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potatoplace · 2 months

Text

my tears ricochet

Azriel x Reader, Azriel x Elain

loml (part one)

Story Summary: Azriel meeting you, his mate, throws a wrench in all of his plans, nearly a decade in the making with Elain. He begins his mateship with you, still with Elain all the while telling you that you are the love of his life. But, not every good thing can last.

Warnings: Suicide (more graphic than first chapter imo), heavy angst, alcoholism, infidelity, sex

Words: ~6.2k

Author's Note: and here's the second part, now I have to warn you, the first one didn't make me cry at all. But this one? I was sobbing like Feyre and Az, typing through my tears. Thank you for all of the love you guys showed to loml, it means so much to me to see every comment and note. I hope you all enjoy the final part!

p.s. I almost named it Last Kiss. Taylor is just perfect for angst, I tell ya

18+ only pls

💙🤍💙🩷💙

The wind was rushing through his hair, cooling his body, slightly calming him. But his heart was still racing, his mind panicked.

His mate. He had finally met his mate.

But Elain… they had just started discussing the possibility of having children. And nearly ten years together, ten years of love and comfort.

He’d known this was a possibility, he had just thought it would never happen. That the Mother had made a mistake in not mating him to Elain. But now, that wasn’t true. It wasn’t the love of his life, his sweet, perfect Elain, it was some random woman in the streets of Velaris. Beautiful, yes, but she didn’t hold a flame to Elain’s beauty. Her scent however… a refreshing blend of apples and autumn rain, so overpowering he could hardly smell the air rushing past him, even this far away from her.

He needed to tell Elain. He had to tell her, before he did anything stupid, like turning around and finding the female he had just abandoned in the streets.

They’d discussed what might happen if he ever found his mate, and the possibility of it was why Elain has yet to fully reject the bond with Lucien, though as far as Azriel was aware, the two only saw each other at holiday parties and the occasional family dinner that Lucien attended. They’d decided that if he did find his mate, he would come immediately to Elain and they would talk it through.

So, he flew straight to the townhouse, landing next to Elain where she was kneeling on the grass, tending to her flower garden. “‘Lain,” he started, the tension in his voice causing her to stand up and look at him instantly. “I… I found my mate,” he said, regretting that he even had to say the words.

Tears filled her eyes, and he put his hands on her shoulders reassuringly. “All I did was see her in the street, baby. I left right after and I’m here now.”

Still, she shook her head. “I cannot believe this Azriel. Now?! Now that we’ve decided to try for a family, that’s when you find your mate? This is ridiculous!” Elain vented, and it was truly one of the first times Azriel had seen her angry.

“I know, and I’m so sorry. I wish I would never have seen her, I only love you.”

“You don’t know that you wouldn’t love her,” Elain scoffed. “But you have a decision to make. Are you going to reject the bond.”

Azriel opened his mouth, not quite believing how bold Elain was being. “I don’t know. That’s not exactly a decision to make lightly, Elain. You know that.”

“Oh, really? This again? Just because I haven’t rejected Lucien doesn’t mean that you don’t have to make a decision, Azriel.”

Azriel raised an eyebrow at her, shocked by her hypocrisy. “Then you have one to make as well, Elain. Lucien or I? Which will it be?” Elain opened her mouth for a moment, then closed it. “Exactly. It’s not as easy as you thought, is it?”

Elain sighed, her shoulders slumping forward. “Fine. You can get to know her, if you’d like. But the moment you want it to turn to something more, come find me again. Until then… let’s just continue as normal,” she suggested, pushing up on her tip-toes to give Azriel a kiss on the lips before scrunching her nose. “Ugh, I can smell her on you. Let’s go take a bath, hmm?” She led Azriel by the hand to her room, undressing him as she pushed him towards the bathroom.

💙🤍💙🩷💙

It was two weeks later, and Azriel had prepared himself enough mentally to seek out his mate. It didn’t take long, seeing as two of his shadows had followed her back to her home, reporting to him that she had spent the past fortnight crying herself to sleep and barely leaving the house except for her work.

He flew over to her house, an adorable one bedroom that had a nice porch on the front, and a stained glass door depicting the season of autumn, leaves changing color as they fall from a tree and landing in a pile at the bottom. The pale orange paint on the exterior was faded slightly, chipping away in places, but besides that the home looked well cared for.

He steeled himself, then walked towards that beautiful door, knocking carefully on its surface. It was time to get to know his mate.

💙🤍💙🩷💙

3 Months Later

Elain stared at him, obviously not believing what Azriel just told her as they stood in their shared bedroom.

“You want to be with her?”

Azriel sighed. Truly, he wanted both females to stay in his life, but that was impossibility. “Yes, Elain. I’ve… I’ve fallen for her, over the past few months.”

Elain hissed, her outrage making itself known. “A few months?!” She screeched at him. “You’re going to throw away a decade over a few months?!”

“I’m not… I’m not throwing it away, Elain, this is something I have to do. She’s my mate,” he sighed. He didn’t want to argue with her. “I don’t want you to leave my life, either. But the connection between us… it’s always there. I can feel her all the time, Elain, and I don’t want to do you a disservice by being unfaithful to you in my heart.”

Elain, who up until this point had been glaring at him, looked off into the distance, contemplating.

“So, don’t leave my life,” she stated plainly.

“I… what?” Azriel asked in disbelief.

“Stay in my life, stay with me, and you can have your little mate. Just as long as you know that you come home to me after missions, after anything important. I take precedence over her. And she won’t be welcome at any family gatherings. If they ask about her, say that she’s better suited as a friend.”

She said it all as if it was simple, as if it made sense. So Azriel believed her.

Because that way, he could have the female he’d loved for so long, and he could also have his mate.

It was truly the best of both worlds.

“Alright, Elain. That’s a fair enough deal. Are you sure you’ll be able to handle it?” He asked, prowling towards her and grabbing her by the waist.

“Oh, Azzie, I promise I’ll be fine with it. Do I love that you might fuck another female? No, but as long as I can send you to her covered in my scent, I’ll be fine,” Elain purred, running a hand up his chest.

“Oh?” Azriel smirked down at her, taking her face in his hand. “And how will you do that?” He breathed in her ear, kissing her neck gently.

“I have a few ways. Come to the bed and I’ll show you, Azzie.”

Matching grins covered their faces as Azriel picked her up and tossed her gently on the bed.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would tell Y/N that he wanted to be serious.

Tonight, however… tonight he would spend worshipping Elain’s body like the goddess she is deserves.

💙🤍💙🩷💙

5 Years Later

Shit, Azriel thought to himself. Shit shit shit.

He was late. So, very late.

Elain had wanted him to spend the night together, but it was his and Y/N’s fifth anniversary the next morning.

So, he’d left in the middle of the night after his mate’s breathing had evened out, flying off in the direction of the town house. He landed in front of a simpering Elain, obviously pleased with how the night was playing out.

They had spent the night wrapped in each other, falling asleep under the sheets together as the new day dawned upon them.

Azriel had, of course, planned ahead for the possibility of sleeping in a bit too long to return home before his mate awoken, a bouquet of roses, sapphire blue for him and a pale yellow for his sweet, sunshiney mate, and love note on the nightstand. He’d also left out a coffee and book he’d spent an agonizing amount of time convincing his mate’s favorite author to give him in advance of the commercial release on the kitchen counter. He hadn’t thought that he’d be so late though, the sun having risen nearly to the halfway point in the sky.

He only hoped his mate wouldn’t scent Elain’s arousal, still mixed heavily with his scent. She had never said anything in the past, and he believed she wouldn’t now.

With the speed he was flying towards her house, most of it should be whisked off of him by the time he reached her.

Once he landed, he made sure to take a moment to collect himself, taking a deep breath before pushing the door open, greeted by his mate’s lovely scent, coming from the window seat to the right of the door.

You ran to him, and he greeted you with his arms first, the weight of you so perfect in his arms, as though the two of you were carved out of the same flesh, finally put back together for the moment.

The day was perfect, ending with the two of you snuggled together in bed.

The dagger you had gifted him was perfect, ornate enough to be worn on his belt during ceremonies, and the curved blade had fascinated him at first. He realized that you had meant it more as a way to keep you with him on his missions, rather than to do much killing. Though, it would make some wicked stab wounds, possibly helpful in interrogations. However, he didn’t think he could bear using something so precious as a gift from you during the… messier parts of his occupation.

Nonetheless, it was a perfect, thoughtful gift, and he loved it, loved you so deeply.

He sighed.

It was nights like these when his conscious kicked in, reminding him of the traitorous double life he was living. Sure, Elain was well aware of the situation, maybe not of the depth of his emotions towards you, but that wasn’t something she needed to know.

You, however… you were completely in the dark, unaware that the best friend he went on about is really his life partner of a decade and a half.

He felt so guilty, but he didn’t know how to stop, with either one of you. Elain, they had so much history and you, well, you are his mate, the person the Mother had made just for him.

He breathed in your scent, his mind relaxing as he did so. Azriel reminded himself that he still had six years left before he needed to make a true decision between the two perfect females.

Six years didn’t feel like near enough time, it felt almost cruel that he had to limit himself to a decade until he made a decision about the mating bond. He supposed Elain didn’t know that detail, either.

And now that you wanted to meet his family… well. That decision may end up coming sooner rather than later.

It all depended on how he swung it.

He knew that Elain would be difficult to convince, but he believed he would be able to. His plan was to inform the family to not make any comments about his and Elain’s relationship, and tell them that you knew about them but are still very sensitive to the subject, preferring to avoid it overall. They already knew that the you and Azriel are “friends,” Azriel having been unable to keep you a complete secret from his nosy family.

Azriel had to make it happen, or you would know something is off.

He was lucky, all things considered, that you had waited five years to ask to meet his family.

The next morning after a nice lie-in with you, he took off for the townhouse, ready to rip the gauze off. He approached Elain, in the gardens as she normally was this time of day, working on the garden before the heat climbed up too high.

“Elain, can we talk in our room?” He asked her, relieved when she followed him without question.

“What is it?” She questioned, knowing he was here with a purpose.

“Y/N wants to meet the family.”

Elain immediately started to shake her head, infuriated by the idea. “No. No, Azriel! We agreed that she would not enter our lives before you started this, that won’t change now.”

“Baby, it would just be one dinner, I will tell her not to show any affection towards me, and her curiosity will be satisfied, I promise.”

Elain thought about it for a moment, her face still pinched in anger, before it relaxed in resignation. “If this dinner is to happen, you will fuck me in this very room while she sits in the living room. If not, my answer is no, Azriel.”

Azriel considered it, the nodded, knowing it was his only way forward. And, he couldn’t deny that the thought of fucking Elain with you in the next room excited him, the riskiness of it so tempting.

“Then, inform the rest of the family. Tell them whatever you need to to keep your silly little relationship with your mate a secret. I will not be embarrassed by this, Azriel,” Elain warned, a danger in her eyes.

“Thank you, Elain.” He moved in towards her, and whispered lowly in her ear, “The sex we will have in here on that night will rival every other time we’ve been together, baby.” A shiver ran down Elain’s spine, and she wrapped her arms around him.

“It better, Azzie. Otherwise I just might crush her heart myself,” She said in a sweet tone, but Azriel took it as the threat it was.

Still, as long as everything went to plan, he will keep his two females as his, for years to come.

💙🤍💙🩷💙

The dinner went perfectly, Y/N feeling insecure, while it pained him, truly worked out for the better. The less comfortable that first meeting had felt, the less likely she was to insist on attending another family dinner.

Over the next few months, he could tell you were preparing something, most likely some kind of surprise for his birthday. Every year, you outdid yourself. When he was in town- or rather, not with Elain- you would wake him up with his favorite pastries from his favorite café, or his favorite dish from Kalia’s, a wonderful little breakfast restaurant located along the Sidra. And every year, you gave him a different custom made item, from the spider silk gloves that were fire and tear proof to the fortified, comfortable boots that he wore to this day.

During that time as well, Elain was becoming bolder with her requests of his time, drawing him away most nights after you fell asleep, only to return a few hours later, slipping back into your bed with jasmine and honey coating his senses.

That didn’t matter though, not when he was more enamored with you than ever. You were so kind, so focused on his happiness, he hardly deserved the honor of being your mate. The guilt of the situation had been weighing on him heavily, especially when he had felt you measuring his ring finger while you believed him to be dead asleep.

He was nearly ready to cut things off with Elain, her attitude as of late was bitter and angry, and while he avoided bringing you up around her, every time he did she said something condescending about you. The only problem was their history with each other, so many years that they had been together, and realized that he would be throwing it away, there was no way that Elain would ever be fine only being his friend, and seeing you near her family. He honestly wouldn’t be surprised if Elain attempted to take your life, her hatred of you ran that deeply.

He’d realized things were getting to dangerous territory when you had come back to your house, gushing to Azriel about how you and Elain might be becoming friends, and how you could see why Azriel liked her so much, she’s just so nice.

It was the day before his birthday now, and he had just returned to your home when you burst through the doors, bags filling your arms.

“Azriel!” You exclaimed, quickly walking over to the counter to deposit the bags, then made your way to your mate. You leaned up, capturing his lips in a tender kiss. “Listen, I know this will sound a little weird, but I’d like you to stay at your spare room in the townhouse tonight, if you’re willing. I want to set up a little surprise for you here,” you tell him, a smile gracing your face, and a matching expression lit up his face. “I’ll come get you in the morning, around 9 if that sounds reasonable to you?”

“Of course, babydoll,” he replied, claiming your mouth again in kiss more heated than the last. “Do I have to leave at this very moment?”

You hummed, your body relaxing against him as he kissed down your neck. “No, not yet, mate. You can stick around for a while.”

“Hmm, so I can take my sweet, thoughtful mate into our bedroom and devour her like the goddess she is?” He asked, already lifting you by your ass, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his hips.

“I’d love that, Az,” you say, peppering kisses along his jawline as he carried you to the bed.

He left a few hours later, walking back to the townhouse at a slow pace, reminiscing on the feeling of your skin and soft sighs, how much he was looking forward to whatever you’re planning for tomorrow.

He entered the townhouse a few minutes later, breezing into his room that he shares with Elain. She was inside, already naked on the bed and touching herself.

“Oh, Azzie, I’m so glad you could make it,” she said, pouncing towards him the moment the door snicked shut behind him. Once she reached him, though, she wrinkled her nose. “Let’s go get you in the bath, Azzie, I don’t want to kiss you while you smell so gross.” Elain pushed him towards the bath, where they spent a good hour basking in each other’s presence before making their way to the bed. They remained there until dinner, getting a quick meal from the kitchen before returning to the haven.

The night passed quickly, and Elain woke him by sucking his cock to life, the climbing on top of him. She rode him at a slow, torturous pace for a few minutes, before he tired her teasing and flipped her onto her back, continuing their activities, even as the door to their room opened wide, a gasp sounding from the doorway, and Elain’s arms wrapped tighter around his neck, legs wrapping around his hips, pressing his lower half tighter against her.

The scent hit him- autumnal rain and sweet apples- and his blood ran cold. He wanted to run, wanted to explain to you, but the grip of Elain’s heavenly cunt was too much, and he finished inside of her, pulling out as soon as he was able to.

His eyes were wide, he could barely process the situation, he tried to sit up and look at the doorway, but Elain’s grip around his neck was tighter than he expected. She was grinning from ear to ear, looking positively pleased with herself.

“Elain, I need to go talk to her,” he stated frantically, still attempting to pull away from her gently. He could hear her yelling outside, Feyre’s soft voice following it.

“No, you don’t Azriel. She just saw you cheating on her, she’ll want nothing to do with you now,” Elain declared proudly.

Azriel furrowed his brow at her, a sinking feeling in his gut, and he looked at the clock- only 8 in the morning. “Did you know she was going to show up this early?” He questioned, hoping the answer was no. If it was yes…

“Of course, it was my idea to have you stay here last night.” Her voice held no remorse, and Azriel pried her hands from his neck and sat up, moving to the edge of the bed.

He placed his head in his hands, panic overtaking his mind.

His mate… his sweet, kind, caring, attentive mate… had just seen him fucking Elain, her supposed friend. Fuck. This is bad.

He got up, throwing on a pair of leathers as quickly as he could, before Elain’s hand caught his.

“You’re seriously going after her? What the fuck is wrong with you, Azriel?!” She yelled at him, before Feyre’s voice cut through.

“What in the hells is wrong with you, Azriel?! You’re not only cheating on Elain, but Y/N didn’t even know the two of you were together?! How could you do that to your mate?!”

Elain’s anger was one thing, more unsettling than anything else, but Feyre’s? Feyre’s rage was terrifying, and Azriel had the common sense to cower as night coalesced around her.

It was then that he noticed his shadows had left him, and he could still hear them screaming about Y/N from wherever they had ran to.

“Feyre, I know how bad it seems, but I never meant for her to get hurt. And Elain knew about my relationship with her, I wouldn’t have gone ahead with it without her approval,” he said, trying to get the truth out before Feyre eviscerated him.

Elain scoffed, grabbing her nightgown from the floor next to their bed.

Azriel turned to cock a brow at her, daring her to voice whatever was rattling around in her head.

“You should have cut her sorry ass off years ago, Azzie. She’s not worthy of you, she never has been, and she never will be,” Elain spat at him, just as his gut fell through the floor and to the core of the earth.

The bond- the precious, delicate string tying you to him- severed in a single moment.

He dropped to his knees, a wail leaving his body of its own accord, the grief striking him in every nerve ending of his body as your presence left him, as he was left with a gaping hole in his soul that you used to occupy.

“Azriel?” Feyre called frantically, shaking him by the shoulders, but he could do nothing more than to loose gut wrenching cries of pain at the loss of his mate.

Rhys appeared a moment later, diving into his mind with a gentleness he did not deserve.

“Y/N…” he sighed, a tear rolling down his face. “She’s died.”

“Died?!” Feyre exclaimed. “She was just in the garden fifteen minutes ago, how could she have-?” She cut herself off, realizing exactly what happened. “Rhys, get her address from him.”

He did as she said, and she bolted away, leaving Rhys, Elain, and Azriel in the room.

💙🤍💙🩷💙

Feyre

She sprinted through the streets, making her way to the area that Rhys said your house was located in. It was orange, with a stained glass door according to Azriel’s memories.

Feyre still couldn’t believe what he had done, how he had betrayed his mate.

You was awkward at times, yes, and a little shy, but you were so sweet and it was obvious to Feyre how much you cared for Azriel- obviously not the way you cared for him, but the amount was there, always shining through your actions.

Once Feyre arrived at your house, she stopped to stare at it for a moment. The light orange and pretty stained glass window suited you, calming in nature and gave off a similar presence’s to the autumnal scent you gave off. She prepared herself as she approached the door, taking a few deep breaths before turning the knob.

Feyre still wasn’t prepared for the sight before her.

You were laying in a pool of blood- your blood- and covered in Azriel’s shadows. She rushed forward, and the shadows moved away from your neck, revealing the large gash there. A dagger was in your hands, and Feyre sobbed, pawing at your neck in an attempt to make the bleeding stop somehow, even as she could hear no heartbeat, no breathing coming from your chest.

The wound was hardly seeping anything as it was, but Feyre couldn’t believe it. You didn’t deserve this, you didn’t deserve to leave so alone, so in pain.

Her tears fell on your body, and after a few moments she pulled your head into her lap, and recited the prayer she had learned all that time ago, back in Spring.

“Mother hold you. May you pass through the gates. May you smell that immortal land of milk and honey,” she finished. She whispered a final, added phrase. “May your next life be kinder to you, Y/N.”

Feyre stood, reaching out to Rhys through her mind.

“How is Az?”

Rhys sighed. “He’s not doing well, we haven’t been able to move him or get him to do anything cry cry,” he admitted, worrying in his tone. “How’s… how is Y/N?”

“She’s gone, Rhys. She took her own life,” Feyre cried through the bond. “Can you or Cassian come and help me move her to Madja’s office? We should… we should have her prepared for a funeral as soon as we can.”

“Of course, darling, I’ll send Cassian to help you. I’d like to be with Az in case he needs to be knocked out for his own good.”

Cassian arrived a few agonizing minutes later, and after stumbling into the house, stopped and gasped in horror. “Y/N!” He cried, moving quickly towards where Feyre was stood next to your cooling body.

“I know, Cassian. It’s awful, she didn’t deserve any of this,” Feyre said sadly, wiping the tears from her eyes. “We need to move her, though.”

Cassian nodded and stooped over, collecting your limp body in his arms. The shadows were still gathered around your body, hiding as much of you from view as possible. They shifted just right, though, and Feyre caught sight of the knife belt resting upon your hips, tightened so much that she knew the belt was meant as a gift, having seen the dropped bags outside of Azriel’s door when she went to confront him.

She carefully pulled the belt of off you, noticing that the dagger you had used… matched the ones still secured in the belt.

You had used the gift you most likely intended for Azriel, to end your life. That hurt Feyre’s heart even more.

The two of them walked somberly towards Madja’s office, stares lingering on them and the body covered in shadows and held in Cassian’s arms.

They arrived in a few minutes, and Cassian gently set your body down on a stretcher Madja’s had set up in the back, the shadows still clinging relentlessly to your body, refusing to leave you even in death. Madja’s soft smile greets the both of them when they turn around.

“Rhys told me what happened, he said to prepare the body as soon as possible, is that correct?”

Feyre nodded in agreement, “Yes, just let us know when she is ready for the funeral, please, Madja.

“Of course Feyre. I’ll contact you once it’s done.”

With that, the two left the clinic, heading back toward your home to clean it up as much as they could.

💙🤍💙🩷💙

Azriel

His world was shattered. He watched as your coffin was lowered into the ground only two days after his birthday, the sky bright and sunny, just how you always loved it. But Azriel could barely stand in its rays, so overtaken with grief and rage at himself.

He had found the box among the remains of the presents you dropped at his door when you saw him fucking- he couldn’t even bear to think her name anymore.

The two rings, so perfectly Azriel that it made him sob harder than before.

You had always known exactly how to design something to scream his name, always known what he would prefer to have as a gift.

Azriel had wanted to place the ring made for your fingers on you before you were buried, but he couldn’t bear to sully your… your corpse with his hands.

He also didn’t deserve to have a ring matching one that you wear in your grave, he had betrayed you so thoroughly. So he kept the both of them.

Time passed so slowly now.

It was like the world had stopped moving once you passed, the broken tether to your soul holding him in place, not allowing him to move past the moment of your death.

He left the rings in his nightstand, pulling the box out when the pain became too much to bear. He had purchased your home, finally moving all of his things in, like he should have while you were alive.

Even though your life had ended here, he felt closest to you inside the four walls where your relationship had blossomed, bringing you out of your shy, anxious, and adorable little shell.

Azriel barely left the house anymore, only leaving when his family forced him, or the hunger in his stomach became unbearable enough that he ventured out to your favorite restaurant and ordered your favorite dish, just one more way to get any semblance of closeness to you again.

The first six months since your passing were hell. Absolute hell.

The broken string within him chafed with every breath, only subsiding when he drowned himself in vodka enough that he couldn’t see straight, passing out into an oblivion where you still existed, where his heart still beat your name happily, not in the overwhelming loss that had made it lose its rhythm.

His family had dragged him out tonight into their townhome, insisting that they hadn’t seen him in so long and they needed to get together.

He was feeling an extra pain, today. It was the anniversary of the beginning of your mateship. It would have been the sixth, if you were still here.

So, he strung the two rings on a silver chain, looping it over his head and wearing it over the top of his jacket. With them on, he felt like your presence was with him. One of the few remaining things he owned of you.

Feyre had given him the knife belt a month after your funeral, and he had promptly shoved it into the lowest drawer of the dresser. He knew, he just knew that one of those knives had been the end of you-

But that wasn’t true.

He was the end of you.

Azriel sighed. That train of thought wouldn’t make getting through this night easier. One thing might, however.

He stood up from the couch he was seated on and made his way over to the drink cart, pouring a generous amount of vodka into a crystal glass.

You had commented on the glasses your second dinner here, admiring the way they caught the light.

Tears burned at his eyes, and he downed half of the glass in one gulp, the burn distracting him enough that he didn’t jump when Cassian clapped a hand on Azriel’s shoulder.

“It’s good to see you, brother. Will you be coming to the training ring again soon?” He asked, his tone gentle.

“We’ll see, Cassian,” Azriel answered, the one that he had given Cassian the past four times he had dared to ask the Shadowsinger.

“Okay, hopefully sometime soon. Or we could go out for a meal, just the two of us, hm? Just like the old days when we were stuck here, it could be fun,” Cassian suggested, and Azriel nodded in agreement just to get him to stop asking.

Cassian walked away, and Azriel could see him making a pointed expression at Feyre, probably urging her to come talk to him. He downed the rest of his drink, and poured another of the same amount.

By the time he had sat back down on the couch, Feyre was joining him.

She didn’t say anything, just sat with him as he sipped on his drink, relishing in the burn it carved through him.

They sat like that for a few minutes before Azriel’s left hand crept out, grasping Feyre’s right. The tears that had burned his eyes for six months, six long months of drinking himself to sleep as the tear in his soul grew, consuming him whole, had begun to fall, carving lines into his skin. Feyre’s hand squeezed his, and when he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, she thankfully had her eyes turned away from him, giving him the privacy he needed.

A minute or an hour could have passed before Azriel stood abruptly, making for the front door. He burst through it, tears still streaming down his face as he walked home as quickly as he could, the alcohol doing more to him now that he had lost weight from so many skipped meals. He could hear footsteps behind him, and if he dared enough it bet on anything anymore, he would say it’s Feyre.

She had told him at the funeral how guilty she felt for not realizing that Y/N was a danger to herself, but Azriel had brushed her off, telling her it was no one’s fault but his own.

Azriel knew she still carried it, though.

“I don’t need a minder, Feyre,” he drawled, slowing his pace so she could catch up from where she had been following him at a distance.

“From my eyes, you do Az.”

Her concerned tone made him sigh, the tears flowing even more freely now. He didn’t want to worry anyone, he simply wanted to waste away into nothing.

“I will be fine, Feyre, I promise,” he reassured her once she was at his side, though he didn’t fully believe it himself. “Just go home, go enjoy the dinner everyone has been slaving over for hours, Feyre.”

It was Feyre’s turn to sigh. “Do you promise you’ll eat something tonight?”

Azriel nodded his head.

Another sigh. “I suppose I’ll head back, then. Be safe please, Azriel. We love you. I love you. Remember that, okay?”

Azriel nodding again, swallowing a sob until he couldn’t hear her footsteps anymore. He finally reached your house, opening the beautiful door that you loved so much.

He loved that you’d had it custom made, wanting something to honor your Autumn heritage, so far from home. He closed it, running a hand along its surface.

You had loved everything fiercely, him included, even if he didn’t deserve it in any way.

You had loved your mystery books, your coffee, trying out new blends of tea you had made from herbs you’d grown in your small garden.

Then there were the things about him that you loved. His eyes, his hair. You always loved both of those. His hands… you had never shied away from them, in fact you had pulled them towards you, nuzzling your face into them whenever he was feeling insecure about them. You kissed every inch of them so often, Azriel had begun to love the scars, love the way you were able to make them beautiful.

Now though… he couldn’t think of them as anything but the hands that had sullied you, touching you after touching that other female.

