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littlemisslipbalm · 5 years ago

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“Similar Tastes”

An enemies to lovers classic. You and Harry are too similar for you to ever get along...maybe

Hi hi! This is for @majorharry’s 20k celebration writing !!! Hope you all enjoy, I always love to hear from you :)))

The prompts I used: “How about you get off my dick” and “Sorry, I didn’t know”

This gif bc Harry “oh god that’s TEQUILA” Styles is king

Fluff? Smut? But definitely angst? Idk how to describe it bahaha a little bit of everything

Word Count: 4.0k | Warnings: language (there are actually two slurs in this - they’re bisexual slurs and they’re said by the bad guy so just take that into consideration), mature content (not quite smut but y’know), alcohol consumption, girl kissing girl at one point

Pt. 2 is up!

Saturday night. It was finally time to go out with your group of friends and you couldn’t be happier. Well, you could, but what would make you that happy wasn’t possible. If one of the people in your friend group wasn’t there. That would make you the happiest.

Almost everyone has that one person in your friend group who you can’t stand. Like, at first you don’t really know them and then as you get to know them more you just can’t stand them.

For you that was Harry.

While neither of you would admit why you hated each other, it was obviously about how everyone would always compare the two of you. You had practically identical personalities, and had similar fashion taste. At first, everyone else thought you would end up together because it seemed like you were perfectly matched. But the first time someone said, “Oh, Harry, your jacket looks just like the one Y/N wore last week.” Both of you had seethed in complete dissatisfaction.

Naturally, Harry took his jacket off early in that evening and you never wore yours again. You hated being compared to Harry, being told he had made a similar joke or said the same thing about something made you want to reevaluate your entire value system. Maybe it was because you both had such an individualistic mindset, but neither of you enjoyed being compared to anyone and that’s what made it all the worse when people chose to compare you to each other. It boiled down to both of you wanting to be the best at everything - the most unique, rather - that made you dislike the other so much.

So, tonight at the bar, as your group rattled in from the street, you stuck close to your pals at the front while Harry was chatting with someone near the back of the pack. Your eyes had met briefly when you’d seen each other’s outfits. Harry’s a half unbuttoned Gucci cream dress shirt, that was rolled to his elbows, tucked into high waisted navy trousers finished with cream boots and yours a navy bra top with a faux collar and a deep cut to show your cleavage paired with cream high waisted pleated pants and navy loafers. Not exactly the same, but if you had stood next to one another it would have looked planned. You rolled your eyes at him as he narrowed his towards you. You couldn’t wait to order a few drinks and let loose after a hard week at work.

As you all approached a booth, somehow the group shifted and Harry and you were suddenly side by side as everyone was getting in the booth. Then, you were sitting and Harry was right beside you. He tried to cover his groan of annoyance when he realized he’d have to be sitting next to you, once again regarding your outfit with disdain. Your only response was glaring at him. The friend who you had been talking to, Marie, placed her hand over your ring-clad one, that was now gripping the side of the table out of annoyance. “Play nice,” she said. You relaxed at her touch trying to refocus on the purpose of the night, fun.

Soon, a waitress made it to your table and smiled sweetly at all your bright faces. Harry and you were located to her left, and her eyes reached you last.

“Oh! You two are too cute! I love when couples coordinate their outfits!”

Harry’s eyes bulged out of his head and you gave a tight-lipped smile as you tried to keep yourself from having a blood vessel pop in your eye right then.

“We’re not” you began, Harry cut you off, “together, love.”

His expression changed as he smirked up at the waitress, trying to make it clear that he was very much single.

“Oh! My apologies...So what can I get everyone?”

As she began to take the orders, you shoved your elbow into Harry’s rib. You did it for two reasons, for him cutting you off when you were talking and for being so on top of you in the booth.

He turned to you, “The fuck was that for?”

“For being an asshole.”

“Excuse me?”

As you’re about to go off on him about being rude, Marie taps your hand and you realize it's your turn to order.

You clear your throat, trying to shake off your angry tone, “Tequila on the rocks, please.”

The waitress nods and then turns to smile at Harry, he gives you side eyes of disdain, “What’s your most expensive tequila?”

Her smile grew, “We’ve got Don Julio Real and Gran Patron for top shelf.”

“Don Julio on the rocks, please.” He winked.

She nods, scribbling something on her notepad, “Oh! Would you like Don Julio as well?” she returns to you.

You shook your head, “No. Jose Cuervo works just fine,” and glared at Harry once more.

Of course he would ask for top shelf, you thought. Harry couldn't have gotten through saying the exact same order as you, especially after the waitress had already pointed out the similarity in your clothes.

“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

Being in such close proximity to Harry made you incapable of leaving the bickering alone. Everyone else always ignored when the two of you really got into it, because it honestly wasn’t that interesting. Like an old married couple, though none of them would ever dare say it.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Y/N?”

You scoffed as he turned in his seat to look at you. “Oh, please, you just couldn’t handle ordering the same thing as me. You had to flex that you could order Don Julio!”

“You’re just upset because you can’t.”

“Come off it! I could, but I don’t feel the need to boost my ego by showing off to the waitress that I can afford the expensive stuff.” You laughed at his attempt at snubbing you about what you can and can’t afford.

His eyes darkened and flashed at you and you could see it even in the dim lighting off the bar. “I wasn’t trying to show off, it’s not my fault you don’t care to drink the good stuff.”

“Okay, Harry,” you say sarcastically, waving him off.

He huffed, annoyed that you were the only person he was sitting next to. He had to call across the table if he wanted to speak to anyone that wouldn’t involve you being completely in the way. As he was about to call out to Mitch who was directly across from him, the waitress returned with everyone’s drinks.

“Jose Cuervo on the rocks! And Don Julio on the rocks!” She beamed at the group after finishing handing them out.

Everyone thanked her and she disappeared. You and Harry simultaneously took sips of your drinks.

You wrinkled your nose, “This isn’t Jose Cuervo…”

Harry placed his drink on his coaster and swallowed, licking his lips he said, “I think mine is, tastes cheap.”

“You’re really an ass,” you say as you shove your misgiven drink to him and snatch his from the table instead.

Harry growing tired of your arguing already, “Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he rolled his eyes and took a larger sip of the correct drink.

You take a sip of your own drink and sigh again, “This isn’t even tequila, what the fuck?”

“Ah, no wonder it tasted like shit. What do you think it is?”

“Well, considering there’s only, like, a handful of clear hard liquors besides silver tequila, probably vodka, idiot,” you breathed the last word under your breath, still Harry stared at you with daggers in his eyes. You weren’t actually sure how many other liquors it could be, but you were so pissed off by the whole situation you just wanted to make him shut up.

“Well that’s a bummer, kid. Maybe next time, order a better tequila and she’ll get it right.”

You shoved him, not wanting to wait for the waitress to come back to fix her mistake, “How about you get off my dick and then I can go get something worth drinking?”

Harry huffed as he slowly moved his body up from his seat, yet he stayed so close to the opening of the booth you were practically chest to chest when you slipped out. Due to that, and maybe a little bit on purpose, you knocked your drink forward to get a small amount on him. Not enough for him to be drenched, but enough to bug him for the rest of the night.

“Oops?” you tilted your head and held a sickeningly sweet smile on your face as you looked at his taken aback look. His prominent jaw had dropped as the cold liquid had pooled over his left breast pocket, some of his tattoos now much more visible. You quickly turned on your heel and bounced off to the bar. Harry grumbled and sat back down, Marie leaned over with a napkin, trying to dry him off a bit.

With a fresh drink in hand you weaved back to the table, all your friends were laughing together at something Harry had seemingly said. When you arrived everyone beamed up at you, far more jovial after a few sips of their drinks. Only Harry’s face was sour, but you chose to ignore it and smile at your friends, waiting for Harry to get up to let you into your seat that he had occupied in your absence. When he didn’t, your face began to fall from its smile.

“Are you going to get up?”

“No, just take that seat,” he waves his hand beside him, trying to go back to the conversation he was engaging in before you had arrived.

“But, you’re in my seat,” you pushed.

“You’re the one who decided to get up and leave it.”

“You cannot be serious, Harry.”

“As a heart attack,” he said flatly, and then turned his head to Sarah who was next to Marie.

You looked around the table for help, Mitch gave a slight sad smile like he felt bad, but everyone knew there was no changing Harry’s mind. You knew you didn’t have the strength to yank his large, muscled body out of the booth, so you resigned and took his old seat. There, you kicked Harry’s leg harshly and took a long sip of your alcohol, just wanting to get drunk enough to want to dance and then not be near Harry.

After a second round of drinks, this time the waitress getting your order right, you were feeling better. Harry and you were largely ignoring each other and laughing along with the rest of your friends to some story. Every so often his leg would open up and bump into yours and you’d hit back at it harder, his eyes sliding to your face for a moment and then looking away. He made you so hot with anger and the closeness of bodies in that bar already had the temperature way too high. You gulped at your drink, trying to cool down, but it only had the opposite effect, the alcohol mixing with your blood, heating up your insides, as well.

Then, once the third round of drinks were served, Marie suggested it was time to dance, commenting that some random song that was currently playing was ‘her favorite’. It wasn’t, but whenever she got drunk, every song was ‘her favorite’. However, you were all happy to oblige, feeling restless as the alcohol was buzzing in your systems.

Out on the dance floor, some of the couples in your friend group paired off to dance on each other while the rest of you spread out. You spotted a woman in the crowd wearing a sequin dress that looked absolutely gorgeous on her, her blonde hair reminding you of some rocker chick in the 70’s. While making your way towards her, Harry tried to get in front of you, obviously making his way to her as well.

Another thing Harry and you had in common, the people you typically went for - men and women. Shaking him off with a hand on his chest and a glare, you reached her first and she smiled at you as you complimented her outfit and began to dance with her. Harry resigned to staying with some of your other friend’s when he saw how the woman threw her head back at something you said to her. Soon, she was grinding herself against your front, your lips attached to her neck, hands on her hips.

Feeling particularly happy with yourself, your gaze flitted around the crowded dance floor. Eyes scanning those around you, you soon made eye contact with Harry, who actually wasn’t that far off. His eyes looked a more dull green in the light and he rolled them when he saw you looking up from your place against the beautiful woman. While he still looked on at your languid figures pressed together, you teased your tongue up her neck a bit, causing the woman to keen into your touch. As Harry was about to look away, shaking his head at your antics, he caught sight of a guy approaching you and the other woman.

He said something to the pair of you, but you couldn’t hear him. The woman had opened her eyes to look at the guy and you had removed your lips from her, shaking your head that you didn’t catch what he said.

He repeated himself, yelling this time, “Fauxbians out here trying to catch a real man! How ‘bout we make you total lugs!”

He was loud enough for your friends to hear, including Harry who had been watching the whole scene play out. He pushed through the crowd to get to your side, he might not like you, but he couldn’t stand someone who was homophobic, or biphobic, in this case. You pushed the woman off of you and to the side, she was clearly upset and you weren’t going to let what the guy said slide.

“What the fuck, man? You think it’s okay to say shit like that to people? What year are you living in, like for real?”

As you were about to start really ripping into him, you felt Harry’s presence beside you. You looked over and he looked angry, like really angry, not annoyed or exasperated as he usually did with you. Angry like he was about to grab this guy by the shirt and start pummeling him. Even with all the alcohol in your system, you knew that wouldn’t actually help the situation, even if you did want someone to wipe the smug look off this guy’s face, which had only grown worse since you’d started yelling at him. It was like this stranger was getting off on making these two women in front of him uncomfortable and upset.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Harry spat at the guy.

“Harry,” you turned your body towards him and put your hand on his chest, placing yourself between him and the rude guy, “I’m not letting you get into a fight over what he said. It’s not worth it.”

He had pushed himself almost against this guy, Harry easily hovering over him. Harry looked down at you and then back to the guy, who was chuckling to himself, stepping back from the scene.

He seethed, “You disgust me,” he looked at the man. “Just crawl back into whatever hole your sorry ass came out of.”

The guy just laughed and walked off. Harry looked down at you, his eyes softening instantly. You couldn’t exactly distinguish the look he gave you, you just knew it was something you’d never seen directed at you.

Your brow remained furrowed as you looked at him, then he said, “Let’s get some air.”

You looked around the room for your sequined dress woman, but she was nowhere to be found. So you let Harry take you by the hand out the side exit, to the bar’s alleyway.

Outside, you immediately brought your hands to rub over your exposed arms, the tiny sleeves of your shirt not being enough to brave the brisk night air. The altercation had shaken you up quite a bit and immediately sobered you. Harry stepped closer to you out of instinct, seeing you were shivering, but having nothing to offer warmth except himself. The two of you leaned against the bar’s outer wall and took a few deep breaths.

“Are you alright?” Harry asked, voice slightly hoarse from yelling in the loud bar.

“Fine. You?”

Why was he being so nice, you were surprised he had stepped in at all, but now he was checking in on you past that, it was confusing.

“Of course. You didn’t even let me get a single swing in.”

You scrunched your face at his comment regarding violence. “Why did you even come over? I can handle myself,” you asked, suddenly feeling the normalcy of bickering settle between the two of you.

Harry rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. His pectoral muscles slightly shifted and pushed around his cross pendant in the center of his chest.

“Because he was a dick,” he started, then sighed, “And because I can’t just let some homophobe say a bunch of slurs to my friend.”

Your eyes grew wide and shown in the street lamp, as they looked up into Harry’s green ones. He was slightly sweaty from the bar, but it was quickly drying and leaving a slight sparkle on his skin. His jaw was tensed, as he tried to maintain eye contact with you. You remained silent, unaware how to respond to his statement that he did, despite much evidence saying otherwise, care about you.

Harry decided to continue, “You might piss me off, like all the time, but that doesn’t mean it’s okay for a random asshole to say that kind of shit to you.”

“I’m your friend?” you circled back to what he had said earlier. Your voice was small and also hoarse from yelling in the bar.

“Of course, Y/N, what the fuck?”

“I thought...I guess I never saw it that way.”

“Harsh.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know competing all the time and being annoyed with each other was friendship.” You shifted closer to Harry, your words dripping in sarcasm. Even now, as the two of you checked in on each other and talked about your friendship, you managed to fight.

“That’s just because you’re constantly infuriating me and getting us into fights,” Harry smirked, tapping a finger on your cold nose.

“I think you’ve got it backwards, there, Har,” you winked.

“No, I don’t think so,” he shrugged and pressed closer to you.

Neither of you were very clear on what your bodies were doing, slowly moving so that you had your back against the wall and Harry’s hips were pressed up against yours.

“It’s not my fault you’re always jealous of me,” you breathe, his face inches from yours.

Harry snorted a laugh out of his nose, his eyes slowly blinking and looking away from you, before staring directly at you. “Oh, please, now who has it backwards?” His right arm went up beside your head and his hand rested on the cold stone next to you. His breath, from his laughter and words, fanning over your face, made you close your eyes at the warmth.

You moved both of your hands up to his chest, and he looked down at the movement. One moved up to grip his shoulder and the other fiddled with the cross that had caught your attention when he had folded his arms.

After a beat, Harry said your name, barely above a whisper. Your head tilted up, looking up at him questioningly. You didn’t really understand the position the two of you had shifted yourselves into. “Can I kiss you?” Harry asked.

“Do you want to?”

“Kind of…” He ran a finger over your cheekbone.

Your eyes danced with mischief “Why?”

“Are you serious?” Harry asked in slight disbelief.

“As a heart attack,” you said gravely, throwing the words he had used earlier back at him. He sighed a slight laugh.

“Like I said, infuriating…”

Just as he was about to pull away, you reached up and connected your lips with his. Your hand cupped his strong jaw and brought him closer to you. His warm, wet lips pushed against yours with vigor. There was passion in the kiss. A constant push and pull for who got to be in control. You sucked on his lower lip, trying to get him to open up his mouth, but he declined.

He pressed you further onto the wall, while cradling your head to keep it from knocking against the concrete. His teeth nipped at your lip after a few more moments of fervent open mouth kisses without tongue. You resigned to not getting your way and let his tongue lick into you. Your tongue pressed against his as the two of you continued kissing. While his mouth was harsh, the rest of his touch was mostly soft. The hand that didn’t cradle your head was rubbing up and down your side, only venturing down to your bottom occasionally and squeezing quickly.

Finally, he pulled back, gasping slightly for air. He then rested his forehead against yours and you looked at him from beneath your lashes. One of your hands was now twisted in his curls, while the other was gripping his shirt, over the dried vodka spill from earlier. You smiled as you exhaled a big breath. Harry chuckled giddily.

“That was hot,” you said.

“Y’know, having similar tastes...might not be such a bad thing after all.”

“Knowing us we probably like all the same things…” you trailed off, blushing at the suggestion.

“Why don’t we find out sometime,” Harry winked before brushing his lips against yours once more.

Pecks weren’t possible for either of you though, both of you furiously pressing back together, hungry for more of the heat that came from you kissing.

“That’d be nice,” you whimpered against his lips.

“I think it’d be more than nice…” Harry brought his head down to suck on a part of your exposed cleavage, one of his legs pressed between yours, pushing slightly up into your heat. A strangled moan left your lips as you tried to stifle it. Harry chuckled, his face moved up to right beside your ear, “You’d probably love to have me take you right here, huh?”

His leg pressed up into you and your body automatically grinded down on the pressure. The alcohol and sexual grinding from earlier had gotten you horny and the making out with Harry had definitely heightened your desire.

“But we both know you can’t,” you gained your strength and pressed a little on his shoulders.

As much as you desired Harry right now and he seemed to desire you, as well, he was right. You two were extremely similar and would never actually have sex in a bar alleyway, as much as you might want to in the moment. You both laughed, releasing the sexual tension that was surrounding you.

“I know, but it’s fun to pretend we could...How about we go to my place and see what other fantasies we share?” Harry twisted a strand of your hair in his large hand.

“For once, I’m happy to be on the same page as you, Harry,” you grinned. He picked you up and spun you around, making you shriek in laughter, before heading back into the bar to gather your stuff.

You were quick to scurry out of the bar after telling your friends you were both leaving, tired from everything that had happened. Everyone simply nodded, but the minute you were far enough away they all snickered about the lipstick smeared on the corners of Harry’s lips and your terribly mused hair. Mitch even placed a twenty in the palm of Sarah’s open hand, shaking his head in defeat.

