disrespectful to others was also the mark of an inferior man, but he had never tried to cross the distance between himself and others, convinced that friendship would bloom naturally where it was meant to do so.

Looking back on it, Lan Xichen realised that the man he would have become only ever had two friends, and very few people that could be described as more than acquaintances. Three friends, if one included his younger brother… but it left something of a sour taste in Lan Xichen’s mouth to think that he needed to include Lan Wangji in such a list. Most people, he was aware, didn't need to count family among their list of friends.

What bothered him the most, though, was that his future self hadn’t even minded. After everything that had happened, he had counted himself lucky to even have a friend like Jin Guangyao, and had been willing to close his eyes to anything that might have displeased him about the other man. Lan Xichen had convinced himself that he didn’t need to become close to others, all because becoming close to others meant exposing himself to the pain of losing them, should they die.

He hadn't been very good at dealing with loss.

Lan Xichen didn’t want that part of his future, either, he realised. Being an accomplice to crimes was awful, certainly, but this bothered him as well. He had no interest in becoming that lonely man who hid everything behind a smile of empty warmth.

Sadly, that meant he needed to learn to make friends

Judging by the side glares Nie Huaisang was throwing his way now and again, and the way the younger boy kept moving aside so there was as much space as possible between them, as if Lan Xichen's very proximity were now intolerable to him, making friends wasn't going to be easy.

#xisang #nie huaisang #lan xichen #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #double time travel #this one is a bit long oops lxc had a lot of thoughts ok #It would have been longer but I decided to cut it in two already so... yeah

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feverdreamfantasies · 4 years

Text

The Birthday Gift

Pairing: Human!Hoseok x Human!Yoongi x Human!Reader, Snow Leopard Shifter!Jimin x Human!Reader

Featuring: German Shepherd Hybrid!Taehyung, Doberman Hybrid!Namjoon, Neighbor!Jungkook, (Jin to make an appearance later)

Genre: Hybrid AU, Fluff, Angst, Poly AU, eventual Smut, Producer!Yoongi, Scientist!Hoseok

Warnings: Brief mention of blood, Mention of Hybrid abuse, Some adult language, Mentions of a poly relationship between M x M x F

Summary: “Hobi! What is he?” Yoongi repeats himself looking from me in the corner over to his boyfriend.

“He’s a shifter.” Hoseok mumbles, hand rising to scratch the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry. What?”

“He’s a shifter! Okay. I adopted our girlfriend a shifter for her birthday.”

Author’s Notes: This was an idea I’ve had in my head for a little while and I thought I would go ahead and start writing it. Also since this is the first chapter there’s a lot of background information in this one but moving forward there will be less filler and hopefully more story line progression. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter One: The ultimate Birthday gift

Sometimes I wonder how I got here in my life.

After nearly 5 years of being with Yoongi, I thought I was prepared for anything, but standing here in our neighbor Jungkook’s living room watching his sweet arctic fox hybrid, Sooyun, turn into the vicious predator she truly is; I began to question the choices I’d made that lead me here.

Let me backup a little bit to how I came to witness the scene before me. I was quietly having breakfast earlier this morning when Hoseok made his way loudly down the staircase that led into the kitchen.

“Have you seen your boyfriend?” He asked with an emphasis on “your”, clearly perturbed with the man in question.

“What’s he done now that makes him ‘my’ boyfriend?” I say while taking a bite of my toast.

For all the time I have been in a relationship with Yoongi, Hoseok has been with him longer. The two met in their first year at university and began dating shortly there after. I came along about four years later, back when I was a shy, young intern for the music company Yoongi was—and is still— a big time producer for.

I had heard rumors when I first started there that he had a bit of a different romantic life than most. Everyone loved to whisper about the open relationship he and his boyfriend supposedly had. I tried not to listen to the rumors, but I couldn’t deny the big fat crush I had developed on Yoongi either. I thought my heart was going to beat out of my chest every time he walked into the same room as me. And when he asked me out for drinks one day, all I could do was nod in response because I didn’t have the courage to give a verbal yes.

I was nervous and apprehensive about possibly going on a date with an already taken man. But my curiosity got the best of me and I showed up to the bar he had suggested. He was sweet and kind to me. Being patient with my quietness until I warmed up enough to be able to contribute to our conversation.

He was also very straightforward and honest with me.

“I know there are rumors about my personal life in the office.” He stated matter-of-factly, taking a sip of his jack and coke before continuing. “So I’ll admit that I’m kind of surprised you agreed to come out with me tonight.”

I brushed a piece of my hair behind my ear, a nervous habit of mine that brings me an artificial level of comfort. “To be honest” I swallow “I’m not really sure I was even going to show up.”

“Well I’m glad you did.” He said with his adorable gummy smile.

“And to be upfront about everything, the rumors are true. I do have a boyfriend, and we are in a serious, committed relationship.”

I raise my eyebrows at this.

“I know what you're thinking. So then why would I ask a beautiful woman like you out on a date if I’m already spoken for?”

My heart speeds up when I hear him use the word beautiful. He leans across the high top table we are sat at, so he can speak lower and not have the other customers at the bar listen in.

“Hobi and I have always been open to the concept of a polymorphic relationship. We’ve tried in the past with potential romantic partners; but they usually ended up ghosting on one of us, once they figured out what we were looking for.”