Azriel made his way to the kitchen, pulling out a bottle of vodka and your favorite, sapphire blue mug. He poured the liquid until the mug was nearly overflowing, and knocked back as much of it as he could managed in one go, a few drops trailing down his chin.

He regretted so many things in his life, but the way he had hurt you was the one he wished he could take back, at least trade his life for yours. You deserved to live, with your soft heart and open mind. Not him, with his unfaithfulness and betrayal of the worst degree.

His mate.

His mate!!!

He could hardly believe that six months had passed already, six months since that dreadful day.

Six months since your last kiss.

He could almost picture you now, as he walked into your bedroom. It had been on your bed, you were still naked from the earlier activities the two of you had indulged in. Azriel had just gotten his shirt on, and you made an adorable kissy noise, puckering your lips dramatically to draw him back to you. He hadn’t been able to resist, leaning back down and capturing your lips softly with his, tilting your chin up towards him gently with two fingers. It had been soft, sweet, all that he ever needed for the rest of his life.

But it was the last one. The last one, and he hadn’t even known it at the time.

And it was all. His. Fault.

Azriel sank down onto the bed, taking another large gulp of his drink. It was really kicking in now, he felt almost like he could sleep. Draining the rest of the cup, he placed it on the nightstand and laid down on his side of the bed. If he closed his eyes, he could almost trick himself into thinking you were there, sleeping beside him, almost hear your breathing and heart’s rhythm next to him.

He drifted off while clutching the pair of rings still around his neck, his heart still beating that broken, dying music that still sang your name.

Taglist: @j-pendragonx

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magnolia-sunrise · 3 days

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okay now i can actually Sit Down And Think about this after two shitbusy weeks in a row good lord. it's fun puzzling over this bc the universes are so different so like a lot of ppl i don't have. any clue how grimm n yarrow would even meet wolf and bastien. also it's fun to think abt how grimm n yarrow react to other people considering most of the time they're interacting with one another so it's making me use my brain in fun and exciting ways

idk what the hell the job/task at hand would be, but i think wolf n grimm could make a pretty deadly n sneaky duo if the two of them decided to go in on something together, though grimm's less reckless and more willing to get out and save their own skin if shit goes south, so it's entirely possible things go well enough between them as.....coworkers(?) for awhile, but under the wrong circumstances grimm could essentially abandon wolf to whatever bullshit the two of them got into (though not motivated by any hard feelings so much as their own survival instinct). i don't think either would really divulge much abt their respective pasts, but there might be some mutual respect/acknowledgement there idk

i do not think bastien n grimm would have much conversation between the two of them nor can i really think of any circumstance that would really bring the two of them in proximity however grimm does perform occasional maintenance on wrench so a "hey do you wanna see me take apart my robot dog" might be a point of interest idk hdkghfdgl

i feel like wolf n yarrow would actually get along pretty well; i'm not sure they have a lot of common ground anywhere in terms of life experience or professions, but they're both good enough at talking to people that they'd have some pleasant conversation. hi-tech stuff is very scattered in honeybee's universe and yarrow's more interested in the organic, but he'd be fascinated by them being an android and what that entails

i have. no idea how bastien would react to yarrow's whole …..part-bee deal considering he is very physically off-putting to most people. yarrow's chatty and easygoing but that can only go so far when you have six eyes and fucked-up jaws. if they could get past that the two of them would probably have some fascinating conversations and stories to share abt their respective jobs and almost definitely not say it in outright but kind of mutually recognize like "oh hey you're kinda weird abt this shit like i am and i can respect that'

but also please feel free to tell me if i misinterpreted etither of their characters i am fascinated by what your take on this is hehehe

(sorry for leaving you hanging on this for a bit, handshake on too busy sobs)

yes Yesss Grimm and Wolf would make for a really interesting dynamic i feel especially with very quickly kind of establishing rapport and mutual respect in terms of their skill and also whatever the fuck gender? but that would also mean Wolf would try really hard -at least at first- to chat and get to know them and throw in some flirting to test the waters how far they can push and prod. and when it comes to the action, they are really too willing to lose an arm and a leg and i can only hope at least Grimm would help them pick up the pieces, literally. for what it's worth they're used to doing all this stuff alone so they wouldn't blame Grimm for getting the hell out of dodge when it gets too nasty and would be happy to see it again. not in the least because Grimm actually has a gun and can shoot a gun and they could really use someone covering them at range! they could get matching outfits for their new super cool nonbinary (sort of)sniper /melee duo

Grimm and Bastien is actually really funny to me because they both feel like people who .. don't say too much if it's not exactly necessary? if Grimm needed a hiding place for a bit, he's very much a no questions asked, offers tea or whiskey and a look over it's wounds and then just minds his business. like quiet kindness? (secretly i think Bastien would also wish someone like Grimm could instill some self preservation instincts into Wolfgang hflfk)

Bastien could definitely get over the bee stuff after initial flinch and probably a misunderstanding thinking it's some kind of mechanical modification. i would really love for Yarrow and Bas to smoke a pack and talk about some really weird fucked up anatomy and surgery stuff, doctor to doctor

and! given that some parts of androids are really advanced in the way they simulate organic material (their skin can bruise and 'heal' over time), i feel like soon enough Yarrow, Bastien and Wolfgang would find themselves in a corner looking at some body parts really excitedly and Wolf showing off their inner musculature and the internal 'scars' from their surgeries. Wolf and Yarrow would get along absolutely swimmingly, like maybe their collective yapping would be almost too much fhsdhfk

thank you for this, it was really fun to roll them around in my head!!

#answered #oc chat

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sshbpodcast · 2 years

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We have to go back, Martok! Back to the future!

By Ames

This week on A Star to Steer Her By, there’s no time like the past! We’re looking at time travel episodes in Star Trek, and there are so many that it’s a wonder the Department of Temporal Investigations can make time to examine them all. Unless they’re literally making time for them… hmm.

Time travel episodes prove to be some of the best conceits for their plots in Star Trek, allowing our fearless leaders to experience the past and provide commentary on it, go back and witness how small actions can have huge ramifications, or at least act as your classic fish out of water for comedic effect. It may not have felt like it as we were watching through the series in real time, but the good time travel stories largely outweigh the bad. And there are just too many of them to list them all here, so to save time (pun!), your SSHB hosts are breaking out our classic Top 5 / Bottom 5 format.

Hold on to your chronitons as we near 88mph. Check out all our many favorite time travel plots and the handful of clunkers that should have stayed in the past, and listen to our timely discussion on this week’s podcast (set your coordinates to 1:15:34 for the chatter). You’ll have the time of your life.

[Images © CBS/Paramount]

Top 5 Time Travel Episodes

There is just such an abundance of good time travel episodes that we didn’t end up agreeing on many. Which is great for you because it means a wider swath of episodes for us to highlight, and great for me because I get to find all these great screengrabs!

“Time Amok”: Chris Let’s start off with an episode I wouldn’t call strict time travel, but it’s just so good that it gets a pass. Instead of going forward or backward in time, the speed of time becomes variable for the different crewmembers of the Protostar and it’s just so clever and heart-wrenching you’d never think this was actually a kids’ show. Have we mentioned how much we love Prodigy?

Star Trek (2009): Caitlin Hey Trek fam, we hear you like Leonard Nimoy. Well JJ Abrams can hook you up in the first of the Kelvinverse movies. What better way to include Nimoy in a film that already has a younger, shoutier Spock in it than through employing a little time travel? Happily, this movie uses this casting fanservice better than something like Generations (see our bottoms list below…).

“Trials and Tribble-ations”: Chris When Deep Space Nine throws a party, it really throws a party. So the writers’ love note to The Original Series for its 30th anniversary comprises all the best things about Trek: a fun and funny time travel story that’s still smart and interesting and just campy enough to evoke the original “The Trouble with Tribbles.” What a fitting way to celebrate!

“Tapestry”: Jake With a little help from Q, Jean-Luc Picard gets to explore the road not taken and ends up not liking what he sees. “Tapestry” is one of those time travel stories that uses its medium to perfect effect: bringing the viewer along for the ride of a lifetime while always remaining accessible, thought-provoking, and notoriously human. Live life with no regrets!

“Visionary”: Ames We have a special (if not sadistic) appreciation for the “O’Brien must suffer” episodes. Here we get to watch O’Brien die not once, not twice, but thrice! And that’s not even the best part of this genuinely fascinating time travel motif. Think about it too hard and it loses you, but the pacing and intrigue of watching Miles trying to fix the timeline and failing keeps you swept up.

“Yesterday’s Enterprise”: Chris “Yesterday’s Enterprise” was cool even before alternate timelines got big. It’s not only a good way to see how different actions would create entirely different realities (better than the mirror universe, but that may just be me), but it’s also a great redo on the death of Tasha Yar. This is the meaningful departure her character deserved. Sorry about the whole Sela thing…

“Before and After”: Ames A couple more nerdy examples just from me. Having the temporally displaced Kes experience this story in reverse is so clever that I needed to include it on this list. You don’t get to see a lot of unusual storytelling devices pulled off this well in Star Trek, and this episode was smart enough to naturally let it unfold over time. But backwards. Unfold under time? Unfold before time?

“Relativity”: Ames I gushed about this episode probably too much on this week’s podcast episode, but I think it’s just so clever in how the story is told. Like in “Before and After,” the plot reveals itself at the proper pace without either coddling the viewer or confusing them in the moment. And credit to Seven for carrying this episode. Someone get that woman a permanent Starfleet uniform!

“Children of Time”: Caitlin, Jake Good time travel ideas will naturally force the characters to make hard, controversial decisions. In this case we see another alternate timeline that makes the DS9 crew decide which timeline they will follow: one in which their descendants populate a remote planet or one in which they make it home again. Alternate Odo saves everyone that decision… but mostly saves Kira.

“The City on the Edge of Forever”: Caitlin, Jake Another classic episode that makes the characters decide who should live and who must die is one of the very best from The Original Series. Though her intentions are the most pure and also Kirk has put his mouth on her mouth, Edith Keeler’s death is the lynchpin that allows for the progressive future that we see in Star Trek, as heartbreaking as that revelation may be.

“The Visitor”: Chris, Jake Another episode that is among the best of its franchise, if not all of Trek in general! One of our clear favorites from DS9 is also another time travel episode, using the medium to tear-inducing perfection. You try keeping from choking up watching old man Jake Sisko change time itself to bring his father back from the white void of subspace. I dare you!

First Contact: Ames, Caitlin Most (though not all, as you’ll see in a second) of the Star Trek feature films that employ time travel end up topping our favorites list, and First Contact has all the ingredients! The time travel in the movie is to an era in our own future but the world is still recognizable and the effects are historically impactful. The whole movie really takes us on a magic carpet ride!

The Voyage Home: Ames, Caitlin, Chris, Jake But the example that we all agree on is the one with the whales, which got pretty much everything right and used time travel to superb effect. Setting the movie in roughly contemporary times lends to the inherent comedy of the plot, which is balanced expertly with the adventure, action, and drama of this incredibly accessible movie. No dumbasses here, double or otherwise!

—

Bottom 5 Time Travel Episodes

When time travel episodes are at their worst, however, they are mostly confusing or heavily convenient. And when Star Trek fails to stick a landing, it can be a running gag (especially on this podcast) at best and permanently scarring at worst.

“Wrongs Darker Than Death or Night”: Ames I’ve got to throw some shade on this Deep Space Nine episode in which Kira goes back in time just because Dukat was making some “yo mama” jokes. It’s a really really convoluted reason to whip out the orb of time that doesn’t stand up to scrutiny. And I’ll say it: shame on Sisko for foolishly letting her do this. Someone needs his emissary status revoked.

“Time’s Orphan”: Jake Speaking of convoluted episodes. The messaging is all wrong in how one should treat a person who has gone through as much trauma as Molly O’Brien in “Time’s Orphan.” While it’s heartbreaking to watch Keiko and Miles deal with their feral daughter, it’s also excruciating to see how she’s treated and how she’s ultimately to be released into the wild like an animal.

The Temporal Cold War arc: Chris We haven’t gotten to Enterprise on the podcast yet, but even I know about the fandom’s general hatred of the whole Temporal Cold War arc. The whole thing just seems like a waste of time, pun very much intended! It also gives us the future ship, the Enterprise-J, which we’ve shit on before in our starship design blog series, so that’s more points off.

Generations: Caitlin, Chris An even bigger waste of time is getting Captain Kirk into the TNG movies. In a plot so forced they had to ruin a perfectly good Excelsior-class ship design, Kirk is jammed like a square peg into the round hole of the future and then, to add insult to idiocy, barely used and then killed off! Come on people, if you’re going to introduce the Nexus, use it for more than ten minutes!

All of Picard season 2: Ames, Jake We felt very personally let down by the whole of the second season of Picard because it had so much potential. Time travel, as we saw above in our tops list, opens up so many possibilities, but the show simply squandered them. Or worse: started plot threads and didn’t bother to pay them off. Sanctuary districts, anyone? ELNOR, ANYONE?!

The Red Angel arc: Ames, Caitlin I must admit: I had trouble following most of season two of Discovery because there was just too much going on and it failed in its pacing and explanation. This mind-boggling Red Angel storyline wraps up in a sensory overload of a finale that leaves the viewer not experiencing what should be the climax of the season, but feeling lost, stupid, and exhausted.

“Time Squared”: Caitlin, Chris, Jake Not as lost, stupid, and exhausted as the second Captain Picard in “Time Squared” however! This episode is a different kind of confusion: a confusion in what the writers thought they were trying to accomplish in the first place. Why does killing Picard2 break the cycle? Why does flying into a vortex work? Why did the writers make such an interesting timeloop concept so boring?

“Time’s Arrow”: Ames, Caitlin, Chris, Jake Even Chris, who you’ll remember loved “Time’s Arrow, Part I,” can agree that “Time’s Arrow, Part II” is tedious, repetitive, and increasingly obnoxious. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it many more times: Mark Twain is the most annoying character in all of Star Trek. Without him, this might have been a better time travel episode, but alas.

“Assignment: Earth”: Ames, Caitlin, Chris, Jake But the worst time travel episode of all is also one that we all agree on and agreed was one of the worst of all of The Original Series, and that’s because it wasn’t even an episode of Star Trek. “Assignment: Earth” is a sneaky backdoor pilot that Gene sneaked past us, and even its time travel wrapper is infuriating. Why is the Enterprise even in the past? Because they simply felt like it? Talk about irresponsible!

—

Welcome back to the present! We hope you didn’t cause any bootstrap paradoxes or become your own grandparent along the way. Over on the podcast, our time with season 5 of Voyager is quickly running out, so make sure you’re caught up for next week’s season wrap up over on SoundCloud or wherever you listen to podcasts. You can also sync up with us on Facebook and Twitter, and we’ll see you next time!

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nastybuckybarnes · 3 years

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Hoist The Colours - 3/3

Pairing: Pirate!Bucky X SeaGoddess!Reader

Summary: An encounter with the man you used to love lands you and your new crew in peril, stuck on a ship with the people responsible for binding you. And what they have planned for you is far worse than what you’d first imagined.

Warnings: Language, Angst, Fluff, Violence, Injuries, Death,

Word Count: 2.2K

A/n: Oof another thing is finished. I’m gonna start actually finishing stuff but Idk what to write I’m sad that my stuff is ending :( But I hope you enjoy this!

~*~

The door to your cell gets wrenched open, pulling you from your light sleep.

“You!” Rumlow snarls, grabbing you by the throat and lifting you to your feet.

“Where have they taken my prisoners?” You furrow your brows, yanking out of his grip.

“How am I supposed to know? I was left behind.” He grinds his teeth together and grabs your bicep, dragging you out of your cell and onto the main deck.

The clouds are dark and gloomy, the waters wild and violent, but not by your doing.

“You must’ve helped them, that other witch too! So tell me, how did you do it?” He shoves you and you gasp, tumbling onto the wet wood of the deck.

“How could I have helped them? You have me chained up like a dog!” You spit, glaring up at him. He stoops down to your level, grabbing your face harshly.

“You will watch your tongue or you will lose it. You do not need your voice to do my bidding.” He shoves you back down and you bite back a yelp of pain.

The sky darkens further, thunder booming and clouds rolling in.

“I will never do your bidding!” You snarl, a flash of lightning punctuating your words.

Rumlow’s eyes widen for a moment, and then he’s got his sword pointed at you, the tip just brushing your throat.

“On your feet, witch!” You obey, standing up with your chin held high.

“You will do my bidding, or you will join all those who you have sent to the depths. It is your choice.” You follow his gaze over your shoulder to where the plank is being extended over the raging ocean.

You look back at him, jaw set, and he knows you’ve made your decision.

The wind whips around your hair as he walks you to the plank, his sword digging into your back just hard enough to cause discomfort, but not pain, not yet.

You carefully step onto the plank, taking deep breaths of the salty air as the water rages beneath you.

“I will give you one last chance, wench. I will spare your life, all you need do is swear your powers to me. You’ll have the sea back in your grasp, the power to do what you please. You need only do so at my side.”

Raindrops splatter against your face, just gently at first, until you’re consumed in an intense storm, the water pelting down against you.

“You’ve forgotten, Captain, that you are not sending me to the depths,” you look over your shoulder at him with a small smile, “you are sending me home.”

You look down at the water, preparing yourself for the cool embrace, when a particularly harsh wave rocks against the ship, sending you stumbling back a step.

A wave rises up over the ship, a spiral of green swirling inside of it and for a moment you think that you’ve already died.

The wave crashes against the ship, sending the men falling and scrambling, submerging the deck for a moment.

But you stay rooted in place, the familiar green hue just touching your fingertips, the ends of your hair, then slowly becoming part of you once more.

You hear the men shouting and coughing, feel Rumlow’s sword pressed against your back once again, but you only turn around to face him.

The storm continues, the waves fighting the ship, and you cock your head to the side, sending a gust of wind towards the man threatening you. He stumbles back, eyes wide with fear.

“H-how do you...” You take slow steps towards him, waving your hand behind you as his crew-mates try to run at you. The wind pushes them back, keeping them a safe distance from you and the captain.

“You will give me answers and you will give them to me now!” You hiss, glaring daggers at him.

“Whatever it is that you wish to know, I will tell you. Just please, spare my life.”

You watch him for a long moment, fighting tears as the question bubbles out of you.

“Why? Why did he do it?”

Rumlow only shakes his head, on his knees and ready to beg for mercy.

“’twas me... I caused him to do it. With the help of a siren for the price of his left arm, I got the binding spell from him. He knew not what he was doing, though he gave the information.” You let out a shaky breath, a weight lifted off of your shoulders.

“All this time I had thought it was he who betrayed me... but it wasn’t.” You turn your gaze to him, eyes glowing green with the influx of power.

“It was you. You and your greed.” He shakes his head and scrambles back desperately.

You step aside as a sword comes down right where you were standing, and Rumlow uses your momentary distraction to sprint away.

“Kill her! Kill the Witch!” He shouts, grabbing his own sword.

You shake your head, the wind whipping strong enough to keep them away.

A nagging in your mind stops you for a moment, and a smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

“The King and his men stole the queen from her bed... and bound her in her bones.” Your voice travels on the wind.

“The seas be ours, and by the powers, where we will, we’ll roam.”

“Captain! We’ve got a ship coming up starboard!” A man shouts, pointing his sword at the familiar ship.

“They’re upon us! Battle stations!” The men scramble to their stations, trying to get prepared as the ship approaches.

“Yo ho, all hands, hoist the colours high. Heave ho, thieves and beggars, never shall we die.” The voices ring out to you clear as day, responding to the call.

It’s only a matter of moments before canons start firing and men start boarding the ship, swords clashing and guns firing.

Your eyes scan the crowd, freezing on a man approaching you. You simply look at him and he crumples to the ground, grabbing at his throat.

“Rumlow!” You shout, following your instincts up to the foredeck and finding the captain cowering, exactly how you thought he would.

“You want to throw me overboard, captain?” You sneer his title, taking another step towards him. He stumbles back, slipping on the wet wood and scrambling away from you and towards the main deck.

“You forget that I am the sea and all things in it.”

The rain pelts down on you and the wind whips your hair around your face wildly, your eyes glowing green with the force of your power.

At that moment, you look every bit the sea goddess that the stories described. And today, you’re planning on being just as cruel.

“You stripped me of my purpose, my power. Bound me to my form and took away my reason for existence! You sacrificed the man I love for your own greedy gain. What do you have to say for yourself?” Your powers protect you from the fighting around you, the man before you protected as well.

No one will take your vengeance from you.

“I’m sorry!” He cries, slipping back further.

You shake your head and grab him by the front of his tunic, tossing his sword aside and glaring into his eyes.

“No, you’re not. Not yet. But you will be, that I promise you.”

You cock your head to the side, your free hand coming up, fingers flexed.

The water on the deck swirls around your ankles, clawing up the man before you.

“You’ve never had your purpose taken from you because a man like you has no purpose.” You twist your wrist, controlling the water around you and watch in satisfaction as his eyes widen, the water rising up over his face.

“So what else can I take, but your life?” You ask rhetorically, watching as the water trickles into his mouth and nose, slowly at first, then picking up speed.

He tries to claw at you, but his hands can’t reach you. His struggles are futile, though that doesn’t stop him.

You steal the life away from him, exactly the way he did to you.

He collapses on the ground, his body convulsing for a moment before falling still, death embracing him.

You take a deep breath, embracing your freedom, then slowly turn around.

You’re instantly meet with piercing blue eyes staring at you from across the ship. His chest is heaving and he’s squinting through the downpour, but his eyes are on you.

You walk over to him, the rain lessening with each step you take until you’re right in front of him.

The wind dies down and the ocean becomes calm. The fighting around you draws to a sombre end, victory on the tip of your tongue.

His sword clatters to the ground, his hands finding yours ever so gently, his eyes filled with so many emotions.

“Gentlemen, the ship is ours!” Steve shouts, a smile on his face. You turn around, pulling Bucky’s arms around your waist as you watch the crew celebrate their success.

Your eyes find Wanda’s and Tony’s through the crowd, both of them smiling brightly up at you.

The two crews celebrate, Pirates and Kingsmen, and you can’t help but smile at them.

“Back to the ship! We’ve gotten what we came for. The King can enjoy plundering Rumlow’s ship. I trust that will keep him off of our back for a while, yes?” Steve looks at Tony pointedly and the brunet nods.

You step out of your lover’s arms and walk down to the two men, one hand gently finding Tony’s forearm.

“I owe you a debt, Tony. One I fear I may never be able to repay.” He shakes his head, taking your hands gently in his and smiling at you.

“You’ve no debt to be paid. But if you feel so inclined, could you maybe hold back any storms for the next day or so? I’d like a chance to dry my clothes.” You giggle and nod, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you, for all that you’ve done for myself and Wanda.” He gives you a tender smile and nods.

“It’s what I wish had been done for my mother.” He sniffles then straightens up.

“Now come on, men. It’s time we return to the King!” His crew-mates start busying themselves quickly.

“Alright lads, back to the ship!” Steve calls, leading his own crew members to their ship.

You watch as everyone eagerly crosses, smiling encouragingly at Wanda. She crosses swiftly, her eyes drawing to the helmsman for a moment.

“Are you ready?” A soft voice asks from behind you. You take a breath then nod, looking over at him.

“Yes.”

The two of you cross back to his ship, the ship almost cooing at you as soon as your feet hit the deck. You can’t fight the smile the spreads on your face at being back, and you don’t try to.

“It’s good to have you back,” Steve says, giving you a nod. You do the same, sighing happily.

“It’s good to be back, Steve.” Bucky takes your hand then and tugs you gently towards his quarters.

The door closes softly behind you and you take a moment to reacquaint yourself with the room.

You can feel his eyes on you, the tension palpable but not unpleasant.

Without looking at him, you speak.

“Could you help me out of my gown? It’s far too heavy.” He walks towards you, untying the back and watching as the fabric slides down your body, leaving you only in your white slip.

His hands hesitantly trail over your skin, one cold and one hot and the contrast is so delicious.

You close your eyes and lean into his touch, head falling to the side as he presses soft kisses to your neck.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you, my love,” he whispers against your skin, spinning you around to face him.

You gaze up at him lovingly, one hand coming up to cup his jaw.

“Show me,” you whisper, leaning up to gently brush your lips over his.

“Show me how much you missed me. Give me a reason to clear the skies and calm the seas. Make me give us good wind and easy sail. Prove to me that you’re still worthy of my mercy.”

He brings your hand to his mouth, kissing each one of your fingers then smiling.

“I’ll never truly be worthy of your mercy. But I am more than willing to both swear and prove my loyalty to you. I will give myself over to you; body, heart, mind, and soul.”

You look up at him tenderly, cupping his cheek gently.

“I will sail to the ends of the Earth for you, fight the gods if I need to. Anything to keep you in my arms.”

“My heart belongs to you, James. And never will it belong to anyone else.”

#pirate #pirate AU #pirate!bucky #pirate!bucky x reader #Pirate!bucky x sea goddess!reader #bucky x sea!goddess!reader #pirate!bucky x goddess!reader #bucky x goddess!reader #pirate!bucky x seagoddess!reader

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figonas · 3 years

Text

I Can Do Worse To You

Most would call him a damned fool. Would say hate that strong could dry an ocean or level an entire forest, but The Wicked King knows hatred like no one else.

Summary: A short Cardan-POV bonus scene that takes place during The Wicked King following the Hunter's Moon Revel/Queen of Mirth scene. Set immediately after the council meeting in Cardan's rooms where he asks Jude to stay behind & she snaps at him and leaves. This poor guy is just angsty and pining, someone get him a hug or a piece of cake or something.

Words: 650

Rating: GA

Links: Read on AO3

A/N: This came together shockingly quickly while I was in the shower, and the only explanation is that I was possessed by the spirit of Cardan Greenbriar. I don't have any other explanation for how this idea has been sitting in my drafts for weeks and then in, approximately 20 minutes, came together as a completed ficlet. Bonus points if you catch that the last line is an homage to "hatred so bright it was the first thing that truly warmed him" from HTKOELTHS, though me telling you kind of gives it away [shrug emoji]. Hope you guys enjoy!!

********

Give me an order again, and I will show you true shame. Locke’s games will be as nothing to what I make you do.

Jude’s words linger as the door slams shut behind her reverberating through the High King’s massive chambers. Cardan stands frozen for a moment, staring at the empty space she left behind. For one maddening moment he considers following after her, but realizes he has yanked on the bent and broken chain of Jude’s patience enough for one evening.

He’s not even sure why he asked jude to remain after the rest of the council departed. Another command she would hate him for? He has none to give she would follow. An apology for Locke’s actions? He is not sorry for the evening's events, and he cannot lie to say he is. The bent and wicked part of him is happy to see her humiliated. The vulnerable part of him that he spent years hiding from, that Jude seems to wrench out of him without even knowing, wishes he was sorry; wishes he was better than his worst parts. Cardan collapses onto the settee, legs sprawled out in front of him, hands falling together in his lap. He feels the cool, metallic bite of Jude’s ruby ring where it sits on his little finger. Using the thumb of his other hand he toys idly with the delicate banded filigree, wondering why they were cursed to move in opposing directions. Every day Jude hates him more, and every day he hates her less. His head dips to rest along the back of the couch staring up at the tangle of roots twisting across the ceiling. The longer he looks the more the looping coils remind him of Jude’s hair, the way it looks the few times he has seen it loose and unbound, flowing down her back in a curtain of rich brown veined with reds and golds. Cardan squeezes his eyes shut trying to push the image from his mind, but that only brings her into sharper focus. The hard, fierce determination of her eyes, the fullness of her lips, the gentle curve of her ear. Groaning audibly, he opens his eyes and reaches blindly for a drink. Cardan downs the glass of wine in front of him in two gulps before pouring another and drinking that as well. He scrubs a hand over his face then rises, shucking off his clothes and settling into bed. Again he hears Jude’s voice echoing through his head.