Tag list: @cronias13 @theresthingsthatwellneverknow @harrxier @harrys-cherrry @sltwins @awesomebooklover17 @harrys-stan

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #majorharry20k #please enjoy #and give feedback #enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers!harry #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry rec #fic rec

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wonwooslibrary · 2 years ago

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hi sammie :3 i just wanted to apologize for not sending you any messages all this time TT i've been so busy all my hw and projects have been piling up

AYAYAYAYA CONGRATULATIONS ON SOCIOLOGY IM SO PROUD OF U U WORKED SO HARD :D yeah it hit me like a truck when i also realized i had to write... i haven't written anything in ages so i'm way too rusty... beware of poor writing.

omg im so happy u enjoy the matching tattoo prompt cus im doing something similar to that for my fic to you ehe

omg i have so much nostalgia from pokemon, esp pokemon xyz. i get so emotional thinking about it. and the lore is just *chefs kiss*. my fave games tho are rhythm games because i love to jam out to music and break my thumbs in the process. IM SO SORRY BUT I ABSOLUTELY HATE MIRACULOUS. i loved it a lot before but they keep on drawing out marinette and adrien's entire love story so now i hate it ToT. i just don't have the patience for that long, esp with love stories.

social anxiety is the worst TT its ironic because humans are meant to be social creatures that rely on interdependence. I've been trying to get medication for it since it's been getting increasingly worse to the point i feel like I'm gonna get a heart attack ??? yeah but somehow im being "dramatic"... anywho enough ranting

sigh i love people whose love language is physical touch <33 esp since i love to be hugged. my personal love language tho is words of affirmation simply because i also love to read!! im not much into tiktok romance books (ironic because here i am on tumblr to write the corniest stuff ever) but i like to keep those two realms separate ykyk.

it's question time! im just gonna send u one question this time tho.

what do you do whenever it's the holidays? anything fun?

i love talking with you, stay safe <3

🕯️anon

HIII ANON <3 pls don't apologize for not sending a lot of messages, I understand that people are busy!!! trust me, i am also busy with coming home for the holidays and helping my parents around the house in their new apartment.

OMG POKEMON i used to play pokepark 2 on the wii with my brother all the time and that game is one of the many reasons why gen 5 is the best pokemon generation...also bc snivy, tepig and oshawott are the best starters :)))

RHYTHYM GAMES OMG i used to play the superstar series and i cried for WEEKS when superstar bts was shut down...and then again when superstar pledis was shut down. i love playing rhythym hive tho!! i acTUALLY PULLED AN XR MINGYU EARLIER TODAY???

Also pls so many people hate miraculous and I'm ngl it's so dumb but sam (pls ignore the 3rd person lmao) is brain empty no thoughts so dumb plots with overly cliché main characters and extreme slow burn that lasts 7 years makes me happy (tho apparently the timeline in the show it's been like 9 months??? weird)

To answer your question, i honestly don't really do anything that interesting during the holidays. my family celebrates Christmas and so we just have a small Christmas at home, and then we go to my grandma's for a bigger Christmas with all of my aunts. What about you? what holiday do you celebrate? do you have any cool traditions?

I BELIEVE IN YOU, YOU'RE DOING GREAT ON ALL YOUR TESTS AND PROJECTS!!!

sorry about the short message, i can't wait to hear back from you!!

happy holidays, sammie <3

#💭 ask sam #🕯️anon #sam's secret santa era

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wildlyglittering · 4 years ago

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A Love for all Seasons Part 1 (Winter)

I said that I would write a piece for Nessian Month to be posted each Sunday so here is the first!

I’d hoped to have this up earlier but hey ho. I ended up scrapping 8,000 words of something that I’d previously done and re-wrote this in a day. It’s barely edited so I can only apologise for dubious quality and numerous spelling errors.

I asked for prompt requests and this one is based on ‘modern au, Nesta as a ballerina.’ You’ll probably see that it’s not entirely modern au because I just can’t write modern au - sorry!

I’ve decided to link all 4 prompts received together as a 4 part series. Not all other sections will be as long as this one. Probably. I mean, I’ve not written them yet so....

***

Velaris at Solmas was a magical time and Nesta wasn’t thinking metaphorically – Solmas was literally a magical time.

Solmas was a blend of both fae and human traditions and, as a time for celebration, this meant spirits were up and magical shields were down. Active magic rippled through the air as did the leakage from those who had magic but never used it.

No one truly remembered when the lines between fae and human’s merged and there was the possibility the fae had decided to adjust the truth in collective memory to make it seem like they had always been part of the city.

Perhaps they had. Perhaps they hadn’t. Not a human amongst them could tell and not a fae amongst them would.

As centuries passed, or decades - no one was quite sure after all, the fae evolved to blend in. They shed talons, claws and teeth, and moulted wings and shimmering skin.

That wasn’t to say a good deal of them didn’t have remnants of their previous lineage; there were still those who had wings and those who were always followed by a mist. Some slipped from human form like their flesh was a dress.

There wasn’t a fae who didn’t have some magic, however small. But then, so did Nesta and her sisters, Feyre and Elain.

At some point in their collective past, the fae decided they liked the humans and vice versa and so romantic liaisons were not an uncommon occurrence. Despite a few differences, both species were compatible and that was how magic managed to bleed into some human veins. As Feyre said, they were human but with ‘added spice’.

Sometimes all that magic, especially at this heightened time of year, was damned irritating.

That morning Nesta had been in a café, reading her book when a lady biting into a gingerbread man had to stop on account of her baked good starting to scream.

Then, when she’d left to make her way to the ballet, she’d been caught in a snow flurry where the snowflakes took the form of small fairies and danced around her. She’d slapped them away, ignoring their outraged cries.

The walk which should have been ten minutes from her favourite café down into the theatre district ended up taking forty after some enchanted horses pulling sleighs decided to protest and caused a blockage across three streets, causing numerous detours.

When she finally reached the theatre, the peace of her day shattered, Nesta stormed into her dressing room and slammed the door. “Fucking fae.”

Nesta didn’t hate the fae. Technically, you couldn’t. Anytime anyone had a negative thought there was a haze which descended over people’s minds to remind them how much they loved the fae and how pleased they were to live beside them.

The magic in her blood meant the haze was a pithy little thing which Nesta mentally told to shove its pleasantries up its non-existent asshole leading it to drift away, pretending it wasn’t offended.

No, she didn’t hate them but she found them so inconvenient.

Nesta had settled at her dressing table when her door opened following a knock. A head peeked round, long ruby-red hair streaming downwards. One of the fae Nesta did like.

“Nesta?”

“I’m here.”

“Viviane said she’s going to turn a portion of the Sidra into an ice rink later, fancy coming? I might also take an ice-dive. Good for the pores!”

Gwyn, the production assistant at the Velaris City Ballet Company was fae but was classified as a water nymph. Nesta had only discovered this when they took a trip to Adriata the beach city the previous year for a ‘hot girl summer’ and she realised Gwyn had a set of gills accompanying her lungs.

Nesta met Gwyn’s eyes in the mirror and raised an eyebrow.

“What? I can’t help myself; you know that. I take it the ice-rink is a no?”

Nesta shook her head in response as she began on her hair but smiled. Despite herself she really did like Gwyn and Viviane, and a lot of the production company too even though the company was riddled with nepotism and bias.

Few humans managed to win a place in the ballet. Arts and creative pursuits were hard to break into when you were auditioning against fae. The only reason Nesta was as successful as she had been was because of that drop of magical blood.

She reached for the headdress resting next to her make-up. The Solmas production was The Nutcracker which their performance director, Eris had choreographed and screamed over for weeks.

“Tchaikovsky was a close, personal friend of mine,” he’d bragged. “He was fae of course, well – half-fae, but then no one can be perfect.”

Nesta had rolled her eyes and ignored Eris’ glare, not at all intimidated since they both discovered she immune to glamours and spells.

Nesta hadn’t been able to score the prima ballerina role for the production but then she hadn’t for years. How can a human compete with fae who spun in the air and flew on invisible, gossamer wings?

She’d auditioned for the role of Sugar Plum Fairy and wasn’t offered the position on account of the actual fairies also auditioning. If Nesta had managed to win the role then she wouldn’t have lasted a week before a surprise accident befell her, regardless of the amount of protection charms she wore.

The role she had won suited her fine, the dance being one of her favourites – the Illyrian dance. The steps weren’t complex but the performance was all about attitude and frankly, Nesta had that in spades.

When she’d been offered the dance, Gwyn took her aside in the corridor, a frown on her face. “Are you sure you want to perform this Nesta?”

“I know what you’re going to say, the dance should have gone to an Illyrian and you’re right – it should have. I’ve been trying to petition Eris for years now about Illyrian ballerinas but he’s always up to his typical high-fae purist bullshit.”

Gwyn had given a nervous laugh and looked around them, making sure Eris wouldn’t somehow leap out of the wall at the comment. It was a fair suspicion; he’d done it to performers before if they had any critique of him to say.

“Just do the dance cultural justice.”

Nesta swore she would.

On the scale of species hierarchy, full humans remained at the bottom. They were aging mortals with no magic and poor immune systems. The fae laughed themselves silly at the concept of chicken pox and the common cold. However, it didn’t mean every fae species was revered.

High fae like Eris were basically royalty while lesser fae were their middle-class cousins. Nymphs were considered useful and the majority of other fae fell someplace in between.

Illyrians were almost a side step from the hierarchy.

As a species they were immortal, eternally youthful and ripe with magic as powerful as some of the high fae. Some of their bodies were like machines with what they did with them and they would have been able to perform ballet for days on end without breaking.

They also had those vast jet-black wings which were terrifying and enthralling at the same time. It was a shame Illyrian Air didn’t do well, but then there were far too many customer service issues.

The only reason they weren’t on par with the high-fae (in the eyes of the high-fae) was that they weren’t elegant enough. They moved with a violence underneath the surface of their flesh like their blood was fire.

They also had complex histories which no one understood because Illyrians refused to discuss anything about Illyria and their heritage with anyone who wasn’t an Illyrian.

She once asked Feyre about them to be told Illyrians had spent their entire lifetimes being looked down upon by other fae so when those same fae demanded Illyrian secrets, they refused to comply.

Feyre had said, “Cassian told me, ‘Why should we give them anything when we have to fight for everything,’” and Nesta conceded he had a point. Possibly the only point Cassian had ever had but a point nonetheless.

Why was she thinking all this now? Why was she thinking of her baby sister’s stupid friends? She knew very well why.

Gwyn had stepped into Nesta’s dressing room. “Isn’t tonight when your sister and her friends are coming to the show?”

Yes, that was why.

Gwyn leant against the wall, in Nesta’s line of sight in the mirror and Nesta shrugged keeping her voice nonchalant. “Yes, unfortunately.”

It wasn’t unfortunate Feyre was coming, Feyre who loved anything to do with art and ballet but Nesta wasn’t looking forward to the rest. Rhys, Feyre’s half high-fae, half Illyrian boyfriend had all the arrogant superiority of the high-fae and the volatility of the Illyrians with none of the manners.

Nesta was painfully aware Rhys didn’t like her.

The rest of the group were also non-human with Feyre seemingly abandoning humans completely, preferring the exclusive company of Rhys circle of fae friends. Elain was the opposite, living outside the walls of the city in her cottage, wanting nothing to do with fae at all.

Feyre had told Rhys a bunch of stories from their childhood and Rhys didn’t quite comprehend how human sisters worked, didn’t quite comprehend how complex their relationship had been.

The spit of magic in their blood had made things all the more difficult as humans were not the best containers for magic. In Nesta’s eyes what made it worse were all the tattoos Feyre had inked into her skin; amplifiers mostly.

Anger had been born from Nesta’s worry and her worry was from her love.

Feyre understood the root cause of Nesta’s peevishness even if she didn’t like it but Rhys saw disapproval and returned it in kind.

At the thought of some of the attendees Nesta’s heart started doing something change, fluttering away like it was a bird trapped in a cage. She remembered when Ianthe, one of the ensemble, had shown them the pet bird she’d brought.

“Isn’t it lovely?” she’d said, her eyes glittering as her fingernails grew sharp. “Such a pretty pet for me to love.”

Nesta remembered the poor thing desperately trying to fly out of its cage, smashing its wings and beak against the bars.

Ianthe ended up eating it. She’d sobbed she hadn’t meant to but she hadn’t grabbed her protein bar that morning when she’d left her apartment and she was starving.

They couldn’t help it; it was in their nature to consume. The fae were like locusts that way, consuming land, lives, birds. Hearts.

Gwyn’s smile at Nesta’s response stretched into one which took up most of her face and Nesta refrained from shuddering. Nymph embodied the gentle and the harsh of their element. Water nymphs had the ability to be as tranquil and soft as summer rain or as vicious and deadly as a shark in deep water.

“Uh-huh. Will Cassian be attending?”

“I don’t know, probably.”

“Are you nervous about doing the Illyrian dance in front of Illyrians?”

Yes. Terrified.

“No,” she said, “I’ve done my research.”

Eris’ choreography for the dance was lazy and aggressive, rooted in his high-fae misperceptions of Illyrian culture. Nesta convinced Eris to let her put together her own steps and when he let her, not giving a damn about the dance, Nesta sought out the sole Illyrian choreographer in Velaris - a woman named Emerie.

At least the dance would contain authentic steps, she’d just never performed it in front of any Illyrians who weren’t Emerie before.

Gwyn’s grin was still wide.

“Oh, go away would you,” Nesta said with a scowl. “I need to focus before the matinee.”

Gwyn laughed at Nesta’s scowl and Nesta knew Gwyn understood Nesta’s words were harsh but her meaning wasn’t.

“Fine, fine. I’ll see you later, my little witchy dancer.”

Nesta glared at her friends departing back. I’m not a witch, she wanted to say, just a human whose great grandma caught the eye of a high-fae and had at it.

The matinee performance went well. Performances at the Velaris City Ballet Company always went well. The city made it so, drawing in an audience like moths to lamplight.

For all its splendour, Velaris was ancient and small. What was once a human village at the base of the mountains with the Sidra River running wild aside it, grew in population and glamour once the fae came pushing through the veil.

Human technology and fae magic combined to turn the place into something unique which rippled out to other human towns and dwellings but Velaris remained the first and the original.

While other cities grew, Velaris kept its quaintness. Old buildings built from red stone were covered with trailing ivy which bloomed with different flowers depending on the inhabitants’ moods. Rooms would change their size and shape according to the number of people within and wallpapers would shift when required to become something new. A piece of furniture could be a chaise longue in the morning and a mahogany dresser by nightfall.

Outside was no different. The cobbled side streets were slightly off kilter and you could look back, having walked up a steep street only to realise the path you’d walked was now heading a different direction and upwards, not down.

The ballet house was one of the oldest buildings and contained concentrated magic the way a bottle contained liquid. It also meant, much like liquid, if the bottle was shaken then there would be spillage.

Truth told; they’d had some difficulties with previous performances.

The first performance of Sleeping Beauty had left the majority of the audience passed out in their red velvet chairs while thickets of thorns grew up from the stage floor, encompassing the dancers. Nesta had to hack through several vines to reach her dressing room to grab her apartment keys.

The Snow Queen last Solmas followed suit. Viviane had been their prima ballerina that year and was in her utmost element. That had been the worst winter Velaris had ever experienced with uncharacteristic heavy snowfalls and biting frosts. The less said about the temporary missing children and ominous women in sleighs, the better.

Aside from when Eris turned actual rats into human sized dancers and the whole city was put into a three-day long lockdown while fae exterminators went to work, The Nutcracker was going fairly well.

Magic whirled the audience through each act and they heard and tasted and smelt everything being shown to them. Music would drift into their ears as performers danced fluidly across the stage. Some of the audience sobbed, overcome by the magic which sank into their skin.

The experience took some time to get used to if you were human. The first time Nesta had performed ballet in Velaris she was dizzy with nausea and slick with sweat. Now she even managed to use some of her own dormant abilities to counter the effects, or even to add in some of her own.

Before the evening performance began, her phone beeped with a message from Feyre.

Can’t wait to see you dance! Catch up with you afterwards!

Nesta groaned. She’d agreed to go for a drink at the in-house bar with Feyre and the rest but now she wished she was going straight home.

The stage melted away from the dance before hers into Nesta’s scenery as she waited in the wings for her cue. She eyed up the boxes, knowing Rhys had sponsored one for Feyre but didn’t have a clue which one.

The Illyrian dance had a sparse stage, to demonstrate the Illyrian steppes but the painted backdrop was one of Ramiel, the revered Illyrian mountain. Despite the sparsity, the set pulsed with a dry heat; the scent of crackling wood fire and spice filling the air, the sensation of warm winds tickling her skin.

When the music started, she danced on, determined to prove to Illyrian eyes in the audience she would do it justice.

Nesta drew on the same magic which ran in Feyre and Elain’s bones, the same magic Feyre had permanently etched on the surface of her skin. When Nesta leapt, she cast imaginary wings on her back which carried her further forward and higher. When she pirouetted, she was spinning on ice. Her arms were graceful and her legs sharp.

Nesta formed herself into a blade of dance as she undulated her hips and curved her spine. She swore the heat under her skin caused the air to burn around her.

She finished to rapturous applause and resisted eyeing up the boxes again although she wanted to know if any particular hands were clapping.

In the wings Gwyn was waiting and handed her a towel and Nesta realised she was glistening with sweat, droplets highlighting her cleavage.

“Very nice,” Gwyn said, clapping. “A small fire broke out in one of the stalls.”

Before Nesta said anything, Eris walked by with a low whistle. “Great performance, Nesta. I now have a raging boner.”

The women shrieked in disgust and Nesta threw her towel at him. “Animal.”

Eris grinned, “You know it” and his eyes shone as he caught the towel. Nesta made a mental note to ask Elain for more rowan to put around her dressing room door.

Nesta watched the rest of the performances from the wings until curtain close. Usually she never dawdled, always wanting to remove her costume and dress into civilian clothes as quick as possible but tonight she took her time, idly drawing out each minute until she couldn’t avoid her fate forever.

Audience members with children, fae or human often left first, clearing the way for those who wanted to remain behind in the theatre bar. When the fae discovered alcohol a new set of problems arose. Regardless of what species you were, once you were drunk you did stupid things.

The bar was below ground level and took up a vast amount of space. Overstuffed seating was positioned around tables in compartments, each draped with their own set of thick, crimson red curtains with gold tassels. If the occupants wanted privacy, then they had it.