“So why do you think I’ll be different?” I question finding some confidence in my voice. Afterall, it isn’t like Yoongi is talking about some small, trivial thing. He’s openly discussing with me the potential of starting a romantic journey with him and his boyfriend. Journey being the only way I can truly describe it because honestly what if this actually became something, what do I say to my parents then? “Mom. Dad. Meet my boyfriend Yoongi and his boyfriend--slash my other boyfriend--Hoseok.”

Yeah...this was most certainly going to be a journey.

“Honestly, I’m not sure you will be. But I like you, Y/N. And from what I’ve told Hoseok so far, he’s interested too.”

I snort at this response. What possibly could I have done to get Yoongi’s attention that he’d like me, let alone know anything about me enough to want to tell his boyfriend.

“Up until tonight, I’ve barely said anything to you.” I state to the dark haired man across from me.

Yoongi shrugs at this like it doesn’t matter. “People speak louder with their actions than with their words.”

“Yeah? And what do my actions say about me?” I ask genuinely.

He doesn’t miss a beat with his response.

“You’re smart without being pretentious. You have confidence without arrogance. And most importantly you’re kind.”

“I’m kind?”

Yoongi nods.

“A couple of weekends ago I saw you inside the hybrid rescue downtown. I was going to go in and say hi, but thought that might intimidate you a little bit.”

He says this last part with a laugh, as my cheeks turn red from the fact I know that would have been true.

“I asked one of your fellow interns, Ilsung, about it. He said you volunteer there whenever you can. That you have a real soft spot for hybrids and their rights. Not many people are as compassionate to their causes. And as someone who has had the honor to adopt two myself, I’m really drawn to others who want to make a difference for them.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m making a difference.” I say sheepishly. “But when I was a kid we had a family cat hybrid named Wendy. She and I did everything together until they came and took her away when we were both 12. And let’s just say that made an impact on me.”

When my parents were kids, hybrids were just starting to be introduced to society. But years prior to that, governments and militaries had been creating and breeding hybrids for years as an experiment to get a defensive edge when it came to warfare. It proved not to be as promising as they had hoped and what ended up happening is they sold their hybrids and hybrid secrets to the highest bidder, which turned out to be a large corporatation. This corporation in turn introduced cat and dog hybrids to the rest of the world. Claiming that they were a step above your average household pet and could provide a more fulfilling companion experience. Hybrids quickly became a hot commodity. And the black market was soon taking off with their own hybrid creations of more exotic and “dangerous” hybrid breeds. Soon the hybrids were beginning to outnumber humans 2 to 1 and fear of who they are and what they can do began to take over.

Laws were passed as a means to protect humans. Rather than create laws that stopped the unethical treatment and breeding of hybrids, they were created to limit their rights. Not completely human but also not completely an animal either, hybrids fell in a category with many blurbed lines. The laws state all hybrids must have an owner and must either be accompanied by that owner at all times or have a microchip implanted within the back of their necks that can be scanned to indicate they belong to someone. Any strays were in extreme cases euthanized and in less extreme cases placed in overcrowded shelters and rescue centers, where they would more than likely spend the rest of their lives.

For those who did get adopted or were bought by breeders, their lives may not be as lucky as those who did not. It isn’t uncommon for those hybrids adopted to end up in underground hybrid clubs. These clubs offer humans all sorts of sick fantasies to play out with hybrids. This can be anything from deadly hybrid fight rings to hybrid brothels where they can use and abuse any female and male hybrids of their choosing. In my time volunteering at the rescue center, I have listened to stories I wouldn’t even wish for my worst enemies to have to endure.

“Wendy came into my life when on my 5th birthday. My Mom and Dad had decided I needed a companion. As an only child with parents who weren't able to have any more kids, my parents thought adopting a hybrid could be the next best thing. But the year we both turned 12, is the year Wendy started to go through her changes.”

Yoongi listened to my story with great intensity.

“Of course as humans we all go through puberty between the ages of 11 and 18. This isn’t uncommon for hybrids either except their changes aren’t typically of the reproductive kind until later in their late teens and early twenties, but what they do change in is behavior. Their animal instincts can have the potential to become more dominant, leading to aggressiveness and in some cases violence.

When Wendy and I were playing outside one day, a neighbor's hybrid wandered into our backyard where we were. He looked to be some small wild cat hybrid, probably bought in some shady back room of an outdoor market. He was around our age if not a little bit older. He’s name was Yongho and he could hear our laughs from inside his house. He asked if he could play with us, saying he was lonely being cooped up inside all day. I was glad to have another person to play with so I said yes immediately without noticing that Wendy was apprehensive. Her tail was flicking side to side and ears were slightly pinned back, but I thought that was only because she may be jealous of having some of my attention shared with another hybrid. I chose to ignore her warning signs and suggested a game of tag.

It all seemed to be going fine. At first I was ‘it’ and although they were both faster than me, Yongho decided to slow down so I could catch him. But once he was ‘it’ that’s when everything would change to become one of the worst days of my life.”

I paused so I could take a sip of my drink to try and calm myself down. I hadn’t thought of this day in a really long time and I was struck by the fact that I was so easily sharing it with Yoongi when not even most of my close friends knew what had happened. Yoongi reached across the table and gently rubbed his thumb over my hand to encourage me to keep going.

I cleared my throat.