I will dance it with my king, who has showered me with so many compliments and gifts tonight.

Whatever you do to me, I can do worse to you.

I hate you

Those words on her lips flash through his mind again and again, like a lighthouse in a storm, guiding his broken ship to shore.

I hate you

The more he remembers the angry fire in her gaze and the sensual curve of her cruel mouth as she spoke the more Cardan desperately wishes to hear her say it again.

I hate you

Most would call him a damned fool. Would say hate that strong could dry an ocean or level an entire forest, but The Wicked King knows hatred like no one else. Yes, hatred requires anger and no small amount of disdain, but hatred more than any emotion requires focus and determination. Without those two things nurturing it hatred slips steadily into indifference, a lack of feeling that is insulting on even the basest level. Hatred as strong as Jude felt for him required a level of attention and care so strong it was like the heat of a raging bonfire, flames so hot they burn a crisp, searing blue. A fire for which Cardan Greenbriar, a boy who has spent his life as a miserable, half-forgotten footnote in everyone else’s story, would gladly throw himself onto the pyre.

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moldisgoodforyou · 3 years

Text

on my mom's grave

wordcount: 3.7k

warnings: n/a

______

“How drunk do you think we’re going to get tonight?” Sophie asked, tipping back the last of a lemon White Claw as the two of them got ready for the night in her room.

“Dunno. I’m not really feeling it tonight.”

She paused, glancing back at him. “Do you not want to go?”

He shook his head and took the can from her, disappointed to realize there was nothing left. “No, no, it’s fine. I’m cool. Probably just won’t drink.”

“Is this about the phone call with your dad earlier?”

Rafe sighed, gritting his teeth. “It’s not - I’m fine, Soph.”

She crossed her arms and eyed him over, trying to get a read on his body language. “You’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” After Rafe tugged his shirt over his head, ready much faster than Sophie, he paced around the room for a few seconds before speaking up. "Hey, so...Sarah's getting presented at the annual deb ball in spring."

Sophie seemed unbothered, turning her back to him as she wrestled her way into a crop top to get ready for the night. "Those are still a thing? Cool, so you're going home for it?" She paused, glancing over at him in his polo. "Undo another button."

He did so, then rocked back on his heels with his hands in his pockets, trying to figure out what to say next.

She slowly turned back to him, realizing he was still tense across his shoulders. "What?"

Rafe rubbed the back of his neck, a tell-tale sign he was nervous and Sophie wasn't going to like what he was about to say. "Yeah...my dad wanted you to come home for it too."

"What? Ward? Why?"

"He, kinda, uh, wants you to be presented too?"

She just laughed, turning back to the mirror with her brow furrowed in slight concentration as she applied another coat of mascara. "Okay. Sure." But when he didn't elaborate, she turned back to him again, lips pursed. "Cameron. Tell me you told him no."

"...I didn't not not tell him no."

"Rafe."

He cracked under her stare. "I'm sorry, okay! Look, it's easy, all you have to do is throw on a pretty white dress and gloves -"

"A dress that costs thousands of dollars -"

"Hundreds, but - I'll cover you, obviously -"

"No." She turned back to the mirror, shaking her head. "Fuck no. I'm not going."

"Sophie." He nearly begged, stepping closer and running his hand through his hair. "Baby. C'mon."

"Don't call me that. No. I don’t fit into that part of your world.”

"Not even for me?" He pleaded, giving her a half-hearted grin. He ignored her last sentence, knowing any argument he had for her point would be dismissed in two seconds. "I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't important, you know that."

She turned back to him with crossed arms, fixing him with a glare. "Do I know that?"

"Soph."

"Don't, Rafe." She warned, holding one hand out, but he stepped closer anyways.

"Angel. Please. For me." He forced a smile, tried cracking a joke. "I really don't want to have to call him up and get read the riot act."

She furrowed her brow and Rafe reached out and smoothed out the lines in between her eyebrows before he could stop himself, making her soften just a little. "If I were to say yes. What would I have to do?"

"Just wear the dress, attend a dinner, party the night before and party that night." He paused, thinking. "And stay at my house for the weekend. Be civil to my dad.” At her eyeroll, he fixed her with a more serious gaze. “Meet my grandparents. Hang with my sisters. C'mon, Wheezie adores you."

"You're lying."

"I'm not. She thinks you're cool. Sarah too, but she’s less likely to admit it." He kissed her forehead, hands going to her waist. "Please?"

"It's that important?"

"I swear. On my mom's grave."

Sophie frowned immediately, reaching up to fix his hair. "That's not necessary."

"You'll do it?"

"...Yes." When he made a small fist pump, she fixed him with a glare. "Only because I love you."

“I'll go down on you every night for the next two weeks -”

She rolled her eyes at his promise, shoving lightly at his chest. "You basically already do that anyways, Rafe -”

"Okay, fine, I'll tie you up, something, anything, god, thank you, Soph. You don't know how big of a favor this is. I mean it." He sighed in relief, the tension draining from his body.

She ignored him, turning back to the mirror to apply lip gloss, carefully smearing the wand across her lips. “Why does he want me to do this? I don’t understand.”

“Is that the sticky stuff? I hate that stuff, it gets all over me when we’re kissing -” He started, then quickly shut his mouth as she flipped him off without looking. “Uh, ‘to integrate you into our society.’ Direct quote.”

“Oh god.” She groaned, setting the lip gloss aside after applying it, then started searching through her jewelry case. “So I’m gonna have to be on my best kook behavior?”

He snorted. “Sophie Flint, a kook. Not likely.”

“Watch it.” She pointed a warning finger in his face. “You don’t see anything weird with this? Your dad hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“Rose does.”

“That’s not true either.”

Sophie raised her eyebrows, challenging him.

He shrugged, relenting with a sigh. “You’re not her favorite person, no, but neither am I.”

“You think this was more her idea? For Sarah to do it too?”

“Nah, actually, pretty sure it was my grandparents’ idea. Probably Granddad. My mom went through all this, so…”

She turned her back to him and gathered her hair, offering the clasp of her gold chain to him. “Your mom was a debutante?” She questioned with interest.

_______

Rafe rarely ever talked about his mom - Sophie had only found out how she died from a newspaper article in the online archives, and hadn’t wanted to bring it up since. All she knew was that Mrs. Cameron had passed away in a car accident when Rafe was fourteen.

Both Sophie and Rafe’s schools shared a building, despite them going to private academies, and overlapped for certain advanced placement classes. In freshman year, they were together for AP chemistry, with Sophie sitting proudly at the front of the class while Rafe sat in the back with a group of his friends, often cracking jokes at inappropriate times or throwing wads of paper at each other. Freshman year Sophie was the epitome of stuck-up - she resorted to insults instead of making friends and kept to herself, terrified someone might find out that she was on scholarship and wasn’t truly meant to be there.

The day after the car accident, Rafe was unusually quiet. Sophie hadn’t heard the news yet, it was barely second period and she wasn’t looped into the trail of gossip like the rest of the girls at Greenville. They were partnered for an experiment that day - Rafe had groaned when he heard Sophie’s name after his from the teacher, and Sophie barely suppressed a roll of her eyes. She took charge right away, getting all the supplies and set up their work station without even addressing him. After a few minutes, she slid the small glass of solution to Rafe, raising her eyebrows. “You can do the work too, you know.”

He was completely spaced out, only glancing up when she said something. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

Sophie rolled her eyes, lifting a beaker and extending it to him. “Yeah. I know. Just drop in 10 milliliters of the solution, it’s not hard.”

Rafe sighed as he rested his elbows on the edge of the table, rubbing his temples. “Look, can you just do it?”

She finally took note of the dark circles under his eyes, the way his shoulders were slumped, but misinterpreted it all. She smirked, taking on a taunting tone. “What, you’re still drunk from last night or something?”

He gritted his jaw, his entire body growing tense, and tugged at the collar of his polo. “Fuck off, Flint. Not in the mood today.”

She recoiled immediately, setting the beaker down with a little too much force. “Don’t be an asshole.”

“Don’t be a fucking bitch.” He spit back, standing abruptly. She winced as the stool squeaked across the floor, drawing everyone’s attention - as if they hadn’t had it already. Kelce stepped over and went to grab Rafe’s arm, possibly pull him away, but Rafe just wrenched his arm out of his grip. “I’m fine.” He growled, storming out of the classroom without looking back.

After a few moments of stunned silence, with Sophie on the verge of shocked tears, their teacher cleared her throat and redirected everyone’s attention, pointing one of the girls over to join Sophie instead. Molly made her way over, occupying Rafe’s seat in the space across from her. “Poor Rafe,” she murmured.

Sophie frowned, pulling her jacket tighter across her chest like a shield of armor. “Poor Rafe? What?”

Molly nodded, lowering her voice a little. “Yeah, you didn’t hear? I’m surprised he’s at school, honestly.”

“I didn’t...what happened?”

“Oh.” Molly frowned. “Um. You know that winding road, the one that goes downhill toward the ballet studio?”

Sophie didn’t, she didn’t even have a clue - the ballet studio was on the entire opposite side of the island from where she lived, the height of Figure 8, and she hadn’t ever had a reason to even venture that way. “Yeah? What does that have to do with Rafe?”

“Um, well, it was pouring last night, and his mom was driving down that road. I heard she lost control of the car and wrecked it. There was, like, a drunk driver that swerved into her lane, but she tried to avoid him and hit a tree.” Molly told her, careful on the details.

“I’m pretty sure the Camerons can replace a car.” Sophie replied, not wanting Molly to confirm where she thought she was going with the story. She dug her nails into the skin of her thigh anyways, feeling anxiety bubble up in her chest.

Molly shook her head, slowly. “Mrs. Cameron died, Sophie.”

Her heart dropped and she bit the inside of her cheek, hard. “Oh.”

“Yeah. I’m surprised you didn’t hear the sirens last night, I saw like eight police cars last night headed toward his house. I heard Sarah was in the car too, I think -”

“Is Sarah okay?” She couldn’t concentrate on anything but her ears ringing, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Oh, yeah, I think so. But god, how awful, right? The funeral is next weekend, Ward Cameron told my dad this morning. Is your family going?”

“Um...I don’t know.” Sophie glanced toward the door, hoping to god he would come back through the door and Molly would confess that it was all a joke, that she hadn’t just started something with Rafe on that day of all days.

________

Rafe nodded. “Yeah. ‘Course she was. I think she really enjoyed it, actually, she’d always tell Sarah when she was little about how pretty she would look in the dress, how important it was to learn the right etiquette and -” He cut himself off, realizing he was sharing too much, and deftly fastened the clasp before pressing a kiss to the top of her head, letting her step away. “All that.”

“Huh.”

He smiled to himself, thinking about how his mom would let little Sarah play dress up in her old ballgown with gloves that went up to her armpits, wobbling around in high heels twice the size of her feet. His mom would tell Rafe he’d have to watch out for Sarah with her escort, keep him in line, and that when he was in college he’d be presenting a girl as well. But he was nine and didn’t think of girls in that way quite yet, so he always scowled and left the room.

“It’s kind of cool, I think. The tradition of it all.”

“The ball? Have you been?” She caught his eye in the mirror as she adjusted her top, not wanting to push for too much information before he’d shut down altogether.

“No...I was gonna present Brooklyn at the one here in Columbus, sophomore year’s normally when the girl gets presented, but. Yeah. No, I meant, it’s kind of cool that you’ll be doing something my mom did.” He rubbed the back of his neck, meeting her gaze for a moment then looked away.

“Yeah?”

“She would have liked you. I know it.”

Sophie perked up a little, cocking her head. “You really mean it?”

“Yeah. She would have liked that you have an attitude with me.” He grinned when she turned back around and took his hand, tugging him over to sit on the bed next to her. “She was always saying I needed to find someone to match my energy, keep me in check. I wish she could have met you.”

“I did meet her. Once.”

He perked up, cocking his head. “You did?”

“Yeah, I served her when I was working at the restaurant at the country club once, I was only fourteen. I remember she made some comment about me being too young to work and I told her I liked it. Then she asked my name, and I remember she seemed like she knew already when I told her.” Sophie nodded. “She was really nice, left way too big of a tip and wrote my name on the bill. I always thought that was funny.”

Of course she knew, Rafe thought as he smiled to himself. She knew, because Rafe had come home and complained about a girl getting on his nerves every single week since seventh grade. She knew, when the complaints turned to “why won’t just be nice to me” and his mom had quipped that Sophie probably liked him - he had scoffed and walked away. She knew, because his mom had come home from the country club and told him Sophie Flint was a much nicer girl than Rafe painted her to be, and Rafe had immediately turned bright red and been embarrassed that his mom sought her out.

“I like that.” She leaned into him, taking his hand to play with his rings. “Will your grandparents be there? At the ball?”

“Oh, yeah. They sit on the board, I’m pretty sure, it’s this gigantic charity event. I’ll introduce you, but don’t worry, they’re chill. Nothing like my dad.” He adjusted himself so she was comfortable, then pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

She chewed on the inside of her lip, treading carefully. “I thought your dad grew up on the Cut.”

“He did. But my mom, no way. Kook through and through. That’s, uh, where a lot of my trust is from. After she died, um. She wanted to be sure me and Sarah were set.” He shrugged, ears turning red as he felt his throat getting tight.

Sophie frowned, feeling him closing off, and leaned closer to hug him, arms wrapped tight around his waist. “You know you can talk to me about this stuff whenever, Rafe? I’d like to hear more about your mom. She sounds like an amazing woman.”

“She was.” He nodded, settling his arms around her shoulders and rested his chin on the top of her head, closing his eyes for a moment. “Thanks, Soph. This is a really big deal to me, that you’ll go. I know it’s not your scene.”

“Love you.” She murmured. “You’d better buy me a pretty dress.”

He laughed, leaning back just enough to tip up her chin with one finger and kiss her. “You’ll be the best looking one there. I swear.”

“Oh, I already knew that.”

“Okay, okay, big head -”

She swatted his arm, laughing as she ducked out from under him. “Watch it, or I won’t go -”

“I was kidding!” He exclaimed, wrestling with her for a moment before grabbing both her hands and pinning them above her head.

Sophie sucked in a breath, caught off guard. “We are going to be late.”

“We’re already late.” He pointed out, taking a moment to realize the lack of innocence in the position, then slowly smirked. “We could be later. They’re not gonna miss us.”

“Rafe.”

“Sophie.”

“No.”

“You’re positive?”

She just gave him a look, staring him dead in the eyes and willing herself not to react when he leaned down with a grin and kissed the bridge of her nose.

“Please?”

“Fine. The ball or sex right now. You choose.” She raised her eyebrows, arching her back a little on purpose, pressing her hips up against his.

“That’s not fair.” He frowned, immediately shifting his hips away and moving so both his knees were on either side of her instead. “This is blackmail.”

“Your choice.” She reminded him, biting her lip for good measure.

He faltered, sitting back on her thighs and letting go of her wrists. “Soph, it’s - it’s for my mom. I swear. Not for my dad, Rose, anyone else.”

Sophie dropped the teasing act right away, propping herself up on her elbows. “Right, right, sorry. I won’t push it.”

“It’s alright.” He climbed off her, standing, and offered his hands. “Five bucks James makes some joke about us being late because we were having sex.”

“I’m not taking you up on that.” She rolled her eyes, accepting his hand and pulled him into a hug. “Love you long time, Cameron.”

He smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Love you too, favorite girl.”

“What do the dresses look like?”

“Uh...white?” Rafe shrugged, tugging on her hand to get her to follow him downstairs. “I dunno. When we go home for Thanksgiving I’ll book you an appointment to get fitted, I think it’s at some bridal shop on the mainland.”

“Sounds expensive.” She muttered, shaking her head.

“It’s…yeah. It’s not cheap.” He admitted, then shrugged as she followed him out the door, starting their walk toward the bars. “I’ll take care of it though. All of it. By the way, have you booked your flight home for Thanksgiving yet?”

“Um...no. I was going to look this week, it’s probably too late now though.”

“Hm.”

“Hm? Why, are you going home?”

Rafe nodded, not looking her in the eye. “Taking the plane.”

“Oh. Of course.”

“The plane...that no one else will be on...and it’s kinda ridiculous for you to waste money and carbon emissions on a separate flight…” He tried convincing her, a small smile playing on his lips as she rolled her eyes.

“You need to learn how carbon emissions work if you’re going to use that as an argument with me.”

“So that’s a no to sex on the plane?”

Sophie stopped in her tracks, confused. “That wasn’t - Rafe, what?”

“You, me, alone on the plane. Sorry, was I not clear enough?”

“I didn’t even say yes -”

“Oh, so you’re going to leave me all by myself on our one-year anniversary -”

She raised her eyebrows, challenging him. “When’s our anniversary, Rafe?”

He raised his back, stopping on the sidewalk to face her. “On my terms or yours? Because if we’re going with mine, it’s Halloween -”

“No, I had to ask you to be my boyfriend, it’s November 18th -”

“That is such an arbitrary thing, Sophie -”

“Hey! Stop stealing my vocabulary.” She interjected, pushing at his chest. “It’s the 18th, because I had to ask you out.”

“Okay. Whatever story makes you happy.” He shrugged, laughing when she shoved at him again. “Come on the plane with me.”

“...Fine. Only because I don’t want to miss our class reunion party on Wednesday night, I’m pretty sure some people still don’t believe we’re together.”

Rafe laughed loud at that, looping his arm around her shoulders and started walking again. “Pretty sure Topper still thinks it’s all an elaborate lie.”

“Does he know that we nearly hooked up in his room last winter break?”

“No.” He grinned. “Are you forgetting that you had to sprint into his bathroom right when I was about to kiss you because of some tequila thing you had?”

She tilted her head slightly. “You’re remembering wrong. That was sophomore year, before we were dating, I barely drank last year...you almost kissed me?”

“What? No, I think...remember, we were arguing over something, then you whispered in my ear to go up to his room and left. I went up a couple minutes later.” He shook his head. “I wasn’t going to make a move, Brooklyn and I were together then.”

Sophie scowled at the mention of Brooklyn. “I must have been hammered, I don’t remember any of this.”

“You wanted me.” He smirked, trailing his fingers along her collarbone. “One might say desperate.”

“No, no. All I remember is waking up in Topper’s bed feeling like shit, I had some crewneck on from your academy.” She ignored the blush creeping up her neck.

“How do you think you got there and got the sweatshirt?” He frowned. “I took care of you, Sophie. You really don’t remember?”

“I think I blacked out.” She confessed, shaking her head. “You took care of me?”

“Of course I did. Plus, I thought I was about to get some, I would have done anything for you.” He grinned, laughing when she shoved his shoulder. “Really thought that was the night I’d finally win you over.”

“Yeah, well, you can blame Sarah for her heavy pour that night.” She shook her head, smiling fondly. “I really wish I remembered that.”

“I wish you remembered too. Maybe you would have given me a chance before then instead of setting me up with Julia.”

“I - no! She asked to be set up with you, no, I did not instigate that at all.” She defended herself straightaway, cheeks flushing pink. “She said if I wasn’t going to make a move, then she was going to.”

“Sure. Whatever you believe.” He teased, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as they arrived at the bar. “Hey, Soph.”

She rolled her eyes, going to get in the winding line outside until he tugged her wrist back, pulling her to his chest. “What?”

“Thank you. I mean it.”

Sophie softened, smiling as she rose up on her toes to kiss him. “Of course, baby. I’ve got your back.”

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#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #outer banks #outer banks fanfic #outer banks fanfiction #obx fanfic #rafe x sophie #mine #college rafe #frat rafe

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gohyuck · 4 years

Text

prologue | part 1 | part 2 | part 3

pairing: greaser!jeno lee x rich!reader; part of a collab by @neovisioned

genre: greaser!au; runaways!au; criminal!au; angst/fluff/smut

word count: 10.4k

warnings: infidelity, miscarriages of justice, johnny’s a huge asshole in this i’m so sorry, a lot of straight up classism, explicit mentions of sex (fingering), vehicular manslaughter, armed robbery, general unarmed violence and fighting, pistol-whipping

a/n: so i know a lot of people loved the fact that my most recent long fic (surgeon jaemin!) focused on side characters, but i’ve made this fic pretty jeno-centric on purpose, and i hope it’s still as enjoyable as possible for readers!

May 29, 1957

He’s always been easy on the eyes.

It’s shallow, and a great part of him knows it. Still, as far back as he can remember, Jeno’s always had one thing, and one thing only: his looks. When he was 7 and starving on the streets, terrified of going back to a broken, lifeless home, he’d use his adorable face to elicit pity and pizza from the aging man who ran the local diner. When he was 15 and growing into himself, his blossoming attractiveness got the girl in his geometry class to give him her homework to copy off of, free of charge. When he’d first started working at the garage, a high school dropout at the age of 17, it was his ‘rugged handsomeness’ - review courtesy of the college girls who trailed their rich boyfriends as they searched for cheap fueling and car repairs - that called in tips by the handful.

Jeno’s always had his looks. That’s why, even though he thinks it’s silly of him, he can’t help but look at you with eyes that are overflowing with apprehension. He grips the blond hair-dye just a little too tightly, fingers making what’ll be lasting indents in the plastic box.

“Do I really have to do this?”

You arch an eyebrow, wrenching the dye out of his iron-grip as you do. Jeno watches, feeling more helpless than he has been this whole time as you shake its contents out into your hand. The bleach and the agent you mix it with fall into your open palm, followed by the barely darker dye. You read the instructions over once, twice, before finally looking up to meet Jeno’s trained gaze.

It’s all you can do to heave a heavy sigh.

“You were framed for a robbery, and then you stole a car and accidentally kidnapped me, but the hill you choose to die on is dyeing your hair? Really? If you’re like this now, what are you going to do when we get tattooed?”

“I - We - Tattoos?” Jeno squawks, and you can’t help but sigh again before rolling your eyes.

It’s going to be a long night. Amidst it all, you can’t help but think back to how everything started.

As Jeno keeps his glare trained on the dye, you can’t help but assume that he’s doing the same.

♕ ♕ ♕

Day One: May 25, 1957

Cherry red lips, wanton giggles, a skirt that’s too short, even by what she calls her ‘very own tramp standards’. Jeno can’t get enough of it all - can’t get enough of her, he’s so intoxicated by her. It’s in the way her head falls back, her mouth falls open, her knees fall down, allowing her legs to fall wide. He leans over her, his well muscled arms making it easy to hover instead of collapse on top of her as he coaxes her release from her, two fingers deep in her spasming cunt while his thumb works away at her clit. Jeno’s close - so close - to what he wants, but he doesn’t dare to chase after it; instead of pressing his lips to hers and tasting that enticing lipstick for himself, he settles for pressing his forehead against hers, letting his soft breath land against the silent scream her mouth is currently displaying.

Her chest heaves, her next breaths come out in gasps. As she settles down, Jeno can’t keep himself from dipping his head down, pressing a gentle and completely chaste kiss against the skin of her stomach between her belly-button and her underwear line. She squirms at the feeling of his warm lips against her now-hot skin, and he chuckles against her body before pulling away for good, though not before wiping his fingers on her thigh.

“‘S that good, Jess?” He quirks an eyebrow, pulling a handkerchief from his back pocket for her to wipe the sweat across her forehead with. “There’s grease on that s- yeah, that’s the good side.”

“You sure know how to charm a girl, Jeno Lee,” The woman responds dryly, though he doesn’t miss the pleased smirk that crosses her features. She swipes at her inner thighs once before tossing the handkerchief - or, really, rag - at the mechanic, who catches it with ease and stuffs it back where it came from.

“You’re the one who wanted to be fingered in the passenger seat of Johnny Suh’s car, filthy girl,” Jeno throws back, not surprised when Jess swats at his arm at the mention of her boyfriend. She loves Johnny, Jeno knows she does, but that doesn’t stop her from begging for Jeno’s fingers or tongue or, if she’s got time, his dick, whenever she stops by the City Motors garage that Jeno’s been employed at for the past two months. She always comes in driving Johnny’s red Chevy Bel Air convertible. He knows it’s bad of her and bad for him, especially if Johnny ever gets wind of it, but he can’t find it in himself to stop, not when it’s free spank bank material.

Jeno’s probably a bad person for it. He doesn’t really care - after all, it’s just sex. If emotions were involved - and they never are, not for Jeno, not when it comes to getting his dick wet - it might be a different story. That, and it’s Johnny Suh’s girl.

Jeno fucking hates Johnny Suh.

“Say, speaking of John,” Jess says, seemingly sufficiently cooled down by now. “I keep meaning to and forgetting to ask - you’re the same age as his sister, aren’t you?”

“(Name)?” Jeno asks, his brow furrowing when he gets a nod of confirmation. “Yeah, I mean, we were in the same homeroom and shit this past year. Why?”

“Just curious. You’ll probably see her a lot more often from now on, honestly - she got a job at the diner when they had that hiring spree last week.” Jess flicks her head vaguely towards Jeno, and he knows it’s because, if he turns around and looks out the window, he’ll be staring directly at Kim’s, what can be considered the only good eatery on this side of town. He tries his best to seem even vaguely interested at what Jess is saying - going so far as to crane his neck backwards in order to look at the same diner he sees day in and day out - but she calls his bluff easily. Instead of saying anything, she just rolls her neck out before finally shoving the car door open.

“Say ‘hi’ to her sometimes, y’know?” She asks, peering in once she’s standing. “For me. Forget that she’s a Suh sometimes. She needs to talk to more people, anyways.” Jess states, her gaze imploring. Still, Jeno can’t help but scoff at the last thing she says, prompting an affronted look from the woman who’s looking expectantly at him.

“(Name)? Needing to talk to more people? Everyone adores her, she’s always with some new person getting into some bullshit. Honestly, she probably needs to talk to less people at this point.” Jeno explains himself so as to not garner anymore adversity from his fuckbuddy, though the way he squints in mild disbelief at Jess’ suggestion annoys her anyways. The mild petulance that comes through only serves to remind Jess that Jeno is, in fact, only 19 - and while her being 21 doesn’t change their dynamic much, it does bring about some slight difference in maturity.

She tends to overlook it because the benefits seem to outweigh the detractors.

As Jess makes eye contact with Jeno, though, she knows he won’t listen to her friendly suggestion. She doesn’t know why she bothers, sometimes - even though she’s only in it for the sex, he’s really only in it for the sex. As far as anyone’s concerned, Jeno Lee does only two things, and he does them well: fix cars and fuck. Considering that he’s a high school drop-out with no plans of college or trade school, Jess supposes that he doesn’t have much else to do.

“Whatever,” She finally acquiesces, not bothering to return the small smirk Jeno throws at her. “What’s the time?”