Nesta shimmied past groups; fae, human and mixed, who laughed and clinked their champagne flutes, none recognising her as a dancer they’d watched earlier.

Feyre was likely to have a private booth booked along with the theatre box as Rhys had so much gold he likely melted it down and bathed in it. The last time Nesta met up with Feyre, her little sister had been wearing a diamond encrusted corset top.

Ahead of her stood two figures, both leaning against the open fronted bar and deep in conversation. Cassian and Azriel. No one was able to miss them even if they tried to blend in. Illyrians were known for their size and their wings and not exactly known for their love of ballet.

Almost as though he sensed her arrival, Cassian stopped talking and turned, strands of his black hair falling from his messy bun. Her eyes met his and she felt how she always did whenever they glanced at each other �� a little bit anxious, a little bit horny and a little bit excited.

Nesta was worried if she opened her mouth, a thousand butterflies would float upwards from her stomach.

The look on his face, one she couldn’t place, slipped into something familiar as she drew nearer. Cassian smirked at her and followed it up with a slow, obvious glance from head to toe.

“Hello, Nesta.” He drawled his words, husky and deep. His voice was a baritone which always had her itching to dance across his words. Illyrian magic wasn’t the strongest but those who wielded it were.

What Illyrians wielded their magic for was anyone’s guess but if she had to, Nesta would have guessed it was for making panties drop if the turning heads of the crowd and little sighs was any indication.

There had been occasions where she too was driven with the need to show him more skin of hers then he deserved, to beg him to lay her down and cover her body in honey before licking it off with rasps of his tongue.

Must have been magic.

“Cassian,” she said with barely a nod and turned to his companion. “Azriel.”

Azriel nodded back a polite hello while Cassian leant against the bar directly facing her, wearing a grin as sharkish as Gwyn’s. She was like a lamb on the ground being circled by a taloned beast.

“Interesting performance.”

Azriel coughed at Cassian’s words, spluttering on the beer he was drinking and Nesta frowned, heat flooding her cheeks. Was he mocking her?

If he was, she wouldn’t give his smugly handsome self the satisfaction of getting to her and instead she ignored his words asking who else was here and where her sister was.

“Feyre, Rhys, Az and me. Amren came to watch the ballet but didn’t stay for drinks.”

“And where’s my sister and Rhys now?”

Cassian jerked his head over to the direction of the compartments. “They’re having a private ‘conversation’ behind closed curtains.”

Nesta’s face twisted in disgust. Fucking fae. Always fucking.

“Why didn’t Amren stay?”

“She never sticks around after The Nutcracker. Says it’s derogatory and insulting and she only comes to refill her well of rage.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, what was it she said Az? That the performances were brimming with cultural appropriation?”

The heat on Nesta’s cheeks turned into furnace. It wasn’t as though Cassian explicitly referred to Nesta’s performance but his words had to crawled under her skin. Feyre’s fae friends weren’t fans of Nesta’s, not after Rhys had spilled to them everything Feyre had told him.

For a group so ancient, they acted like spoilt human teenagers. Nesta would take the high road and try and find dignity in silence.

The bartender brought out another beer for Azriel and a glass of dark liquor for Cassian. A glass of wine from the Rosehall vineyard was handed to her and she was surprised someone had the foresight to order for her before she arrived, and with her favourite drink.

“Did you not like it then?” Nesta asked after taking a sip, her voice light. Azriel coughed again and this time Cassian shot him a glare, his rough-hewn face growing solemn before sliding into his more casual expression.

“There were some authentic Illyrian steps involved which is impressive. Didn’t realise old Eris had it in him.”

“It wasn’t Eris,” Nesta said, “It was me. I found an Illyrian choreographer in the city and she taught me some steps.”

Cassian’s face stilled for a moment, motionless like stone before letting out a roaring laugh which reverberated around the bar. The lesser fae behind him jumped and splashed his drink on the counter, quivering in fright.

“Well, that explains it!”

Nesta’s flesh prickled, her skin chilling in the overly warm bar. Goodness knows what she’d been dancing. Some dance of self-mockery probably. Her throat was burning and she didn’t understand whether she was upset because she thought Emerie liked her or upset because Cassian had seen.

Nesta’s fingers clenched the stem of the wine glass and she took a gulp of her drink, downing almost half as her hand wavered and her eyes watered. Cassian immediately stopped grinning.

“It was a beautiful dance,” Azriel said from her right and she turned to him, his face serious. “Other performances of The Nutcracker have the Illyrian dance as the violent, hostile war dance. Yours was the best one I’ve seen. Cassian liked it very much.”

Nesta whispered her thanks, looking between the Illyrians standing at either side of her who were now glaring at each other. She was out-flanked next to their bulk and she wished her sister was done doing whatever the hell she was doing so Nesta could say her hellos and goodbyes and get out of there.

“There’s only one Illyrian choreographer in this city,” Cassian said, his voice softer as his fingers trailed around his glass rim. “No other Illyrian would ever bother with this place.”

Nesta looked around the theatre at its gilded gold décor and red curtains but somehow knew Cassian was referring to Velaris as a whole. Illyrians never came to the city to visit, let alone live.

She glanced at him and found his smile was gentler and his hazel eyes, which always bordered on lascivious, were kinder somehow. Perhaps he hadn’t meant to mock her, perhaps he realised his raucous laughter had hurt.

He had no reason to care if he’d hurt her feelings and she shouldn’t have cared either but there had been a sting to his words which sunk deeper than she’d liked. She wasn’t opposed if he wanted to soothe over his words.

But she wasn’t about to let him know that. Instead, she fixed a bored expression onto her face. “Oh,” she said, looking into her glass as she swirled her wine around, “and who would that be?”

Cassian, still leaning against the bar, mirrored her by looking into his own glass before taking a sip.

“A friend of mine from the old country moved here a couple of years ago because her attempt at bringing ballet into the township was less than successful. You know her human name as Emerie.”

Cassian was still leaning against the bar, now looking into his own deep amber coloured liquid before taking a sip.

Nesta’s head snapped up to find Cassian now looking intently at her. “Yes, that’s her.”

“Figured,” Cassian said with a chuckle and took another long sip.

His mood seemed less jovial than before, more pensive and Nesta glanced around to discover Azriel had gone from her side. She looked around the crowds but didn’t see sight of him. How she lost an Illyrian of his stature she didn’t know but when she whipped her head around to the booth Cassian gestured towards earlier, the curtains were still closed.

She didn’t even have it in her to be irritated. The whole night was a wash-out and because of the stupid enchanted horse incident earlier closing streets, she was now adding additional time to her walk home.

“Well, then,” she said. “It’s been a long day and I’m tired; I have another two performances tomorrow and I want to head out and avoid any festive idiots.”

Cassian stood upright, alert and facing her, his glass sloshing the liquid violently as he placed it back onto the bar a little too hard. His wings flexed. “You haven’t seen Feyre yet.”

“If Feyre wanted to catch up with me then she wouldn’t be playing hide the fae penis with her boyfriend right now.” Her tone was sharp and she glared at Cassian. “It doesn’t take much to say a quick hello to your sister.”

Did Nesta care if Cassian thought her rude? Not a fucking bit. Despite Elain living an hour outside the city and Feyre only living on the other side, a journey which took less than a minute travelling by Winnow Express, Feyre was the sister Nesta saw the least.

“If she comes out at any point,” Nesta continued, “tell her I’ll call her.”

It wasn’t a lie when she said she was tired. Two performances a day took it out of her let alone when magic clung in the air at Solmas and let alone the fact that Nesta had used a tiny amount of her own as some kind of performance enhancer.

Whatever energy reserves she had was depleted, the glass of wine making her feel like she’d drank the entire bottle.

Nesta didn’t bother saying goodbye to Cassian, just left her empty glass on the counter and spun around.

Being a ballerina was on her side as she wove through the crowd and up into the foyer which was blissfully empty. Sadly, the world outside the doors was not so much and Nesta took a breath before wrapping herself in her stole.

The statues guarding the entrance waved her a goodbye, one with a human Santa hat adorning its head and the other with a fae garland wrapped around its waist. Nesta rolled her eyes. Human and fae decorations were put on everything so management could say they’d met their Equal Opportunities criteria.

Nesta stepped onto the pavement and looked down the street of the theatre district.

She couldn’t deny Velaris at night was beautiful.

History books stated the first fae who settled in the city were night dwellers and while they were able to survive in the sun, it was under the starlit sky where they thrived. So, the stories went that they made the night spectacular.

The ink black sky was painted with whorls of galaxies and splashed with stars. At first glance everything appeared white but when Nesta looked closer it was clear they were silver and gold and the purest, palest blue.

Feyre had once told her fae eyes saw more colours than humans and the stars were a multitude of colours – the rainbow and beyond. One of Feyre’s tattoos was designed to allow her to see what the fae saw.

The theatre district was still buzzing with humans and fae alike. Because of the nature of the city, it was usual for the streets to be filled until the early hours of the morning and after any performance in the theatre district there was no time for relaxing.

There was always residual magic left over from the ballet. The ballet theatre was the largest of the theatre buildings and so the magic started strongest at the end Nesta now stood before dissipating the further away you walked.

Snowflakes and flowers alike drifted down from the empty, cloudless sky. The Waltz of the Snowflakes and the Waltz of the Flowers often combatted against each other for prominence in their audience’s minds and refused to give in to each even after the show was done.

Thankfully, the Land of the Sweets didn’t involve themselves in this battle. They had done one performance many weeks ago and when chocolate rained from the sky it was delightful. Boiling hot coffee? Not so much.

Nesta navigated her way though the cobbles and crowds as petals landed in her hair and snowflakes melted on her eyelashes. She heaved a sigh of relief when she made it to the end past the gathered individuals who spilled out of the smaller theatres and theatre bars.

She turned left to go into a side street and stopped, almost tripping over her own feet.

Leaning against the wall, silhouetted against the streetlamps and fae lights was the hulking shape of an Illyrian.

“What are you-? How did you-?”

Cassian laughed as he used his elbow to propel himself from the wall and stride towards her. “What am I doing here and how did I get here so fast?”

“Well... yeah.”

“Wings,” he said, jabbing his thumbs in the direction behind him. “They come in useful from time to time. I thought I would fly you home.”

Nesta eyed up the wings behind him, remembering all the news reports of Illyrian Air. “No thank you, I like the walk.”

“Ok, then I’ll walk with you. Make sure you get home safe.”

She frowned. Nesta had lived in this city all her life and despite the occasional fae related incident which was brought on by personal vendetta, unavoidable prophecy from birth or magic spell gone wrong, Velaris was a safe place.

It also helped that Nesta had that splash of fae blood herself and a glare which froze bones. Literally. There had been an incident with an ex-boyfriend but she’d filed an explanation with the police and it was never brought up again.

“I’m fine,” she said. “I don’t need babysitting.”

“I know you don’t but I’d still like to walk you. Please.” The last word was said so softly she almost didn’t hear it but she caught the imploration.

Cassian stepped further into the light of a streetlamp, a few pale pink petals falling from his shoulders, desperation in his eyes.

Nesta sighed. “Fine, but I’m on the other side of the Sidra. The quickest route is over Mermaid Bridge.”

Cassian paused for a moment, “Mermaid Bridge? There won’t be any actual mermaids on it right?”

“Not at this time of year, the water’s too cold and they travel south.”

“Thank god, one of my ex’s was a mermaid. They are terrifying.”

Nesta shook her head, not able to imagine a creature of his size being scared of anything. They started walking in companionable silence. The further away from the city centre they strode, the more the crowds thinned.

Some shops remained open, including the café Nesta sat in earlier and groups had gathered around tables to laugh over mugs of frothy hot chocolate which overflowed with cream. Cinnamon, gingerbread, and candy cane scented the air.

As they walked, humans and fae alike paled when they crossed paths with Cassian and many darted out of his way. One lesser fae flattened himself against the red brick wall while another gave a quiet yelp and ran down an alley.

Nesta glanced up at Cassian but either he was pretending he didn’t notice the running onlookers or he didn’t care.

“What do you do?” she asked. She knew nothing about any of Feyre’s friends in any detail. “For that matter what do any of you do?”

Cassian laughed. “Rhys has a lot of inherited wealth, Amren trades precious stones – we think from the old dragon mines, and no one has a clue what Azriel does. I’m a bounty hunter.”

Oh.

“Caught anyone I’d have heard of?”

“Heard of the Tooth Fairy?”

Nesta grimaced, quickly swooping her tongue over her teeth. “Yes.”

“He was one of mine. So was the Bone Carver, the Weaver and Lanthys.”

Nesta’s eyebrows shot up. “Lanthys? The gold miner? What did he do? Wait, I don’t want to know. He asked me out once.”

Cassian glanced over at her; his own eyebrows raised. “Yeah? Did you say yes?”

Nesta pulled a face. “Good grief, no. He kept sending me telepathic dick pics. It’s bad enough being sent dick pics across dating apps.”

They approached Mermaid Bridge, which was, as Nesta said, devoid of the creature it was named for. Lights twinkled on the other side of the city, the residential side where Nesta lived. There were shrieks of delight further up the river in the dark and Nesta wondered if Gwyn was ice-diving next to Viviane’s ice rink.

Cassian coughed. “You’re on dating apps?”

“Not many, I thought I’d give them a go. My sisters are busy, I only have a few friends and I need something other than work in my life.”

“Yeah, I understand. ‘All work and no play’ make Cassian a dull boy too. The play part of life is fun,” he looked at her from the side of his eye and winked.

Nesta felt the blush spread across her cheeks and she willed it down with whatever force she had left. She wasn’t a virgin so she wasn’t about to start blushing like one.

They climbed the steps to the bridge and walked across. Of all the bridges which connected the two halves of the city, this was Gwyn’s favourite. Nesta’s human eyes couldn’t pick out the colours at night but in the day the railings glittered gold and shimmered with turquoise gems.

“Do you date?” The words slipped out before she stopped them. “You mentioned a mermaid ex so....”

Cassian’s laugh was more a breath and he started to smooth down non-existent knots in his hair. “Yes. Well...no. I did but work is busy and I’m sort of interested in someone and I guess until I purge them from my system, I’m not interested in anyone else.”

“How long have you been interested in them?”

“A while.”

“Why don’t you ask them out rather than eradicate them from your options?”

Nesta wanted to slap herself in the face. Or pitch herself off the bridge into the black, ice-cold water. Even as she was speaking, she wanted to not be but it was as though her mouth and mind had fallen out and no longer wanted anything to do with each other.

Cassian shrugged, “I guess. They just never struck me as someone interested in dating fae.”

They came to the end of the bridge and Nesta looked upwards at the sky. On this side of the river without the city lights, the stars were clearer to her eyes, more defined. One shot across the sky.

“You should go for it,” Nesta said, “you might be surprised.”

“Maybe,” Cassian sighed. “She’s kind of intimidating though.”

“You’re over six foot tall with massive wings and can use magic. I’m sure you’re more intimidating.”

“Me? Nah, I’m sure she thinks I’m an oversized bat.”

Nesta cringed. Those had been her words once a couple of years ago when she was first introduced to Feyre’s new friendship group and the Illyrian’s within. She didn’t think they’d heard her say it but then again, fae hearing was something exceptional along with fae sight.

The streets they walked were now quieter, the hustle and bustle of the inner-city gone. The chill settled in easier on this side of the river and Nesta knew she’d wake to frost across her window panes in the morning.

They were silent until they reached her apartment building, halfway up one of the steepest lanes. It was a small four storey which wasn’t spacious or modern but it gave her brilliant view across the river and Velaris and most importantly, it was hers.

“This is me,” she said, stopping outside the steps leading to the red entrance door. “Thank you for walking me back.” It was on the tip of her tongue to invite Cassian in for coffee but she held back.

He smiled, his eyes warm and shining. “Honestly it was my pleasure.” He leant forward, the sheer bulk of him covering Nesta and for a moment she thought he would kiss her but instead he took her slim fingered hand in his larger one and brought it up to his mouth, kissing the back of her hand.

“Goodnight,” he said, “I hope you have a good Solmas Day when it comes.”

Cassian was no ballet dancer but he sure moved like one, letting go of her hand and swivelling to face the direction they’d walked in from, marching down the slope of her street while Nesta stared at his retreating back.

He was clad in black and would have easily blended into his surroundings if not for the red jewels he wore at his wrists.

Nesta gaped down at the back of her hand, her mouth open. She still felt his lips, warm and soft, on her skin.

“Wait!”

Cassian turned back to face her, tilting his head.

“I’m sorry if my performance in the ballet was offensive. I know Azriel said it was beautiful and that you liked it but if that was a lie to save my feelings, it’s ok. I went to Emerie because I wanted to make it authentic. I should have left it alone.”

Cassian smiled but it wasn’t mocking. He took a few steps back up the street towards her. “You know I said Emerie was a friend from the old country?”

Nesta nodded.

“She’s a really good friend. I like her a lot. She’s no nonsense with a great heart. I was trying to set her up with Rhys’ cousin Mor and in the process we got talking about dating and relationships and she asked if there was anyone, I was interested in. As it happens, I discovered this evening that she knows the person I was talking about. I’m sure she saw this as her opportunity to do some matchmaking of her own.”

“Oh,” Nesta said, her throat dry.

“Yeah. I also happened to tell her in one conversation I would be watching The Nutcracker this year on account of it being Solmas. So, there you go.”

The butterflies were flittering in Nesta’s stomach again and Cassian’s words were taking shape in her mind and building a story. “The steps Emerie taught me for the Illyrian dance – was that an invitation?”

Cassian’s smile stretched wide and he tilted his head back and laughed, the dark column of his throat shining in the starlight. “Oh yes, a very specific invitation. Emerie must have had the day of her life when she pieced everything together.”

The flittering in her stomach was now pooling in her chest. This type of conversation should have her fleeing up the steps and racing through the foyer until she threw herself into her cold bed to hide under the covers.

Nesta wanted to know what she’d inadvertently done without meaning to. Not that she minded whatever it was she’d done.

“What did I dance then, Cassian?” Her voice was lower than usual and rich like the overflowing cream in the café.

Cassian’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his hazel eyes were almost black. “The dance you performed half naked on a heated stage was most definitely an invitation, Nesta.” He smiled at her again, soft like before but there was something behind it. Suddenly he was a wolf and she the lamb again. He was all claws and teeth and animal.