“Because Yongho was a predator hybrid, a game of tag can quickly turn into a dangerous game of cat and mouse. When Wendy and I ran off in opposite directions after getting a 10-second head start that’s when Yongho’s animal instincts kicked in. As a slow and small human girl, I became easy prey to the hunter and Yongho began to come after me. Naive to noticing that anything had changed, I giggled as I tried to dodge around the trees in our backyard to create obstacles between us. And when I turned around to see how close he was that’s when I saw the predatory look in his eyes. I gave a small but effective scream which in turn caught the attention of Wendy. She halted in the direction she was going before quickly turning around. I in the meantime froze out of fear. Yongho slowed but didn’t stop moving toward me. He staked his way closer in the same way you would see a lioness do through the brush on a nature show before she pounced on an antelope. And unfortunately for me, I was that antelope. Just as Yongho pounced with claws out, Wendy intercepted him and they both tumbled to the ground, rolling around and making animalistic noises I had never heard before.

This got the attention of my mother. Who once she came outside to see what was happening began yelling for my dad. He ran out and grabbed me. Easily picking me up and throwing me inside the house ordering me to lock the door and telling my mother to call HES (hybrid emergency services). My dad tried to get Yongho off of Wendy when he had managed to pin her to the ground while I burst into tears once the adrenaline started to wear off. HES showed up quickly, but not fast enough to stop Wendy from accidentally scratching my dad. She was aiming for Yongho when my father’s arm got in the way and left a deep wound along his forearm which instantly began to bleed. Because hybrid laws take all cases of violence toward a human seriously, HES not only took Yongho away but they also took Wendy. My father spent the next several weeks in court trying to get her back saying she had scratched him with no ill intention but they wouldn’t listen. The only thing they could offer was for us to send her off to a reform facility, where she would spend the next three years, in hopes that maybe once she had gone through the proper reform training then she would be able to come home. My parents agreed to send her off, but 6 months after she arrived they claimed she had ran away, only to find out in the news a few years later that this reform facility was secretly selling desirable hybrids off to private sellers and the black market. I haven’t seen her since.”

Things between us got really quiet after I told my story. Yoongi continued to rub my hand before noticing that my eyes were watery. Tears threatening to come cascading down. He sprung into action and leapt off his stool scooping me up into a hug.

“I’m so sorry” he whispered.

I could hear the sincerity in his voice and felt overwhelmingly comforted within his embrace. I thought right then and there that I never wanted him to let me go. And I didn’t care if that meant I had to share him with someone else because at that moment it felt like I was always supposed to be his.

Shortly thereafter I met Hoseok face to face. The three of us went on a date to a nice restaurant to see how we would all get along. The date went exceptionally well, as did the next one, and the one after that. After a couple months, the three of us went away for the weekend and discussed the next steps for our future. It was decided that we would all move in together and start a relationship that would define my next five years.

Looking over at Hobi now with his brows crossed and a mild look of exhaustion on his face. I couldn’t help but smile slightly.

“He promised me he would come home last night so he could be here for your birthday this morning.”

“Yoongi is here.” I say. “Also nice of you to wish me a Happy Birthday.”

He rolled his eyes before walking over to me and kissing me on the forehead. “He didn’t come to bed last night.” He responds as he releases me.

“That’s because he came to my bed,” I say with a teasing grin.

Once we moved into this house, it was decided that Yoongi and Hoseok would share a room while I had my own. I didn’t mind it much because Yoongi would often sneak into my bed once Hobi fell asleep. Or if Yoongi was at the studio all night then one of our hybrids would cuddle up with me, especially Taehyung.

Speaking of which, the German Shepherd hybrid came bounding through the backdoor. A smile on his face and a bouquet of wildflowers clutched in his hand.

“Happy Birthday Y/N!”

“I got you these!” He thrust the wildflowers toward me. Tail wagging rapidly behind him.

“Thank you Tae.” I take the flowers from him smelling them in the process. “These are beautiful.”

He’s smile grows wider. Taehyung was one of the two hybrids Hoseok and Yoongi had adopted before I joined their family. Well adopted was not really the correct term to use. Hoseok worked as a scientist for the government. And though they had supposedly moved on from the hybrid world, the three of us knew that wasn’t true. Hoseok started working there right out of college. Initially he was told he was there for human medical purposes, specifically in terms of medicine and vaccine studies. However, while that was mostly true, Hoseok discovered one day by accident that there were also medical experiments being done on hybrids in ways that they would never imagine doing to humans.

From that moment on, Hoseok took it upon himself to make changes but he’d have to climb his way to the top in order to make any real change. Now being the second in command to the head of the medical research team, Hobi had more privileges to know what happened in the hybrid labs but still didn’t have full command of what went on in there. But that didn’t stop him from managing to rescue a couple in the process.

I didn’t really know all that had happened to Taehyung and Namjoon--our Doberman hybrid--while they were in that lab, but I knew that it made them respond to things in opposite ways. Taehyung was clingy and loveable. Namjoon was a little standoffish at first but if I played my cards right he could be putty in my hands.

“Where do you want to eat tonight?” Hobi asked.

“You guys aren’t going to make me a homemade meal.” I whine.

“If you want food poisoning then I would be more than happy to make you whatever you would like. Or if you don’t mind eating until almost 2 in the morning then I’ll ask Yoongi what he wants to make tonight.”

I stick my tongue out at him. I hate his reasoning sometimes.

“In that case, I’ll have to get back to you on that.”

“We all know that you’ll choose the same place you always do.” A sleepy Yoongi says with a yawn. His hair slightly sticking up in the back indicating he had just climbed out of bed.

He walks over to me, sliding into the booth of our breakfast nook and kisses me gently.

“Happy Birthday Princess.” He says in his deep groggy voice.