“It’s about 4:45,” The mechanic responds without even checking his wristwatch, though Jess doesn’t doubt that he’s right. “What time’s he coming by for his car again?”

“Couple minutes past 5. Got a smoke? I need one.” Jess is still peering into the car from outside, her expression making it seem like she’s waiting for something more than a quick cigarette break. Jeno holds her gaze steady for a beat, two beats, before he breaks away, pushing the door open on his side so he can finally get out too. After all, the car is honestly kind of cramped, and absolutely not ideal for what they’ve been getting up to in it… week after week after week.

“You should tell your boyfriend to stop fucking up his car,” Jeno states simply, leaning over the fabric top of Johnny’s convertible. It’d been the left sideview mirror today, the transmission last week, the rims the week before. It wouldn’t surprise Jeno if Jess drives in four days from now with a crack in the windshield and her underwear already around her knees. Jess says nothing, only leveling Jeno’s stare. He waits, finally breaking it for the second time in a row once he’s sure she’s sweating a little bit in her new boots. The small smirk he allows himself as he beckons for her to follow him back into the garage is reward enough for him. There’s a pack of Camels set on his work bench, open in such a way that Jeno knows Jaemin must’ve taken one earlier when they’d started their shift together.

“Help yourself, doll.” Jeno says, gesturing vaguely towards it after pulling a cigarette out for himself. He swipes the lighter off of Jaemin’s desk - his friend’s on a late lunch break at the diner right now anyways - and uses it to light up his own smoke before tossing it underhandedly to Jess.

“Don’t ‘doll’ me,” She scoffs, her words muffled around the cigarette that’s now in between her lips. He admires her hands, her nimble red-tipped fingers as she lights it up, pulling it out from her mouth and letting it dangle between two fingers before setting the lighter down on top of the pack. “You know only Johnny’s allowed to call me that.”

“If he had that much of a handle on you, you wouldn’t be crying for my cock every week now, would you?”

“I don’t cry,” Jess protests, and Jeno finds both her sudden indignance, and the fact that this is the hill she chooses to die on, kind of cute. He has no feelings toward her, sure, but it doesn’t mean he can’t admire her for what she is: art. And someone’s gotta nail masterpieces against walls, right?

“You get the gist.” Jeno brushes her complaint aside with ease, blowing smoke out through one corner of his mouth before he speaks. “Tell him to watch where he parks so he doesn’t screw up his mirrors again. There’s gotta be some limit on daddy’s money.”

“Why don’t you tell him yourself?” Jess throws back, and Jeno can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes.

“His highness won’t talk to a lowly greaser like me, obviously. Probably thinks I spend all my tip money on hair oil or some stupid shit. You really picked one for yourself, Jess. Outdid yourself on the asshattery of the last one. The fact that he makes you drop his car off when he’s the one who screws it up should be a red flag itself.” Even talking about Johnny has a pit of dread growing in the bottom of Jeno’s stomach, and he drops his half-smoked cigarette to the ground before crushing it under his work boots. He knows it isn’t the cig making him feel sick, but he suddenly has no appetite left for nicotine anymore.

“You’re lucky our friendship predates my relationship, or I’d fuck you up for saying shit like that,” Jess warns, though there’s no real bite behind her bark. She drops her cigarette to the ground too, and Jeno steps on it so she doesn’t have to.

“Can’t believe you’re deciding to keep some kind of allegiance to me based solely on the fact that our moms used to stick us together when they went to whore around downtown while our dads were being drunken good-for-nothings somewhere or the other,” Jeno scoffs in faux disbelief even as his eyes fold into half moons. Jess allows herself a small grin at the expense of their younger selves as well. They both know better than anyone that shared traumas can only make bonds stronger. “When’ll you tell your prissy, pompous, prick of a partner that you’re one of the lowlifes he hates so much?”

“He already knows that I wasn’t… well off before I got my job at the salon,” Jess replies carefully, doing her best not to incriminate her boyfriend in the eyes of someone who already loathes him. “Besides, he honestly isn’t that bad. He says shit sometimes, yeah, but he knocks it off if I tell him to. Shouldn’t affect whether or not you talk to (Name), anyways.”

Jess slips you into the conversation so easily that it almost gives Jeno whiplash trying to process what she’s said. When he’s done, it’s all he can do but to let out a confused query.

“The hell does (Name) have to do with this?”

“I mean, you’re the same age, and you kind of know each other. I just figured that...”

Suddenly, Jess’ motives dawn on Jeno. Judging by the way she trails off, ending her sentence both sheepishly and abruptly, she sees that he’s figured her out, too.

“Are you fucking trying to set me up with your scummy boyfriend’s sister?”

“He isn’t scummy! And, I mean, not necessarily. Maybe. Just a little, but come on! Isn’t it right for me to want two people I love and care for to find love and caring in each other?” Jess’ words come out harried, and she flaps her arms around a bit to try and prove the point she just can’t seem to hit on. Jeno’s brows furrow even more, and he can’t help his incredulous snicker.

“You, Miss ‘I just got fingered by a childhood friend in my boyfriend’s car for what has to be, like, the sixth time in four weeks’, want to talk about what’s right and what’s not?” Jeno points out, and Jess winces slightly. He knows it’s a bit of a low blow - yes, Jess is a cheater, and it’s completely terrible of her, and maybe even Johnny Suh deserves better than someone who’s unfaithful, but if Jess is the one committing the crime then Jeno’s aiding and abetting. He can see the hurt flash across his friend’s features, and he allows himself to soften for a moment before speaking again. “I’m sure (Name) is nice and all, but I’m not looking for a relationship right now. If I was, I wouldn’t be messing around with you, or anyone for that matter.”

Jess sighs, but it’s a sigh of acceptance. She glances down wistfully at the smushed cigarette she’d abandoned earlier, making no move to get another one. Jeno assumes she’s trying to cut back - the cost of a pack has gone up again.

“I do love him, you know that, right?” Jess says, voice soft and sincere in a way that has Jeno’s eyes flicking up to meet her own. “I just - I can’t give all of myself to him, you know? Not yet, anyways. Not after everything that’s happened in my life. It isn’t justification, it’s just…”

“You’ve been dealt so many bad hands that you don’t know how to play poker anymore,” Jeno finishes, smiling gently at his friend. “Yeah, I get it. I’m just your pain relief, remember? You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Fuck first, friends later.”

“Pretty sure it’s the other way around,” Jess rolls her eyes, though she knows he’s just messing with her. They might use each other, but their friendship predates any sexual relationships either of them have been having with anyone. They both know that Jess doesn’t just drop by the garage to drop her panties, although that is what happens first and foremost every time.

Before Jeno can quip back at her, the telltale thrum of a car’s engine draws his attention away from his friend. Both of them turn their heads simultaneously to see none other than Yuta Nakamoto pull up in his Thunderbird, Johnny Suh riding shotgun beside him. Jeno doesn’t miss the way Jess perks up, her grin dazzling as she spots her boyfriend. He can’t say the same for himself, not when his stomach drops at the sight of the two men.

Yuta at least has the ‘decency’ to shoot Jeno a patronizing smirk. Johnny doesn’t even acknowledge the man beside his girlfriend, instead turning directly to appraise his fixed up car after giving Jess a quick peck on the cheek.

“Funny,” Johnny remarks thoughtfully once he’s done with his once-over. “Are you sure you fixed this? It doesn’t reek of grease or anything. Maybe you underdid your hair today, kid, hmm?”

Jeno’s suddenly hyper-aware of how slicked back his pitch black hair is, and his fingers twitch at how badly he wants to push it back again, both out of nervousness and anger. He says nothing, only clenching his jaw in response.

“Leave him be, John,” Jess speaks up, holding her hand out for her boyfriend to take. He grabs it naturally. “He’s a good kid.”

Johnny’s cocky, holier-than-thou grin slips a little at seeing his girl - his girl - defend someone he equates to the bottom of his shoe, and Jeno notices it. For a moment, it seems like there’s a rebuttal sitting on the tip of his tongue. His necessity to keep his girlfriend’s approval wins him over, though, and Johnny says nothing more, only asking Jess to hand him the key he knows she has.

Yuta leaves first, though not before confirming their next whereabouts with Johnny. He slides back into the drivers’ seat of his Thunderbird, raises his eyebrow at Jeno through the windshield, and backs out slowly but surely. Jeno isn’t a big fan of Yuta, either, but at least the man respects his car.

The same can’t be said for Johnny.

He slams the passengers’ side door shut once Jess gets in, and Jeno can’t help the wince he gives at the noise. In that moment, he feels deeply for the Bel Air, wishing he could jailbreak it from the hell it must be experiencing at the Suh household. Right before Johnny gets into the driver’s seat, he stops, eyes flitting towards Jeno as he digs something out of his pockets.

Jeno watches as Johnny flicks a dime into the open tip jar they leave out on a rickety old stool, stands there and takes it as the older man shoots him the kind of wolffish grin that never reaches anyone’s eyes.

“Buy yourself something nice,” Johnny says, smirking as he looks Jeno up and down. He takes in the peeling leather on the greaser’s workboots, the grease stains on his blue jeans, the way his white tank top is soaked through with sweat, his ratty leather jacket lying across his workbench. When he looks back up, eyes meeting Jeno’s, the latter can’t help but feel as if he’s just been searched.

“At least… if you even know what ‘nice’ means.” Johnny finally finishes, smirking maddeningly at Jeno. Before any rebuttal can be made, Johnny’s inside his car and turning on the ignition. Jess waves goodbye to Jeno, albeit sheepishly, who only raises a hand in parting. It’s only after they’ve disappeared, tearing down Central Street, that Jeno registers Jaemin leaning against the corner of the garage. It’s evident by the way his friend is standing that he hadn’t actually witnessed anything, and Jeno finds that he wants to keep his interactions to himself today. It’s also evident that, while Jeno has nothing to tell Jaemin, the opposite does not stand true.

“What’s up?” Jeno asks, picking up and tossing the Camels at Jaemin on what is, by this point, sheer muscle memory. He throws the lighter right after, and Jaemin catches them both with ease. This is unsurprising - before school, life, and work all became too hard to balance, Jaemin had been a catcher on the local high school baseball team.

“There’s a new broad behind the counter at Kim’s,” Jaemin says, sticking the cigarette in his mouth and lighting it as he speaks, all with the kind of finesse that only comes from years of doing the same thing. “Looks familiar, ’m sure I’ve seen her before - pro’ly went to school together. Damn pretty, looks more your type than mine, though.”

Jeno doesn’t really care, frankly, but it’s Jaemin and he’ll always humor Jaemin. That, and they’ve got about an hour ‘til the next person with an appointment comes in, so he’s got some time to kill.

“You wouldn’t know if you went to school with her, considering you only ever fuckin’ showed up to play ball. I don’t think I ever saw you in class.” Jeno scoffs, though he knows he should probably keep speaking when Jaemin throws him a scathing glare. “How can you be so sure that she’s my type?”

Jaemin takes the cigarette out of his mouth, waving it around aimlessly as he finally walks over to his own workbench, right beside Jeno’s. He’s got a couple of chairs beside it, and he shoves one towards Jeno before sitting down himself. Jeno, for his part, swings his chair around so he can sit down backwards as he faces Jaemin, folding his arms over the back of it and resting his chin on top of his forearm. Once they’re both situated, Jaemin finally speaks again.

“Pretty, but doesn’t remind me of any of the greaser girls or the rich girls, somehow. Guess she doesn’t fit in that way. Smart, either talks animatedly or doesn’t say shit at all. Seemed all bright-eyed but with sum’n dark behind them. Mysterious, just a bit. Paint a good enough picture for you, asshole?” Jaemin good-naturedly flicks some ash towards his friend, drawing forth a chuckle from the other man.

“Sounds like you’re describin’ a book character,” Jeno throws back, causing Jaemin to roll his eyes even as he’s genuinely smiling. “Been spending too much time with Mark.”

“Maybe so,” Jaemin acquiesces, leaning forward in his chair to look Jeno in the eyes. He turns his head to the side, blowing smoke out through his lips before looking back. “Doesn’t change the fact that she’s good for you. Really, I think you two could hit it off. Even got her number for you.”

“You’re that desperate to pawn me off, huh?” Jeno raises an eyebrow, though he holds out his hand for Jaemin to drop a slightly-crumpled napkin into. He might not go for whatever girl it is romantically, but it might be good to go on a date or two just to keep himself from getting too rusty with the girls. That, and he has to admit that sitting at home, tinkering with the house’s clocks or yelling at Donghyuck not to use up all the hot water for the week is less appealing than having a nice night out (or a nice night in, depending on the girl). He supposes he’s mildly optimistic as he unfolds the napkin, even allowing himself a small grin at the idea of doing something outside of his ordinary, everyday, work to home to work to home life.

Jeno’s smile fades fast once he sees what’s scrawled messily on the napkin in black ink.

(Name) Suh

XXX-XXX-XXXX ;)

He blinks once, blinks twice, before letting out a groan and allowing his head to drop onto the wood of the chair’s back. Jaemin, concerned, asks if he’s alright, but Jeno just ignores him, too busy wallowing in the cosmic irony of his best friend giving him the number of the one girl he would never get with.

“Is this about the chick or is it something else? I saw Johnny Suh pull out of here, that motherfucker. If he wasn’t giving us so much business all the time I would’ve TP’ed his house by now. Is it him? Don’t let him get to you-”

“Jaemin,” Jeno interrupts his best friend, finally looking up from his reprieve in the chair. Jaemin quits rambling almost immediately, his gaze running over Jeno’s unreadable expression. Jeno looks down at the note, up at Jaemin, and then back down at your handwriting again before letting out a weighty, long-suffering sigh.

“Jaemin,” Jeno repeats himself, finally making eye contact with his friend. “We need to have a talk.”

♕ ♕ ♕

“You saw that her last name is Suh and you didn’t stop to think that she might be related to Johnny fucking Suh? Really? I know you’re dense, Jaemin, but for Chrissakes!”

Renjun’s voice rings through the small, two bedroom house as he chastises Jaemin while the two of them cook dinner. Jeno’s sitting on the floor in the living room, fiddling with Donghyuck’s radio: he’s been meaning to fix it for weeks, now, but it’s only today that he’s really found the time. That, and he’s trying to avoid the ongoing argument that’s occurring while two of his friends are making meatloaf. He knows that he’s the reason for it, yes, but that doesn’t mean that he wants to be involved.

It isn’t Jaemin’s fault, really, and Jeno knows this. He can’t stay mad at his best friend in general, but he’s doubly inclined to let Jaemin off the hook because the younger boy has no clue as to why Johnny Suh is so universally hated in the Lee household. Jaemin doesn’t even live with them like Renjun does, so he’s blissfully unaware of exactly how marred the relationship between Jeno and Johnny is.

“I’m home, you fucks!” The front door swings open with abandon just as Jeno finishes straightening the radio’s antenna, and he winces at the screech of the door’s protesting hinges. He’s so startled that he almost drops the radio itself, but he manages to catch it in time. This is lucky - Donghyuck saunters into the living room at the right moment, seeing Jeno both fumble and save his precious radio. Jeno pretends like he doesn’t see the glare his cousin throws at him, instead waving in greeting to him before beckoning him over.

“They’re going at it in the kitchen,” Jeno says lowly once Donghyuck’s close enough to hear him. “I wouldn’t go in there just yet.”

Donghyuck mulls this information over in his mind for a moment before raising a single, perfect eyebrow. He snatches his radio from his cousin’s lap, securing it in his grip, and sits down beside Jeno before he chooses to respond.

“And what if I want to cause problems on purpose?”

“Didn’t you have a full day of doing that at work today?” Jeno asks rhetorically, causing Hyuck to roll his eyes over-exaggeratedly.

“Which job?” He throws back, and Jeno can’t help but laugh. Donghyuck cracks a smile, too, though neither of them know why: it isn’t funny, especially not when Hyuck is speaking truth. He’s worked two jobs since dropping out of high school alongside Jeno a year prior - one close to the rich side of town in a quaint bookstore frequented by nearby college students, and one as a local plumbers’ assistant. None of the boys ever know where he’s at, which is concerning to all of them but something nobody bothers bringing up with Hyuck.

Judging by the fact that he’s wearing jeans and a shirt that’s had the sleeves ripped off, Jeno feels as if it’s safe to say that Hyuck’s just gotten home from being under sinks and in cisterns. By this time, he typically would’ve washed the oil out of his hair and changed into his sleeping clothes. Jeno’s heart twinges at the idea that his cousin might have to go back out to work after eating.

“You gettin’ some sleep tonight?” Jeno’s query is soft-spoken, and Donghyuck can’t help but give him a sad smile before he slowly shakes his head no.

“On house call duty until 5 in the morning. I’ll be home to nap, have some eggs, and then get to the store, though. Maybe we’ll see each other then, brother.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Jeno sighs in a way that says he knows they won’t, and Donghyuck hits his shoulder with his own. They sit like that, in silence, listening to Renjun and Jaemin bicker for a few moments, wallowing in the harsher truths of their lives for a few short moments before Donghyuck, never one comfortable with the quiet, breaks it to ask the obvious question.

“What’s up with those two?” He tilts his head towards the kitchen, and Jeno sighs before dropping his head down and pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes.

“Jaemin wingman-ed me to one of the new hires at Kim’s.”

“That’s not so bad,” Donghyuck says, furrowing his brow at Jeno. “I mean, you’re a manwhore. Figured that isn’t something you’d particularly mind.”

“Shut up,” Jeno scowls, much to Hyuck’s amusement. “And that’s the pot calling the kettle black. It isn’t the act, it’s the victim.”

“The vic- the girl?” Donghyuck’s voice is incredulous now, and Jeno all but groans as he shakes his head in disagreement.

“No - I mean, maybe, considering it’s Jaemin she was talking to - but no, fuck. I meant me, I’m the victim.”

“And why is that?”

“Because the girl is - he got me (Name) Suh’s number, damn it. Of all the girls he could’ve talked to about me, it was her.”

Donghyuck’s teeth clench immediately at hearing the unholy last name, and the air leaving his mouth between his lips makes an odd, hissing noise. His grip on his radio tightens, the pads of his fingers whitening. It’s a beat, two beats, before Hyuck lets up on the thing he has in his hands, sighing with mild dejection.

“Jaemin only moved here right before high school,” Donghyuck rationalizes, though the darkness behind his pupils lets Jeno know that he isn’t happy about being reasonable. “And we never really talk about the thing with Doyoung. I guess he either didn’t register that they’re related or he thinks our hatred is only over the class bullshit Johnny pushes on us whenever he sees us. I’m surprised you never told him the whole story, though - you two are as close as brothers.”

“What, you jealous?” Jeno teases on instinct, mainly aiming his witticism at the last phrase Hyuck had uttered. His cousin rolls his eyes once again, nudges his shoulder once again. Jeno grins, dropping his gaze to his hands.

“It isn’t that I wanted to keep it from Jaemin - it just never came up. He hates Johnny, too, but it isn’t in the same way as us. I guess I’ll explain it tonight - we’ve got an early shift at the garage tomorrow, as it is.”

“Let me guess,” Donghyuck sighs. “You start at 5?”

“Damn straight.” Jeno smiles sadly. “We aren’t kids anymore, Hyuckie, are we?”

“No sir,” Donghyuck smiles back, running a thumb over the radio’s buttons. “But goddamn, does adulthood suck when you don’t even have time to be with your family. Speaking of, where’s that idiot older brother of mine?”

“I heard that, you asshat!” Jeno looks up just in time to see Mark box Donghyuck’s ears, albeit as gently as possible. Still, the youngest Lee winces in pain, whining at the sudden attack.

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” Jeno notes, grinning up at his older cousin. “Didn’t hear you come in. How much did you hear?”

“Came in through the back. If you’re talking about whatever is happening in the kitchen, then nothing. If you’re talking about your explanation of whatever is happening in the kitchen, then everything. You two are not observant in any way, shape, or form - I’ve been here for a couple of minutes. I agree, by the way - you should tell Jaemin about it.”

“Tell Jaemin about what?”

Jeno, Donghyuck, and Mark all turn their heads simultaneously to see Jaemin and Renjun walk in, the former balancing the meatloaf on a tray and the latter holding a stack of plates, knives, and forks. Mark, who’s already standing anyways, leans over, grabbing some of the cutlery to ease up Renjun’s load. Jaemin sets the tray down on the floor after kicking aside the tools Jeno’d been using on the radio, and once he straightens up, he looks down at his best friend expectantly.

Jeno meets Jaemin’s gaze, takes note of the annoyance that’s still etched across Renjun’s features, and sighs. He runs a hand down his face before looking up again, this time meeting everyone’s eyes individually. Finally, he asks what he thinks is most important of all before starting on his spiel.

“When are the kids getting here?”

�� ♕ ♕

Chenle and Jisung have to convince their respective parents that, yes, they have in fact completed all of their homework and studied for all their upcoming tests, before they’re allowed to head over to the Lees’ house for dinner. Both boys - the only two still left in high school, both juniors - come over in no time at all, seeing as they live in the houses on either side of Jeno’s.

“Why the fuck are we having family dinner?” Chenle asks, voice booming as he walks in without any prior announcement. Jisung, who’s trailing right behind him, quietly shuts and locks the door.

“Jaemin fucked up,” Renjun says, right at the same time as Mark responds with a “Because I said so.” Jisung and Chenle share a look - each with an eyebrow raised in confusion and mild anticipation - before sitting down, Jisung on the right of Jaemin and Chenle right beside Hyuck. Jaemin immediately ruffles the youngest boy’s hair, pairing it with a ‘You’re doin’ good in school, right? Good with all those books ‘n’ shit?’, to which Jisung, as always, nods while trying to dodge Jaemin’s next loving attack. Out of the seven men and boys currently having dinner in the house, only Mark and Renjun have their high school diplomas.

Jeno was so close to living a different life. He does his best not to think about what could have been. Instead, he starts talking, commanding everyone’s attention in the way only he can.

“We think it’s… time we talked about Doyoung.” Jeno lets the words settle, resting against their skin before seeping into their bones. He sees Chenle visibly shudder, Donghyuck resting a soothing palm against his younger friend’s upper back. Renjun lets out a heavy sigh, and Jisung bites at the inside of his cheek to keep himself from making the sad, choked noise he certainly was about to let out.

Jaemin, for his part, says nothing, only waiting patiently in a way that’s become his signature. Jeno thinks there’s nobody in the world more caring than Jaemin, sometimes, and his best friend never ceases to prove him right.

“Doyoung’s my older brother’s best friend - you remember Taeyong, right? Yeah, he’s Taeyong’s best friend.” Mark explains, looking straight at Jaemin once everyone seems to have recovered from the mild shock. It’s understandable, of course - they never talk about Doyoung. It’s been years, and not once has The Incident come up.

There’s always a time for everything, Jeno supposes.

“Does this have anything to do with why Taeyong’s in jail?” Jaemin’s question is tentative at best, but Jeno can see that he’s just piecing things together in his mind. All six of the other boys nods simultaneously, murmuring affirmative answers as they do.

“About five years ago, Johnny, Taeyong, Doyoung, and, uh… what’s his name? Nakamoto, or whatever, him... The four of them were fucking inseparable, did everything together. Johnny’s parents are known classists and elitists and whatever other -ists exist, but Johnny never seemed to be that way. Doesn’t matter, anyways. Rich kids are all the same in the end.” Donghyuck speaks this time, shedding more light as the story unfolds. The bitterness in his voice is highly evident, but nobody can blame him - they all know what it’s like to be ridiculed, pariahed because of poverty. All seven of them had forsaken the idea of trust ages ago.

“One night, Johnny and Yuta went out and got halfway to blind drunk at some bar they weren’t supposed to be at. Yuta at least went and decided to walk home instead of driving his car back, but Johnny didn’t give a fuck. ‘Course, he hit something almost immediately after getting in the damn thing, but he was too fuckin’ pussy to check and see what had happened.” Renjun tacks on after Donghyuck, adding on the next part of the infamous, unfortunate tale. Chenle is the next to speak.

“He was near a phone booth, so he called Doyoung to come help him. Doyoung and Taeyong both hurried to help their friend, figuring he must’ve gotten hurt, only to find that he’d- he’d…”

“That he’d hit and killed the son of the mayor at the time,” Hyuck finishes, noticing how Chenle hesitates to go on. “Johnny had called the cops right after calling Doyoung, and the pigs got there not a minute or two after my - Mark and my - brother and Doyoung did. They immediately assumed one of them had been driving, and then assumed that the car had been stolen from Johnny rather than being Johnny’s itself. Fucking Suh never clarified, only stood by while his friends got hauled off. They knocked my big brother on Grand Theft Auto. Seven years for a crime he didn’t fucking commit. Still, at least we get to visit him every week.”

“They took in Doyoung in on manslaughter - not even vehicular manslaughter. He pleaded guilty to it because he knew they’d charge Taeyong with it if he didn’t, and Taeyong was looking after the rest of us - Renjun included - at the time. We don’t have any fucking parents, and Doyoung knew it. He’s already done five years, but he’s spending the next decade of his life in a federal super max, and we aren’t allowed to see him. Poor thing - Taeyong ended up getting jailed, too. Doyoung couldn’t’ve have known. Don’t know if he knows now, even.” Jeno finishes the story, voice quivering with rage and the few unshed tears that always accompany his thoughts about the huge miscarriage of justice his family and friends have faced. Taeyong’s room is still the same as it was five years prior, untouched.

“Johnny was a witness in both cases, and he took the stand against them, saying they really did do what the cops said they did,” Jisung finishes, voice soft but emotionally charged. “My mom and Chenle’s mom stepped in as best they could to take care of Mark, Renjun, Jeno, and Hyuck afterwards until Mark got grown, but I just know it isn’t the same as Taeyong.”

“Your moms are angels,” Mark responds, smiling kindly at the two youngest members of their ragtag group. “They saved our lives. Of course, they wouldn’t have had to do so if…”

“If Johnny Suh hadn’t ruined them first.” Jeno completes the thought, Donghyuck and Renjun nodding in agreement. Jaemin says nothing, only looking each of them in the eyes earnestly.

He gets it, Jeno decides. The rest of them must see this as well.

After dinner, when Jeno goes to the bathroom to brush before sleeping, he finds a thoroughly sodden piece of paper stuck to the bottom of the basin. It takes him a moment to realize what it is - the sharpie has bled into one large blob. Jeno smiles to himself before getting to work cleaning it up.

He scrapes your phone number off of his sink with his bare nails and sleeps easier that night than he has in a long while.

♕ ♕ ♕

Day Two: May 26, 1957

Jeno’s always been good with time. It’s a gift, though it’s rare he acknowledges it: being able to more-or-less accurately tell the time without ever looking at a clock is hardly the kind of superpower people dream about.

You leave work at around 3 p.m. - Jeno knows this because he’s out in front of the garage, sat on the hood of Jaemin’s rusty pickup truck nursing a ham sandwich when you walk out of Kim’s, unbuttoning your uniform’s top few buttons as you find your brother’s waiting car. He’s too far away to hear the words you exchange with Johnny, but he watches as you glare into the Chevy for an excruciatingly long amount of time before heaving a sigh and re-buttoning your shirt.