A shiver of anticipation ran through her. Her pulse beating in her throat, drawing Cassian’s eye.

“Oh, Nesta,” Cassian said, his voice almost a growl. “You performed an Illyrian dance of seduction.”

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ismokechurros · 4 years ago

Text

misunderstandings - ao3

When his mark first appeared, he hated it. He was five and didn't quite like that the first thing he would ever hear his soulmate say would be

"I'm sorry."

What did that mean? Would his soulmate hurt him? Would that be the very first thing they did? That can't bode well for a long term relationship.

Besides that depressing thought, another issue he had with it was how common it was. People apologized every day, how was he supposed to find her?

His first mistake was thinking it was his kindergarten teacher, who apologized after he ran into her feet. It was hard to explain to his parents why he got sent to the principal's office on his first day of school, hugging a teacher's leg and professing your undying love for them isn't exactly a common offense.

After that, he tried not to get too excited when he heard those words. And as time went by, he succeeded. Slowly, his head stopped shooting up everytime someone near him apologized, his heart rate stopped skyrocketing when a passerby said sorry, he grew to feel the general disdain and doubt most feel in accompaniment with apologies.

Those two, meaningless words scrawled at the top of his right bicep were left ignored and he went on forgetting they existed for the better part of 17 years.

----------

She was five when her mark appeared, too, though that seemed to be a common age for the mark's development so she wasn't exactly surprised. What she was surprised by was the

"You're okay."

now sprawled on the bottom right side of her neck. An odd place for an odd mark.

In her five-year-old indignation, she resented the fact that her mark was telling her what she was. She could be not okay if she wanted to be, who was her soulmate to tell her that she wasn't!

A stupid fight to pick, and one she dropped after about two minutes. That was how long it took before the girl next to Nancy screamed and then started crying. Apparently, Amy didn't like that the first words her soulmate would say to her would be asking for her starbucks order.

Nancy decided it could be worse.

---------

Working at The Claw can't be that bad, Nancy thinks as she enters the restaurant for her first day at work. She needs to get her mind off of her mother's death and making a few bucks in the process couldn't hurt. Plus, it would help ease the financial burden of college- if she still stood a chance of getting in, that is. Her senior grades (and attendance rate) weren't exactly "Columbia Material", no matter how good her essay was.

Walking from the door to the back room, Nancy makes sure to take into account everything she sees on the way. Two truckers eating greasy cheeseburgers at the counter; a woman drinking coffee alone at a table; a family celebrating their daughter's graduation in a booth. Another reminder of the life Nancy won't get to lead.

Reaching up, Nancy rubs the side of her neck where she knows, under several layers of foundation, there's a reminder that she's okay. Her soul mark has grown to be something of a saviour for her these past couple months. A reassurance everytime it seemed her demons were getting a little too close to snuffing out her light, her crutch at her most debilitating moments. Nancy thinks, whoever her soulmate is, they must be a decent person if they’re able to give her this much comfort.

“Drew! Your uniform’s in the back, I’m not paying you to stand there and look pretty! You did enough of that in high school!”

Ah yes, George. No matter how many times Nancy tries to proclaim her innocence, George refuses to believe she didn’t play a part in spreading the rumors that ruined her life in high school. And honestly, maybe she was right. Nancy may not have spread any rumors, but she definitely didn’t stop them. Maybe she does deserve George’s wrath. Besides, what’s another person added to the list of “People Nancy Drew Has Failed”. George can go right under her mom.

At this rate, she might need to put more foundation on her mark.

“Now, Drew!”

Eh, she’ll do it at lunch.

-----------

One month in and Nancy thinks she’s got the job down pat. She’s at least doing better than some people.

Dishes clatter in the kitchen as pots hit the floor.

“Oops! Sorry!”

Speak of the devil. Nancy goes to the kitchen to help Bess, because Bess has needed nothing but help since the day George gave her the job, but when she opens the door she's met with a peculiar scene.

Bess, the endearing clutz she is, is on the floor trying to pick up the pots but somehow making a bigger mess. Ace, on the other hand, is just staring.

Nancy hasn’t known Ace very long, hasn’t even talked to him directly, but from what she’s seen he’s at least helpful. He cleans up after himself, stays late to do inventory, cleans out the grease traps, all without complaining. Yet here he is, staring at Bess on the floor and doing nothing.

Nancy wants to call out, ask why he isn’t helping, or at the very least say excuse me on her way to help Bess collect the pans, but oddly enough she can’t find the words. She just stares at him with that confused look on her face.

It seems she doesn’t need to say anything, though. As if the question on her face was spoken aloud, Ace snaps out of his reverie and bends to help Bess. He’s smiling at her a little too much, and Nancy can tell where this is heading before he even opens his mouth. She decides to make a clean exit before she’s forced to watch him try and fail to shoot his shot with her royal waitress Bess.

------

Nancy just needs a minute. She needs a second to breathe. Serving her high school friends and having to listen to their patronizing and pitying tones while she can hear them laughing the second she turns around is not what she signed up for.

To make matters worse, she’s about one more rub away from her mark making its presence known and she doesn’t need the added stares today. She doesn’t quite understand the taboo of revealing your soulmark to others, but today may not be the best day to tackle generations worth of unnecessary forced modesty.

She rushes through the back door, the mocking sounds of laughter cut off as the door swings shut behind her. Apparently god isn’t on her side, though, because the second the door shuts, the freezer opens and Bess exits carrying boxes stacked a good foot higher than her. Boxes that topple over as she tries to close the freezer behind her.

Normally, Nancy would help Bess out. God knows she’s gotten used to it, and Bess is a nice enough girl that Nancy doesn’t totally hate doing it. But right now, the noise from the boxes is too loud and sounds suspiciously like laughter and Nancy can’t really breathe so she doesn’t think getting near the cold, thin air of the freezer is gonna help her.

And so she ignores Bess’ apologies and pleading eyes and instead barges through the backdoor, hoping to get some much needed air in the alleyway behind The Claw. Instead, she faceplants into a cotton cladded wall.

“I’m sorry.”

She maneuvers around the person she ran into, avoiding eye contact and desperate for some space. She reaches the wall across from the door and puts a hand on the cool brick hoping it’ll help ground her. Leaning forward against the wall, the other hand immediately goes to her neck.

“You’re okay.”

Suddenly, struggling to breathe is less of an issue than not breathing altogether.

Nancy slowly turns and stares at the man who she is destined to spend the rest of her life with.

Ace slowly blinks back.

“Are you okay?” He asks, concerned. Nancy can’t really respond, considering the fact that she can’t breathe.

“Woah, Nancy. You don’t look so hot.” Great, my soulmate thinks I’m ugly. Nancy urges herself to use her actual brain for a second instead of whatever it is she’s using now because obviously that one isn’t working.

Still, she says nothing. Ace takes the silence as an invitation to lean against the wall across from her. They continue to stare at each other; her like a deer in the headlights and him entirely too mellow for someone who just found their soulmate. Unless he didn’t.

That’s not a thought Nancy wants to have. But now that it’s out there, she can’t stop thinking about it. Does it work like that? Can the whole soulmate thing go unrequited? Some memory escapes the precipes of her mind, a brief chapter on soulmate history she had to read for class. It was her senior history class, so she didn’t really pay attention, but she does remember reading something in there about a rare percentage of the population that had one sided soul marks. She also remembers thinking about how sad of a life they must lead.

And it's not like she's wrong about this, especially since Nancy’s heart feels like it’s about to explode and she instinctively knows the only thing that can calm her down is standing there, staring at her with glazed eyes.

“Want one?” Ace asks, materializing a blunt out of seemingly thin air. “They always help calm me down.”

Now the glazed eyes make more sense. Nancy reaches for it without thinking, the brief touch of their fingertips as the weed changes hands works wonders for calming her down. She is finally thinking a little clearer, breathing a little easier. She stands taller and some of the tension escapes her body.

“See? Works wonders for the nerves.”

If he wants to attribute her abrupt demeanor shift to his weed, she won’t correct him. Instead, she thinks about how this is the first real time he has talked to her. She wishes it happened sooner, his voice reminds her of waves crashing on the shore and when he talks she thinks she’s found her happy place. She’s never hated herself more.

Taking a hit, she passes the blunt back to him and relishes in the little contact that brings about. How lame is it that she’s pining for a guy who is destined to be with someone else.

“You seem more relaxed now, if you wanted to talk about anything, I’m here.”

She does. She wants to talk about how she feels more at ease and safe with him, here in this alleyway, than anywhere else; how she hasn’t felt peace like this since her mom died; how he has a calming effect on her that she wishes she could use like a drug; how she’s scared it might become one.

But she can’t talk to him about that at all, because she knows that though her soul finds peace with his, his soul fits better with someone else's. She doesn’t want to guilt him into any half-assed relationship, figures it would be better to become his friend and get to experience the safety and comfort he exudes at a safe arms-length away.

Instead, she talks about the ways everything has gone wrong in the past year (she avoids bringing up how he could have been her first right thing in a while). He listens as he smokes through the whole blunt, his eyes getting heavier as she continues. She’s confident he won’t remember anything tomorrow, thankful she won’t have to explain her near-meltdown. But above all-else, she’s sad. She really is doomed to go through life alone, she doesn’t get anyone to help shoulder her pain. Maybe she doesn’t deserve it.

When she finishes her sob story, he thanks her for sharing it with him. She nods but doesn’t say anything, afraid of what she might reveal if she opens her mouth again.

“DREW!” An angry George calls from inside.

“That’s my cue.” She makes to leave but is stopped by an arm on her hand. She tries to ignore her heart screaming.

“Hey, I really liked talking to you. We haven’t really done that before.”

She nods, trying to make it seem like she just doesn’t want to talk and not like she physically can’t (not while he’s touching her).

He doesn’t let go, though. Instead, he stares at her with more consciousness in his eyes than she thought he would be capable of by now.

“You’re not alone. I don’t know why, but I feel like you need to hear that.” His voice is soft and quiet and warm, low tide at sunrise.

Nancy’s eyes widen (though her heart warms) and he let’s go. She heads inside without another word, hand rubbing her neck on the way in.

Nancy decides to invest in neck ties.

#ndcentral #plz tell me what you think #im desperate for validation #nancy drew #nace #ace x nancy #nancy x ace #soulmates #hiatus week one #also i dont know how to work this app #someone tell me how to post a preview #also please dont judge me too hard i TRIED #nace fanfiction

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ibijau · 4 years ago

Text

How to Woo a Lan pt1 / On AO3

Jin Ling is determined to court Lan Sizhui, but can't seem to say two words to him without insulting him. He decides that what he needs is the help of someone who has already successfully seduced a Lan, and he knows something about Nie Huaisang that others don't.

It had been, to put it mildly, a bit of a wild year. Jin Ling had gone from being treated as a child by everyone who met him and being barely mature enough to be trusted alone on a Night Hunt, to having to behave like a full grown adult because he suddenly was the leader of a cut-throat sect that was half falling apart after the early death of its corrupt former leader.

Fifteen was never an easy age, but Jin Ling was pretty sure he had it a little rougher than most people.

Of course, it could have been worse. For one thing, he could have been dead. In fact, he had come pretty close to it a few times, most memorably when he was kidnapped and trapped in the Burial Mounds with other juniors, and when his beloved uncle Jin Guangyao had used him as a hostage and threatened to cut his throat open with a guqin string if he wasn’t allowed to run away after it was revealed he had murdered a number of people, like Jin Ling’s grandfather, and indirectly caused the death of others, like Jin Ling’s father. And then after that there had been a handful of other attempts on Jin Ling’s life once he had become sect leader, because he had older relatives who thought they’d be better at the job, or who other people thought would be easier to corrupt… but really, those attempts just hadn’t been very impressive.

Jin Ling had been raised by Jin Guangyao, so he knew a thing or two about avoiding poison. And he’d been raised by Jiang Cheng as well, so even at his age, there weren’t that many adults who could pose a threat to his life, should they directly attack him.

All in all, the murder attempts hadn’t been so bad. The paperwork and meetings, on the other hand, were the worst thing ever. There were so, so many letters to read, and to analyse, and to answer. And then there were Night Hunt reports. Tracking the progress of junior disciples. Bills. An astonishing number of bills, oftentime for things Jin Ling didn’t even understand, so he had to ask during meetings what the sect was spending money on this time. There was a forty percent chance that it was something frivolous he could cut off, and a fifty percent chance that it was just barely concealed corruption, but since there was the ten percent possibility of that bill being something actually useful, Jin Ling still had to investigate every single one, just in case.

With all this going on, Jin Ling was lucky when he could find an hour here and there to meditate, or work on his cultivation, or train Fairy. He had considered skipping sleep from time to time, but Jiang Cheng had heard about it, somehow, and rushed to Jinlin Tai to scream at him about being irresponsible with his health, as if he were any better. Everyone knew Sandu Shengshou ran on two hours of sleep, medical pills, and rage… but apparently Jin Ling wasn’t alone to do the same. Unfair.

Equally unfair was the fact that in the six months between Jin Guangyao’s death and Jin Ling’s fifteenth’s birthday, he had only gone on two night hunts.

The first was… not so bad. Jin Ling had been forced to have some other Jin disciples come along, which was boring, but then they’d all met up with some Lan and with Ouyang Zizhen, which had been pretty nice. Not quite as nice as it could have been if a certain person had been there, but not quite bad either, because Jin Ling had been able to chat with Ouyang Zizhen who was smarter than he looked, and to argue with Lan Jingyi who was fun to have a shouting match with.

And then, there had been that second Night Hunt. Jin Ling, still dealing with the aftermath of a slightly more efficient assassination attempt after which part of Jinlin Tai had really thought him dead for a good shichen and a half, had stumbled upon a man who had come to beg for the help of his sect and decided he’d help with that. He needed a break from his murderous cousins anyway.

So instead, he called the worst asshole he knew to help him deal with this, for fun.

And Lan Jingyi, for some reason known only to him, decided to let Wei Wuxian come as well.

That was the first problem, Jin Ling later decided. If Wei Wuxian hadn’t been there, things would have gone better. But he just didn’t really know where he stood with the man who had, technically, caused both of his parents to die and whom Jin Ling had, technically, tried to murder in return. The man who had also saved his life several times, without any hesitation.

Lan Jingyi knew that Jin Ling had mixed feelings about Wei Wuxian, who he hadn’t seen since the death of Jin Guangyao. So he had to have asked him to come along on purpose, because Lan Jingyi was a damn asshole and Jin Ling hated his guts, for all that he was probably his best friend at this point.

It wasn’t hard to be the best of something when you were almost the only one.

Anyway, Jin Ling should have guessed that Wei Wuxian would get involved in this, so it wasn’t such a surprise.

But then…

Then, when he arrived at the agreed meeting point, Jin Ling saw Lan Sizhui.

It had been six months, almost. In all that time, Jin Ling hadn’t once gotten any news from the older boy. He’d asked Lan Jingyi during that one Night Hunt, and then again when Lan Jingyi had needed to crash in Jinlin Tai some weeks later, in vain. All Lan Jingyi knew was that Lan Sizhui had gone away with Lan Wangji’s blessing, and that nobody could tell when he’d be back… or if he’d come back at all for that matter, which Jin Ling had found rather ominous. Sure, Lan Sizhui’s father figure had officially married another man, and not the best of men at that, but was it reason enough to run away? Did Lan Sizhui hate Wei Wuxian in particular, or did he have a problem with all cut sleeves? In the first case, it was understandable. In the second case, Jin Ling’s heart would be crushed forever and he would never know happiness again.

But Lan Sizhui was there, and standing next to Wei Wuxian when Jin Ling arrived, chatting with a peaceful yet happy expression and looking quite animated, at least by Lan standards. Jin Ling had the sensation that the two of them hadn’t met in a while, which Lan Sizhui personally confirmed later when Jin Ling had a talk to him as well.

Six months wasn’t such a long time, and yet it had felt an eternity. Lan Sizhui hadn’t grown during that time away, not exactly, but he had a new air of maturity to himself, a certain spark in his eyes that said he had seen more than most others his age. He was a little less willowy as well, his clothes fitting differently on him compared to before, hinting at more strength than he used to have. His smile, though, remained as gentle as ever.

Jin Ling almost cursed upon seeing him.

It seemed he hadn’t gotten over his stupid crush at all.

Thankfully, for most of this, Jin Ling was too busy with the actual Night Hunt to make too much of a fool of himself. It was a pretty weird situation, with a haunted room in which a thief had died, which then led to a story about a man who had killed multiple women in a very gruesome manner. Jin Ling thought they’d handled that pretty well, really. He even got to be a little cool when he volunteered to stay the night in that haunted room to check if the ghost had really been taken care of.

Of course it hadn’t, and that was absolutely terrifying, but Jin Ling kept his cool and got to show off to all those Lan disciples in the morning when he recounted what had happened to him. He thought Lan Sizhui looked a little impressed, but that might just have been because he’d been so sure he’d solved the situation with Lan Jingyi the day before. And Jin Ling was also the one to realise the ghost they were dealing with must have been looking for a certain missing body part, which they needed to retrieve if they were to solve the case.

All things considered, Jin Ling thought he had done really great during this whole Night Hunt, and properly demonstrated to everyone, but especially a certain Lan in particular, what a great mature person he had become.

Of course Jin Ling had to ruin that.

It was just the sort of luck he had.

Jin Ling’s only defence was that he’d been exhausted at that point. They’d just spent five entire days looking for a tongue that had been cut off decades earlier, and although it would have been wise to get some sleep before all heading back to their respective sects… but they were young, they were victorious, and the only adult around to supervise them was Wei Wuxian who firmly believed that Lan juniors should be encouraged to misbehave. So of course they had all gathered at an inn, ordered plenty of food, more drink than reasonable (but that was because Wei Wuxian had to be bribed into silence) and had a bit of a party to celebrate their success.

Because Lan Sizhui had been the one to find the ghost’s tongue, everyone wanted to sit with him, it was only natural. Jin Ling had to glare and bare his teeth and elbow a few people so he could sit next to his friend, while Lan Jingyi easily found his place on the other side of Lan Sizhui by virtue of having known him basically since birth. A most unfair advantage, and one more reason to dislike Lan Jingyi, who was luckier than he had any right to be.