“I’m surprised you're up already.” I state as I fed him some of my breakfast. He takes a bite and swallows before responding.

“Someone made a pretty severe threat of laundry duty if I didn’t show up this morning. And we all know if I’m on laundry duty for a full month, we will all be deeply sorry.”

We enjoy the rest of our morning with happy banter and cuddles on the couch. With a momentary appearance from Namjoon with a quick Birthday greeting before he went on his jog.

As I flipped through the options on Netflix with Tae asleep with his head in my lap, Hoseok’s phone rang which he picked up and answered in his office down the hall. Yoongi and I gave a brief glance at each other figuring it was probably from work before Hoseok quickly ran out of his office and out the front door as though the house was on fire.

We look at each other again before quickly getting off the couch to follow him. Taehyung whines in protest as he loses the warmth of my lap before climbing back onto the couch and quickly falling back asleep.

Hoseok goes over to our neighbor’s house, lifting his arm up to knock on the door when Jungkook opens it with a “Thank God!”

“I thought you said he’d be fine here.” Hoseok says as he follows Jungkook into his living space noticing the low growls of Sooyun coming from within. He hesitates a moment before seeing why Sooyun is making that noise.

He quickly gets his answer as he sees Sooyun with teeth bared at a cowering figure in the corner. He realizes her aggression is toward his Birthday gift for Y/N. While he knew that Y/N was easily loved by Taehyung and Namjoon, they weren’t necessarily her hybrids. Tae belonged to Yoongi and Namjoon was Hoseok’s, who he adopted at the first chance after that fateful day he walked into the hybrid lab by accident. So he figured Y/N needed her own companion and it gave him an excuse to bring home another rescue.

“Well aren’t you going to do something.” He says to Jungkook, calmer than he felt.

“Me? He’s your hybrid.” Jungkook says incredulously.

“Technically he isn’t a hybrid.”

“Then what is he?” Yoongi says behind Hobi, scaring his younger boyfriend in the process. I stand beyond them watching Jungkook’s normally sweet hybrid looking like the true predator she is before moving my eyes to the other hybrid--or rather not hybrid--sitting in the corner with his knees up to his chest. My heart instantly breaks at the sight in front of me and I feel the need to protect him.

“Hey! Enough.”

My voice is loud and clear. Commanding but not violent, just enough to get Sooyun’s attention. A skill I learned at all my years volunteering at the rescue. She backs away and hides behind Jungkook as though she hadn’t done anything wrong to be treated this way. Jungkook pats the hand she rests on his arm, clutching onto his shirt sleeve. White ears pinned back to her equally pure white hair.

I take that time to move to her victim. Taking slow movements making sure not to scare him even more. “Hello.” I say getting him to look up at me with his light grey eyes. He has soft features but an intense gaze. I reach my hand out to help him off the floor. He hesitates before deciding to trust me and stands up into his full height. He isn’t large but he is taller than me, about the same size as Yoongi.

“Hobi! What is he?” Yoongi repeats himself looking from me in the corner over to his boyfriend.

“He’s a shifter.” Hoseok mumbles, hand rising to scratch the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry. What?”

“He’s a shifter! Okay. I adopted our girlfriend a shifter for her birthday.”

It gets suddenly very quiet. I look back over at the shifter in question, his hand still in mine. Yoongi is visibly getting angry, but still trying to remain somewhat calm.

“What the fuck is a shifter, Hobi? Like a werewolf. Did you bring home a werewolf?”

“Don’t be ridiculous! Werewolves aren’t real. He’s a snow leopard shifter.”

For the genius Hoseok actually was he could really do some dumb things, I think as Yoongi comes towards us and pulls me away but not with some resistance from the other person holding my hand. Yoongi drags me aways while also grabbing Hoseok by the shoulder to guide us outside.

Once we step into the front yard, Yoongi turns Hobi around to look at him but doesn’t let me go.

“You know you’ve done some stupid shit in the 9 years we’ve been together, but this might easily top the list. I mean what the hell were you thinking! Where do you even get a snow leopard shifter?”

“The same place I got Taehyung and Namjoon. Just there was more paperwork involved and lots of background checks. And possibly some surveillance on the house for a week or two.” He throws the last part in quickly as though we won’t notice that he agreed to have us be watched by a government entity without getting our consent first.

“He’s going back.”

“What?! No!” This protest comes from me this time. I don’t know what a shifter is, but I do know some of what happens in the labs and he isn’t going back if I have anything to say about it.

“Yes. He. Is.” Yoongi states, as though the decision is final and begins to walk back toward the house only to stop halfway when he realizes none of us are following.

“We can’t keep him.” He states again.

“But why not?” Hobi and I pout at the same time.

Usually if one of us goes against Yoongi we don’t stand a chance at winning, but if we team up together then things inevitably go our way.

“He’s probably dangerous. I mean I still don’t know what he really is.” He stares at Hoseok on this last point.

“Shifters are what the military attempted after the hybrid experiment failed. Essentially, through their research they found that though hybrids are stronger than humans they still aren’t as strong as a real true animal. But you can’t fully control or command an animal, especially not a predatory animal like a tiger or lion…”

“Or a snow leopard.” Yoongi offered.

“Right. Anyways, there was a researcher about thirty years ago who thought what if you could create a breed of human that could, when needed, shift into full animal form. Lots of people laughed at him for this, but that didn’t stop him from running experiments on his own before a top personnel in the government decided to back him on his research. It didn’t take him long, about five years before he got his first successful generation of shifters. Listen, I know you don’t like it Yoongi and you probably think he’s dangerous. But he’s been kept in that lab his whole life. And I promise you that we have nothing to fear with him. In fact, shifters are much safer than hybrids.” Hoseok added as a last minute plea.