Jeno doesn’t watch as the two of you drive away, but he doesn’t have to. Johnny always drives like he deserves more respect on the road than his car does, and it boils the younger man’s blood more than anything. After all, Jeno’s always been able to count on machines. People? Not so much. Cars respect him, so he respects them.

He finishes the sandwich, immediately replacing it with an unlit cigarette. ‘Oral fixation’, Donghyuck had smirked at him one night ages ago, only to have gotten a shoe thrown at him by Renjun. Jeno can’t say that his cousin is wrong, but he’ll die before he lets Hyuck know that. He thinks back to the morning, when he’d left to come to work. He’d only seen Jaemin and nobody else, and that was just because Jaemin had been his ride.

Speaking of Jaemin- he’d been right: you’re pretty. You’ve always been pretty, but Jeno tries to ignore it. Nobody related to the scum of the Earth Johnny Suh himself can be beautiful both inside and out - he’s never been more sure of anything. Such a thought process might be unfair, sure, but he reckons it’s better that he avoid you altogether rather than get caught up like his family members had. That’s how life goes: you hunt or get hunted.

Jeno will be damned if he ever finds himself being the prey again.

Jess drops by at around 4:15, no necessity behind her visit. They don’t do anything, not this time, though Jeno does have to force himself to stop imagining her lipstick leaving marks in places the sun can’t see, his fingers leaving bruises along her skin. Jaemin raises an eyebrow when he sees them talking, though he doesn’t say anything, only tossing Jess his pack of Camels. It’s only got one cig left in it, so Jeno lights it and puts it to her lips. She blows out a ring of smoke before he takes a drag from it himself, his fourth smoke of the day.

“You should apply for a dealership job or something,” Jess says at around 4:30, and Jeno’s now hyper-aware of her reason for visiting. He scoffs, handing the cigarette back to her for good. It’s suddenly the most unappetizing thing in the world. She notices his expression, but slogs on anyways, hoping that she’ll get through to him. “I’m serious! You’re smart, Jen, real smart. You could do worse than sellin’ cars to crackpots in suits. You’d make more cash, too.”

Her drawl only comes back to her when she’s talking to her childhood friends, and Jeno supposes it’s an unwitting act of classism. They don’t ‘speak good’, as Jaemin would teasingly put it, but they have heart. It’s something that’s hard to find in people who have more money. Jess has grown up like them, yes, but in some ways she’s no longer part of the world Jeno’s forced to live in. It’s a world where he’s got family and friends in jail, where his own brothers - he almost never calls them his cousins, because they’re brothers if he’s ever had any - have to work two jobs just to make sure all of them get by, where their friends have to do the same. Jess has a stable job now - kudos to her - and a rich boyfriend. She’s set for as long as she can hope to be.

She’s okay with doing up the hair of ladies who sit idly and gossip about the ‘filthy poors’ in the south side of town. Jeno can hardly look rich folks in the eyes without gritting his teeth into dust. He’s well aware that they are not the same.

“Why this sudden interest in my career?” Regardless, he only questions her coolly, unwilling to start an argument that won’t find an end any time soon. There’s no telling when a car will come in and Jess will have to leave so the boys can do their work, and, besides, this isn’t a discussion he wants to have. Not with Jess. Not with anyone.

He’d been so, so close to going to college with a full ride. Jeno had dreams once. He’d been a fool to even think of possessing such intangible commodities. He doesn’t have any anymore.

“I just… you’re brainy as hell. It’s a shame seeing you as a grease monkey when you could do more with your life, is all. I mean well, Jen, you know I do.” Her eyes are wide in earnestness, and Jeno can’t help but sigh. It’s not Jess’ fault he’s a realist, that he’s lost opportunities before. Before he can say anything in response, though, probably breaking her heart just a little bit in the process, Jaemin pipes in.

“If I have to drop him off at a dealership everyday in the hunk o’ junk I drive while he’s dressed up in a three-piece suit, I’ll hang myself using a chain of grease rags. Besides,” He chuckles, tilting his head at his best friend. “Who’ll keep my sorry ass company here at the shop?”

A corner of Jeno’s mouth lifts up immediately at the save, and it’s all he can do to shrug and gesture towards his best friend in agreement. Jess rolls her eyes before darting her gaze between the two men, and once she realizes that she really won’t get anywhere with either of them, she only sighs and shakes her head, dropping the idea for good… for now.

“That’s not the only reason you came here.” Jeno states, keeping an eye out for any potential customers. It’s a Sunday, though, so he doubts many people will come by. Church hasn’t been out for long - he knows this for sure because Mark never fails to attend, no matter how heavy his university course load gets and let alone how many hours during the week he’s had to work. He’s the only one currently pursuing a higher education, and Jeno thinks that he might be the only one tenacious enough to do so.

It’s a shame - Jeno’d been real smart in school. So had Hyuck. They both know Mark beats himself up everyday for being the only one of the Lees who’ll get a Bachelor’s, but they both also know that he’s least likely to jeopardize his education. If anyone deserves college, it’s Mark.

“How’d you guess?” Jess draws the mechanic out of his thoughts, and he blinks rapidly before orienting himself back in reality. His smirk returns - Jeno thinks he might use it as a facade too much at this point - and he can only laugh.

“I didn’t - it was a shot in the dark. What’s up?”

Jess opens her mouth to speak, but is cut off by Jaemin, who doesn’t realize she’s about to talk. Jeno’s best friend tosses him the beat up truck’s keys in a perfect arc, throwing him a well-meaning grin while he’s at it.

“We won’t get much work today,” Jaemin states as Jeno catches the keys nimbly. “I’ll walk down to Church today, haven’t been in a while. Might be nice.”

“If you’re gonna go every three months at most, what’s the point of goin’ at all?” Jess asks, only mildly peeved at having been interrupted. Her grin is sunny, though, and Jaemin knows that she’s just teasing. A friend of Jeno’s is a friend of his; the vice versa also tends to ring true.

“Unlike this one over here,” Jaemin jabs a thumb out towards Jeno. “I still believe. That, and I figured I’d walk Mark home. Don’t get to see him too often, y’know?”

“Hey- “ Jeno starts, stopping immediately as Jess waves him off with one hand.

“Don’t mind him, he’s just disillusioned with everything he can’t see. Catholic Church included. Of course, whenever his grandparents are in town, he still pretends.” Jess explains sagely, much to Jaemin’s amusement and Jeno’s disgruntlement. The latter rolls his eyes, raising the hand enclosing the keys in a wave goodbye as Jaemin pushes himself off of the wall he’s leaning against.

“Funny how Mark’s a Protestant and so is Hyuck - kind of, I don’t think he’s super religious at this point - but you’re a Catholic.” Jaemin notes, and Jeno shrugs for the second time in one day.

“Mark & Hyuck’s dad was a Pastor, my dad converted to Catholicism for shits and giggles when he was, like, 15. They might be brothers, but they aren’t the same. I was never the religious disgrace of the family, though,” Jeno notes, a small, sadder smile replacing his grin momentarily. “Not after Taeyong said he’s an atheist. Anyways, Mark’s probably on his way home already, if you leave now you might be able to catch him.”

Jaemin knows better than to press, only nodding, raising an eyebrow for a split second, and turning on his heel before easing himself into a jog. He’s still dressed in his work clothes, and his hair is as shaggy as ever, and Jeno thinks churchgoers might faint upon seeing him. He also knows that Jaemin doesn’t mind.

“Now you,” Jeno looks at Jess once Jaemin is out of sight. “What’s up?”

Jess’ shoulders droop immediately, and for a moment she looks so forlorn that she doesn’t even look like herself. The expression passes as quickly as it had come into view, and Jeno accepts the nonchalant smile she gives him like it’s what she means to project outward.

“John’s been secretive lately.”

She says so much more with her eyes than she does with her mouth. Jeno sighs, tilting his head as he does to survey his friend for a moment. Jess is conflicted, that much is evident, and Jeno doesn’t quite know why. Nevertheless, he’s always made sure to keep his head out of other people’s business. He won’t change now.

“If you’re worried that he’s cheating, why don’t you talk to him about it?” Jeno says it like it’s easy, like Jess isn’t unfaithful to her own boyfriend. His eyes dart out towards the street again - nobody’s coming in for repairs. Jess lets out a huff of air, and Jeno realizes she must think his words are sarcastic rather than as earnest as he’s meant them to be.

“I’m being ridiculous, I know, it’s just- I just… I don’t know. It isn’t even that he’s acting super different, he’s just being more… conspiratorial? With his friends? It’s more of a feeling than anything else, I guess. I must sound fucking insane.” She runs her fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her face even as she casts her eyes towards the ground. She may be trying to reassure herself that she isn’t seeing things, but it’s called a sixth sense for a reason.

“You have good intuition,” Jeno rushes to assure her that she isn’t losing her mind. “I hope you’re wrong, but… maybe you and your boy toy need to have a good talk. From both sides.”

“Yeah,” Jess responds, not knowing what else to say. “Yeah. I just had to say it out loud to someone that wasn’t my reflection, I think. I’ll figure it out. Anyways, I have a couple regulars dropping by at the salon today, so I should probably- ”

“Go to work,” Jeno cuts in, his smile forgiving. Of what, neither of them are sure. “We have all the time in the world to talk. Bye, Jess.”

“Bye, Jen.” Is the response he gets, and then Jess is on her way. The day is silent again, now that Jaemin and Jess are both gone, but Jeno finds that he doesn’t really mind it. It’s not so bad- with no customers, no coworkers, and no friends around, Jeno gets to sit and think.

That’s what he does best.

♕ ♕ ♕

It’s 6:27 in the evening when it happens.

For once in his life, Jeno checks his wristwatch. He isn’t sure why the sudden compulsion to actually know the time overcomes him, but he chalks it up to ‘dying from boredom’ and thinks nothing else of it. After all, the rags won’t clean themselves and the shop’s workbenches are only as neat as their owners. Jeno isn’t the most put together person alive, but he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t mind mess.

So he cleans, even when he’s the only one who’s doing it.

He’s in the midst of organizing his wrenches in size order when a familiar red Bel Air glides into the diner’s parking lot, top down with Johnny Suh’s loud laughter audible even from across the street. The music blaring from his car radio is only almost as loud as he is, and that’s saying something, because Johnny takes up every space he’s ever in. Yuta Nakamoto is beside him like he always is, though he’s more reserved than usual. Jeno does his best not to pay them any heed, but it’s difficult when his own responsibilities are mind-numbingly boring at the moment. He’ll take any entertainment he can get, even if it’s Johnny fucking Suh being the true neighborhood nuisance once again.

Funny how people look at Jeno funny when he walks down streets minding his own business, but they don’t say jackshit about a Suh kid blasting Elvis in public right before dinner time.

But that’s neither here nor there.

Jeno actually manages to finish his tool-sorting and is getting ready to finally, finally pack up when the music stops. Johnny must’ve parked. The burgeoning night is eerily silent, and the young mechanic pauses what he’s doing - making sure he has everything, mostly - because the world seems like it’s holding its breath. Just as he’s about to relax, slump his shoulders, and get back to his own work, he hears it.

Of course he hears it. It’s impossible to miss.

The scream shatters the silence into a million pieces, startling Jeno so hard he almost drops Jaemin’s car keys. He’s rushing out of the garage before he can think, and it’s moments later that he sees none other than Johnny Suh and Yuta Nakamoto rushing out of the diner, stuffing what look like pistols into the waistbands of their jeans. There’s cold, hard cash grasped in each of their hands, and Jeno cannot, for the life of him, comprehend what he’s seeing.

He makes brief eye contact with Johnny Suh, and the recognition in the older’s narrowed eyes freezes Jeno’s blood. There’s no time to ponder this, though - not when Johnny pulls out and rushes away within seconds, his car roaring to life on the town’s streets. Jeno’s just witnessed a robbery - a robbery by one of the richest and most powerful people in the area. Jeno’s just witnessed a robbery, and the criminal himself is aware of this.

As he watches the owner of Kim’s run out, hands on his head in panic and disbelief, all Jeno can think about is how Johnny Suh is going to try to shut him up. Jeno is now the star witness to a criminal act. There’s no way he’ll sleep tonight.

He leaves City Motors with duller eyes than he ever has, his workstation spotless and mind swallowed in darkness.

At least now he knows why Johnny’s been weird towards Jess lately.

♕ ♕ ♕

Jaemin drops Mark off at the Lee household with a parting hug, clasping their hands together in a high five before pulling each other into their chests and clapping each other on the back. Each other. Jaemin might be the ‘newest’ addition to their band of seven, but he doesn’t feel any different from the rest of them. They’re his brothers, and he’ll always have their backs. They’ll always have his.

Mark invites him inside, but Jaemin declines - he’s out of chewing gum, of all things, and he knows the sketchy convenience store by the alley near 7th Street always sells at half price on Sundays. He bids the older man goodbye again, throwing him a lax two-finger salute and a small smirk before turning on his heels and jamming his hands into his jean pockets, a stance that does nothing to help his already awful posture.

He whistles all the way down to the store - Kun’s Konvenience - mostly because he can’t get the tune Hyuck is always humming out of his head, but also because he feels almost truly happy. Sure, his future looks like it’ll lie in the City Motors garage for the rest of his life, and sure, maybe he shouldn’t step foot inside Church - the dirty looks had been telling today - but that doesn’t dampen his mood. The sun is shining, the sky is a brilliant blue. Kun’s is selling gum for cheap, and Jaemin’s in need of it. He rounds the final corner and the short, squat red brick building he’s looking for comes into view.

His hand is closing in on the handle of the store’s front door when another, slightly larger, hand places itself on top of his.

Jaemin barely has time to step back when a fist connects with his jaw. Through his swimming vision, he sees Johnny Suh raise a pistol, and he doesn’t have the time to raise his hands before the butt of the gun collides with the side of his head. The last thing Jaemin remembers before passing out entirely is the ugly, ugly sneer across the older man’s face as he glares down at him.

“Sorry. Blame your meddling friend.” Johnny spits out, placing a well-aimed kick in Jaemin’s side as his finale.

♕ ♕ ♕

It’s 8:32 at night when the landline rings. Mark’s studying and both Donghyuck and Renjun are out at work, so Jeno’s the only one available to pick up the phone. Typically, he’d be wary of doing so - the neighborhood elementary schoolers have only recently discovered the cheap thrills that come with prank calling - but something compels him to hear out whoever’s on the other end.

There’s a crackling noise, and what sound like hushed whispers, and this goes on for so long that Jeno’s about to either yell something about working on homework instead of pranking or just hang up without a word when the other person finally speaks. Jeno sets down the dish he’s washing, pays no mind to the way it clatters into the otherwise-empty sink when Johnny fucking Suh finally opens his damned mouth.

“Caught an eyeful down at City Motors today, didn’t you?” He asks, casually, as if there are no underlying threats hiding beneath his overly honeyed words. As if he isn’t the one who’s committed a crime, as if Jeno’s the one with the gun and the money he never earned. Bile rises almost automatically in the younger man’s throat, but he can’t bring himself to put the phone down anymore. It’s as if he’s stuck.

“What do you want?” Jeno manages to hiss out when the urge to vomit recedes, and the way Johnny chuckles in response sends chills down Jeno’s spine. There’s something sickeningly sinister about the situation they’re caught in, and Jeno knows that he’s unprepared for when the other shoe drops. His mind can’t even work properly, not when there are so many ways for this to go.

“Police will be at your door tomorrow morning, looking to arrest the Kim’s robber. I’ll have given them a helpful tip by then, of course. Wouldn’t be good of me to know who it is and not let the local law enforcement know. Also… left you a present in the alleyway by that one convenience store your kind go to. Think it goes by the name of… Jaemin?”

Jeno’s blood runs cold at the mention of his best friend’s name. Johnny doesn’t stop speaking.

“He was real easy to drag by his feet after I got him in the head, though getting rid of the trail of blood by the store was a little harder. I’m about half sure I left him breathing, but-”

The landline slips out of Jeno’s hand, no active effort made to put it down. Everything suddenly feels as if it’s in slow motion, as if his muscles are made of lead and his tongue is made of sandpaper, but he hears himself calling out for Mark before his own actions register in his mind. He must sound frantic, because he can hear his older cousin practically sprint down the stairs even through the haze his mind is in. Jaemin. Jaemin’s hurt. Jaemin’s bleeding, Jaemin’s in pain.

“What? What the fuck happened- Who was on the phone- Jeno? What happened?” Mark’s voice is panicked enough, rushed enough, to shake Jeno out of his stupor. His anguish moves aside, making way for rightly placed rage as he meets his family member’s eyes. When he speaks, his voice is choked, barely restrained and yet so, so pained.

“We need to go to Kun’s,” Jeno states, swallowing the growing lump in his throat. He can’t cry, not now, not when a clock might be ticking. He hasn’t cried in ages. He can’t cry now. Jaemin needs him. He can’t waste his time crying. “We need to go to Kun’s.” He repeats.

“It’s Jaemin.”

#first #five #tags #don't #work #jeno #jeno smut #jeno fluff #jeno angst #nct dream #nct dream smut #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #jeno scenario #jeno scenarios #jeno x reader #nct jeno x reader

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yanderenightmare · 4 years

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YANDERE ! TODOROKI SHOTO x FEM ! READER

goodiebag WARNINGS: abuse, arson, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, manipulation

FEVER

Her wrists were still a raw and ugly reminder of how he’d tied her up in those days were she still had some will left in her to fight back. Now, as she still amused the thought of resisting, she knew that the act itself were a strange type of prideful gesture that always ultimately defeated the purpose. For every ounce of strength she pushes into fighting him, he’ll only return the favor and make her aware of who there is the strongest, who there is the smartest, who there is the quickest and who there can go the farthest without breaking.

As the boiling hot fingers were replaced by frostbitten ones she gasped, only barely catching herself before recoiling away, her hands latching onto his shoulder, fingernails pushing into firm flesh as she moved further into him instead, resting her forehead against his, wrenching her eyes shut, biting harshly down into her bottom lip with a hiss. He felt her clench around the new set of digits, but it was rather all of her that tensed. The sweat that coated her skin started to drip down her chest, past her nipples that budded with a newfound perkiness, inspired by the shock of near hypothermia.

While kneeling so perfectly in his lap, one of his hands steadying her thigh, something dripped down on his forearm, the one that was playing with her tightness, drawing careful freezing swirls onto that sensitive little haven. He looked up at her through his lashes and the locks of hair that forever covered his eyes, wanting to find her drooling or sweating, but found that the liquid was tears instead. It was strange, he couldn’t imagine what he was doing at the moment was that painful. He pondered while feeling the wetness of her forehead damp his hair, her grasp on his shoulders relenting as she fought to keep the sniffles at bay. She failed. Chewing on her bottom lip even more.

His fingers kept dipping and waving through her folds as carefully as it were careless, feeling like icicles. The contrast between her heated flesh and the cold emitting from his hand causing steam to roll and drip from her, so much so it left her feeling light-headed; feverish. “Am I hurting you?” His voice was so deceptively soft. Seemingly with no ill-intent, yet the shift of his hands told a different story, again skewering her on his achingly hot digits, his cold hand coming to steady her like its partner did before, or else she might just plummet by the climbing fever.

She gasped at the change. “N-no” She choked out, not particularly wanting to strike a battle, having already humored his treasure-hunt, where he chased her around the mansion like a sick game of hide and seek or tag or just plain old predator chasing prey only to play with its food once he caught it, predator skinning its prey of her fur, ripping her clothes to shreds, leaving her in that degrading uncomfortable red and white lingerie set that matched his hair to a narcissistic degree.

“But you’re crying?” He sounded concerned; affectionate. It only increased her quaking, more so than the dangerous suffocating dynamic between her naked vulnerability and him fully clothed, black fine-knitted polo-neck fitting him perfectly, hugging close around his muscles. She wasn’t sure if that was his goal. No, she was definetly sure that was his goal. To make her feel small and exposed and his.

An explanation was needed, she knew he wouldn’t take kindly to her silence. “They’re not from pain…” Her voice was so thin, so meek, so precious as she whimpered when his hands changed again. Icicles replacing molten iron rods yet again, two digits waving and worming inside her, wet warmth turning to dewdrops coating her thighs, dripping onto the expensive fabric of his black pants.

His brows furrowed slightly upon her words, pondering what she could possibly be hinting at. “Are they of pleasure?” His voice, though still so very soft, sounded much too enthusiastic for her liking, something which she felt the need to correct at once.

“Terror...” She’d learned dishonesty would be punished, she only prayed brutal candidness wouldn't prove the same result.

“Terror?” His fingers curled inside her, making her stir to shift, yet his other hand kept her in place to meet the digits pumping in and out of her velvet tender walls. “Of me?” They scissored, making her wince, more tears sprinkled down on the attacking arm, yet he was proud that she didn’t move more, proud with how well she was able to hold on to her composure. “Of what I’m going to do to you?” His thumb, feeling like an ice-cube, pressed into her clit, followed by a moan that had the pooling spit in her mouth hang like silver string from where her lips parted. “Of my quirks?” Starting to rub tight circles with the rough base of his thumb into the tender swollen pearl. She had to throw her head back in order to breathe, strutting her chest forward to be met with Shoto’s cool breath on her warm feverish skin. “Of my love?” His lips captured her stiff nipple before his teeth took ahold of the nib, the action making her roll her hips forward, his fingers reaching deep within her, reaching towards that sweet toe-curling spot. “Of how much you are beginning to enjoy it rather than resent it?” And there it was, that voluntary and encouraging squeeze she made with her hands on his shoulder, his dangerous dominant chromatic eyes being met with her opium cotton-flavored ones.

He hummed through the soft smile displayed on his face, watching her eyes blink like the crushing of waves, her lips falling open as in her absentmindedness she nodded as well, agreeing with his words. She hadn't even noticed just how gone she was, and now there was no more room left to care.

PART ONE

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thexfridax · 3 years

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Wynonna Earp Boss Hopes Syfy Finale Made You Feel 'All the Things' — Plus, Scoop on One Happy Wedding Accident

By Matt Webb Mitovich, tvline.com / April 9 2021, 8:02 PM PDT

The following contains spoilers from the Syfy finale of Wynonna Earp.

After four years of protecting Purgatory with her Peacemaker, Wynonna Earp got to quite literally ride off into the sunset. And she did so while straddling a motorcycle, with Doc Holliday seated behind her.

Mind you, the two almost didn’t wind up together. Following the simply beautiful “WayHaught” wedding, Doc (played by Tim Rozon) was determined to put Purgatory in Charlene’s rear view mirror and get to living life as “just a man,” and Wynonna (Melanie Scrofano) felt compelled to stay put as Purgatory’s protector. But with an empowering nudge from li’l sis Waverly (Dominique Provost-Chalkley), Wynonna caught up to her man and professed her love, after which they decided to travel light, for the first time in a long time, and pay their daughter Alice a visit in MIracles, Montana.

TVLine spoke with series creator Emily Andras about crafting this very fine finale, at least one “happy accident” that wound up stirring many emotions, and more.

TVLINE | The finale has just aired…. What emotions do you hope the fans are feeling at this moment?

Just head-to-toe body warmth, and love, and affection, and wistfulness…. And a little bit of bittersweetness. I feel like joy has to be paired with nostalgia, so I hope they’re feeling all the things. But hopefully not hungover!

TVLINE | At what point over the years did you ever envision Wynonna and Doc riding off into the sunset?

Ahhh! I almost never even let myself envision it, you know? It’s so funny — when you start doing a show, you have all sorts of ideas about what pairings are going to rise to the top, who’s going to end up with whom, and one of the joys of Earp is that so many different things have happened. But those two characters have certainly earned the chance to try to be happy, whatever that means to them. I never knew that I would be allowed to end such a romantic pairing with the woman driving the motorcycle and the guy on the back.

TVLINE | I’m watching that final sequence and it almost feels alien, seeing the two of them head off into what I think of as “the real world.” But I also found that viscerally exciting, to see so much ahead for them.

That’s so lovely, thank you for saying that. I feel like having the world ahead of them and being such an unusual couple, I would love to see what happens next for them. I’m sure there will be lots of crazy sex and crazy arguments and crazy laughter. So, godspeed! Godspeed.

TVLINE | When throwing a season-ending wedding, what is Emily Andras’ marching order? “Above all else, this wedding has to be…”?

It has to honor to all of the characters — and by that, I mean it has to try to find a moment for every special pairing on the show, not just WayHaught. I think it’s important to pay due respect to how far Waverly and Doc have come; she never gave up on him, she always saw a better man in him — and now he gets to be the best man! Nedley (Greg Lawson) and Nicole’s (Kat Barrell) relationship, that paternal/daughter bond is so special, so honoring that was very important.

And at the end of the day, I still think the real love affair of the show is the Earp sisters, so I ended to make sure that that was honored. I really love the parallel with the pilot, where Wynonna came into town against her will and was so hungry to leave but was forced to stay. And now you have Waverly secure enough in how their relationship has evolved, that she knows Wynonna deserves to leave again — because she’ll come back.

More than anything, it was about giving every character a moment of happiness. Even Jeremy (Varun Saranga) becoming deputy chief of Black Badge and maybe finding a new date…. It was all about finding everyone a moment of potential joy, after they’ve gone through so much after four seasons.

TVLINE | Talk about the decision to have empty guest chairs laid out with the names of those who are no longer with us or didn’t make it to the wedding.

That was such a happy accident. We were on-set, it was very much in the middle of the pandemic, and we knew we were going to have a limited number of people for the wedding. But then we put out chairs so you could understand where the aisle was, and they looked really empty. So my incredible director, Paolo Barzman, who also did the pilot, and my art director Trevor Smith, pitched this idea to me. I had sort of joked about, “Wouldn’t it be cool if you had the ghosts of characters past?” In the moment, they said, “What if we hung names on the chairs?” and it was just one of those goosebump moments, like, “That’s brilliant.” So then we have people writing up these cards, rushing them out, and it’s honestly one of my favorite things. Whenever I see that Dolls chair, I just can’t help but feel things.

TVLINE | But Mercedes (Dani Kind), to be clear, is still with us.

She’s just out, like, being her best vampire self. She’s out being an amazing vampire, yeah. I still have that spinoff if you want to help me sell that!

TVLINE | If anything caught me a bit off-guard, it was us getting a song from Rachel (played by Martina Ortiz-Luis).

The thing about Martina is that she is a phenomenal singer. She is the anthem singer for the Toronto Maple Leafs — so she’s quite a star here! — and she was on Pilipinas Got Talent back in the day…. It seemed like a waste to not have someone with such an exceptional voice perform! And what better song to lay over the necessary wedding montage than a WayHaught classic (Fleurie’s “Wildwood”), the song that was playing the first time WayHaught kissed. It’s a bit of an Easter egg for those hardcore WayHaughters!

TVLINE | I don’t think anyone would have ever felt like a “Dark Angel Waverly” detour was missing, if you hadn’t spent time on it the episode prior. Why did you feel it was important to go there during one of the final hours?

The truth of it is that honestly we’ve been balancing the spectre of whether we were going to have a Season 5 or not. When we started breaking Season 4 two years ago, we were looking down the barrel of about 24 episodes, so [when you get half that] you’re like, “What are we going to keep, and what are we going to pitch overboard? What can we live without learning about?” I would argue that this idea of Waverly having a darkness inside of her did have to be highlighted after four seasons. I completely agree that in a perfect world I could have done eight episodes of Dark Angel Waverly, exploring that and seeing it come to pass. But if we ever get more story, I don’t know if Waverly has complete control over that part of herself. I dont think it’s “gone.” If Nicole puts mayo instead of mustard on her sandwich, who knows what’s going to sprout out!