Lan Sizhui didn’t appear to notice how much attention was on him. Or if he did, he pretended it didn’t affect him. He just seemed happy to be spending time with everyone, and to no longer be searching around for that damn tongue. Lan Sizhui laughed at other’s jokes, blushed at their praise, made sure that everyone had enough to eat, and just generally behaved like the most perfect person the world had ever known, which he was. Jin Ling was so delighted to have him back around, and happy to see him so admired by everyone else, so of course he had to let it be known in the worst possible way.

“Of course it’s Lan Yuan who gets all the glory,” Jin Ling said at one point, while pouring himself some wine. “Isn’t it always like this? I’m sure some people must have been glad you disappeared for so long, leaving the rest of us a chance to do something. But now that you’re back, I expect it’ll all be about you, right?”

“What do you mean?” Lan Sizhui asked, his beautiful smile falling down.

Jin Ling frowned at the question. What he meant was that Lan Sizhui was, and by far, the best cultivator of their generation, so it was only natural for people to admire him. Sure some others might envy his great skill, but that was their problem, and now that Lan Sizhui was back in the Cloud Recesses, of course he’d gotten back his rightful place in the spotlight.

What else could he have meant?

“I’ve said what I said,” Jin Ling replied. “Don’t pretend you don’t know.”

Sure Gusu Lan valued modesty, but someone as great as Lan Sizhui had to know how good he was at everything, so there was no need to be so humble.

“Shut up or I’ll punch you,” Lan Jingyi threatened, his tone vicious enough to catch the attention of Wei Wuxian who’d been mostly ignoring the juniors in favour of his own jars of wine.

Even Jin Ling was startled. It was common enough for Lan Jingyi and him to argue. In fact, that was their main bonding activity, they were always bickering, but there was rarely any actual anger to it. If anything, Lan Jingyi usually seemed to enjoy that he had someone he could snap at who wouldn’t scold him for breaking sect rules. But that night, he suddenly looked earnestly furious, and it puzzled Jin Ling.

Must have been the wine, he figured. Those Lan just couldn’t handle alcohol.

“Don’t drink if you can’t deal with it,” Jin Ling said. “And don’t get angry at people just because they’re right.”

Lan Jingyi jumped to his feet, but before he could say anything more, Lan Sizhui grabbed him by the wrist and forced him to sit down away. He had to have put some strength into it, because Lan Jingyi immediately obeyed.

“Jingyi, that’s enough,” Lan Sizhui said, rather more dryly than Jin Ling was used to from him. “If that’s how Jin zongzhu feels, then that’s how it is. I hadn’t meant to be taking the spotlight in an undue manner, and I am sorry if I gave the impression I seek attention. In the future, when working with Jin zongzhu, I’ll be sure to keep my distance to avoid bothering him so much. I thought we’d work as a good team, but…”

Lan Sizhui stood up, fists clenched tight on either side of his body.

“If Jin zongzhu really hates working with me, then of course I’ll respect his choice. Now if you don’t mind, I think I’ll go to bed now. I’ve had a pretty long day.”

He turned away and left the room, leaving behind him a suddenly heavy atmosphere. None of the juniors spoke for a good while, most of them staring at the door through which Lan Sizhui had left. Jin Ling in particular was flabbergasted, scrambling to understand what exactly had just happened there.

At his end of the table, Wei Wuxian snickered as he poured himself more wine.

“You really get your people’s skills from your uncle,” he said, not quite looking at Jin Ling, but quite obviously directed at him nonetheless. “And not the right one for that, might I add. That’s something for you to work on, I’d think.”

“I’m not hearing that from you!” Jin Ling complained. “You’re a weirdo who makes everyone uncomfortable!”

“And yet I caught myself a husband,” Wei Wuxian retorted, wiggling his eyebrows in a manner that should have been illegal around impressionable young people. “Clearly I can’t be so bad at dealing with people. I can give you some lessons, if you’d like? Could teach out to flirt even. Hanguang-Jun thinks I’m very good at it.”

All the juniors shivered in fear at the idea of flirting lessons from Wei Wuxian. Even Lan Jingyi threw Jin Ling a sympathetic glance, before remembering he had randomly decided to be furious at his friend and glaring at him.

“Who… who’d want lessons from you about anything?” Jin Ling exclaimed. Then, because he tried to be fair, he added: “Unless it’s about Night Hunting. You’re good at that, when you stop acting all goofy. But for everything else, you’re too weird! If Hanguang-Jun didn’t have such weird tastes to begin with…”

The Lan juniors exploded at the implication their personal hero Lan Wangji was anything less than perfect in all aspects.

“Watch it, Jin zongzhu!”

“Hanguang-Jun’s tastes are excellent for almost everything!”

“It wasn’t enough to be mean to Sizhui, now you have to also go after Hanguang-Jun?”

That last one puzzled Jin Ling, who blinked numbly, trying to understand at what point, exactly, he’d been mean to Lan Sizhui. Before he could ask about that, Wei Wuxian started cackling and thanked all the juniors present for approving of his marriage. This backfired when it turned out that the boys were, in fact, very supportive of the union, and had drunk just enough to not feel ashamed about it. Wei Wuxian, always so quick to tease others with great declarations of affection at a bad moment, completely collapsed under that unexpected wave of affection, which pushed the Lan juniors to be even more demonstrative, until everyone’s attention was on Wei Wuxian.

Jin Ling took his chance and left the table without being noticed, suddenly needing some fresh air. He couldn’t go very far, in case others started to worry, but he still left the inn and started walking up and down the street where it stood, trying to put some order in his thoughts.

He didn’t think that he had been rude to Lan Sizhui, of course. Or at least, he had certainly not intended to be. But between intentions and results there could be a world of difference, and it was true that Jin Ling was sometimes… he tried hard, he really did. He wanted to be as smooth as Jin Guangyao had been (though with less secrets), and he wanted to be as respected as Jiang Cheng was (though preferably without needing to resort on inspiring fear quite as much). But he had a tendency to sometimes say the wrong thing.

More than sometimes.

Things would be quite clear in his mind, and then he opened his mouth and said something that pissed off everyone. It didn’t usually matter too much, because he was Lanling Jin’s sect leader, meaning he had enough money and power that people wouldn’t dare get angry at him too openly. But it had always been more of a problem when it came to his personal life. He’d gotten in many fights with his various cousins over the years because they deemed him rude and proud.

With juniors of other sects, he didn’t really get along all that well either, for the same reason, not until everything that happened in Yi city the year before… and even that had more to do with the people he’d met than with any personal improvement. Ouyang Zizhen was just the sort of person who got along with everyone, even with spoiled brats like Jin Ling. Lan Jingyi was an awful little pest, but he hadn’t been scared by Jin Ling’s status in the least, so they’d quickly found a way to co-exist, even if most people didn’t realise they’d become good friends. And as for Lan Sizhui… well, he was the most perfect person in the world, patient in spite of Jin Ling’s temper, kind to everyone, always striving to bring peace around him, always willing to see the best in others.

Jin Ling stumbled, and nearly fell face first into the dirt of the street.

Lan Sizhui had really looked upset when he’d left, so Jin Ling really must have said something wrong. The most perfect, most patient person in the world, and Jin Ling had managed to make him angry. That really wasn’t a good way to start courting someone.

And he wanted to court Lan Sizhui. Seeing him again after a few months had only made it clear to Jin Ling that this wasn’t just a crush, it was love. He was in love with Lan Sizhui, and determined to make him fall in love back… somehow.

What he needed was… what he needed…

Somewhere behind him, the inn’s door cracked open, just enough for Wei Wuxian to peek outside.

“Jin Ling, it’s getting late!” he shouted, uncaring that he might wake up the whole street. “Everyone’s going to bed and you should as well.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Don’t make me come get you,” Wei Wuxian warned. “Come, you’ll feel better in the morning. Just apologise to Sizhui at breakfast and he won’t hold it against you, he’s a good boy like that.”

Mortified at the idea that Wei Wuxian might try to drag him to bed like a petulant child, Jin Ling made his way back to the inn. He was annoyed though. He’d been on the verge of a great idea when Wei Wuxian had called for him, and now he’d lost it. Hopefully, he’d remember later.

Right then, he just went to sleep as ordered.

In the morning Jin Ling apologised to Lan Sizhui, though he still wasn’t sure what he’d said wrong, and Lan Sizhui apologised back for reacting so strongly to a little bit of criticism. Jin Ling hadn’t dared to say he hadn’t meant to criticise, because then he’d have had to explain he was trying to compliment Lan Sizhui, and everyone was there watching them, and it would have been too embarrassing.

The Lan then left to head back to Gusu, while Jin Ling had to return to Lanling to write a report on this situation they had solved.

The whole time he flew towards home, he couldn’t help but wondered if he hadn’t somehow managed to ruin his entire love life at the ripe age of fifteen, just because his mouth and his brain couldn’t get along.

#zhuiling #lingzhui #jin ling #lan sizhui #xisang #though it won't be there until next chapter actually oops?#mdzs #jau writes #operation woo a lan #yeah this was my other big bang fic and i figured i might as well start posting that too #there's also one with nhs and xue yang but that one doesn't even have a presentable first chapter yet so it must wait a bit

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xoxo-ren-xoxo · 4 years ago

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Tommy’s (and Tubbo’s) Character /rp /dSMP

This is a bit of a rant so like be warned. I have nothing against any CCs mentioned in this, this is all roleplay, lighthearted, and just a bit of fun analysis. Mostly this is a ramble about how I see certain people analysing Tommy’s character on tumblr and twt, and why I think they’re wrong. This isn’t directed at anyone specific, just a trend I’ve been seeing that kinda irks me. I don’t dislike the fandom, just a few ‘takes’ have been really weird for me.

TW for everything below: analysing the effects of trauma, abuse, manipulation, gaslighting, and lack of therapy.

I’m not really liking how victim-blamey everyone is getting currently in the dSMP, both in fandom and canon. In canon with certain characters but especially in fan analysis posts and especially about Tommy and Tubbo. People legitimately celebrating that Tommy might start ‘apologising’ for his actions more and 'growing as a person' somehow don’t realise that hes been made this way through a tonne of negative reinforcement. abuse, and gaslighting. And people blaming Tubbo for actions he had no choice in, rather than the actions he did choose.

Currently, as I see it, Tommy is so scared that anyone would find a reason to be pissed off at him that his fighting spirit has been completely crushed. He was exiled and abused when he should have been helped and given an understanding figure to guide him and teach him how to deal with things non-violently. In everyone’s eyes, the problem was that Tommy was creating violence with no real reason, acting recklessly and commiting crimes. Tubbo, having made him a part of his cabinet, knew that this would only harm the country. So instead of talking to him reasonably, he got angry, put him on trial, and punished him with the logbook (humiliating him by making him report back to Fundy, which he obviously hated). Tommy’s actions were, of course, bad, but did he deserve everyone ganging up on him? No. Especially when Tubbo was supposed to be in his corner, helping him out like he always said he would (”It’s me and you vs Dream” etc). This is the first betrayal of trust from Tommy’s POV. He doesn’t understand what he did wrong to its full extent, and no one can explain it to him.

However, Tubbo was under a lot of pressure from Dream and George, and he’s a literal child President, so his ‘safety over friendship’ actions are understandable. I don’t believe Tubbo is solely to blame for anything he’s done in season 2, but it can’t all be excused. If you are to blame Tommy for his recklessness, you have to blame Tubbo, at least partially, for his disregard for Tommy’s feelings and mental state. There were other ways to go about the entire thing, including the trial, which was just horrible to watch, and agreeing to give Dream the disc, something Tommy gave him in pure confidence that it would be safe with Tubbo. Yikes moment.

At that time, Tubbo knew a lot of things about Tommy. In fact, he probably knew the most about Tommy out of anyone on the server. He knew the discs were incredibly important and a comfort item for Tommy. He knew Tommy had trauma from being exiled in the past. He knew Tommy was abused, or at least manipulated by Wilbur, in addition to growing up in war. Wilbur once told Tommy to stop being reckless, and Tommy listened, changing his attitude because he looked up to Wilbur so much. Then Wilbur said ‘let’s be the bad guys’ and stopped trying to mentor Tommy. There’s a conflict here, because Tommy was told by Wilbur that he wasn’t good enough to be President (links to the idea of ‘not being strong enough’) but he knows that Wilbur was a bad person. But Tommy is never given the chance to reconsile his feelings surrounding Wilbur, both because of Ghostbur and because of the conflict he starts with George. So he is harbouring a mixture of emotions about his mentor and brother, not understanding how to untangle the ‘real Tommy’ from the manipulated boy he became.

What was going through his head when he stole from George and griefed him? Perhaps the thought that he needed to show he was still the same old Tommy. Maybe the need to ‘prove himself’ as a strong person? It could have just been an outlet for his trauma. He’s grown up in a world where everyone is either a friend or an enemy. George isn’t a friend. How was he supposed to know that hurting him was bad?

Tubbo was pressured into the actions he took against Tommy, but he was pressured far too easily. There is no moment where Tubbo turns to Tommy and makes sure he’s okay, he views him as ‘selfish’ and overdramatic, and sees his actions that way. This makes sense from Tubbo’s POV, he’s struggling to be President in ways that Wilbur *knew* he would, but in Tommy’s eyes this is the worst betrayal he’s ever known. The moment Tubbo (rightfully, but poorly executed) defies Tommy’s plan to hire Technoblade (ahem, seeing Techno as a weapon again) and exiles Tommy is the moment their friendship shatters. They’re two people who don’t understand each other anymore. Two people who are technically in the right, but only hurt each other.

What Tommy needed was a therapist, instead he had Dream, who put out the fire of rebellion that made him so strong, and Techno, who was trying to help but doing it in the wrong way.

People see tommy's change post-exile as a good thing because he's not as rebellious anymore and he’s thinking things through a lot before he does them, but they will soon realise that his rebellion was one of his best traits and the fact that no one saw it as anything but a problem really shows. He now second-guesses himself so much and is so scared of being wrong that everything seems too difficult and too dangerous. Every trait can have a positive and negative side. Tommy's defiant nature would have made him the perfect negotiator with a little practise. In fact, he had plenty of good ideas before he was exiled (using spirit against Dream, though it didnt work in the end, for example). The negative side of this was recklessness and the desire to cause problems on purpose, but what he needed was a friend (looking at you Tubbo) who understood that hes been through several wars, was manipulated by Wilbur, and hasnt known a time of peace where everyone who wasnt on his side was out to kill him. Now that ‘fight’ is gone he's just become easier to manipulate.

He may be getting better (see: telling Dream to go fuck himself) but there hasn't been any long-term growth because he was never told what kind of rebellion was good and what was bad. He was just told it was all bad. By Dream (and by Tubbo). Who he doesn't trust. So he's just going to revert back to his old ways because no one told him what was bad in a way that didn't make him feel like everyone was against him. Dream is the enemy (though Tommy’s feelings towards him are complicated, they make his brain go all ‘flippy floppy’) and Dream told him that rebellion was bad, so rebellion must be good always, right?

And then there's Techno. Techno did nothing wrong except for when he did. Techno is 100% right except for when he isn’t. He doesn't understand Tommy because Tommy was never fully open about what Dream had done and how it affected him. That's not Tommys fault though, because who the fuck openly talks about their trauma? So neither of them are to blame for pretty much anything up until the confrontation at the community house.

However, Techno's methods and ideology were not what Tommy needed. He was thrown from one extreme to another over and over again, from complete subservience to total rebellion. Neither of these inforce good attitudes in Tommy. One, as stated before, makes it so that he will regain his negative traits again. The other reinforces those violent traits as good, just like Wilbur did. The only difference is that Techno had good intentions, he wasnt trying to use Tommy, which is why he feels so used when Tommy 'betrays' him (Techno doesnt realise that he himself betrayed Tommy by teaming with Dream, he sees it more as a transaction than a personal thing). Techno feels so hurt by Tommy ‘viewing him as a weapon’ that he goes on with his no-mercy attack, completely dropping Tommy at his lowest point.

Tommy says he doesn't want to be like everyone he's hated. In fact, he say's he is 'worse' than all the villains. This is very obviously untrue, though he was clearly going down a dangerous path with Techno's influence (see: bullying Fundy, spawning wither, kidnapping Connor, and saying that the discs are more important than Tubbo, more on that later). He's not a villain but who exactly has said he's not a villain. Dream? Techno? Neither of them can be trusted in his eyes. They say he's a good guy, Wilbur wanted to be the bad guy, who's right? He doesn't know. He has a crisis of morality.

And? Some people want to point at that and say 'aha! Character development! He's finally realising his actions have a negative affect on others!' OH GOD NO??? He's a *child* who thinks that he is worse than his abuser. Does that sound like positive character growth to you?

Lastly, the discs. We know theyre a comfort item blahblahblah. He hates himself for valuing them more than he values Tubbo. He's literally innocent in this. He’s been horribly manipulated by Dream to believe that the discs are worth anything. Theyre really not worth anything if they are being used as tools rather than, yknow, discs. My poor boy. He doesnt trust people, so what can he trust? The discs. But then he says it out loud and realises he misses Tubbo and he wants to be with his best friend again and and and WAHHHH. This also isnt really character growth its just fucking sad leave me alone.

Anyways what the fuck guys. @ Niki and Jack what the fuck. Yeah we get it it’s miscommunication but wtf. Kinda worried that the actual lore will make Niki and Jack’s hatred of Tommy justified in some way and take on a big victim-blamey vibe, but I’m hoping that everyone is smart enough to not do that. I cannot praise Tommy enough for how he’s portrayed his character. I’m currently hoping that he himself understands the true complexity of it all. I’m sure he does.

Mostly though im actually pissed off at all the people praising tommy's character for 'maturing' when hes literally just got trauma. Nice one, tumblr and twt users. Thanks. Great job. He hasnt 'learnt his lesson', he’s traumatised. What the fuck.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk, leave your responses in the reblogs and comments.

#dreamsmp #dream smp #character analysis #dreamsmp analysis #analysis #critical #tommyinnit #tubbo #dream #technoblade #wilbur soot #tw trauma #tw abuse #tw gaslighting #tw manipulation

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circuscarnage · 4 years ago

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Birthday Escapade.

A Malleus Draconia and reader birthday fic.

Words: 2488.