Yoongi slowly let out a sigh. “Fine. But…” he quickly adds before Hobi and I get too excited. “If anything happens to a member of our household because of him, then he has to go somewhere else.”

“You have my word that nothing will happen.”

I grab Yoongi and Hobi into a hug in my excitement. “So what’s his name?”

“Jimin.”

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ranmanjuu · 4 years

Note

Hey there how are you? This literally just came to my mind how will the warlords react to an mc who sees ghosts / spirits and talks with them?

i’m doing fine, thanks for asking! honestly, this is a concept that i’m very interested in (in fact, i had an idea something along these lines, though not quite, that was one of the factors why i made this blog in the first place) cause of the three ikeseries games i know, ikesen is the one who handles death the most (at least in terms of many lives lost, with war and whatnot.)

and i wish i can expand more but also! i’m Lazy

(disclaimer that the uses of sixth senses and how spirits/spiritual “energy” works here are of my own creation, cause in all honesty i don’t know shit abt them)

—nobunaga:

the ability to see the spirits of the dead, in the modern times, was. . .interesting, to sum it up.

living with it since you were a child, you’ve a lot of experiences that range from dread and scary, to extremely fascinating. in the world of constant normality, to a fault even, it’s a sort of (sometimes morbid) curiosity to interact with those who have passed.

however,,, not many times did you tap into scenarios where you got that close to how that person died.

occasional car crashes, although the ones you were bystander to were strangers to you. those you know who did, never you got to see die in front of your eyes. and frankly, you didn’t want to see it,

however, now,,, the world seems to have different plans for you.

out of all the periods, you were flung back to a war-stricken one. even worst, being practically taken in by who’s known as the ruthless unifier of japan.

it all started from the second day, the first battle you were dragged into. while you tried to block out the death you saw around you,,, the way nobunaga slashed the enemy commander would never leave your mind.

doesn’t help that later on you already saw the fire-like spirit, one that would resemble the man standing near the burning castle. reality set in for you at that moment; you’ll be seeing a lot of these.

each battlefield you were dragged into, you could see the spirits that would wander around, in agony, anger or otherwise. either while the flames of battle were swishing, or afterwards when you patched up the injured soldiers.

and almost each time you sense that anger was the thing that tied their spirit to the physical world (from the enemies, of course), somehow, in any way, nobunaga was a part of it.

and you can see why. you’ve heard stories, from the dead and alive, of the supposed atrocities he’s committed, and if you were honest, it created much more a distance.

perhaps it was because you knew much more clearer, the wishes the passed enemy soldiers would curse him for laying upon whatever damage he had. perhaps that was what would always haunt you, how they described his actions, that made you as tense as you were each time you visited the tenshu.

yet,, you always showed a level of care for him, that was clear the first night you went up to his tenshu to thank him for saving your life.

and slowly, you begin to see the truth of his actions. maybe there was more to him, you thought.

it made you believe much more in non-violence, which was why when the lord presented you with a gun or a sword to take his or your life,

you refused both outcomes.

you wanted to live, a burning desire to survive just like everyone else. but it goes without saying that you don’t want nobunaga to die either. not only rooted in the strong feelings you’ve grown regarding violence, but also. . .

“i don’t think i could bear to see your spirit lingering. i - i just don’t want—”

you let out a shuddering breath as the weigh of the wishes, regrets, stories, anger of the dead wash over you. so many lives have been lost—you feel like you’re simply a bearer, a messenger, for those who have passed.

you can’t even begin to imagine the ghost of nobunaga, whatever weigh he held even after death, and especially if you were the one to take his life.

“. . .what do you mean by that?”

you snap back as you look up at him, and realize that you’ve never really told him of your sixth sense. with a heaving breath, you look down to the gun and katana as you begin to explain.

explaining how you’re able to see soldiers, citizens, everyone, who was caught in the crossfire. both enemies and allies. stories of those who they’d lost, or those who’d lose them. unsaid goodbyes, sworn revenge, all of which were burnt into your mind.

their families, friends, who’ve waited for them, all of those haunt your mind until you feel like you live to tell the tale of the passed. countless nights, as you wonder if you’ll ever meet any of them, and if you’ll ever tell them how they’d felt. all the unsaid words.

slowly, he begins to understand clearer. your want for peace, your absolute disdain for death. the clear suffering you heaved, to honor each spirit.

and maybe, it’d lead to a change in him.

—kenshin:

you always found something. . .interesting about kenshin. you’d learn later that he’s the god of war, the ruthless dragon of echigo that took thrill in the most dangerous battles, but. . .something more to it.

it started when you two where alone in the field, where the fireflies rose as if the stars itself descended down to your presences. such was a sight to behold, kenshin standing amidst it all, having a thousand mile stare, to something lost. no words were said, you were all too mesmerized by the sight.

until, just as the luminescent bugs seem to flicker for just a moment, you see it. someone beside him, faded and clouded, and just as you blinked with a slight gasp, it disappears.

kenshin looks at you, the slight glow shining on his face, the moonlight and fireflies clashing together, “what is it?”

you look into his eyes, solemn and stern. “nothing.” you say, and so, it passes. but it wouldn’t be the last time.

it’s never happened when others are around, you took note. the next time was the night he put you in prison, your distraught was caught off guard last minute.