TVLINE | I mean, if only to see what other outfits Dark Waverly has.

As long as she keeps her thigh holster, she’s ready to go.

TVLINE | Looking back at these last few episodes, what are you most proud of?

‘m so proud of this cast. It’s so boring, but God, just to see them grow and thrive and shine…. performing comedy and emotion, seeing their commitment to the show, and the feelings…. It’s just been such a joy to see such an amazing group of people get their due. They really are that wonderful, off-screen as well.

I’m also pretty happy — in this day and age, and despite all the fights the show has been through — that if this is the end, I feel like that’s a pretty nice finale, a pretty good topper on the cake. I feel like the fans will feel like they went on a journey, and they left the characters in an interesting, good place. And look, that’s really rare in TV, to end your story the way you want. How can I be anything but grateful, at the end of the day?

TVLINE | When I was writing my tweet the other morning, I wanted to call it a “very fine finale,” but I worried you’d think I was saying it was only “fine.” But it was a very fine finale!

No, you have to keep me hungry! You get to challenge me, Matt. Listen, I just didn’t want to risk…. I’m the queen of 75 cliffhangers, but I feel like the fans have worked so hard for us, for so many years, that it was more important that they got closure, just in case. But there’s always another demon, there’s always another thing to trigger Dark Angel Waverly. There’s always more story, but at least you have this, no matter what.

TVLINE | And if some network or streamer does ride to the rescue, would there be something that brings Wynonna and Doc back to Purgatory? Or might a Season 5 be without the two of them?

Look, the show is called Wynonna Earp, so you need Wynonna Earp. She’s still the champion, she’s still got the magic gun and the best hair on the show — sorry, everyone else!

There are a couple of unresolved issues. We still have Eve, who we kicked out the the Garden very early in the season, and who can kind of shapeshift; she could take on the appearance of any one of our characters! That would certainly throw a wrench in the works in Purgatory. There are a million different reasons to bring Wynonna back, to help out her sister.

TVLINE | And lastly, was there anything you had to cut or just didn’t have room for, or any returning cast you couldn’t fit in?

Oh, tons. But look, you kind of hit the nail on the head earlier. I’m always striving to be better, and some stuff at the end felt a little rushed, with Dark Angel Waverly. I think if it hadn’t been a pandemic, there would have been more people at that wedding. I would have loved four more episodes to round the bend there. But look, that’s Wynonna Earp, man — perfectly imperfect! So that’s what we did, and what a ride it’s been. The ride of a lifetime for me.

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plus-size-reader · 4 years

Text

Crush

Kurt Wagner x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1734 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Jubilee and Scott set up the reader and Kurt.

——————————————————————————————————

Kurt had a crush.

He tried his hardest to keep it to himself, making sure that no one noticed, but unfortunately for him, Kurt just wasn’t that subtle.

As soon as Jubilee took notice of the way Kurt was eyeing you in that Journeys, she knew that he had a huge crush and she also knew that something had to be done about it.

Kurt was shy, and would never do anything about his feelings for you if it was up to him.

Every one of his friends knew that.

That was part of the reason he was here, in the mall again. Though, to be fair, it wasn’t really of his own fruition.

The four of them; Scott, Jubilee, Jean, and Kurt, had been at the mall a few days ago, mostly out of boredom. There was little to do around here other than mindless shopping or sneaking out to see shows at the park.

There wasn’t much for a bunch of mutant teens to do other than that. However, they had more of a reason to be here today than stifling their unending boredom.

They wanted to introduce you to Kurt, at least before the end of the day.

It wasn’t going to be an easy feat, as most of it had to be done behind their blue friends back, who would surely panic if he found out. Luckily, he showed no sign of concern quite yet.

Instead, he followed behind both Scott and Jubilee who led the pack as usual, heading toward the food court.

That was always their first stop, mostly because Jean refused to listen to Scott complaining about his empty stomach for the next few hours as Jubilee searched for some new knee socks.

It was the one condition she’d put in place for tagging along to these sorts of things. That, and the Professor demanded that she go with them to get away from her studies for a few hours.

If he didn’t, she would have stayed within the walls of the Academy. It was safer there. She couldn’t hurt anyone, and while she would never admit it, by this point, Jean was starting to look forward to spending time with her friends at the mall.

Not that she would have advised something like this if they had asked her first. As someone who didn’t like to be caught off guard, she never would have led Kurt into a trap like they were.

Jubilee and Scott both knew that, of course, but that was why they hadn’t asked her. It would be much better to just let her watch from afar.

Besides, both young mutants had implicit faith in the fact that this whole thing was going to be nothing but good.

They had seen the way Kurt watched you, doing his best to keep it from being obvious, and he didn’t know it, but you did the same. Every six or seven minutes, you would make your rounds asking the group of them if they needed anything.

Maybe it could be explained as you just doing your job but Scott didn’t think so. You always addressed your words at Kurt more than anyone else. Scott was no stranger to a girl with a crush, and he’d know that look anywhere. Frankly, he’d bet anything on the fact that you were into his shy little buddy, all he had to do was prove it.

...And prove it, he would.

“You know guys, I’m not really hungry. Maybe we can skip the food court for a while” Scott started, doing his best to be inconspicuous, though he wasn’t that good of an actor.

He and Jubilee had practiced this a few times last night, going through how they were going to get Kurt a date, and she was quick to pick up the slack.

So quick, in fact, that neither Jean nor Kurt took much notice to how strange they were being.

“That’s okay. I have to get a new set of laces for my boots though, so we better hit the journeys while we’re right here” she interjected, not even batting an eye.

It was a good lie.

Jubilee had several pairs of sneakers and boots that she loved to customize with bright colored laces and charms. As far as excuses went, it couldn’t have been better.

No one spoke for a moment or more as the gaggle of them made their way toward where the Journeys was located. It wasn’t something they even had to think about.

In fact, it was almost like their feet were moving on their own, muscle memory taking over to get them where they wanted to go. Kurt got much more quiet and reserved as they neared that place he knew so well. He thought about it a lot, or at least, he thought about you a lot.

The very idea of you busting around the place, buzzing around like a busy bee made his head spin. You were just trying to help as many people as possible, and were in no means frightening, but he couldn’t make himself speak to you.

It just seemed like something he couldn’t do.

Almost as if the action itself was some sort of sacreligious thing he couldn’t be allowed to do.

Still, as nervous as he was, Kurt couldn’t help but smile when he entered the store. It was sort of dingy, on purpose, and was heaven for teens like Jubilee and Peter.

Kurt himself had just never gotten that into those sorts of things. The sneakers that dressed his feet were the same that he wore every day, that he only replaced when he couldn’t wear them any longer.

“You guys can just wait out here if you want? I shouldn’t be more than a few minutes” Ju informed, eyeing the blue teenager out of the corner of her eye, practically watching him deflate.

He was relieved, of course, that he didn’t have to risk making a fool of himself but he had been looking forward to seeing you.

“Sounds good, we can just wait here” Jean stepped in now, taking a seat on one of the metal benches nearby, leaning up against a large green plant.

She wanted to go to the bookstore and anything else was a distraction from that. All she had to do was wait for everyone else to finish their errands before she could escape there.

“Is that okay Kurt? You didn’t need anything did you?” Scott questioned next, smirking at the taller male, who would have visibly blushed if he could have.

Every one of his friends was making it abundantly clear that they’d found him out, but still, he just shook his head. “No, that’s fine” he assured, his accent leaving his lips cautiously.

...And with that, Jubilee disappeared through the mouth of the store, a giddy skip in her step as she did.

This was what she’d been waiting for.

After all, she didn’t need any new laces after all.

Ju had ventured this way yesterday with Peter, striking up a conversation with you while the grey-haired teen searched for a new pair of white Doc Martens.

She learned about your schedule, and found out that you were just a really cool chick who happened to work in the mall. Then, toward the end of the conversation, she asked if you’d be interested in seeing a movie with her friend.

You were understandably apprehensive at first, but once she explained who it was, you agreed happily.

As it would turn out, Kurt wasn’t the only one with a crush.

You told Jubilee that you didn’t work today, assuming that would throw a wrench in her plans. However, you having the day off only worked in her favor.

That meant you would be able to spend all day with them, and more importantly, Kurt.

So, you agreed to meet in Journeys at this exact time with the prime objective of surprising the young male. Now, all that was left was to put it all into motion.

“Hey, you ready?” she grinned, approaching you with a wide smile on her face. She was beyond excited, and knowing what was coming only made her that much more excited.

All you did was nod, returning the side hug she gave you before following her outside the store, back to where she’d left all her friends waiting.

Scott smiled when he saw the two of you approaching, though Kurt didn’t even notice at first, his attention poised on the He-Man action figure Scott had bought him.

It was meant to be a joke at first, but Kurt actually really liked it. After all, he had only just started watching that show with Peter when it was on.

“Bad news. They didn’t have the laces I wanted, but I picked up something else instead” she started, reaching down to take your hand in her own, presenting you to the group of them in a near awkward way.

Had you not known about this beforehand, it would have been unbearable.

“Kurt, this is Y/N. I think you probably recognize her” Jubilee smiled, somehow even wider than before as she looked between the two of you, watching the magic happen.

She had always been obsessed with those rom-com movies she rented sometimes, and this was her chance to experience one in real life.

Of course she was excited.

“Hello Y/N” he spoke, taking a moment or two to collect himself before doing so. He just wasn’t sure what to say that wouldn’t make you think he was completely out of his mind or something.

“Kurt, why don’t you take Y/N to go see a movie while we finish up here” Scott suggested, sending a wink in Jubilee’s direction as he handed over a few tickets he’d gotten before, to A Never Ending Story.

It wasn’t something he would have ever seen himself, but from the looks of it, it was probably something Kurt would find humor in and you’d already agreed to watch it.

By all accounts, it was perfect, and Kurt wasn’t exactly in a position to refuse so he only took the tickets from his friend and went off with you.

“Mission Accomplished” Ju grinned, high-fiving her best friend happily, and accomplished it was.

By the end of the movie, you and Kurt had another date in the wings.

#kurt wagner #xmen #nightcrawler #kurt wagner x reader #kurt wagner x ps reader #kurt wagner x plus size reader #kurt wagner imagine #xmen x reader #xmen x ps reader #xmen x plus size reader #xmen imagine #nightcrawler x reader #nightcrawler x ps reader #nightcrawler x plus size reader #nightcrawler imagine

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many-gay-magpies · 3 years

Text

@loabivey @honeyseungz @angelhee @ofaffectionate @yixiangs @cherry-riki

so uh. heyyy <3

pt 2 (technically pt 1 because it happens before) of blood bonds is here!! tagging everyone that i tagged for blood bonds (except for kyu </3) bcs why not

i'm not 100% on this, but that's mostly because i've been staring at it for a week, and y'all haven't, so i hope that you'll enjoy it thoroughly more than i do

wc: 1.7k, tw for blood, blood-sucking, death and mentions of death, and vague descriptions of a car crash. same as the last one pretty much, let me know if there's anything i missed!

that being said, have some bloodlust.

It's a scent that stops him in the middle of the street, blaring alarms through every inch of his body—thick and sweet, intoxicating, like the richest chocolates and tenderest meats. For a second, it brings him back to his days in the castle; feasts coating tables upon tables in every decadence he could imagine. He hasn't felt that kind of indulgence in a long time.

Jungwon is immediately aware of his instincts overcoming him; he knows what the smell is, he's smelled it coming off the other boys enough times to be familiar with it. But not this strong. Never this strong.

His head swims. Stars cloud his vision, and yet everything is ten times brighter, more crisp; his senses sharpened, sensitivity heightened. Jungwon battles with himself for a moment, there, on the side of the road, watching the car with the contents of it's driver's seat smelling so delectably like food as it drives by; no, no, don't give in, don't succumb, you've made it so far already, just hold on a little bit longer—but the gut-wrenching hunger inside him is like none he's ever faced before.

It tears at him, the unbearable hunger, the emptiness; twists his insides into knots and makes him double over against the brick wall beside him. He doesn't want to give in, doesn't want to take, doesn't want to hurt—but he's so, so hungry, and it smells so, so good and he just can't take it anymore. It's a kind of longing that burns him from the inside out, and maybe... maybe it wouldn't hurt, to... to give in, just this once.

He's hungry. He needs food. Really, when he thinks about it for long enough, rationalizes it in his mind, that's all there is to it. Lions don't feel bad when they hunt gazelle, do they?

(Something is different here, though. Lions, unlike vampires, will stop. Lack of food will make their body grow cold, their energy sapped until there is nothing left; they grow tired, bodies moving slower and slower, until they breath their last breath. Vampires do not. Vampires will not stop. The hunger depletes them, eats at them, and then when it can eat no more it consumes them completely—writhing black hole taken ghastly, human shape. Death evades them, and so they become death in it's place—emptiness so great it would eat the whole world if it could.)

So, with his resolve melting as his hunger rages, Jungwon presses onward—taking advantage of the scenery's sudden clarity to slink towards the moving car at a truly frightening pace. Plus, it could be... fun, he finds himself thinking; fun, to play around a bit, see how much fear he can truly instill. In the past, Jay and Sunghoon's jokes to Sunoo to "not play with his food" when me mentioned spooking his victims the tiniest bit before feeding had left Jungwon feeling sick to his stomach—but now, the idea doesn't seem so bad.

A voice in Jungwon's head (the more logical Jungwon; the one that isn't starving, the one that's still on the edge of rational) tells him, you're being stupid, as he throws caution to the wind and teleports directly in front of the car. Someone could see you, do you even have any idea what you're doing? But the voice of hunger rises above all others, and Jungwon, smirking at the screech of tires on asphalt as the car skids to a stop in front of him, tells the voice, it's dark out, and we're in an abandoned part of the city; who, really, do you think could see us?

The voice protests, but the drone of Jungwon's hunger drowns it out. He feels cool metal on the palms of his hands, hears the metallic clang of his boots against the car's hood. The trembling of the man inside tinges his nerves with delight.

He raises his finger to his lips in a single gesture, shhh, and wonders if his eyes gleam red.

Thoughts run one by one through his mind, though they are fleeting, like mice; skittering into the darkness as soon as he catches sight of them. He should have listened to the hyungs, he should have been more careful, he shouldn't have waited this long—he knows the consequences of vampires going too long without blood from Sunghoon's stories, how could he have been so stupid?

But it all fades, irrelevant, in face of what sits before him now—food. A meal. Satiation, finally, an end to his hunger. He can feel his conscience slipping away more and more as the moments pass, the little Jungwon in his head letting go of it's logic.

It is with this quieting of the rational voice and sudden booming of the instinctual one that Jungwon teleports himself to the back seat of the man's car. It doesn't take long for him to be noticed—even the lack of his reflection in the rear view mirror cannot disguise the creak of expensive leather and the sigh he lets out.

"Jesus Christ--" the man nearly shouts, car jolting forward as he slams on the breaks. Jungwon doesn't flinch. He turns to look over his shoulder and meets an unblinking vermillion stare. "W-what the hell are you, kid?"

"Go on, guess," he says, brow raised. "I have all night."

Though even as he speaks, Jungwon knows the statement is a lie—he's the closest to the man, the closest to a human he's ever been since turning, no plexiglass or metal barrier between them—the smell of the man's racing heart and pumping blood chokes his senses like smoke, so thick he can barely breath. Jungwon doesn't know how long he'll be able to hold out—but he can feel how the seconds tick by, as if there's a pocket watch embedded in his skull. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Agonizing. Even so, Jungwon delights in the fear, the rabbit-quick pace of the man's heart. Equally as amused as he is overwhelmed, he decides that quickening it a little more won't hurt, and smirks, doing well to lick over his fangs in perfect line with the man's eyesight.

"Shit--" Eyes widen comically, and breath grows shaky with the reckless fumbling at car door handles in an effort to escape, pure, cold fear jolting through bones and bringing goosebumps to unsettled skin. It's useless, though; because all the doors lock, jammed shut, and the most he can do is huddle as close to the door as he can, as far away as possible from the boy with glowing eyes suddenly perched in his passenger seat.

"Surprised?" Jungwon asks with a grin.

The man gulps. "Th-this isn't happening," he mumbles, eyes focussed somewhere off in space, past Jungwon. "This can't be happening to me. This... this is impossible."

"Oh, it's very possible," hums Jungwon. "You'd be surprised to find out how much is." And he smirks wide again. He probably looks like a madman, but he doesn't care. He can taste the man's blood on the air.

"Please, don't kill me," he whispers. "W-whatever it is you want, I'll do it, just-- I don't wanna die. Please."

Any other day, the pleading would have gotten to him—any other day, Jungwon would have cried and screamed and torn at his own skin at the prospect of ever killing anyone, let alone drinking from them. But now, the logical him (the human him, he thinks for a moment) has been tucked into the deepest recesses of his mind, and the sound is like music to his ears.

"H-have mercy," the man stutters quietly.

Jungwon tilts his head. Mercy? a voice in his head whispers. It is a voice he hardly sees himself in, and yet it consumes him completely. There is no mercy. You are only prey.

It's funny how suddenly it hits him—how long he's waited for this, and how he can't stand to wait a second more. Faster than lightning Jungwon blinks on top of the man, pinning him down; the protests (physical as well as verbal) make no difference to him. He searches for a carotid artery with shaking fingers and, once he finds it, sinks his teeth in with a groan.

The car swerves in a panic, and the sound of it crashing into a streetlight is a distant ringing in Jungwon's mind. Everything is muffled, as if he's been thrust underwater, and he might as well have, with the way the smell and taste of blood blooms around him, inside him. He feels himself wanting more, needing more, craving more, the hunger never-ending as he sinks his teeth even further into his victim's neck.

Nothing else matters in that moment, and he knows, now, he knows what the others were talking about—how good it feels to feed when you've starved for so long.

His victim loses consciousness soon after that, but still Jungwon drinks. He can't find it in him to stop—it tastes so, so good and he's still so, so hungry, and it seems his hunger only grows the more he feeds; every bit of blood he drains, the sickness and lethargy drains away with it, leaving a hunger larger than he had known behind. Eyes closed, the world spins around him, and Jungwon can feel himself slowly revitalizing as he drinks, and drinks, and drinks, and drinks.

Jungwon loses track of time the longer he sits there.

The hunger is less ravaging, now, only a low growl in the back of his throat; and soon it peters out entirely. The body under him has grown cold—it's warmth taking new ownership. He feels the stolen blood and pulse humming under his skin.

There is plenty to worry about, he knows—plenty things he should, realistically, care more about than he does. But for the life of him he can't pick out what they are, buried beneath layers of cotton he doesn't care to reach through.

His mind is heavy with fullness, and heavy with sleep, and for the second time that day a little voice in the corner of it urges him to just give in—so he does.

#magpie writes #magpie's writing adventures #enhypen fanfiction #enhaverse fanfiction #enhaverse writing #enhaverse #enha theories #gay yearning #bloodlust

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kaizokuou-ni-naru · 4 years

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The Voyage So Far: Dressrosa (Part One)

east blue (1 | 2) || alabasta (1 | 2) || skypiea || water 7 || enies lobby || thriller bark || paramount war (1 | 2) || fishman island || punk hazard || dressrosa (1 | 2) || whole cake island || wano (1 | 2)

fujitora’s introduction is so memorable. we don’t even know he’s an admiral until a little while after this, but the way he’s introduced makes him both immediately intriguing and tentatively likable, and also shows he’s terrifyingly powerful. similar to wano, dressrosa is a very twisty arc with a lot of hidden identities and things and people that are not what they seem, and fujitora’s introduction establishes that right off the bat.

it’s no secret i really like law, and i think his relationships and dynamics with the strawhats are some of the reasons why. it’s very good. the way he usually interacts with them (read: suffering) contrasts against the very real respect and faith he develops for them, and for luffy in particular. he refuses to call luffy his subordinate, here, even though it would be basically a get-out-of-jail free card when it comes to dealing with fujitora, and it comes up again more than once later in this arc too (though never to the strawhats themselves).

genuinely the tournament subplot is one of my favorite parts of this entire arc, especially because it happens while the action in the rest of dressrosa is mostly still setting up. it’s so fun to watch luffy go completely ham with minimal consequences, especially because we know more or less from the beginning that he’s not really likely to face a challenge from anyone here.

it allows the supporting cast to be built out as a pretty entertaining group in their own right, too, especially bartolomeo and cavendish, and sets up most of the future grand fleet without being too obvious about it.

i may as well say now, because i’m sure i’ll be talking about it a lot: kyros is one of my favorite one piece parents, and his and rebecca’s relationship hits me in the fucking chest. i’m consistently upset that they got so much stolen from them, and very very glad that they got the happy ending they dearly deserved.

i really like rebecca. and i like her story, too. i know there are people who want her to be more of a fighter, more violent, but i think that’s missing the point. rebecca is someone who has been victimized and commodified and put on display to die in front of a country that hates her again and again and again, and she still stays gentle and good, and i think that makes her one of the strongest characters in this arc.

obviously in isolation ‘damsel in distress’ is not really a good trope (and i’ve complained about it before with regards to tashigi in punk hazard), but i also don’t think it’s really at play here. rebecca is someone who deserves to finally lay down her sword and rest and be happy and safe, and her father deserves the chance to give her the protection he hasn’t been able to.

i really like when oda does things like this with paneling, i think it’s tremendously cool. there’s some similar examples with law’s powers in this arc and punk hazard as well, and it’s cool as hell every time.

this is one of my favorite panels in all of dressrosa.

kyros has a line a lot later on about ‘restoring the true dressrosa,’ and that’s what this scene makes me think of. this is the true dressrosa- the broken and forgotten and lost, down in the darkness beneath the city. and no matter what he may think of himself, riku is still their king.

this panel also reminds me of the similar scene in udon in wano, where the prisoners kneel before momonosuke. which is, incidentally, another favorite of mine. i really like whenever one piece deals in themes of loyalty, i feel like it always hits very hard.

[spoilers for recent wano chapters]

i think some parts of dressrosa line up very nicely with the recent reveal in wano that law’s new goal is uncovering the mystery of the will of d. it’s something that feels very natural and fitting for him, and i think this is one of the reasons why.

of the Ds we’ve seen, law is the only one who’s been really shown to be actively aware of the name and the weight it holds (and thus, the only one to bother to keep it secret), and he even weaponizes it against doflamingo throughout dressrosa in order to throw him off balance, and succeeds. it feels like a very natural progression from that awareness to trying to understand its mystery, at least to me.

barto is a great character because he’s introduced as being a completely unlikable shithead, and like, that’s not inaccurate, he totally is, but he also somehow winds up being likable anyways. part of that is his idolization of the strawhats (because, let’s be real, all of us can relate), but part of it is also that he’s kind of honorable in his own way, and i think him saving bellamy from dellinger despite having no stake in the situation just because they fought together is probably the best example of that.

i really like how the sabo reveal is handled. all the focus is placed on luffy and his reaction, and then we get our actual introduction to sabo as an adult slowly over the course of the next few chapters in how he acts and interacts with other characters throughout the tournament, culminating in his proper introduction after it’s over.

the actual explanation of what happened to him, how he survived and the entirety of his reunion with luffy is saved for the end of the arc, and i think it’s good that it happens there, in a quiet time after the dust is settled, rather than being smacked in the middle of the rising action.

of all the many many devil fruits that have appeared in one piece, i think sugar’s is the scariest, and also one of the ones i’ve probably thought the most about, if only in terms of its sheer inherent horror. the moment her spell is broken is, in my opinion, one of the most satisfying in the entire story. doflamingo’s hold over the entire country snaps, just like that.

the entire sequence of dressrosa’s great panic is one of my favorites in the whole series. i’m a really big fan of moments where the tides are all at once turned, and this is so very much one of those- sugar is knocked out; all the toys revert to human all at once, including kyros, who promptly decapitates (unfortunately not the real) doflamingo; sabo wins the tournament, eats the mera mera no mi, and obliterates the colosseum; and usopp becomes god.

it’s really really good.

even though this is a fake doflamingo it is very satisfying to see him get wrecked, and even though i love the outcome of the luffy and law versus mingo and trebol fight i do think kyros deserved to decapitate the real thing also.

usopp’s role and development in dressrosa is really great. it’s the most focus he’s gotten since water seven/enies lobby, and it comes at a time right when he’d been in the background for a rather long time. in dressrosa, he gets to be a proper hero- he indisputably saves the entire day not once but twice, and even doflamingo recognizes him as by far the biggest wrench in his plans- and more importantly, he gets to do it for the first time as himself, instead of having to hide behind a mask, as he did at both thriller bark and enies lobby.

the way a lot of the fight panels with doflamingo specifically are drawn is very cool, i think. there’s a real sense of speed and danger to a lot of them, which makes sense, as doflamingo is a very dangerous opponent fully capable of slicing off limbs and heads with ease if his enemies make a wrong move, something both the characters and the audience are fully aware of by this point.

to be continued in the next post with the rest of dressrosa!