Coloured banners were strung up on the walls, decorating the Diasomnia dorm in an almost welcoming glow. Black and green lines of fabric, embroidered with the inviting message of celebration. What had once been a room of polite gathering, had transformed into a much liver scene. Purple vines stuck out from the ground, acting more as decoration to the party, mimicking the witches of thorns power. Tables covered with delectable food as far as the eye could see. Edible works of art displayed for anyone to reach out and take. The most lavished of cakes being saved for the main table. The centrepiece of the room, almost impossible to miss, was a black sign coated in thorns, spindling a twisted birthday wish. Lilia had wasted no expense making sure everything was perfect. He had planned the entire thing. After all, this wasn't just anyone's birthday. It certainly was a change of pace for the normally dark and dreary castle.

The entire Diasomnia dorm seemed more colourful than usual, and not just aesthetic wise. The sombre atmosphere was lifted with the sounds of delightful laughter and idle celebration. Students of the dorm gathered in the main foyer, enjoying themselves as they chatted away to their fellow classmates without a care in the world. However, the most important aspect of this celebration was missing.

Malleus Draconia was no where to be found.

His guards, Sebek and Silver, had been scouting the dorm trying to find their lost master. They had checked down every hallway and searched all the rooms. Not a single stone was left unturned nor a speck of dust lingered in the process. They were at their wits end. Sebek's voice boomed throughout the dorm, ricocheting off the stone castle walls. Malleus's name sounded akin to thunder as it stormed every inch of the perimeter. It was uncertain which would give out first. His voice or the other students eardrums.

You, however, knew better than to waste time on searching Diasomnia. If Malleus had fled, there was no way he would stick to the confines of the dorm. That was just too simple. Begrudgingly you left the Diasomnia dorm and headed back towards the hall of mirrors. When thinking of a safe heaven, there was only one place that came to mind. You knew exactly where he would be.

Ramshackle. It was very different compared to the other dorms. A shabby and old building that was as creepy as it was comforting. An uneven fence carved from iron surrounded the perimeter, acting more like a cage, warning those who pass by not to trespass. The vacant space and lack of activity made people wonder if it was simply just unfinished or abandoned. It certainly looked run down, even more so before Azul had it refurbished to extend his business. Luckily for you, that plan never came to fruition, so you could keep the haunted mansion you called home.

As you approached, you could see the last remnants of winter still holding onto the Ramshackle dorm. Snow melted into the ground, slowly decaying into the soil as the seasons begin to change. The sugar coated season sluggishly torn away to be replaced with another. It wasn't hard to miss him. His raven black hair and pointed horns stuck out among the crisp white scenery. He stood against the decaying tree, leaning into the wood as if he was trying to merge himself into the plant. He was looking across the garden, but turned his head around when hearing your approach. "Ah, human." He greeted you casually, giving an affirmative nod of his head. "To what honour do I owe you this visit?"

"Where have you been?" You questioned him, finally making your way up the steps and standing in front of him. He seemed taken aback at your forceful question. Why, he had just greeted you with a polite hello and you were already interrogating him. "The party has already started, and you're not even there!"

Malleus quirked his head to the side. "Oh, was that today?" There was something different about his voice. The way his words lingered in the air, laced with a playful tone that spelled mischief. You looked down at his attire. Black dress shirt with a white suit jacket over the top. Black and green sash. There was no way he dressed up like that on a whim. This surely couldn't have been a coincidence. Malleus noticed your stare, lingering on his outfit for a little longer than necessary. "Must have slipped my mind."

"Please don't tell me someone forgot to invite you to your own birthday." You hated to think he was acting like this because of some kind of petty vendetta against you. It wasn't anything new that people often forgot to invite him to events, whether that be the dorm leader meeting or social gatherings, but his own birthday? That must have cut deep.

Malleus chuckled. "Fuhuhuhu. That would be quite entertaining, wouldn't it? Forgetting to invite me to my own birthday. How quaint." He waved his hand. "No, I received an invite. I was even enjoying myself. And I appreciate how much effort Lilia put into the décor. I've just never been the one to enjoy these types of parties. It just feels so... Strange." Malleus looked down at his attire, emerald eyes observing the trinkets that decorated the white jacket. The handmade broach that resembled the curved horns that stuck out from his head. The black and green coloured badge that all to obviously drew attention to the date. Reminding everyone within a mile radius just who the special birthday boy was. He was used to being adored in lavished clothing, being of royal decent, so having an outfit that was traditional for many others was relieving.

"The concept of birthdays... Forgive me but I've never embraced them fully, never needed to." You gave Malleus a quizzitive look, tilting your head a little to the side, imploring him to elaborate. He understood your plight and began to explain. "Compared to humans, fae live for an unnaturally long time. Our lifespans far surpass your own. Why, generations from now I'll still be alive. Wise with time and knowledge. Watching over the world behind the thicket of thorns. And you'll-" He stopped mid sentence. There was no need to continue. You both knew where you would be generations from now. Malleus blinked, the slightest glint of sadness present in his eyes. Possessing the power of longevity was something that many craved to have, but needless to say it did come with its consequences. The burden weighed on the back of his mind like an oncoming storm.

Malleus cleared his throat, "Very strange indeed. You humans celebrate yearly the date of your birth, yet to us fae it is nothing more than a number. Even though I wish I could feel the same connection to it that you do. Maybe then I wouldn't feel such like an outcast..." Malleus blinked as he felt something touch his head. Unconsciously his hand had reached up towards his horns, bringing attention one of the many aspects about him that was different to humans. He was proud of his fae heritage, but always felt like it held him back when trying to forge connections. "Tell me, human." He brought his hand back down. "Am I forever cursed to be an outcast from a gathering? Even one of my own terms? I'm always one to be vacant, not on my own accord. My invitation being left blank while others have been sealed. So forgive my absence when for once I'm expected to be there."

"Tsunotarou-" You had to stop yourself, almost biting down on your tongue. Now possessing the knowledge of his name, it seemed needless to try and use the old nickname you gave him. It was sentimental, in a way. A name that only you could call him. A name made up on the spot yet seemed to fit a little too well. It always made your heart flutter whenever you used it. The way Malleus's eyes would light up in amusement, entertained by the fact anyone would ever consider calling him something so simple. Sometimes it was hard to conceal the corners of his mouth twinging upward in delight. You apologised and corrected yourself, "I mean, Malleus." It was an easy mistake to make. The way his actual name slipped off your tongue somehow sounded wrong. You had gotten a little too comfortable with that nickname. You hoped Malleus wouldn't mind.

To your surprise, Malleus grinned. A slight chuckle slipped between his lips. He was more taken aback by the fact that had felt the need to correct yourself then the use of his nickname. He was aware of your caution, and reassured you. "You may address me however you wish, child of man." Malleus turned his head to the side, looking off into the distance, and placed an hand thoughtfully on his chin. "I must admit, I have grown quite fond of that little nickname you call me. I do not mind being called that name," His attention was brought back to you, dazzling green eyes locking with your own. He huffed out a small laugh. "If you are the one to address me, that is."

You nodded your head, secretly gracious that he was allowing you to continue using that name. But you needed to address his previous statement. "It's understandable that you would feel this way. Being ostracized from a group can be quite intimidating." You sighed. "Trust me, I've been there. And sometimes it feels like you'll never truly belong." Malleus raised his brow. Were you trying to help him feel better or worse?

"But believe me when I say that the people there want you to be there too. They want you to enjoy yourself just as they have. And..." Your words trailed off. Your own voice getting quieter and quieter until even you couldn't hear it anymore. Words did not fail you at that moment. It was clear what you wanted to say. Whether or not you had the strength to say it was a different matter. Your eyes were in agreement, preferring to look at the ground below you rather than the person in front. Was it really that difficult to show your own emotions? You did genuinely enjoy your time together, and wanted it to last longer. Yet somehow whenever you tried to express this fact to him, something always stopped you. A defence mechanism that instinctively held you back. You looked back at Malleus. He stood still, patiently waiting for you to continue. You were thankful for his tolerance. Giving a curt nod of your head, you took a deep breath in, and exhaled. "...I want you to be there. I want you to be happy, on your special day."

You braced yourself, ready for any sort of negative response. But as you waited in anticipation for a verbal reply, Malleus gave none. Instead he began to laugh. A slight chuckle that started out as a growl, but then gradually grew into a light laugh. He brought his hand up to his mouth, trying to cover it up, but he would have to try harder than that to stifle this laugh. You were confused. Was it something you said? Did it sound condescending? Needy? Selfish? That wasn't your intention at all! You just wanted to give him some reassurance.

His laughter eventually died down, allowing him to breathe steadily again. "Child of man, how presumptuous of you." A light titter escaped from his lips again. Whatever he had found entertaining about your statement, he clearly wasn't done. You furrowed your brow in suspicion as Malleus calmed himself yet again. "I do not need a celebration or to be surrounded by guests to be happy." He took another step closer, towering over you like a gargoyle, but it was not intimidating. The soft look on his face quelled any fears of threatening nature. It was actually quite surprising how peaceful he looked. "With you, I already am."

You had to turn your head away at that, letting out a small squeak that sounded more attune to a quack. Hearing such a genuine sentiment from him felt like wildfire had struck your heart, and it felt like it wasn't going to subside anytime soon. It was wishful thinking, but you hoped you didn't make your answer too evident. However, giving such an obvious expression meant it was easy for him to pick up. Malleus smirked at your reaction. Instinctively he placed his hand upon your head, smoothing his thumb gently over the grooves in your hair. He thought it was cute. Like a docile pet receiving praise.

You waved his hand off of you, not needing to feel anything more at the moment. You had wasted enough time standing here. It would be best to return the birthday boy back to his dorm. "I think we had better get back, your guards are in a frenzy over your disappearance." Malleus let out a small sigh. It was time to return to the party. After all, he wouldn't be considered a very good host if he was missing for the entire event. How else was he suppose to show he was worthy of peoples trust if he did not throw a good party? He was ready to return to the dorm, with you accompanying him. "Yes, I think I've troubled them for long enough."

You laughed, thinking about Sebek and Silver stumbling over themselves trying to find their dorm leader. Lilia wouldn't be too bothered, you thought, if you returned Malleus in time for his celebration. Turning around on your heels, you lead the way back towards the gate, eager to return to the party. At last, you could finally have a piece of that delectable looking cake. It had been on your mind the second you stepped into the dorm.

Before you could place a hand on the gate, Malleus called from behind. "And human?" You stopped in your tracks and turned to face him. He stood still, refusing to move unless he spoke. His face bore the same amused express, but this time it was different. It was gentle. His eyes holding nothing but appreciation for the human that stood before him. Someone who didn't see him as the terrifying figurehead of the Draconia family that so many made him out to be. Someone who wasn't afraid around him. Someone he was very thankful to have met. "Thank you, for seeking me out." He stepped forward, now walking by your side. It felt good for him to have someone beside him that didn't cower in fear nor turn away in intimidation. It made him feel accepted. "And for escorting me back."

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #diasomnia #twst writing #writing #this was supposed to be much shorter but I started writing and couldn't stop #also Hi Aya #hope you see the little reference I did for you

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todomitoukei · 5 years ago

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The Todoroki Family & The Umbrella Academy

disclaimer: contains spoilers for bnha chapter 291 & The Umbrella Academy season 1&2

For a while I thought there were mainly parallels between Shouto and Vanya from the Umbrella Academy, two characters who were isolated from their siblings growing up, but now with chapter 290 and 291 giving us a bit more information on Touya and a lot of people claiming he is in the wrong, I feel like it’s helpful to look at the parallels between Dabi and Vanya and how that can show us the possibilities concerning the Todoroki family’s future:

both have the strongest power in their family

end up being ignored by their father and told they’re not as powerful as their sibling(s)

end up isolating themselves from the whole family

expose their family’s secrets to the public

The last part is where the current bnha story ends, so we don’t know whether the aftermath is going to be similar, but let’s look at what happened then in the Umbrella Academy.

the siblings hold a grudge against her for it, not necessarily because of the exposure itself but because they’re all portrayed in a negative way

when they find out that she has powers, some of the siblings view her as a threat, but Allison actually stands up for her and tries to help her

them isolating her throughout the season leads to her causing the apocalypse, further painting her as a threat

while some of the siblings in season 2 still think they should stay away from her, they do end up treating her like a person and being on her side

Obviously not every family has to deal with things the same. But what I like about tUA is that it shows how differently people can react to the same person/events, and that they can change their opinions later down the line.

It’s understandable that some people disagree with Dabi’s decision to expose their family because of the negative effects this can have on the rest of the family that isn’t Endeavor, especially Shouto, whose whole career is essentially going to be about being a public figure.

But you also can’t decide how they’re going to react for them, nor can you say with certainty that they are going to be angry with him because of this.

In contrast to Vanya, Dabi didn’t speak ill of anyone in the family aside from Endeavor. Unlike some people in the fandom, he is not saying “Well, we were a happy family until Shouto came along and ruined everything.” He is not holding a personal grudge against Shouto, because he never really got to know him in the first place.

To Dabi, Shouto is simply the living proof of him having failed as successor. Shouto’s birth was the turning point in his relationship with Endeavor, and for the longest time it was his goal to kill Shouto in the future, but only because Shouto represents what Touya wasn’t able to be.

And yes, Dabi is a villain, someone who has attacked and hurt people and put people’s lives at risk for his own personal goal of getting back at Endeavor. He’s not denying that, though. Also, let’s not forget if you want to bring up Kyushu to prove he put innocent people at risk - Hawks knew about it and didn’t stop it. He risked people’s lives just as much.

People love to be woke about mental health, and whenever there’s stories circulating online about real life abuse victims who speak up about their abuse or even get back at their abuser (in whatever way) - they are celebrated. And rightfully so because coming forward with something so deeply personal and traumatizing, exposing yourself to the public in a way that might stick with you forever is hard and not everyone can do that. But why do people suddenly draw the line at a fictional character who is the personification of how harmful the glorification and idolization of heroes in the bnha universe is. How heroes, who are supposed to protect citizens, are also capable of turning citizens into villains and get away with it.

Dabi isn’t someone who decided to run away from home as a teenager and just stick it to the man. He is someone who has been bred for a specific purpose and once his creator gave up on him, got tossed aside. For years he tried to reclaim his spot, to regain his father’s approval, attention and love, things he used to get, but suddenly were all taken away from him because he wasn’t good enough in his father’s eyes. And for a child, someone whose brain is still in development, it’s crucial to receive care and attention from its parents. Being denied that has negative, long-lasting impacts on the further development, more so than on an adult with a fully developed brain.

He is severly traumatized and was driven to insanity. Did he hurt Shouto by kidnapping his friend during his summer camp? Yes. Did he risk his family’s life by sending Ending to his family home? Yes. But his mind is only filled with the obsession of ruining Endeavor. He is not thinking clearly. Mental illness gets romanticized to the point where any depiction of the darker sides of it gets judged, as if he decided to become Dabi out of sheer boredome instead of it being the result of an abused and traumatized child.

I understand if you care about Shouto and don’t want him to suffer more than he already has. But why are you so okay with an entire family continuing to suffer in silence? Why is it so okay for the family to consider improving their relationship with their abuser while Dabi continues to suffer in silence? Why is he not a worthy victim? Much like Toga has already pointed out in regards to Twice’s death, why are they not viewed as people worth saving in the eyes of heroes who claim that’s what they are all about?

And to those focusing on the effects this might have on Shouto and his career - you do realize he has been vocal about this himself, right? Sure, he hasn’t spoken out about this in as much detail as Touya, partially because he probably didn’t know much about what the family was like before he was born, but he never pretended to have a good relationship with his father. Shouto outright says he hates his father, even in front of other pro heroes, like during the remedial course. So if anything, ask yourself why this child can express his hatred for his own father and the reasons why, and yet no one really reacts to it? Just because Shouto didn’t broadcast it to the whole world, doesn’t mean he never came forward with the truth. The difference between him and Dabi is that he just states these things as facts without any further purpose, whereas Dabi tries to make people see how negative the existence of heroes can be.

Of course it’s likely that they would never have come forward with this to that same extent themselves and would have been okay with that, too. Again, even though Shouto openly states his situation, he doesn’t seek any specific reaction from people. But do you really think the people who have suffered with Touya are not going to show any kind of understanding for him? That they won’t recognize that they could have been him? That Touya needed help he never received and thus ended up like this? Do you really think the people who are already unsure whether or not to forgive Endeavor are not going to recognize that he drove his own child to insanity? That their situation is even worse than they thought?

People are so easy to claim it’s sad how Shouto is starting to care about Endeavor now and that Dabi is ruining that relationship. Shouto isn’t starting to consider warming up to Endeavor because he thinks Endeavor did nothing wrong. Instead, much like Touya, Shouto is a child who is seeking a relationship with his parent, despite the circumstances. But is that what Shouto really needs? To move on with Endeavor in order to have a picture-perfect family, even when that’s never going to be the case? You can side with the abuser, but Dabi is the tragic result of something that could have been prevented. Their family was never normal. It was always a project of Endeavor, so stop pretending like Dabi is the cause of the family’s problems or somehow responsible for the exposure. He is allowed to come forward, even if it also affects the rest of his family. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t care, or never cared. But his mind is clouded with the thirst for revenge to the point where he puts that in front of the well-being of his family. He can’t control that. People can’t just stop being mentally ill and that’s not going to change just because their mental state negatively affects those around them.

Unlike some other family members, he couldn’t even try to move on. His mind got lost in the darkness and this is his last cry for help. You might prefer for him to just stay dead and not make things worse for the family, but at the end of the day, Endeavor is the one who started all of this. And maybe, hopefully, the rest of the family can recognize that even though Touya didn’t actually die back then, Natsuo blaming Endeavor for Touya’s death is still correct because he did kill Touya, an innocent child, and turned it into someone whose only goal in life is to kill Endeavor.

Maybe they won’t be happy with the crimes Dabi has committed and the fact he exposed their family to the whole country. But I think they are going to recognize the tragedy behind this whole situation and possibly even learn that they, too, are allowed to speak up about this. Because the truth is freeing, even when it’s hard at first.

#so many bad takes #dabi #todoroki #291 #290 #bnha #shouto #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #bnha spoilers #touya #meta #mine #natsuo

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zenithpng · 4 years ago

Note

Post or during season 3 Zuko panic attacks, jet being all antagonistic at first then realising they’re two sides of the same coin and turning into a good guy, if possible zukka

YES YES YES YES YES OHHHHH MY GOD THIS WAS A GOD-TIER IDEA

also i'm not gonna lie i kinda,, took liberties with this. what you asked for is in there?? but not in the way you think. also the zukka is very minor i'm so sorry 😭

SUMMARY

["Not a firebender," he sneers. He fists his fingers into the front of Lee's shirt, jostling the slightly shorter teen. "What do you have to say for yourself now, Lee?"