you see the flickers of a figure again, and this time, it lingers longer. you can see it clearer now. a girl, at around a teenager’s age with long hair. wordlessly, she looks at you with vacant, yet sad eyes, and walks away in the direction of kenshin.

you lean forward against the bars to look more, but. . .she’s gone.

and you keep seeing her, mainly whenever you and kenshin were alone together. hell, you’ve tried to talk to her when the man went away and she lingered, but. . .not even a single word was ever uttered.

as you grew closer and closer to the bunny lord, you’d see clearer his,, overbearing nature towards you, to an extreme needless to say. and soon, you’d learn why.

you listened to the tale and story from shingen, and silently, all the things clicked. that girl,,, it must be isehime then.

returning back to kenshin’s room, once you set eyes, you immediately notice the ghostly figure sitting in the middle. you take a breath, and step in. despite it not facing you, you know it can see you.

“. . .isehime, isn’t it?” you ask, and her head turns to you. with eyes delicately shining, you’d almost see them as if they were alive.

“so you’ve heard.” she answers, a soft whisper.

your eyes land on the ground, thinking, before they rise up to meet hers again, “. . .what is it that bounds your spirit to the living world?” such was a question you’d ask before, and you figured, now that you knew the story, you’ll get an answer.

she gazes at you with deep thought, then turns her eyes to the floor, “i just want to see him move on from what happened that day.”

everything was silent apart from her soft, echo-ish voice. “i know he’d eventually move on from the crush had i lived. and i too, i no longer like him when i was alive. however,” she looks at the clan crest with the same look kenshin had on the night of the fireflies field, “it hurts to see that it haunts him to this day. it hurts—and i can do nothing but watch. he holds a weigh of trauma, and i just—”

her head turns to you, “i just want him to move on. from the pain, the past, all of it.”

and the way she looks at you,,, it’s a look you’re familiar with. as you feel your own weight sink onto your shoulders, you knew, she’s relying on you.

and so it leads us here, now, by a small isolated place in the middle of the woods. you had this night, this one night, to convince kenshin to stop his war against the oda caused by an incident inflicted on you.

in the end, you do. with a promise that you’d stay by his side no matter how dark the road becomes, along with a ripped kimono. . .you hope for a better future for him, with you accompanying him on the rough journey.

through the trees, the faint figure of isehime begins to fade, and with a soft smile on her face, a melancholic look, she whispers to the night, “thank you. i’ll leave him in your hands.”

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the-girl-in-the-box · 3 years

Text

Can You Imagine? XIII

A/N: And we’re back with an update for this, too! Wow! For those of you not reading my other fic, Not Today, why not?? I’m kidding- for those of you not reading that fic as well, I gave a brief update that basically just says, I am in classes again, so my posting was a little sporadic during that. But I think I’m getting into the groove, so hopefully updates will be more consistent! With that hope in mind, please enjoy this emotional chapter! Skål! (Also, as a note for the end- it feels a bit final, but I promise this isn’t over! Just something of a sectioning off, I think!)

Summary: Freydis was dead. At least, when she’d lost consciousness, she’d been sure she was. But now she has woken up in a cold, sterile environment, one she is certain is not Valhalla, and the world as she once knew it has changed. People now have strange abilities, some of them, and people they call ‘scientists’ are trying to give them to her. The bigger issue, though, is the fact they have also woken the very man who killed her. Ivar the Boneless lives again as well, in the same way Freydis does, and if they want to survive… she may have to learn to trust him again.

Masterlist

Forgiveness

“We go around. I will take the front, lock them in their minds, while you dispose of the others. Move fast, no hesitation. We can’t afford to mess this up.”

Ivar nodded once at Freydis’s instructions, watching her as she settled in. It wasn’t every day he took his orders from someone else, not on the battlefield, and hearing his wife lay out their strategy was different. It was a good sort of different, though, and he wondered how long she’d been working with strategy. Had this begun when they were in Kattegat still, when he had turned on her and forced her to turn on him in return?

It was hard to not let his mind wander there, back to that night where she’d gone to his brothers, and sold him out to them. What had she thought about, when she got up in the night and left Kattegat, went to the camp of Björn Ironside, and told him about the passages into Kattegat, which Ivar had had built for his family’s escape, and then the next morning when she’d let them in?

He remembered waking then, when she returned to bed after letting them in. He’d had no idea what was happening, just that she’d been gone, and come back. At first, he had let himself believe she’d simply gone… perhaps to relieve herself, and returned to bed then once she was finished. But when they had come under attack, when he realized where the attack was coming from, he’d known. Even if she had denied it, he would have already known the truth. He just couldn’t say, now, if he’d have done anything different if she’d denied it. How badly would he have wanted to forgive her? What would he have done to make himself believe her?

He swallowed hard as he thought about that, and took a deep breath in, before letting it out. “Do we trust each other?” he asked his wife, glancing over at her. She looked different like this, her hair pulled up into a ponytail- two of them, actually, one on top of the other- an almost skintight suit on, black and red in colour, very light on any tactical gear. Which, he was not light on at all. But he didn’t have the same powers as she did.

Freydis looked back up at him. In any other situation, that would have been hard to answer. Years before, before anything went wrong, she’d have answered with a resounding ‘yes’. After her son’s death, it would have been a scornful ‘no’. But now? She swallowed hard and looked back at their target, and answered him simply, “We must.”