#the voyage so far #one piece #opmeta #arc: dressrosa #long post #not japanese

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princeoftheroses · 3 years

Note

Since you want asks, PLSSSE I want your Utena TH0ughts. WHAT is your favourite black rose episode? actually how do you feel about the black rose arc in GENERAL

black rose arc, black rose arc, oh black rose arc!!! by you adding how do i feel about the arc in general you are unleashed me to make a long post giving my very disorganized thoughts about this arc.

a couple of people call it a filler arc? i guess technically it is because it does not directly contribute to the main storyline and it wasn't in the manga and also the ending of the arc sort of makes it so the whole arc kind of didn't happen???

but also i think if a person labeled it as a filler arc they are kind of missing the point?? even if it doesn't contribute to the main plot (which it absolutely DOES but i'll get to that) it adds so much nuance to the characters of utena.

you get to see side characters and how they tick!! some of which like kozue and shiori become very important later as they become miki and ruka's rose brides in the akio arc! (side note : what was up with ruka he just kind of showed up and disappeared lmaooo)

also, it adds to akio! (tw warning for only the next paragraph, i'm talking about akio so you can except me talking about grooming and abuse)

not only is this where akio is introduced, but he is always so omnipresent. it was ... honestly really terrifying to see how chill he acts with utena here. of course the real grooming begins in the akio arc but you can see how he starts here. how he kind of builds himself as anthy's cool older brother that utena can trust and ask for advice for... but we the audience know that he CANNOT be trusted as even know we see him being shady af in the background. i really feel like if we skipped straight from the first arc to akio arc a lot of the creepiness of akio would not have been realized because of ... just how NORMAL he akio acts to utena. he's charming, he's smart, and he overall is somebody utena SHOULD be able to trust bc we should all be able to trust an immediate family member of a best friend , but of course the world doesn't really work that way. anyway akio tangent over because BOOOOOO akio (he honestly terrifies me so much because of how many predators like that exist and you can meet without realizing their intentions)

BACK TO BLACK ROSE ARC

one of the main reasons i feel like this isn't a filler arc, at least not in the traditional sense of the phrase, is because it builds a lot character relationships. something that i didn't like when i first watched revolutionary girl utena but now is one of my FAVORITE things is that for a while we don't really get a straight forward utena/anthy episode. because their relationship doesn't need to build in an episode, it just slowly builds over time. we just see these two causally existing and they just start to trust each other.

in the akio arc we get to see just how close utena/anthy have gotten over the series because of their late night conversations. like how if the black rose arc didn't exist akio wouldn't have been as impactful, if the black rose arc didn't exist it would feel more sudden how close utena/anthy have grown imo.

this arc adds a lot to the world as well. as long as the students stay inside of school they will not grow. dead people wander the halls thinking that they are still alive. these two facts contribute a lot to utena theorizing and analysis (mainly, the ideas that ohtori exists within a plain of frozen time literally because of anthy's magic and metaphorically because the cast is very cozy in their coffin) and i could not thank this arc for that enough. not only are these very cool ideas that may or may not have inspired elements in my own story (i can neither confirm or deny that one of my oc story is heavily inspired by utena) but they just add so many layers!

this arc also felt necessary because of the new duelists??? if we went straight from the first arc to the akio arc then it would've kinda gotten very tiring to see the student council constantly duel and lose to utena (with the exception of touga's sole victory to utena in the first arc before she duels him again and wins) but these new duelists possessed by the black rose are very interesting!

if i did have to make a compliant about this arc, though, i will say that at times the stories felt very disconnected to each other. while it was very funny for utena to not even know who keiko was when she dueled her, it would've been nice if sometimes the arc of the black rose duelist intertwined more with utena. as the arc goes on, the student council is on alert and is trying to figure out where the black rose is coming from, but they never really try to ask utena about it and utena never really tries to get involved? she just is chill until she gets the note to go to the duel arena to fight the black rose duelist. i don't really have a solution on how to fix this? maybe have the student council member that the black rose duelist takes the sword from be more involved? idk.

the villain of this arc mikage also really fascinates me??? i... really like him??? but not even as a villain ... i just really pity him. the realization he has in his duel with utena that everything he has been doing is for nothing because mamiya is already dead .. that always really hit me? the horror in his voice when he starts to recall the truth in his false memories.... for some reason, this is one of the most terrifying parts of the show for me. the realization that something you were doing, something you were doing that might've been awful but you were doing it because of somebody you care about deeply and love, it was all for nought. how much time he has wasted...

even before his duel with utena, there's this moment when after he got punched by utena he says something like "if she hadn't seen my duelist ring and challenged me to a duel, she could've killed me" or something like that, he's just so pathetic and i feel very bad for him but at the same time am too disconnected to him to truly feel empathy for him... that's some TOP TIER shit

overall, this part of the show is one of my favorites. the only part i like more is the last few episodes because it makes me very emotional.

NOW FOR THE SPECIFICS

favorite black rose duelist: honestly? wakaba. the girl deserves it this is stress relief for her. not only is this duel very emotional as i don't think we've ever seen utena refuse to duel somebody (at least not in the way that she does in this episode) but just the SHEER emotion.

i'm a real sucker for fighting the person you care about the most which is why the dark signer arc in yugioh 5ds is the best yugioh arc and this just really takes the cake in this arc. utena always shows concern for the black rose duelist because they are clearly people in pain who were not able to properly duel with their grief which let mikage manipulate them, but it's taken to a new level here.

the way that after the duel is completed, wakaba comes home to her empty dorm where saionji used to be but now isn't always gets me. she's just such a lonely girl and that's never really resolved for her. a lot of the other duelists have a optimist note to end on (kozue asking miki for a milkshake, shiori and juri saying hello to each other as they walk past, keiko being friends with nanami again, etc.) which is why the fact that wakaba is more alone now then she is ever... it is a feeling i can relate to an almost embarrassing amount.

favorite episode: COWBELL OF HAPPINESS, NANAMI TURNS INTO A COW-

ANTHY YOU GLORIOUS TROLL-

favorite episode that isn't cowbell of happiness: i'm very torn between the landscape scaped by kozue and thorns of death. shiori and kozue are both very interesting characters that i like a lot. but i'm going to go with thorns of death for now, as while i really like the landscape scaped by kozue, i think my preferred miki/kozue episode is their episode in the akio arc. meanwhile i like thorns of death way more than i liked whispers in the arc (mostly because i just do not really care that much for ruka, but azure paler than the sky was a banger and he was in that?) i just loved the feeling of seeing shiori the girl juri loves so much and juri's reaction to seeing her. the way my heart was wrenched when black rose shiori mocks juri... it really did hit different. but the hopeful ending did make me feel a lot better. i do like the way that juri out of all the student council members is the one closest to self actualization and this really sets that up even if there is still a bumpy road until then.

honorary mention: the boys of the black rose and kanae as a black rose duelist are both really great. i feel like if this wasn't the arc opener it would've had more room to stretch its legs and show how horrific it could've been. kanae is a girl i feel really bad about and similar to wakaba, i don't really think her episode was a very optimistic ending for her especially since akio probably killed her later in the show?

honestly the minute akip appeared on screen, engaged to a girl who HASN'T EVEN GRADUATED and is also emotionally manipulating her so much and having his little sister manipulate her too... throw the whole man away

tl;dr - the black rose arc is very good and i like it a lot, the ending of the arc really fucks me up, somebody give mikage & all the black rose duelists therapy, throw akio in the garbage, and this show probably exists in some sort of time loop / frozen time space as a metaphor for the whole coffin thing but you can probbaly find people smarter than me talking about that.

oh and go rewatch cowbell of happiness it's great

#this is what i do at 4 am #i started writing this at like 3 45 am and it is now 4 25 am :)#worth it #hope you like my shitty analysis and thoughts !!! i enjoyed writing it thoruugly #revolutionary girl utena #asks

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mooswords · 4 years

Text

More than enough

Pairing: semi eita x reader

Word count: 3.4k

Tags: musican au, fluff + soft-angst? its a happy ending i promise

Ramblings: this was going to be something short based around the masterpiece that is sk8er boi but it very quickly got out of hand rip ✌️

---

"You're just not what we were looking for."

"I understand, thank you for your time."

"I'm sorry, but I don't think you'd fit in with us."

"I understand, thank you for your time."

"You're obviously talented, we're just not looking for an artist like you right now."

"I understand, thank you for your time."

“Look, you don’t quite fit our brand.”

The worst part is that rejection doesn’t even sting anymore. It's always the same story - they love his music, but not him.

Semi has never been one to shape himself to the expectations of others. He had refused to march in time at Shiratorizawa and it cost him his place in the starting line up. But he had thought, maybe somewhat naively, that with his music he could be both someone he was proud of and someone they’d want to hire.

Apparently not.

“I understand, thank-”

“Um… I think he’d be a great fit.”

Your voice is firm but you're obviously nervous, barely able to meet the eye of the producer as she swings around to you, unimpressed.

"I just…" you wet your lips, try again, "He's something different, and that's really cool. Of course, there'd have to be some changes but-" you dart a look at him- "maybe we should give him a chance."

"Oh, is that so?" your boss scoffs. "You want me to sign him because you think that he maybe deserves a chance?"

Semi takes a proper look at you - shaking hands clutched around the tablet in your lap, earnestness written all over your face - perhaps the first person in this unforgiving industry to show any sort of support for him. Not exactly the influential executive he'd been hoping for, but hey, it's nice to be acknowledged once in a while.

You suck in a breath, your posture straightening. "I know he's good enough. It would be our loss to turn him away."

And Semi is flattered. Honestly, he is. But this is a well-trodden path for him, and right now, he'd rather leave this too-clean office, get back into his beat-up car that still smells like the soft drink Tendou spilt last week and just go home. Feel sorry for himself before facing the arduous process of picking up the scattered pieces of his pride yet again.

The producer shakes her head. “You know the types of artists the label is looking for, and it's not him."

"But he could be! Please, I-” you stand abruptly. “I‘ll take full responsibility. Give me… a month. I’ll put together a demo and figure out a brand for him. I can make this work, and we both know he’s got real talent."

Semi is flicking between the two of you. He's not quite sure if he's on board with what's happening, but the producer looks like she's actually considering it, and this is the first time he's had any sort of a chance.

"OK,” she relents. “ OK, I will give you a month.”

His eyes dart to yours because, to be honest, he didn’t think-

“But.” The producer eyes him, then you. “If he is not good enough in a month, both of you are out of here. Got it?"

You share a look, a mutual recognition of how much is riding on this.

"Got it."

You properly introduce yourself the next morning in one of the spacious studios, passing him a takeaway cup of coffee and a to-do list that stretches on forever.

"So, you're going to need to write a song - obviously,” you start briskly. “But first, I need to know what size clothes you wear, what instruments you play and if you can dance. You're also going to need to stop cutting your hair. I can-"

"Sorry, you want me to what?"

"Stop cutting your hair, keep up."

"What's wrong with my hair!?"

Your eyes lazily flick over him. He hopes he hasn't gone as red as he feels. "It’s fine, it’s just going to look better when it’s longer."

"How do you know what I’ll look like with long hair?" Semi splutters.

You grin at him from under your lashes, a new relaxed confidence to your moves today. "It's my job. Anyway, back to the important things-"

By the time said important things have been covered, Semi's head is a jumbled mess. He desperately needs more caffeine. You go to continue, but one look at him has you pulling an apologetic face.

"I know it seems like a lot, but you're going to do great. Is there anything you wanted me to clarify? Before we keep going?”

A million questions are ricocheting around his head, but the one that slips out is "Why are you helping me?"

Your gaze drops. “To be honest, it’s as much for you as it is for me.” Looking a touch embarrassed, you shrug. “This could be the break I need to finally move on from just being an assistant. But your music is good. Really good, and... look, you aren’t an artist the label would normally sign, but you have this… energy I think the world will love, and I wanted to be a part of that I guess.”

There’s resolve in your eyes, even as your fingers twist together. You exude a brand of hopeful passion; a joy that dulled for him long ago, a sacrifice that had to be made just so he could survive the setbacks. He hadn't dared let himself hope that this strange opportunity could lead anywhere, but maybe the two of you could make this work.

“Well, when you say it like that…” Semi grins when you meet his gaze. He can already feel the excitement building again in his chest. He’s missed it, he thinks wistfully.

“Let’s do this.”

A month has never felt shorter, and he's not sure if either of you slept more than a few hours at once. He has learnt a lot though - how to use the enormous mixing board in the studio, that he apparently looks very good in red, the value of networking and connections in this fickle industry.

(He’d also learnt how you look curled up on his sofa, about your deep-set fondness for fantasy movies and the way you hum to yourself when you’re deep in thought, but he’s trying not to think about that.)

The producer is quiet, her head nodding along softly to the beat filtering through the headphones. She’s leafing through the outlines and photos the two of you had poured your everything into. Those few pages have to be enough. You had said he was good enough and he desperately needs you to be right, because if you aren’t-

“I’m impressed.” Your boss’ voice is begrudging as she pulls the headphones from her ears, “This is better than I was expecting.”

Maybe he's enough.

He's fighting the urge to grab your hand because you look like you're going to faint, and he might not be far behind you.

"Thank you."

Your voice is shaky, hopeful.

Maybe-

“But it’s not enough.”

It's gut-wrenching. It hasn’t stung like this in so long the pain is almost foreign; this feeling of rejection, this weight in his stomach pulling him back down to square one. And as the abject confusion on your face gives way to incredulous anger, he thinks maybe the worst part is that it’s not just him being rejected this time.

“What do you mean it’s not enough? We-”

“-are not good enough,” the producer cuts in, matter-of-fact and unruffled. “For a month’s worth of work, it isn’t bad. It’s just that I’m still not convinced that he can be everything you say he is.”

Semi grabs at your arm as you lunge forward. He sends you a sad smile when you spin to face him. “It’s ok. I always knew this wa-”

"No.” Your eyes are ablaze. He can remember that feeling - back when rejection felt like sheer fury and not a resigned numbness. “No, that song- you are good and we all know it. You deserve a place here, she-” you jab a finger at the woman still seated behind the desk, “just can’t see your worth.”

Warmth curls around his heart. He’s going to miss your spitfire passion. “Seriously, it’s OK. Thank you though. For believing in me."

He faces the producer. “I… I hope you would consider keeping your assistant on.” He can hear your head snap towards him, “You said you were impressed with her work, and I saw more than anyone how much effort she put into this. She deserves recognition for it... yeah. Thank you for your time.”

He moves for the door, trying not to think about how empty his apartment will be without your papers and coffee cups strewn about. There is a small consolation in that you might get something from all this, but still. He'd really thought that-

“I quit.”

"What?" Both Semi and the producer whirl to look at you.

You blink up at your former boss. “I quit.” It’s firmer this time, but your hand trembles as you tug on his arm. “C'mon Semi, let's go.”

"Wha- no!" He splutters, even as you march out towards the elevators. He pulls you into a hallway, stares down at you in confusion and horror.

"This is your chance! Why would you… don't just throw it away like this. Not for me."

You look dazed. "I’m done. I’ve worked here for years now, and let's be real, I was never going to get anywhere with her anyway. Besides,” you grin up at him. There’s no trace of regret on your face, and the gleam in your eye has the beginnings of a new melody itching at the back of his mind. “We are going to prove her wrong. You are more than enough Semi Eita.”

You pull away from him, gleefully calling race you to the elevator! over your shoulder. He gives chase, purposely bumping into you, laughing as you slide over the polished floor. And looking at your flushed face and breathless smile as the elevator doors close, he thinks maybe square one might not be so bad with you down here next to him.

"We aren't looking to take on an artist like you right now."

He writes more songs. You write more emails.

The lights are dim in the small, dingy studio, and honestly, it feels like the two of you have been here forever. You're trying to remember if that coffee place down the road still does 24-hour delivery as Semi groans from under the arm flung over his face, legs heavy across your lap. You poke him in the stomach and he peers out at you, pouting.

“Hey have some respect please, I’m moping.”

“Oh, terribly sorry, I couldn’t tell from the whining and general lack of writing.”

He pokes his tongue out and pulls a face at you. “Shuddup, writing songs is hard.”

“Mmm, not like it’s your job or anything.”

His pout intensifies and you force yourself to suppress the smile threatening the corners of your mouth, ducking as he throws the pen hanging loosely from his hand at you.

“You’re the worst.”

You allow yourself to grin at him this time. “Maybe, but we only paid to have this studio for another" you check your phone, "three hours and then we’re going to get kicked out, so you need to come up with something."

He finally lifts his head, and it really should be illegal - this deadly combination of finger-raked hair, bleary eyes and rumpled shirt. You poke him in the stomach again.

“Fine! Fine, gimme my pen back.” You scrabble around for it and strictly don’t think about the warmth of his fingers over yours as he takes it. Pulling his legs off your lap, he theatrically flicks to a page in his notebook resting on the battered table and begins writing.

“My manager… sucks…”

“Hey!”

“Because… she is… really... mean...”

“Noooo, give me that!” You lunge for the notebook, but he pulls it out of reach and smirks down at you.

“Oh, so now you’re interested in helping me write this song? I see how it is.”

It’s your turn to pout, still flailing for the notebook until you meet his eyes and oh he’s really close. There’s a fleeting moment where neither of you does anything, frozen. You swallow, watching his eyes dart down. You've been here before - not here exactly, but here, in these moments of breathless potential.

(And maybe you're a coward for not doing anything because there have always been hints, little notations he leaves scattered across the score of your partnership. You've always been the second line, the bass to his treble, but a duet only works when both lines move together - you don't want to be the one who falls out of beat.)

You pull yourself away, moving to clear away the takeout containers and throw what you hope is an unaffected smile over your shoulder.

“Come on Semi, it’s just one more song. You got this. You always write about things that mean a lot to you. Just… think of that one thing you really want to share with the world.”

He chuckles, a breathy thing that curls around the room.

“Trying to get me to spill all my secrets, huh?”

You commit this image of him to memory - the fondness in his eyes, here in this tiny studio at who knows what hour of the morning.

"Something like that."

“You just aren’t right for us.”

He buys the coffee this time. You promise to pay next time.

He walks into the third record label this week. You wait hopefully outside.

It's always the same result, but you still wait for him every time. And every time he shakes his head your heart breaks a little more, another rejection to add to the pile. But he's always been a fighter, and you were never a quitter. So every time, you pull each other off the ground, dust yourself off and try again.

It's drizzly outside today. You wait, standing under the meagre protection of an umbrella.

He walks out and you brace for the inevitable fall.

But when he looks up your heart skips a beat because he's smiling, and you're half disbelieving when he nods and then you're flying into the rain and throwing yourself into his arms as he laughs.

(And you can't meld words and melodies the way he can, but you think you could write songs about that sound forever.)

"You did it!" you squeal, and his grin is pure joy as he spins you in a circle.

"No, we did it."

You're always backstage before a concert, so the looks you've been getting all afternoon from the crew are odd. You have half a mind to ask Semi about it, but in the mayhem of a lost guitar and last-minute phone calls, the only time you see him is just before he runs onto stage.

Slipping your arms around him, you squeeze what encouragement you can into the brief hug. He considers you with that half-smile you have come to adore so much before he swoops down, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You catch his make sure you listen to the last song over the noise of the crowd before he dashes off.

Maybe he… no, don’t be ridiculous. You scoff at the fantasy, try to push away the hope building in your chest.

Why were you nervous? You weren’t even on stage. Yet your heart is insisting on recounting every cheesy movie you've ever seen, and it doesn’t help that you watched one with him last night, and it really doesn’t help that all you can think about is how you woke up this morning with the weight of his head on your shoulder.

Your head and heart battle the entire show, fear and anticipation blurring together in-

"Alright! I have a bit of a surprise for everyone tonight." Semi grins, sharp and full of adrenalin. The crowd screams. You barely manage to pull the drumming of your heart back into line.

"This is a new song I wrote at… some ridiculous hour of the morning. I was told to write about the thing I most wanted to tell the world and I, uhh… well, it's for someone special, but I wanted to share it with you guys too."

He starts to play, but the opening chords are… new?

Semi has a habit of lounging in your office in the late afternoon, feeling out harmonies and half-realized lyrics as you work. You often hear strains of those afternoon experiments appear months later in his albums, but these chords are different. There's a major progression mixed in with the bass line that isn't quite his usual style; a little sweeter perhaps. And then he starts to sing, voice husky from the long show. The lyrics are quintessential Semi - simple, nothing incredibly poetic, but nonetheless heartfelt and genuine.

It takes until the end of the second chorus for you to let yourself believe what he's saying.

You hadn't heard Semi sing a love song quite like this before, and it is doing funny things to your chest. Because you can hear the smile in his tone, and he's singing about late nights and spinning in the rain and fantasy movies and... maybe this song is for you. Maybe you hadn't read the music wrong, maybe he-

You cut that thought off. Pressing your lips together, you force yourself to slip away as the final note is overtaken by yells and applause.

(You may have been bold enough to stake your entire career on a maybe, but him? You can't risk losing him to a maybe.)

He finds you in the goldilocks studio. You had dubbed it that not long after he had signed with the new label - not too big, not too small. He had rolled his eyes when you first suggested it, but the name had stuck.

"I thought you might be in here."

"Oh, hey." You force yourself to meet his eye. "Nice job tonight. I’ve never heard a crowd so vocal."

He still looks every part the performer - hair wild beyond belief, stage make-up smudged - and technically, you're still on the clock. But right now, here in the soft haze of the studio lights, he’s just a boy and you're just a girl.

He chuckles, "Yeah, I’m glad they liked the new song, though…” he trails off, “I really only care about one person’s opinion of that song.”

There's hopeful apprehension in every line of his body.

"Semi…"

You brace for the fall.

"Semi, who was… was that song for me?”

“I didn't think I could make it any more obvious," he huffs, hand tucked up behind his neck. “I mean if you didn't like it that's fine. I just couldn't think of a good way to tell you, but that night when you said to write about what I wanted to say it… all came out I guess. And you don’t have to-”

You kiss him. It’s quick, barely a few seconds before you pull away. You’re perhaps just as surprised as he is, wide-eyed and flustered.

His face breaks into a disbelieving smile. "Yeah?"

Your lips quirk up of their own accord. “Yeah.”

He stares for a beat before reaching for you, one hand coming up to cup your cheek. You meet him in the middle and slip your arms around his neck, feeling his smile widen when he kisses you, feeling your heart skip a beat and fall into rhythm with his.

“I do have… one question though…” he asks, hushed as he pulls back.

“Mmm?” you hum, distracted with his nose still brushing yours.

“How did you not realise the song is about you? I mean-” gleeful mischief fills his voice and you groan, flopping backwards out of his arms, "-come on, I basically said everything but your name."

"I didn't want to assume, OK?" you whine, pulling yourself back up to face him. The glare you send him lacks heat, and he just chuckles, shifting closer again.

“I’ll make it clearer for you in the next one then.”

“The next one huh?” The playful fondness in your tone overwhelms him. He can feel the pink flush across his cheeks, warmer than any rush the stage could give him.

“Yeah, I mean… I’ve already got more songs about you, but I think I might have some new inspiration now.”

“Oh, is that so?” you question, smile somehow widening.

Lyrics are easy, real words are harder. He doesn’t know how to explain that his brain has been writing stanzas about you since you met, but he can’t quite pinpoint when his heart took over.

He settles on “yep” and kisses you again.

It's unhurried, unconcerned. There's no more maybes, no more doubts. It's just you, and him, and the grounding certainty the two of you are more than enough.

#semi x reader #semi eita x reader #haikyuu x reader #peep the lyrics i forcibly shoved into this fic #because i have absolutely no chill heheh

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mommymooze · 4 years

Text

Anxious Restraint

Sylvain x reader

Warning: war, death, destruction, sad families, blood, injuries

Its a beautiful day during Great Tree Moon. Your nose is filled with the mixed scents of the flowers that are blooming everywhere, their petals catch in the winds and scatter across the cobblestones. You are strolling quietly through the pathways of the school having just left one of your classes and heading to your next when you are suddenly joined by a fellow student, interrupting your thoughts about the upcoming battle.

Apparently, you have caught the eye of the school’s skirt-chaser, the notorious Sylvain Gautier. “Hey beautiful, how are you doing today?” He smoothly slithers up to your side, brushing his elbow up against yours.

“I’m fine, Sylvain” you respond listlessly, wishing this conversation was already over.

With his ‘every girl wants a piece of a guy who smiles like this’ look plastered on his face, he continues, “Want to grab some dinner with me today? Such a beautiful day would be even better if we shared a little time together, eh?”

Eyes straight ahead, you keep walking as if he’s not even there. “No thanks, I have to work on my magic and I was going to practice after grabbing a bite in the dining hall.”

“What about tomorrow?” He pushes.

“Tomorrow I have a test.” You just want him to stop. Mother taught you not to be rude, but he is testing every bit of your patience.

“And the next day?” He sounds desperate.

“Working with Felix on my sword skills. And improving my Pegasus riding so I can be a dark flier. I really have to get going.” Your voice getting louder as you run at top speed to anywhere before you lose your temper.

Sylvain is left in the dust, again. You’re in the same class as he is. You haven’t known him long, but Ingrid fills you in on his life history of philandering. Classes keep everyone busy. You have to study fairly hard, but you are rewarded with great grades. Sylvain is smart, but doesn’t apply himself, he tells you he shouldn’t have to bother to be the best because no matter what, his dad’s just going to make him take his place someday. Seems like every time you see him he has a different girl hanging off his arm. He still asks you out once or twice a month. More out of a force of habit than anything else.

Time flies by with unusual problems happening quite frequently at the monastery. The Church sends the students out to fight their battles for them on a regular basis. Classes are taught, battles are won, then suddenly war is declared. The battle of Garreg Mach leaves everyone numb. You head home to find it is gone, the whole village burnt to the ground. Everyone you knew is gone, you’re unsure as to who lived and who died. You become part of a mercenary group, continuing to fight and develop your skills and battle techniques. Your group will take any job that will take down Empire soldiers or people allied with them. Yuri hires your group a few times. Most of your jobs are in the Kingdom and Alliance territories.

Five years pass and you find yourself back at Garreg Mach, wondering if your friends will be there for the reunion planned so long ago. You are completely shocked when Byleth appears, fighting alongside a battleworn and feral Dimitri.

Once the battle ends the Blue Lions light up the stove in the kitchen, salvage what they can and cook up food that doesn’t quite go together but gets something in their stomachs for the night. Sitting around a table in the dining hall they each tell their stories of what they have been doing the past five years. Most of them protected their territories, saving their people. Byleth was sleeping, Dimitri is absent, everyone draws their own conclusions on what his time was spent on.

Sylvain finds you alone one afternoon sitting on a bench after having spent the entire day organizing and cleaning the library. “So you became a mercenary? You could have come to Gautier or even Fraldarius. Felix and I would have helped you. You didn’t have to be alone.” He said, sounding sad.

“I guess I needed to find myself after everything I knew was gone. I felt like I had to crawl my way up from the bottom. I refused to give up. I hadn’t planned on being a mercenary. I knew I wanted to keep fighting, keep working to be stronger, needing to make a difference for the right cause. Waking up every day knowing that I would work to improve the lives of the people, sure it didn’t win any major battles. But it made a difference to them. I gave them hope. Stealing supply wagons from the Empire and taking them to those that were starving or had no way to protect themselves kept me moving forward all of this time. I may have lost all of my things, but I gained a true purpose.

The next few days are filled with finding places to sleep, hunting and gathering food, repairing rooms and critical buildings, and greeting others that have returned such as Seteth and Flayn with the Knights of Seiros. You work with Byleth, offering to train anyone in reason magic.

Sylvain comes to your classes. You notice that he behaves himself, having grown up somewhat, and actually studies and gains better control of his magic. He finds you in the training grounds late one night, working with the new recruits and decides to lend a hand, helping them with their incantations, manipulation of runes or simply being encouraging.

Finally, the last student leaves. You wave as you grab your tomes and notes. Sylvain takes a seat on a nearby bench.

“You have your spellcasting mastered. I can really see the improvement since we were students.” Sylvain genuinely smiles.

You have a look of shock on your face. That has to be the sincerest compliment he has ever given you. “Um…thanks.” You weakly smile.

“I’ll see ya tomorrow.” He says waving as he turns.

You stumble after him quickly. “Sylvain, thank you very much for helping me tonight. If you hadn’t, I could have been here until morning. That was really sweet.”

He flashes a grin at you and heads out the door. You are confused. The Sylvain you remembered from before the war was always flirting and shirking work. Now he’s helping with working and training. He actually volunteers. Maybe he really is growing up.

Battles come and battles go. Being the eye in the sky, you are always watching out for your friends. After surviving for this many years of war, it would be heart wrenching to lose any of them now. You throw a Thoron into a group of archers that are terrorizing Felix. You guide Ingrid to help Ashe when someone is sneaking up on him. Always, always you have one eye on Sylvain, making sure he doesn’t get himself surrounded or run through on an enemy’s lance. The fights are all the same, only the names of the places change and the numbers of scars on everyone ever increases.