(There's fear in those gold eyes, plain as day. Jet doesn't let go.)]

Read HERE on AO3, or read under the cut :))

ON A NEED TO KNOW BASIS recovery | scars | aftermath

Contrary to popular belief, Jet is very much not dead.

He knows this, because if he was then Smellerbee wouldn't be scolding him at every turn.

Well, actually, she probably still would be. He just wouldn't be able to hear it.

It takes him a long time to heal, hindered further by the overtaking of Ba Sing Se and the lack of reliable healers. But eventually he can walk without collapsing and breathe without pain. Bee and Longshot stay by his side the entire time, unwavering constants in the storm that ravages the world around them.

There's a terrible day in which the sky turns red and fire covers the city like never before. Smellerbee cries for the first time in years and all Jet and Longshot can do is sit next to her, huddled into a corner of their tiny home and pray to spirits long forgotten that they will be safe. That they won't burn alive.

But then it stops. And that's somehow worse.

Ba Sing Se is silent. There's ash on the ground the great comet is still blazing, drowning the greens and browns in garish red. No one dares to step into the street for fear that this is all a trap. That they'll be struck down as soon as they set foot outside.

Eventually a man walks down the street, robes that Jet can see had once been neat and pristine singed and shredded at the edges. He has a scabbard at his waist and his appearance doesn't quite place him to any one nation. The man looks around at the houses, exhaustion evident in his posture. Still, he holds himself tall.

In a loud, strong voice, he calls out,

"Ba Sing Se is free."

There's nothing but silence as the shockwave passes over the neighborhood. No one believes the man.

Jet can't stand this any more. He shoves himself to his feet, ignoring Smellerbee's cries for him not to go, pulling his clothes away from where Longshot grasps at his tunic. Grabbing his tiger heads from the floor, he storms out.

The man's eyes lock onto him the moment he steps outside. As Jet adjusts his grip on his swords, the man unclasps the scabbard from his waist and tosses it into the dirt, raising his hands. Jet doesn't trust the motion for a second.

"How do you know?" he shouts. "Who are you? Why should we trust you?"

"I know," the man answers, "because I helped to liberate this city. I am Master Pionado, and my allies and I took back this city for the people of the Earth Kingdom."

"What-" Jet has to pause, coughing harshly from the ash in the air. "What allies?"

"King Bumi of Omashu, Master Pakku of the Northern Water Tribe," the man says. "Former Admiral Jeong Jeong, the Fire Nation deserter. And General Iroh."

Shouting erupts when the people hear the last name, but the man does nothing but bow his head.

"I understand that you all have no reason to trust me," he begins, his voice carrying through the street. "I only wish happiness for you. Ba Sing Se is free from the Fire Nation. I only hope that you all will be able to celebrate this properly."

And with that, he turns on his heel and disappears into the smoke-heavy air.

It's hours before a young Earth Kingdom courier runs through the streets, breathless with the same words on his breath.

"We're free!"

And this time, the spell breaks.

There's screaming, there's crying, there's running but it's all so joyous. Smellerbee runs out and plants a kiss to his cheek, tears in her eyes and "It's over, it's over, it's over" on her breath. Longshot is smiling like never before and drags the both of them into a hug.

For the first time in so many years, Jet lets himself cry.

*****

Their lives move on. Smellerbee gets her old job at the nearby plant nursery back, and Jet finds work as a messenger, and he likes it. He's still, seeing so much of the huge city. There's a looseness to the air that wasn't there before and it has everyone smiling, giving gifts, tipping well.

It's so good. It's so, very good.

Months after the day of the comet, word comes to the city that the Fire Lord is visiting within the next few days. And some of that cheer snaps right back into tension. But this is not a sign of war. It's a meeting of peace, and it can benefit the city - the world.

Jet makes it a point to be in the upper ring on the day of the Fire Lord's arrival. He needs to be there, need to see what the city is working with.

He sees the Kyoshi Warriors first, fans at their sides and eyes sharp. They must be guarding the Fire Lord. (It's a strange thought, Earth Kingdom citizens guarding a Fire Lord.) And then Jet spots him.

His breath is sucked out of his lungs and his first instinct is attack-attack-attack because the ruler is dressed in head-to-toe red and those gold eyes stare ahead so seriously. It's not for another moment that he realizes whose face he's staring at.

It's Lee.

It's Lee from the tea shop who insisted he wasn't a firebender and he got Jet arrested and brainwashed and nearly killed. Jet is frozen where he stands, hands shaking. He can't believe it. He sword fought the Fire Lord. Hell, he kissed the Fire Lord behind the tea shop a few times.

Jet has never hated someone more in his life.

At home that day Smellerbee and Longshot hover, asking what's wrong, is he okay, why won't he talk to them. Jet remains silent.

A few days later, has to take a message to the palace. He smooths his hair down, discarding his swords because he won't be allowed in otherwise. He's doing fine, weaving through all the right halls, placing the scroll in its place, and then beginning his way back out.

Red catches his eye.

He follows the trail of fabric around the corner, stepping silently until he's within distance. As soon as he's within arm's reach, he seizes the back of the robe and spins Lee - the Fire Lord - around to face him.

"Not a firebender," he sneers. He fists his fingers into the front of Lee's shirt, jostling the slightly shorter teen. "What do you have to say for yourself now, Lee?"

(There's fear in those gold eyes, plain as day. Jet doesn't let go.)

Jet shoves him backwards, landing Lee on his back as Jet stalks closer. He doesn't even know what is coming out of his mouth at this point, only that it's hateful and angry. Lee's breath is coming in short gasps and somewhere, subconsciously, Jet knows he needs to calm down. He needs to step back from this.

But he doesn't. Not until a blur of blue rams into him and there's shouts of "What are you doing?!" in his ears. Looking up, his mind finally clears enough to register that it's fucking Sokka screaming at him and he jerks back, shaking the Water Tribe boy's grip off.

His ears are ringing as Sokka kneels in front of Lee, moving slowly and carefully, running a hand through Lee's hair, whispering to him, placing kisses across his knuckes. And Jet want to scream because why is he doing that, can't he see that Lee, if that's even the guy's real name, is a liar and a terrible, terrible person.

But no, Sokka just crouches there, lips pressed to Lee's forehead as rapid breaths slow.

Jet doesn't wait for them to get back up.

He runs.

*****

That night is a sleepless one. Jet lays awake and stares at the ceiling, asking himself why. Why did Lee have to be so terrible. Why did this have to happen to him.

Lee got Jet arrested over a lie.

(Jet would have done the same.)

Jet, no, Lee lied about his identity. Didn't even give his real name.

(Jet's been doing that for years.)

Jet Lee is nothing but a liar. He's violent and twisted and-

He Jet Lee had to fight in a war. Jet Lee is a traumatized kid. He has a group of people depending on him at such a young age and never had a true family and is just now beginning to heal and is still always so scared and it hurts-

Jet isn't sure if he's thinking about himself of Lee any more.

He doesn't want to know.

#tw panic attack #jet #atla jet #avatar #avatar the last airbender #atla fanfic #jet centric #atla zuko #whumptober #ask game #ao3 #luca's answers #identity issues #luca's corner

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buckybarnesbingo · 4 years ago

Photo

What the Pic?

Participants: @ariasfandom, @rebelmeg, @wolfnprey, @ladydarkphoenix-blog, @bookdragon13, @liquidlightz, @jeminamoonnight, @caiti-creative-corner, @ribbonsflyingoutthewindow, @ibelieveinturtles

@ariasfandom - Bucky started watching Oobi and wanted to make an OC of it

@rebelmeg - all sam wanted to do was sleep in. that was it, that was all he wanted out of a saturday. which, of course, was the first thing his annoying houseguest decided to ruin, with a fist in his face at the crack of dawn. a fist wearing googly eyes. "bucky, what the hell?"

@wolfnprey - This is the default picture Clint sends out when he's judging. Bucky retaliates by posting his own in the vents and hides Clint's arrows.

@ladydarkphoenix-blog - Bucky gets caught watching kids(Sam's nephews, Clint's kids, insert kids here} unaware but has no idea how to entertain them so somehow ends up telling stories with his hands playing characters that are surprisingly effective

@bookdragon13 - Bucky gets drunk on Asgardian mead and thinks it’d be hilarious to put googly eyes on his metal hand and make it talk for him the rest of the night

@liquidlightz - Being an Eldritch deity apparently wasn't as awe inspiring as he'd always assumed himself to be, given that his host was entirely un-phased and thought it was funny to make puppet hands out of him and make up silly stories. The fact that he found this insult highly entertaining was even worse for his ego.

Keep reading for more!

@bookdragon13 - Bucky buys that for Clint after staying with him for a couple days. Clint absolutely loves it Of course

@rebelmeg - "likl. likl?! who approved that? how did that make it to store shelves! this is a disgrace!" "bucky, you really need to calm down." "i'll calm down when that travesty is removed from my sight!" going shopping with bucky is never boring.

@ladydarkphoenix-blog - Bought as a gift for himself because Bucky found the misspelling hilarious and it would bug the most important of his guests by making them guess if he didn't notice that little detail or what was happening in his head. Watching them try to deal with it gives Bucky much joy

@wolfnprey - The group stares, unimpressed, as people in the gallery move around them. Nat and Tony insist that the artist is just fucking with people, while Sam and Clint argue over how deep the meaning is. Bucky takes one look at Steve and knows his friend is dying a bit inside at how low art has stooped in the modern age. Bucky's nice enough not to comment that it's made out of a damn shower rug.

@ariasfandom - "Bucky, we live together. I know for a fact you didn't "wake up like this"

@liquidlightz - In the morning, his boyfriend told him how beautiful he looked, and how amazing his hair was, despite having mussed it all up during their passionate evening before. Apparently Bucky didn't suffer from bed hair but from magically self-smoothing hair. Ok, so maybe he used his magiks a little to keep it looking so good, what was the harm in that. So when Bucky saw this in a store he just had to get it and put it by the foot of his bed.

@ladydarkphoenix-blog - Bucky never thought he'd be turned into a dog. He also never thought he'd be staying with Clint and his dog or that the kids in the building would try to disguise him like this

@rebelmeg - bucky wasn't sure to think when he opened his door one morning to find a dog on the step wearing graucho glasses. he also wasn't sure if he should trust the note tied to the dog's collar that said, "pet me, i'm yours." but either way, the spaniel was pretty cute, and it turned out to be a snuggler. worst things could happen.

@ribbonsflyingoutthewindow - If you're going to name your dog Professor Diggory and you're going to ask Bucky to dogsit him, you should be prepared for the fact that Bucky’s going to accidentally make him an internet celebrity. Groucho glasses and the ability to pose very still for a picture while Bucky holds a pretzel between his lips is the easiest way to have a booming Instagram account in under a week. Bucky and Professor Diggory are practically professionals now. Don't be jealous.

@rebelmeg - it has happened every time. every single time he goes to the mcdonald's closest to his house, they manage to mess up his order somehow. actually, he's starting to suspect it's on purpose. there had definitely been a smirk on the guy's face when he handed bucky his order through the window. that might explain why his request for a cheeseburger with just ketchup had nothing but ketchup between the buns. hmm. this might mean war.

@ibelieveinturtles - Sick of working long hours at minimum wage, dealing with shitty customers amd an even shittier manager, Bucky decides its time to try that malicious compliance thing.

@ladydarkphoenix-blog - What's happened to customer service?!?! Back in his day if you made a simple request for a burger with only ketchup the kitchen was smart enough to know what you meant. Were they messing with him? Can they not figure out what a simple order meant? Bucky sighed and shook his head. He'd had worse dinners

@ribbonsflyingoutthewindow - So Steve's got a fuckton of allergies and quite frankly, Bucky doesn't even know what they all are, so telling the person at the drive thru that Steve wanted "a McDouble with just ketchup" was a precautionary action. He thought because he knew Steve was allergic to onions and dairy and mustard that it was safer to ask for only ketchup (probably Steve's only known safe-listed condiment) and potentially not be the one to accidentally murder a man he cared deeply about. But seeing Steve later open the hamburger bun to reveal a bun with a single squirt of ketchup inside made Bucky literally faceplant into his car horn. That was not what he fucking meant.

@rebelmeg - swaying gently in the tropical breeze that smelled like ocean and flowers, bucky smiled to himself. he was staring up at the clouds and palm trees overhead, his hammock creaking just slightly. off to his right, his favorite person in the world was sprawled on a towel on the sand, soaking in the sun and drinking some kind of fancy umbrella drink with a silly straw. best vacation ever.

@ladydarkphoenix-blog - Steve made jumping out of planes seem so easy. He never needed a parachute, never seemed to have the aches and pains after. With a sigh, Bucky stared up at the sky. At least he had a good view.

@ribbonsflyingoutthewindow - Pic Summary:When Bucky, Sam, and Natasha agreed to share an AirBnB for their Hollywood vacation, they'd only planned to see some famous sights and maybe try to pose with someone as famous as the monkey from the Pirates of the Caribbean films. Then they'd discovered that arguably the two hottest actors in the entire film industry, Tony Stark and Steve Rogers, were sharing the house next door! Overnight it became a bet and then a high stakes fight to the (okay, not actual) death to see which of them could meet one of the two actors first. Bucky hadn't exactly been spying while he was standing hidden behind an open gate on their temporary neighbor's property, but he must have been well hidden anyway because the moment he went to run and hide, a sleek convertible pulled out of the drive and directly into a fleeing Bucky. He kind of hates that his first thought upon opening his eyes and looking up to see only trees and a cloudy blue sky above him was that at least he'd probably won the bet.

#buckybarnesbingo2021 #bbb2021 #bbb discord party #what the pic?#party game #image prompts

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hyukiee · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 1: Destiny

warnings: cussing, drug use, mental illness (future fluff, smut, angst, etc.)

this is my first story i’m writing on tumblr, I hope y’all like it. I’ll probably update once or twice a week. I plan on this not so lovely love story to be pretty long.. and angsty. Enjoy :)

Dreams are one of the most unknown things we experience, yet no one questions our lack of knowledge about them when we lay in bed at night. Not everybody dreams. Some people only dream when their happy... or sad... or scared... or it just happens every blue moon for no reason at all. You dream every day, to the point where you feel a little depressed if you don’t have one. They never take you to wonderland, their never right, something is always off but you liked them anyways. They gave you an escape from reality, until reality started showing up in your dreams. The reality that you’re slowly killing yourself when really this was supposed to be the peak of your existence. The reality that you literally gave the most handsome man you’ve ever seen, the ugliest look in downtown Hollywood and the reality that you know you will ruin his life or get close to it.

‘That stupid fucking asshole, I can’t believe that no good piece of shit left me to fend for myself. It’s so fucking hot. Fuck off Karen, my face is easier to look at than that awful sweater. Fuck. I need to sit down.’ You stopped walking and you look at yourself through the reflection of some enterance to a cafe, it smells like. Jesus christ, those eye bags look like black eyes. You went to your closest friends party the other night, you didn’t want to go so that explains the oversized grey hoodie and grey sweats that... have dirt on them? How the fuck- you know what, you’ve seen worse. You can’t go inside the cafe looking like this though. The shady floor will do for now. Everyone is wearing work clothes so you must of slept through all of Sunday. Alone. Because your dick head of a friend abandoned you, god knows when but for someone that slept through an entire day, you’re tired. Maybe it’s just the mental exhaustion you live with but god you could use a nap. “E-eguse me ehm here you go,” you look up and see the most perfectly built man you have ever seen, holding a.. $10 bill? You unknowingly glare at him after noticing his arm holding out the money to you. He looked nervous, and foreign as fuck what accent is that? “I’m not homeless, fuck off.” Who the fuck is he to assume your homeless? Cant someone sit in piece for a little? Prick. You stood up, hitting his shoulder as you walked away, not ever looking back at his beautiful face.

Wake up, go to the beach, take a xans, go to work, go home, sleep, wake up, eat, sleep, and wake up to repeat the process. You always hated living by a constant schedule, but at this point you do anything you can to hurt yourself. The weekends are different though, its always spontaneous. Will you snort a line with the crackheads down the street or will you go to a party because you know the college kids adore their new interest in drugs? You really don’t need drugs. You’re fine. Depression put you in this place and god you feel like a coward. People go through so much more and stay away from drugs. Coward. Your thoughts consist of things like this often, even when your supposed to be hearing your idiot friends excuse for abandoning you last week. “Y/n, seriously, I could of sworn you were dead.” “Wow, thanks Julian, i’ll make sure to leave your lifeless body instead of calling 911 like a sane person when I get the chance.” You both rolled your eyes in sync. You loved Julian, he’s such a dumbass but despite saying he’s your closest friend, your hardly friends. You met before you dropped out of college, he was your dealer, one of the nicest ones you’ve met. You ran into him often and bought from him often as well so you would talk but the reality is he only stays because you’re his best costumer and you frankly don’t care because you are too lost to even care about someone else.

“Y/n, I think you should lay back on your habits a little bit,” Julian broke the silence you both had on the pier. You both liked to meet up at the pier and smoke a little. “Oh please, don’t act like you care. Drop the act and be a fake friend to me, please,” you spoke unemotionally, making eye contact with him. “I’ve never met someone asking for a fake friend.” “Real ones require you to love and deal with them. I can’t do that for you Julian but I know that’s not what you wanted anyways. I practically pay your rent, just thank me and change the topic.” He sighed. Not a disappointed one, a relived one. Julian has been a dealer for a very long time, he stopped caring about his costumers decisions. He didn’t truly care for your health, it was the sad truth. He did get worried that night at his party but only because he isn’t heartless. You knew that though, you seemed so lifeless and incapable of feeling anything to him. He wondered about your story at times but he knew somehow he would never get it. You’re easy to talk to though, it’s nice. “Thank you.”