Not the best answer, he thought, but an understandable one. After all the water under the bridge, water he knew he had unleashed, it was almost unfair to ask Freydis to trust him. But he had to, under these circumstances. Because their lives were at stake now, both of them. Because… if they got this wrong, if they blew it, they’d both take the fall, and who knew how that might look? If they didn’t have each other’s backs in here, they’d lose the chance to have them back there. That much, they were both certain of.

He still nodded, and shifted into a better position to get a good, running start from. The thought was almost strange to him that he’d be running at his enemy this time, as opposed to riding at them in a chariot. Or, hobbling at them with a crutch. His first fight standing on his own two feet, with ‘no hands’, he figured he could say. It almost brought a bitter chuckle from him. Fighting in his life before death, and fighting in this new one. Apparently, he wasn’t ever the type to be afforded a break.

A determined look had set on Freydis’s face as she watched their target, a warehouse being guarded by a handful of agents. The real target, of course, was inside. They were told to take in a thumbdrive, which they had been then taught how to use, to download two specific files. That was the extent of their mission, and then they’d be ready for extraction. Get in, get the files, and get out.

As the set of guards in front of the building changed, Freydis got into a position Ivar hadn’t yet seen her use, and he lifted a brow. “On my mark,” she muttered. He nodded, and looked ahead. They both watched as the guards from before went inside, and the new set settled in, and even then, Freydis gave it a few moments, letting the old guards get completely unready to come back out and fight. As soon as she calculated the right amount of time had passed, she gave a sharp nod.

Ivar watched with wide eyes as she suddenly launched up into the air, red glowing energy pouring from her hands and propelling her up. He’d never seen her do that before, and he blinked a few times, before shaking out his shock and taking off at a full run. It was much faster than he’d seen anyone run before, when back in Kattegat, and so he propelled himself as quickly as he could through the snow, arriving just after Freydis who landed in front of him.

It was a solid landing, one he thought might have broken his body even now had he attempted it. She landed firmly on her feet, and the poor guards in front of her looked suddenly as if they’d seen a ghost. And of course they had- they’d been so focused on Ivar running at them that Freydis had essentially been in complete cover.

The guards pulled their guns then, and Freydis lifted a hand. They suddenly found that their guns wouldn’t fire, and one of them suddenly turned his gun on another of the guards. His eyes had turned a glowy, almost bloodshot red, the sight striking horror into their hearts. She had him entirely under her control. With no other option, they all levelled their guns on him. Freydis smirked.

“He won’t fire, if you let my partner in with no trouble,” she said. “We don’t want to cause a scene, don’t worry, we just have to collect something and we’ll be on our way, hmm?”

One of them nodded eagerly, and so Freydis nodded to Ivar, who then stepped inside the building. He was gone for a while, as Freydis simply stood there with the guards, holding the one, and the others watched her fearfully. “How’s your day going?” she asked, smirking at them.

“It was alright…” one answered, after a very pregnant pause. “Kind of intense now, though.”

Freydis hummed as she sought out the one who spoke with her eyes, and used her free hand to wave him over. He obeyed shakily. “What’s your name?” she questioned him.

“Stevens,” he said. “Um. Private- Private Stevens.”

“Your first name is Private?” she asked, tilting her head in such a way she was clearly asking for his full name.

“No,” he answered. “It’s Roger.”

“Roger Stevens,” she said then, and nodded. “What is your worst fear, Roger?”

“Well, before today, probably something different,” he answered her honestly. “But, now, it’s um, it’s that.” He pointed to the man still under her control.

“Being under my control?” Freydis asked. He nodded shakily. “You won’t be. Not as long as this goes well. Tell me, who do you work for?”

“British Secret Intelligence, ma’am,” he answered.

“And what are you guarding, Roger?”

“Um, I’m not sure. They don’t tell us that much at this level. We just aren’t supposed to let anyone in.”

“And what will happen to you now that you have?”

He swallowed, and shifted on his feet. “Might get in trouble,” he answered. “We’ll have to report it. So.. yeah, maybe a few demerits or something, I don’t really know.”

Freydis lifted a brow. “Demerits?” she asked. “What is that?”

“Basically a bad mark on our file, we get too many and there’s disciplinary action. We can work them off, though. Or trade them out for merits, we get enough of those.”

She blinked a few times, looking back toward the building where Ivar was. “So… they would not… do something horrible, if you fail?”

“What?” the man asked. “‘Course not. They’re strict, but they aren’t evil.”

They aren’t evil…

Those words made something sink in Freydis’s chest, and she gave a small nod. “Thank you, Private,” she said. He could tell she seemed a little off now, and he lifted a brow, but didn’t say anything as he walked back to his position.

She was quiet, until Ivar returned, and even then, she wasn’t quite right as she released the one guard, and they walked away. “Did you get what we needed?” Freydis asked him.

“I did,” he answered, showing her the thumbdrive. She nodded.

“And deleted it from their systems?” This time, Ivar nodded. “Good. We should be alright, then.”

Ivar looked at her with a concerned expression. “Freydis…?” he began, and she looked up at him, swallowing and shaking her head. Don’t ask, she seemed to say, and Ivar nodded slowly. For the rest of their walk, silence reigned.

By the time they returned to their apartment, Freydis was still off. Neither Dr. Schmidt nor Professor Andersen had noticed anything, but Freydis had been Ivar’s wife for many years now, even if they’d been separated for a majority of that time, and he knew her better than she thought he did. She may have asked him to tell her the specific things, things like her favorite colors, or her favorite drinks, and maybe he hadn’t been able to answer her, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t observed her, closely, for well over a year in close quarters. He knew how to tell when something was bothering her now, far better than anyone else.