Reclaiming the Capital is a painful battle. Everyone’s heart breaks seeing the city in such ruin. The people are hiding from the soldiers on both sides. Titanus running amok cutting down everything in their paths. You fly quickly, attacking the Empire from the air, then leading innocent citizens to safety and hauling the wounded back to the rear of the lines to get healed. Fire and smoke is everywhere. Your Pegasus is breathing hard and needs a break. You leave it with the other beasts not currently in the fight and run in on foot to see where you can assist. You scurry back to where you had seen the heaviest fighting just in time to see the last Titanus fall with a thundering crash. Dimitri, Dedue, Felix and Sylvain are dashing towards Cornelia. As soon as you are in range you hit her two closest archers with Swarm-z, slowing them down as well as injuring them. Felix and Sylvain defeat the enemies quickly. Dedue and Dimitri are facing Cornelia. Angered by your magic, she casts Luna Λ at you. Normally you have a fairly high magic resistance, however this is a dark magic spell that doesn’t care what your resistance is, it’s going to hit and hit hard. Your last thoughts before you lose consciousness is that your friends can finish this easily and you are glad you’re on the ground and not falling off your Pegasus.

Waking up on a hard cot in the makeshift infirmary of the palace you hear the sounds of people walking softly and whispering all around. You mentally take inventory, wiggling toes and twitching fingers. Opening your eyes you have to blink a few times before you can finally get them to focus. At first you only see oranges and blacks, then you can focus a bit and see Sylvain and Annette standing at the foot of your cot. You see her point your direction and he turns to face you. He was frowning but when your eyes meet his, his face relaxes.

Kneeling down at the head of your bed he says softly, “Hey, welcome back. Think you can take a drink for me?” pulling a waterskin to your lips and lifting your head a bit, helping you take a few sips.

The water is cool and feels amazing on your parched throat. “Mmmm. Thanks.” You whisper as you smile up at him.

“Let’s see. What did you miss? After Cornelia hit you with that spell, she was easily taken down by Dimitri and Dedue. The fighting was over soon after that, we just had to take out a few pockets of enemy soldiers here and there. As you can tell we took over the royal palace. The people rallied outside and demanded Dimitri to present himself to them. They’re accepting him as king and happy to have him back. Your Pegasus is in the royal stables, Ingrid was able to coax her in there. I had no idea she hates men so much, I almost lost my right hand, gauntlet and all.” Sylvain chuckles softly.

“Sorry. She was probably mad at me for leaving her in the first place. Glad I did.” You take another drink, the fog in your head lifting a little more.

Sylvain looks up at Annette, who is getting some bandages together for another patient. “Do you think she’ll be able to make it to the party tonight?”

“If she behaves. She’ll have to take it easy.” The shorter redhead points at you. “No dancing the night away.”

The cavalier pats your shoulder, “It’s nothing big, just the Lions hanging out together, to relax a minute before the next battle. Gotta take a break sometime, right?”

“I will try to make it. I haven’t even tried to sit up yet.” You mumble.

“When you’re ready we’ll sit you up. If you want to eat we’ll get you some food.” He begins, “After you’ve settled a bit we’ll try to get you walking around and show you to a room so you can clean up and change. I’ll come by before the party and help you get there if you want to go. Sometimes these corridors can all look alike. Wouldn’t want you spending half the night trying to find your way there.”

“Sitting up sounds like a good start.” You propose, knowing that magical wounds take time you recall. There’s only so much healing magic and potions they can pour into you. You weren’t sliced open and didn’t lose blood. Mostly once you wake up, you could go about your business, just treading a bit more carefully.

The cavalier is tall and agile, stepping over a few empty cots with his long legs he grabs a wooden chair and sits it down at the head of your bed. Before you can start to turn to stand up, he picks you up and gently places you seated in the chair.

“Wow.” You gasp. “Um..thanks.” a tinge of red warms across your cheeks.

“I grabbed one with arms so if you’re still tired you would have something to lean on. Are you feeling alright so far?” He has the tiniest upturn to the corners of his mouth.

He looks adorable, you think to yourself. Wait. Sylvain. Adorable? Um…hey brain, are you going to answer him? “My head is a bit fuzzy.”

“I’ll check on you in a while, in time for lunch, ok?” the redhead says as he pats your hand while he walks past and leaves.

You sit looking around the room. Soldiers mixed with citizens. A woman with her baby is holding hands with a man that looks like he was badly burned. You can see the strength and determination in her face, she is being strong for him. A young boy sitting by the cot of an older man that is sleeping. The clerics are checking bandages, stopping to talk to every patient and giving them words of encouragement. The physical fighting here has ended, now everyone is gathering themselves together, healing, and getting ready to rebuild and make a better world.

You start moving yourself, getting your blood flowing and stretching, kicking your feet for a while then holding them up in the air. Soon you feel brave enough to try to stand up. Putting your feet on the ground you use the chair to help you stand on your own feet. You don’t feel like falling over, no affects so far except for some anxiety. You spy a chair 15 feet away and decide to go the distance. Your first few steps are taken gingerly, but you gain a bit of confidence and make it the last few steps fine. Sitting down your legs gave a bit so you came down a bit hard, but it felt good to move. Now you realize that you are in a simple gown and socks. Not exactly the best clothes for heading out of here, hopefully someone will be by soon to tell you what to do next. After taking a careful stroll back to your original chair, you spy Annette coming down the row of cots, checking on patients. You take a sip of water and wait for your turn.

“How’s your head? Any signs of a headache? Any pain anywhere?” Her bright and cheery smile always makes you smile back at her.

“I feel pretty good. Whoever worked on me did an amazing job. I just have a tiny headache. I’ve even been taking a few steps back and forth between the chairs here. So what should I do next?”

Annette reaches under your cot for a small bundle. ”We have a change of clothes and boots for you.” She shows you to the bathroom to change. You nod happily, “I would love to get real clothes on. It gives you the mental kick like you’re getting back to normal.”

“You have a great attitude! I’ll bet you’re fine in no time.” The redhead bubbles, walking with you to the powder room.

Clothes changed, washing your face and hands, you feel like a gold bullion. No mirrors in here, probably so the recovering wounded are not shocked about how they look after battle and keep concentrating on healing. You feel much more confident walking back to the chair by your cot. Observing the healers running around, you feel quite useless and guilty for not being able to help them. Before you spiral too far into a frustrating mindset, Sylvain arrives.

“Look at you, all ready to go!” He smiles. “They said if I take it easy with you, we can get you to the dining hall. Ready to give it a go?” He stands next to your chair, his elbow ready for you to grab it for support if needed.

“Sounds wonderful.” You stand up and place your hand on his forearm letting him lead you out of the infirmary.

The first few times he spies a bench he checks if you want to rest or keep going. The continued movement is a little tiring, but also feels really good getting your heart pumping. Once you really begin to feel tired you are already at the dining hall. Felix, Ingrid and Ashe already at the table with their food.

“Welcome back!” Ingrid smiles, waving with a roll in her hand. Felix does his usual nod in your general direction. Ashe waves excitedly as he tries to chew whatever he has in his mouth faster.

“Great to see you!” Ashe begins, switching to recalling his view of the end of the battle. “I saw Cornelia hit you with that spell, it was so scary. You were taking out her archers protecting her and then Bam! This ball of black and purple hit you and you go down. Dimitri and Dedue took her out and when Felix and Sylvain finished her other archers they put you on Sylvain’s horse and he took you straight back to the healers.”

Sylvain returns to the table with a tray full of food. “So I wasn’t sure what you were in the mood for, so I brought a few things. Doesn’t matter because whatever you don’t eat, Ingrid will finish for you.”

“Hey!” Ingrid puts her hands on her hips, pouting for a second. Then she changes her mind. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

You decide the soup and a soft roll may be a good place to start. Everyone chats about things that happened in the fight, trying to concentrate on good things that happened such as saving a child or protecting a merchant.

“Oh Ingrid! Thank you for taking care of my Pegasus and getting her stabled.” You happily pat her hand in thanks.

“It was nothing. She was being feisty and knucklehead over there tried to grab her reins and she didn’t take to it too kindly.” Ingrid grinned at the cavalier. “they are not the same as horses!”

The redhead puts his hands up, “I get it! I get it!”

Lunch ends and before you get a chance Sylvain grabs everyone’s dishes and piles them on his tray to take back.

You raise an eyebrow at Ingrid, she shrugs her shoulders. Felix and Ashe are already out the door talking about some training they are interested in. Ingrid says she will check on your Pegasus and let you know this evening how things are. You assure her you’re going to try to make the gathering tonight.

Sylvain returns, placing his arm at the ready, you grab on and as he escorts you, talking about his history here, having grown up frequently visiting the palace, how he would chase Ingrid, Dimitri and Felix down the halls until they would get in trouble and their amazing snowball fights in the courtyards. He leads you down the corridor to your room. Annette and Mercedes are staying in the room next to yours.

“Who am I bunked up with?” You wonder.

“Nobody. This is all for you. The room is huge with a sitting area, a grand fireplace, a huge bed with multiple fluffy pillows and a bathroom with bathtub big enough to swim in. You spy your bags set on tables next to the dressers.

“I am so confused.” You don’t realize you are speaking out loud. “Why this special treatment? I’m just like everyone else. I don’t understand?”

“Remember when we were up against Cornelia?” Sylvain explains. “The person she looked at, the one she needed to stop first wasn’t Dimitri, wasn’t Dedue, it was you. You’re the most powerful mage we have. Sure, Annette is pretty amazing, but she can’t do the damage you do. Cornelia saw it. I know you can dance circles around me. You’re pretty terrifying. We’re thrilled to have you on our side.”

You’re absolutely flabbergasted. You never compare yourself to anyone else. You go out, do your job. You feel a blush to your cheeks even though you find this hard to believe.

The redhead continues, “Then there’s the fact that you do this while flying on your Pegasus. We’ve seen you do maneuvers on that animal that shock Ingrid. You make some seriously fast dives, then stop. The wind force from its wings is stronger than some of Annette’s spells. I’ve seen enemy archers rolling over backwards from it.”

You could be knocked over by a Pegasus feather. You’re just a regular person in the army and he’s put you up on a pedestal…wait. This is Sylvain you’re thinking about. But it’s not his usual flirting escapades. Where is that flirtatious attitude anyway? You have spent a lot of time with him today and walked past plenty of pretty ladies, but you can’t recall his saying hello or paying a compliment to any of them.

“I think I should get a nap.” You say, not sure if you’re overwhelmed or tired or both.

“I’ll let you rest then. I’ll be back for you to get you to the party in plenty of time. See you in a few hours!” Sylvain smiles widely as he heads out the door, closing it behind him.

You sneak over to the door, hearing his footsteps going off into the distance. You peek out to watch him head down the long hallway. You watch him walk past a few female fellow soldiers without a hitch in his step. He comes to the end of the hallway where a cute maid is dusting a portrait and he just keeps going, not even giving the maid a sideways glance. Who is this guy and what have they done with Sylvain? You’re not sure, but you need to find out.

You decide a bath then a nap may clear your head. There are wonderful smelling soaps with flowers imbedded in them and something that smells fresh and relaxing for your hair. Cleansed and warm, it is definitely nap time. You comb your hair out, braiding it a bit and surround yourself by the fluffy pillows. You are asleep as soon as your head hits the pillows.

Several hours later you wake up, glad to see it’s not dark outside yet. You dress in a soft blue tunic and black slacks with your boots. You let your braids loose so your hair can dry. You head next door to visit Annette and Mercedes.

“Knock, knock, anyone home?” You chuckle.

“Hey! Come in!” Annette’s bubbly voice calls back. You enter, hmm, their room is much smaller than yours. You frown.

“Merci’s in the bath right now. Do you feel well enough to join us tonight?” Annette is looking at two outfits she has laid out on the bed, trying to decide which dress to wear.

“I’m about ready. I need to fix my hair a bit, that’s all.” You pause. “Annie, if I ask you some questions will you answer me honestly?”

“Pssshhh. Of course. We have no secrets.” The blue eyed woman smiles from ear to ear.

You want to ask her the right way, not fishing for compliments, because you don’t want that. “So. I’m just one of the many mages in the army, right? I’m no different than any other Pegasus rider. Just a regular old normal person.”

“Well…” Annette scrunches her eyebrows and puts her finger to her chin. “For Faith magic, nobody can beat Merci. Reason magic I’m pretty good, but you’re better than me, and Byleth too. You’re the only one that can cast Dark magic. Byleth does call on you frequently to do some very tough jobs, being out on the front lines where normally mages are not.”

“You can be quite scary!” Laughs Mercedes as she emerges from the bath in a short tunic and her slips. “A bolt of darkness coming down like a demon on the dark wings of your steed.”

“I guess I’m just confused by Sylvain. Did Byleth tell him to watch over me or something?” You look so flustered.

Mercie puts her hand over her mouth to hide a giggle.

“You should have seen him when he saw Cornelia hit you with her spell!” Annette is leaning so far forward off the bed she’s going to fall over any minute. “You fell over and he tried to run over there. Felix nearly pulled his arm out of his socket. He had to stay and finish the archers. Sylvain insisted on getting you back to the healer’s tent as fast as possible.”

“Why am I in a big room at the end of the hall all by myself? Shouldn’t I be bunked with someone?” You are grasping at anything trying to make sense of today.

“That could be from me.” Mercedes advises. “I did tell Dimitri that you need peace and quiet, healing from a magic injury is impeded by stress like loud noises or bad roommates.”

You shake your head a bit. Maybe you’re just tired and after a good night’s sleep you’ll be better in the morning. You remind yourself not to stay up too late at the party.

The three of you chat a bit, getting into gossip and girl talk. Dimitri and Byleth have been getting closer now that he has been feeling much better. You elbow the red-headed mage sitting next to you on the bed, teasing her about a certain dedicated swordsman. She refuses to admit if they have kissed yet, but by the redness on her cheeks, there is something going on there for sure. Mercedes admits to having a few cooking dates with Dedue. He is showing her how to make some dishes. She’s always felt comfortable baking desserts but not cooking main courses and side dishes.

The two ladies corner you asking if you have your heart set on anyone. Sheepishly you have to shrug your shoulders. You haven’t had time to do much beyond teaching the new mages and their battalions, being sent on a few covert missions, and working with the Pegasus knights training, working the stables and working out with your own steed. You see Ingrid the most of the group, frequently Dorothea would be hanging out nearby waiting for her.

Suddenly you notice the time and need to get back to your room to finish getting ready. You wave goodbye and will see them in a little while. There is a lovely vanity with an adjustable mirror. You take a seat and decide to braid your hair in one of the more intricate braids like Petra had shown you in recent months. Tying it with a white ribbon you leave it on your right shoulder. Dusting your cheeks with a light rouge and dabbing your lips with a bit of color you’re done. This has probably been the closest you’ve been to being dressed up since the war started.

A knock on the door brings your attention back from staring at your face in the mirror. You walk quickly to the door to find Sylvain there, smiling brightly.

“You look…like you are feeling much better. Did you get to rest?” he asks.

“I feel great, I’m sure tomorrow I will feel even better.” You smile as he steps back to let you exit the room and he closes the door behind you. You grab the crook of his elbow like you had done earlier and he leads you to the parlor where the gathering is taking place.

“It is great to just hang out together for once. It has been exhausting.” Sylvain announces.

“War takes so much out of you. We have come so far, just a little bit more.” You sigh wistfully.

“The end is in sight.” The tall redhead says quietly. After a pause, he asks, “So have you thought about what you’re going to do after the war?”

“I don’t know.” You slow your pace, trying to gather your thoughts as you walk. “I’ve been so busy with the war, its hard to think about it being over. There is still going to be a million things that have to be done. Setting up government, rebuilding, trying to get everyone to work together. The work never ends.”

“Well, let’s not think about all that work for tonight.” He says as he pauses outside the room. “Let’s relax for just a bit before it all starts over again tomorrow.”

Inside the parlor is a large table with many chairs. Tables loaded with foods, fruits, savory treats and desserts. A large circle of comfortable chairs, couches, loveseats and settees with small tables scattered between them is the right, a few seats already occupied by Dedue, Dimitri, Byleth and Ingrid.

Everyone stands and greets you as you enter. You hug them all, so happy to be back together with everyone. Sylvain holds his hands out hopefully.

“Of course, you didn’t get one yet either.” You smile as you place your arms around him for his hug as well. He smells good. He hugs back ever so gently, his touch is feather light.

Byleth returns to the settee that she is sharing with Dimitri and asks you to sit next to her. You take a spot on the loveseat and chat with her about what happened during the battle from her point of view and she shares how proud she is of everyone. The rest of the Blue Lions filter into the room. Sylvain hands you a glass of water with lemon slices in it then walks over to talk to Felix who has found the spicy meatballs.

Once everyone has a drink in hand, Dimitri offers a toast thanking them all for their help in taking back the Kingdom capital. Plaudits of the attendees fill the room.

The conversations are lively. Ashe sits next to you for a while, talking about some new books he has ordered and offers to let you read them after he is finished. Annette also sits next to you for a while, talking about all of the different and delicious desserts. You prefer the peach tart, however you agree that the strawberry cheesecake is simply divine. The redhead then joins Felix on the couch on the other side of the room. Sylvain stands between you and Byleth, talking about differences in armor quality and comparing different blacksmiths. You invite him to ‘take a load off’ has he likes to say to others, as you move to let him sit next to Byleth and you sit on the other side of the seat, patting the loveseat for him to sit himself. He nods and smiles as he takes a seat and continues his conversation with the former Professor. Mercedes bustles through the room, taking your empty plate and another that Annette had left on the side table.

Sylvain finishes his conversation and looks out into the room. You tap him on the hand to get his attention.

“What have you been up to today?” You ask him.

“I had to work on repairs for my saddle, one of the cinching straps had become frayed. I don’t need it breaking and falling off in the middle of battle. I also had to make sure my horse is in great shape, trimmed her hooves and then took her out for a ride. I used to ride a lot out here with Dimitri. It was good to feel the wind through my hair, the sun on my back and simply ride just for the sake of riding.”

“That sounds delightful.” You think wistfully. “Just going for a ride to be riding. Can’t wait to be able to do that again.”

“Any time you are up for it I would be happy if you would like to join me.” Sylvain smiles.

You gently wrap your tiny hand around his much larger, calloused hand. “Sounds great.”

Another hour of chatting with your friends goes by until a yawn suddenly escapes your lips.

Sylvain immediately notices. “Looks like you have had enough fun for today. I should take you back, okay?”

“Mmmm. I agree. Mercedes will tie me to a cot if I don’t rest.” You giggle

Mercedes laughs, “I have ways of making you sleep.” Her voice is much deeper, lower than normal as she squints her eyes menacingly. She wiggles her fingers in a creepy taunting manner at you, making you laugh even more. Sylvain stands and offers his elbow for you to take. Both of you bid goodnight to everyone as you head back out to the corridors of the palace. You are silent as you both walk back to your room. At the door he is preparing to take his leave.

Placing your hand on his shoulder you stop him from moving. “I would like to talk with you, that is, if you want to speak with me as well.”

He gives a slight smile and follows you into your room. You move to the sitting area. You take a seat on a soft cushioned char, he sits on an identical chair next to you.

“First, thank you so much for all of the help you have provided to me today. Bringing water, helping steady me in the hallways, and making certain I was not lost wandering the palace looking for the party.” You say this with all the sincerity you can muster, placing your left hand on your chest to show your heartfelt thanks.

“It was the least I could do. You have given of yourself over and over, it was wonderful being able to help you today.” A tinge of red covers his cheeks. “You really should get some rest.”

You really want to talk to him but he is right, you can barely keep your eyes open. He opens the door to leave, but you hold your arms out to give him a hug goodnight. He gently wraps his arms around yours as you press your cheek into his chest, exhaling with a sigh. You wave as he steps through the threshold and closes the door.

The early morning war council is held in one of the palace’s meeting rooms. Dimitri shares a message delivered to him earlier this morning. It is a plea for assistance from the alliance, Claude asks for help in Derdriu. Everyone agrees to make the detour to the city then head on towards Enbarr to finish the war.

Arriving at the coastal city, Claude has done an excellent job preparing the city for the fight with the Empire. The battle zone has been evacuated of the citizens and merchants. They only ones involved in the fighting are soldiers. The Kingdom’s army is motivated and strong, overtaking the Empire forces in record time.

There is a meeting between Dimitri, Byleth and Claude. Claude announces he is headed for his own future and wishes everyone well.

The Kingdom marches for Enbarr. The final battle in the war. Edelgard does nothing to prepare the citizens, they flee in the streets as the fight rages around them. The fight is long and bloody. There is no surrendering by Edelgard, she and Hubert fight until their last breath.

You volunteer to stay behind, but Ashe, Ingrid, Dorothea, Linhardt and Caspar remain to start the repairs and healing from the war. The rest return to the north. Sylvian and Felix return to their territories to check on everything and keep their lands going.

Back in the Kingdom capital, your days are filled with rebuilding, not just the buildings, but the mind and bodies of the citizens. You are always amongst the people, one day clearing rubble, the next helping in the orphanages, another day watching a mother’s children so she could take care of business. You explain you are doing this for king and country. If there is anyone to thank, it is Dimitri.

Soon everyone is gathered here again, this time for Dimitri’s coronation. The ceremony is long. Byleth being the archbishop has the honor of placing the crown upon the king. There are so many speeches and the lords of every territory must approach the king and promise their allegiance.

A grand ball celebrating the coronation is held in the evening. King Dimitri is seated at the head table, next to Archbishop Byleth. Felix is next to Dimitri as his chief advisor, Dedue next to him as his Vassal. Ashe and Ingrid are knights, standing guard behind them. They insisted on working, reveling in the honor of being among the first to protect the newly crowned King.

You sit with Annette, Mercedes, Dorothea, Caspar, Linhardt and Sylvain. The conversation is never ending, you haven’t seen several of them for months, so everyone has to catch up. Mercedes and Dedue are engaged. Annette and Felix are officially a couple, as well as Caspar and Linhardt. You have been busy helping restore the school of sorcery. They have been begging you to become a teacher, you are still considering your options.

The orchestra on the opposite side of the ballroom begins to play. The king and archbishop take the floor, starting the dancing for the remaining couples. Sylvain had been seated next to Dorothea and they spoke quietly with each other several times during dinner. You would look up and smile at him and he would always return the gesture.

After the first song ends, it was time for the rest of the couples to dance. You are shocked when he stands and walks over to you, asking you to dance with him. He takes your hand and leads you to the floor. The first few minutes you smile at each other. Then you hear him sigh. You catch his eyes and he smiles at you.

“I’ve missed you.” Sylvain whispers softly in your ear.

“I was hoping you lived close enough that you could come visit here more frequently. Maps can be quite deceiving.” You frown briefly, “How are things in Gautier?”

Sylvain seems to stiffen a bit. “My father is going to step down, leaving me to take his place.”

You try not to frown, “Is that what you want to do?”

He hesitates as the song is ending and he asks you to step outside with him. You stroll through the gardens together, the smell of moist earth and roses fills the air. You stop far enough away that the brightness of the party no longer blocks the light of the stars on this perfectly clear night.

He seats you on a bench, taking a the spot next to you. He leans back and looks up at the stars.

You can’t look away from his face, so you simply watch him watching the twinkling in the skies.

He gently takes your hand in his. “I never wanted to take my father’s place. I never wanted to be like him or like he wanted me to be. I was always such a rebel. I wanted to ruin the world around me, pay it back for all the pain that I had been through. There was nothing that I was looking forward to, being forced to fit in the mold that my father made for me. When they had announced that Dimitri would be executed it made my father physically ill. The kingdom had fallen that day to him. He had no hope left. He stopped pushing me to get married. He couldn’t arrange anything, not knowing who would come out victorious. He didn’t know if he would be keeping his position or would the Empire trample him into the ground. He stopped leaning on me that I would have to be the next margrave, not having any idea how long he was to be the current one. I no longer had anything to defy, to rebel against. I pulled back. I had to learn how to take care of myself properly. Then we came back for the reunion. I had been feeling sorry for myself, then I found out you had lost everything. I saw how strong you had become. Even though you had nothing you had such passion to help everyone else to be better. It was so beautiful. I had never seen anything so beautiful. It wasn’t just a smile, a pretty face, it was radiating from so deep within you. I wanted to be near you, that’s why I had offered to help you, just to be near you. I knew I wasn’t worthy of you. But if I helped you at least I could be close to you. When Cornelia hurt you, I went mad. I thought you were dead. Felix brought me back, telling me we had to finish what you started. I wanted to talk to you after you were recovering, but then we were pulled into Derdriu and went to Enbarr right after that. And then I had to go back to Gautier. After the war, when I went back I thought my father would lord over me, make me continue to do everything his way. But he’s become tired. My parents are going to move to the coast to spend the rest of their days. Managing Gautier is left to me to handle as I see fit. I’ve been working on reaching out to the Sreng, to see if we can find peace between us. Everyone is so tired of the fighting. I know I am. Maybe I could be the Margrave, but I can’t do it alone. I’d like you to help me, teach me to be a good leader, to do right by my people. I would do anything and everything for you.”

You squeeze his hand. “At the reunion I noticed a big change in you. I wanted to talk to you about it but the war never let us have five minutes to ourselves. I noticed you were behaving differently. I wanted so badly to talk to you after we won back the capital, but the war jumped between us again. Maybe the only way I can have an opportunity to speak with you for any length of time would be to go to Gautier with you.” You grin at him.

“I really don’t deserve you.” He puts his arm around you for a half hug. “I know you are so good with the people. Everyone here loves you.” He rests his cheek on the top of your head.

You’re beginning to become flustered. At the moment you miss the old flirty Sylvain. He’s acting..shy? Inviting you to Gautier sounded like a business transaction more than inviting a woman over. “Are you seeing anyone right now? Have you decided what you want to do for yourself?” you ask.

“Uh. No. I haven’t really thought about it for a long time. Its like once the pressure was off from my father, I just didn’t need to do that anymore. But yeah, I want to get married to a woman that I love, maybe have children, and shower them with as much love as I can muster. Make peace with the Sreng. Make the people of Gautier happy too. What about you? Are you seeing anyone? What do you want?”

“Well, I’ve always wanted to get married and have children. Now that the war is over that certainly is a possibility.” You begin. “And you know I like to help people, help them help themselves. I am seriously considering a job offer that I feel I am qualified for. I’m thrilled to find that someone I have been interested in for quite a while is currently single. So things are looking pretty good.” You look up at his face smiling.

Sylvain looks down at you smiling, but unsure.

Your hands slide up his chest, going around his neck and you pull him down toward you, finally he gets the idea and bends down to kiss you gently.

“That took you forever.” You gasp smiling up at him.

“I thought I had already missed my chance. I thought at least if I could be near you that would be fine.” He smiles, kissing you again.

“Ever since I saw you at the reunion, I could tell you were different in the best sort of way. You weren’t hiding behind a mask, you were acting like yourself. As long as you be your true self with me, I will always want to be near you.” You hold Sylvain tightly under the stars.

*****Epilogue

The wedding is the following spring. Both of you frequently travel all about Gautier territory, constantly talking with the people and responding to their needs. You find some people that speak Sreng and learn the language and culture well enough to be able to parlay and work towards a peace agreement. You give up some of the Gautier lands that the Sreng say are important to them. In turn they pay for this property with many rare minerals and jewels that are from their lands. You use this money to improve the roads and lives for the people of Gautier. Sylvain does spoil you rotten. You have at least 8 children and have no idea if any has a crest, not that you care. The Lance of Ruin is given to Byleth to do whatever she wants with the horrid weapon.

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