Some quiet part of himself, a part he wished was quieter than it was, began to question if she was dissatisfied with him again, or even angry with him, even though he could think of nothing he might have done to cause that concern. He supposed that was just left over from being blindsided before by her turning against him, and the realization he should have seen that coming from thirty miles off.

As soon as they were alone, Ivar asked her, “What is bothering you?” She didn’t answer, not aloud, but walked to him and put her hands up to the sides of his face. The same energy which had shot her across a field began to leak from her fingers, seeping into his mind. He let his eyes slip shut as this happened, and when they opened, he and Freydis were stood once more in Kattegat. He blinked a few times, remembering how she had done this once before, and his heart began to pound. Was this going to be another showing of his fears? Or would this be something else? He hoped, something better.

There was a slight bit of hope that actually did come to him when he realized they both appeared exactly as they had in their apartment. So… nothing yet that he was afraid of. What was this, then?

“I could not risk us being overheard,” Freydis told Ivar. “There are still cameras in our apartment, but in our minds, they cannot hear us. We are safe here, and we can talk.”

Ivar blinked a few times in confusion. “What do you want to talk about that they cannot overhear?” he questioned her.

With a deep breath, she answered, “I think something is very wrong here. When we were on that mission, I spoke with one of the agents who was guarding the building. I was trying to keep them intimidated and occupied, and I asked what their leaders would do when it was reported they had been robbed, and…” She paused, shifting uncomfortably. “It was nothing like what would have been done to us, had we failed.”

“It was better?” he asked, and she nodded.

“Far better. ‘Disciplinary action’, not being taken away from the only person you know, and locked in a cell alone as opposed to the apartment you share with that person.”

Ivar sighed. “Was I ever this cruel?” he asked her. “In Kattegat?”

Freydis swallowed. “I don’t know,” she said. “You… did kill people who you believed had committed treason against you, which is less cruel than what would be done to us for messing up, but you also would not need much proof there had been treason, before you would kill someone for it. Not to mention, Baldur, but even that you saw as mercy. So ultimately? I think you were not so cruel as this, even if you could have been perceived to be.”

Ivar sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “How do you not hate me, now?” he asked her. “I know, you say you had that vision, that it showed you we should be fought for, but how was that enough to erase the pain?”

“It erased nothing,” she confessed. “The pain was still there, I just saw that there could be something when the pain subsided. It is…” She paused, and gave a small chuckle. “Like having a baby. There is a lot of pain, in the hardest part, but then you are happier than you have ever been, holding your child. I think it is the same here. There was a lot of pain, there still is, sometimes, but the healing is happening. At least, I feel it, anyway.”

Ivar looked at her again in shock. Of all things he’d expected in this space, this confession was far from one of them. “You feel that we are healing?” he asked her, and she nodded.

“I do,” she said, and when he tilted his head, seeming about to ask her something, Freydis sighed gently and made her way over to him. She rested her hands against his chest, and his hands immediately came up to cup her cheeks.

It was like a flash from their shared history, and he realized why just as soon as she did. They had stood this way, exactly, when he killed her.

Ivar swallowed as he thought of this, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks gently, and she leaned into his touch. “We’ve been here before,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “The day I…”

“I know,” she replied just as softly. “I know, Ivar. But you won’t do that again. I know you, you won’t.”

“I did once, though,” he reminded her. “I killed you, I killed our son, I… I was horrible to you. How can you stand here now and think I won’t do these things again, hmm?”

“Because I can see you have changed,” she said. “Before, you would have never confessed to these things, never shown remorse. But you do now. And when I look at you, I don’t see the man who killed Baldur, who killed me. I see a good man. I see my husband.”

Ivar swallowed hard, closing his eyes, and he leaned into her touch despite himself when he felt her hands on his cheeks. “How?” he asked, his voice breaking under the emotion, the ache in his chest. “How do you…?”

“You could have killed me many times over, Ivar, since we have been here,” she told him honestly. “And even so, I can sense you are a changed man. This is what my vision said, that I needed to fight myself for you. And do you know? I think I have finally won.”

“What do you mean you have won?” Ivar asked.

His heart was beating wildly in his chest, somehow terrified to hear her answer. But all the fear and pain in the world, all the love and healing in the world, could not have prepared him for what she said.

“I forgive you.”

He fell apart in her arms, clinging to her as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, sliding her fingers through his hair. He didn’t deserve this, he told himself. He knew he didn’t. And yet, here she was, holding him and whispering words of encouragement, soothing words to him as he sobbed into her shoulder.

“I love you, Freydis,” he sobbed out. “I love you.”

“I know,” she replied. “I know, Ivar, my love. I know. I love you, too.”

Ivar blinked a few times, and they had returned to his apartment, and he was looking down into her eyes, still glowing red as the magic flowed back into her, releasing them from that place they had gone. As soon as her eyes cleared, Ivar took her face between his hands, and he kissed his wife. He kissed her with all the love he had for her, pent up over years and years of knowing what he had done, hating himself for it always. But now, she was here, she was real, and she loved him still.

Forgiveness. Can you imagine?

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#ivar the boneless #ivar #ivar ragnarsson #freydis #queen freydis #ivar x freydis #freydis x ivar #freyvar #alex hogh andersen #alicia agneson #ivar's heathen army #vikings #vikings history channel #history channel vikings #can you imagine?#chapter thirteen

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