Ever since you were little you wanted to live in a big city like L.A. Although, you imagined you would be going to UCLA and going to study on a beach just because you could. Standing next to Julian in line at Coachella, you just now take in how completely different your life turned out but at least you did end up here. Julian gets into Coachella for free every single year so your always his +1. You love gatherings like this but this one is just a little too Pg for you. You always end up spending most of your time at the food trucks. But according to Julian, ‘so many people would kill to be around this many celebrities’ so maybe you could get a drink or two in and mingle or whatever. It won’t kill you. So here you are, waiting to get a margarita because god knows you can’t be any type of social while sober. “I guess you weren’t homeless after all, my apologies,” you turn around and see the beautifully built man leaning down towards you. You could run. You’re not to far from the exit and it would be impossible to run into this guy for a third time... right? “Are you following me?” That was supposed to stay in your thoughts.. Is he though? How the hell do you see each other in two different cities? Sure, everyone knows about Coachella but how does he recognize you, you look good today, not homeless or drugged up, whichever works. “Ah, sorry, my english bad,” He stood up straight rubbing his hand on the back of his neck nervously. Right. Foreigner with a unknown accent. “What language do you speak?” It’s not like you’re going to understand his language but your curiosity is getting the best- “Korean.” You know it really isn’t too late to run. This man could be lying, trying to kidnap you and sex traffic you. What are the chances he just happens to speak the one other language you do as well. He could be faking this for all you know. “Hello,” You haven’t spoken in Korean since high school. You dont know why you even let that out. “You speak Korean? Wow, hello!” He bowed to you slightly with a box like smile on his face. That’s cute. It’s different. “I really am sorry for mistaking you the other day, do you mind me asking what happened?” “I was on a lot of drugs at a party and my friend abandoned me because he thought I overdosed.” You learned a long time ago to leave your addiction to yourself. People look at you differently when you do drugs, even your closest friends. That’s one of the first lessons you learn as a drug addict, keep it to yourself. The only people that know you do drugs are the ones that do them too. You could of lied to him, but the self destructive part of you couldn’t help but push this stranger away. You turned around to look at him after it got awkwardly silent. “What? You surprised? Scared? No harsh feelings, I don’t even know you.” You held in a laugh from his shocked and awkward expression. “Your right, we don’t know each other, I’m Taehyung,” He held out his hand replacing his taken aback expression back to his box-y smile, pretending what you said just never happened. ”Y/n,” You sighed. He won’t give up whatever this is. Fantastic. “Well actually, i’m supposed to be talking with famous people or something like that so I should get going,” You didn’t know how to get out of this situation. You felt like you couldn’t breathe with him standing so close to you. This conversation gets more and more awkward everytime you speak. “Then why are you leaving?” You both stared at each other, surprisingly not awkwardly. It was comforting looking into his eyes. “What? “You know what, I actually should go before i’m late, i’ll see you later,” he gave you one last smile and patted your shoulder before leaving you. “But- Why? What?”

“I just had the most uncomfortable conversation of my life with this insanely perfect looking man,” you spoke almost out of breath, finally finding Julian in the crowd. “Yeah, i’m pretty sure I saw who you’re talking about when I left you,” Julian is such an old soul. He responded while looking ahead at the stage, almonds in one hand like a football dad. “Who’s performing next” “Uh, BTS.” You hardly listen to music these days. Music that doesn’t fit your ‘fuck life, love drugs’ aesthetic. BTS doesn’t ring a bell so you probably won’t like it but it’s not like you have anything else to do, you’ve had enough with weird interactions. “Remind me why we’re sober,” you sighed, starting to feel the pain from standing for so long. “I’m sober, you’re drunk.” Julian glanced at the margarita in your hand. Right, you almost forgot. “Oh, don’t judge-“ “Sh sh sh their coming.” He hit your shoulder a couple of time looking at the stage like a child. You hate when people tap on you it’s so annoying. You sighed for the one thousandth time and focused on the group of people coming to the stage. Asians, how convenient. You know if life really hated you they would be Korean just like- “Ey, isn’t that the ‘insanely perfect looking man’ you were talking about? I can’t tell.” You have got to be kidding. That’s why he asked why you were leaving. He’s fucking famous. “I need another drink,” You sighed.

#bts #fanfic #kpop #bts angst #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #kpop fanfic #bts fluff

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giveamadeuschohisownmovie · 5 years ago

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So on the Danganronpa subreddit, I usually see posts of people editing a character's sprite to mimic a different character's talent. Like, what if Ibuki was the Ultimate Gymnast, or what if Hajime was the Ultimate Detective. It got me thinking, just how much different would the games be if the talents were switched? So just for fun, I thought I'd write up some ideas on how the first game would differ in this scenario. The one rule here is that the story, twists, deaths, and character relationships remain the same, despite the talent changes. EDIT: Okay, mostly the same, obviously parts of the story have to be updated or changed in order to accommodate the talent changes.

The changes (Junko remains the Ultimate Despair though for story reasons):

Makoto Naegi is the Ultimate Affluent Progeny / Kyoko Kirigiri is the Ultimate Biker Gang Leader

Byakuya Togami is the Ultimate Soldier / Toko Fukawa is the Ultimate Lucky Student

Aoi Asahina is the Ultimate Moral Compass / Yasuhiro Hagakure is the Ultimate ??? (Detective)

Mukuro Ikusaba Junko Enoshima is the Ultimate Fanfic Creator and the Ultimate Programmer

Sakura Ogami is the Ultimate Gambler / Celestia Ludenberg is the Ultimate Pop Sensation

Hifumi Yamada is the Ultimate Clairvoyant / Kiyotaka Ishimaru is the Ultimate Fashionista

Mondo Owada is the Ultimate Baseball Star / Chihiro Fujisaki is the Ultimate Swimming Pro

Leon Kuwata is the Ultimate Martial Artist / Sayaka Maizono is the Ultimate Writing Prodigy

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Now the changes I thought of:

1) Makoto is still the wholesome, lovable boy we know him as but this time, his attitude on life has changed thanks to his wealthy lifestyle. He's "humble" for a rich man but it's clear he's not used to living among the "regular" people. Examples of this could be a scene where Makoto is surprised that the cafeteria menu isn't five-star quality, complaining that his shower only has one shower head when the Naegi mansion has five, and mentioning in passing that Komaru's favorite necklace is worth $100,000.

2) Junko says that she specifically messed with Yasuhiro's memory since he was the sole threat to her operation. In the final chapter, she mentions that she had to restart the game since Yasuhiro, with his memory as the Ultimate Detective still intact, managed to solve the mystery within the first few hours. So before she restarted the game, she screwed up Hiro's mind so that he became a bumbling idiot.

3) Kyoko's cold nature now comes from the fact that she's one of Japan's most notorious criminals. However, she secretly despises what she became as apparently, her father disowned her after he found out about her biker gang connections. She believes that her father was trying to protect his reputation as it would be a bad look on the headmaster of Hope's Peak Academy if he had a criminal daughter.

4) Sayaka's childhood relationship with Makoto is changed to that her early writing career was supported by the Naegi family. Apparently, she came to the Naegis for help in publishing her novels, which is how she met Makoto.

5) Byakuya's dickish attitude is now more of a tough drill sergeant. He sees everyone around him as "weak" and wouldn't survive a day in the battlefield. (basically, Byakuya in this version is every tough soldier guy stereotype who thinks civilians are snowflakes that need protecting)

6) I'd like to imagine that Mukuro would be somewhat of a zany fangirl. Like, she still has her fun personality, but now it's directed to talking about her favorite fandoms and the latest story she wrote. Then, when we get to the "Mukuro Ikusaba, 16th student, watch out for her" section, we learn that she was actually the Ultimate Programmer. Makoto, Kyoko, and Byakuya then hypothesize that maybe Mukuro set up Hope's Peak Academy to trap them all in. It makes sense as only a master computer programmer could maintain control over the entire academy. - side note: Alter Ego is also changed to that of a mysterious program with no face. It wants to help the students escape but won't reveal its true face since it doesn't want to expose its "creator's" identity.

7) Okay, I admit, I made Mondo the baseball star intentionally. Just...imagine chapter 2 but instead of dumbbells, he used a baseball bat. But on a serious note, in this version, I imagined that the accident that led to Daiya Owada's death was that Mondo hit a ball right into a drainage ditch during a heavy storm. In a fit of stupidity, Mondo tried to retrieve the ball (the ball could be a heirloom to the Owada family) but got caught in a sudden rush of water. Daiya managed to pull him out but at the cost of his own life.

8) Celestia's arrogant behavior now comes from her being a "celebrity". She believes the entire class loves her music and that they worship her like her legions of adoring fans. Makoto also makes a side comment where he mentions that Celestia attracts people because she has the "alternate, lolita goth" thing going for her, even though her music fits with the typical J-pop scene. When it comes to her name, "Celestia Ludenberg" is her stage name and she refuses to go by her real name as she wants to be seen only for her pop sensation persona.

9) Toko's internal hatred is made even deeper in this version as she thinks she doesn't belong with the class. It's bad enough that she already hates herself, it's made worse since she knows that she doesn't have a special talent as she was just picked on random. However, the luck side also works to her advantage as it's explained that Toko somehow managed to avoid capture from the police even though she's an active serial killer.

10) I imagine that Hina as the Ultimate Moral Compass would be more of an "etiquette cheerleader". She's still fun and bubbly, but now she'll make you laugh while also telling you to eat your vegetables and clean up your room. But she still loves donuts and she fully believes that only a person pure of heart could've came up with the idea of donuts.

11) Not much changes with Sakura's character. She's still best friends with Hina and she still loves the class, enough to commit suicide. This time, she talks about her suicide as if she was making a huge gamble. In her mind, she believes that if she goes "all in" and bets her life away, that will lead to the remaining students banding together to stop Monokuma.

12) Hifumi Yamada is still a gross pervert, but instead of making fanfic/2D art/manga/anime jokes, he now makes clairvoyant jokes. Stuff like, "I see in my future...Ms. Maizono will be my girlfriend!" or "Mr. Naegi, if you keep doing good deeds, I foresee in your future that not only will you live a long, happy life, you will also marry both Ms. Kirigiri and Ms. Asahina!"

13) Kiyotaka is still a really forceful person but now he's all about people's fashion. Stuff like, "MAKOTO NAEGI, FOR AN AFFLUENT PERSON, YOU CERTAINLY DON'T DRESS THAT WAY!" or "MONDO, YOUR ATTITUDE IS AS BAD AS YOUR AWFUL OUTFIT!". Guess you can say he's the actual fashion police. But on a serious note, his backstory is changed to that of a successful male model who has inspired legions of men to always look their best. Something about how you should look your best in order to be at your best.

14) Chihiro is still scared of everything around him but takes comfort in the idea of swimming. He explains that swimming is the one thing he isn't afraid of in life and that by focusing all of his life on swimming, he reached Olympic levels of skill.

15) Leon Kuwata isn't really changed. However, now it's revealed that he managed to block Sayaka's attacks and throw Hiro's glass ball at the incinerator with his ultimate martial arts skills.

#danganronpa #makoto naegi #kyoko kirigiri #byakuya togami #toko fukawa #yasuhiro hagakure #aoi asahina #junko enoshima #mukuro ikusaba #sakura ogami #celestia ludenberg #hifumi yamada #kiyotaka ishimaru #mondo owada #chihiro fujisaki #leon kuwata #sayaka maizono #danganronpa trigger happy havoc

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jaehyeonsgf · 6 years ago

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Hello can I request a scenario with Jaehyun # 37 & 13 with angst and fluff thank you 😊

13 : “i’ve been flirting with you for three years, it’s about time that you catch on.”

37 : “why do you hate me so much?”

a/n : i’ll do you one up and give you fboy!jaehyun with a lowkey enemies-to-lovers!au. needless to say, i went a little overboard with it. i hope you’d enjoy it.

Yellow is the colour of caution, perhaps that’s the reason that bells went off in your head when you first laid eyes on Jaehyun.

He rakes his fingers through his wet blonde hair, laughing as he points at the other boy, “Another match.”

In a group of sweaty boys, your eyes naturally gravitate to him. His blonde hair catches your eyes first, then his wide shoulders, and then his angelic smile. He had an air of confidence as he dribbles the ball towards the hoop, leaping and dunking the ball in it. Watching him, all you could think of was that he really looked like a prince.

But since you first saw him, with the help of the gossips flying around your university campus, you quickly learn of his reputation at school. You learn his name is Jung Jaehyun and that he is the same age as you. You learn that apparently, he likes to leads girls on, with empty promises of love, only to leave when he gets bored. You learn to avoid him at all costs.

So, you curse your luck when you land in the same lecture hall as him. You never thought that someone like him would actually be interested in literature. To make matters worse, he decides to plop himself right next to you, immediately striking a conversation with you.

That moment, you believe, is the beginning of your downfall.

Since then, three years slip by silently, and somehow, you become Jaehyun’s favourite target. In a room full of people, he will choose to yell your name out loud, causing everyone to stare at you – because that’s totally not embarrassing at all. He loves to casually flirt with you, as if the other girls aren’t sending enough dirty glares in your direction – because it’s not like it made you uncomfortable.

Simply put, it seems like he just can’t just leave you alone. Even if you’ve told him many times to do so.

Hatred is a strong word and, growing up, you were taught to reserve it only for the worst of the worst. But now, you think you’ve finally found someone deserving of such a word. You bestowed the word to Jaehyun for the years of annoyance that he has put you through.

“Dude- Just… Just leave me alone okay,” you walk faster, hoping to put some distance between you and Jaehyun.

His persistence is only served to further annoy you. “Come on, it’s my birthday party. Surely, you like me enough to celebrate my birthday, right?”

You stop dead in your track and toss him a fierce glare. “You’re the only person in this whole world that I hate.”

Guilt eats you up the moment the words fly out of your mouth because, you swear, you catch a glimpse of hurt flashing through Jaehyun’s eyes just for a moment. It’s quick, and you doubt that it ever happened, but the guilt forces you to give him the benefit of doubt.

“…But okay. Just this once.” Your words quickly tumble out of your mouth, trying to make up for your harsh words.

The way his eyes brightens at your answer is enough to ease the guilt.

By the time you get to the party, the sun has already set and the sky is streaked with pink and purple hues. The thump of muffled music coupled with voices shouting and chanting loudly but incoherently are enough to make you regret your decision. Although you’re 21 now, you feel that the drunken messes of parties have already lost its appeal to you. A few years back and you might have considered the fun it entails. Now, you already know that it’ll end with some drunk throwing a punch at another guy or someone knocking over an expensive vase – a boring end, that is.

But you’ve given him your word and it would be rude to suddenly not show up. You decide that you are just going to go in, say hi, and go home.

You hop on to the porch, opening the door for yourself and immediately, the stench of beer fills your nose. You scrunch your nose in disgust and push yourself into the house. You’re quickly swallowed by the crowd, the heavy shove from behind you pushes you deeper into the house.

It’s suffocating and you have never felt more disgusted at the amount of (drunk) people pressed up against you.

You find refuge in the kitchen which you notice is unusually empty, with the exception of a couple making out passionately on the counter-top and you’re quick to shoot them a dirty glare. You start wondering why you even agreed to come in the first place because Birthday Boy is nowhere to be seen. Maybe he had already found his girl-of-the-night. Maybe he’s busy entertaining his many other friends. Maybe-

“(Y/N)?”

You spin your head towards the direction of the sound and oddly enough, relief washes over your body when you see Jaehyun standing at the doorway of the kitchen. The voice hadn’t been loud, it was barely audible against the faded loud blaring music. It isn’t until then that you realise you had been straining your ears to hear his voice above everything else.

“I didn’t think that you would actually come,” he walks towards the fridge. “Beer?” he hands you a can.

You stare at the can and quickly realise that if you had to stay any longer in the house, you’re going need the help of it, so you reach out and take it.

“I said that I would, didn’t I?” You crack open the drink. “I like to keep my words.”

It isn’t until the alcohol burns down your throat that you realised it’s been awhile since you last had a drink. You bite down on your lower lip to supress the hiss that is threatening to spill.

But it seems like Jaehyun notices it.

“Not a drinker?” his voice is laced with false concern, it’s almost mocking you, “We have other drinks like orange j-“

“This is the reason why I didn’t want to come.” You cut him off.

“It’s not like you’re going to do anything else anyways,” he replies calmly, with an irritatingly innocent smile.

As much as you hated to admit it, his words are true. If you weren’t at his party, you would probably be forcing yourself to read and memorise notes. Maybe you’d spend the next 12 hours cramming information into your head, staring at your stained celling. Maybe you’d spend it sleeping. Either ways, it isn’t very productive or fun.

But you’d never say it to his face, so you take another gulp of beer. You feel like you’re really going to need a lot of it to get through the night.

The night progresses, both of you get more drunk and you find yourself actually enjoying the party.

You have forgotten that you came with the intention of just showing your face when you follow him around, even introducing yourself to several of his friends. You have forgotten that Jaehyun is an asshole when you find yourself laughing, as the both of you point out random party-goers, giving them the weirdest backstories. You have forgotten that you actually hate Jaehyun when he convinces you into smearing cheap UV paints across your face. You have forgotten all of the rumours that you’ve heard about Jaehyun when he suggests to go out on the empty balcony. You have certainly forgotten about his reputation when you nod and allow yourself to be alone with him.

You didn’t expect the night to funnel into such a comfortable moment. For the first time in three years, you actually feel comfortable around Jaehyun. You blame it on the buzz of the alcohol, telling yourself that this moment will be forgotten when the sun rises and when tomorrow comes. It takes everything in you to try and not enjoy the moment.

But it’s hard to suppress a giggle when he tells you about his first heartbreak, an online girlfriend he had when he was 8 that broke up with him because he couldn’t send her money. So, you don’t. You giggle and tell him that he was probably ‘dating’ a thirty-year-old Nigerian scammer. And when he tells you about that time that he poured cereal before milk, you don’t suprpess the laughter that comes out of your mouth, as you called him a total dumbass. You talk and talk and talk. Warmth blossoms in your heart as you watch his lips spread into an endearing smile and as he tells the tales of his past. It means nothing.

The night comes to a point where the party’s ending and the blaring music softens. The night air is filled with silence.

“Why… Why did you come tonight?” he mumbles quietly, his speech muffled slightly by the can pressed against his lips.

“Afraid that you’ll grow lonely without me.” Not entirely true, but not lying.

He gulps. “I thought… you didn’t like me?”

“True,” your nonchalance stops you from hearing the crack in Jaehyun’s chest.

He shifts, turning towards you slightly. “Why do you hate me so much, anyways?”

The question quickly sobers you up and you remember. The rumours, his reputation, your desire to be left alone. There’s a growing anger, not at him but at yourself, for letting the whims of the night cloud your judgement.

You gulp visibly. “T-the rumours…” You begin softly, “The things you do to those poor girls.”

He fires back, “It’s not like they weren’t pushing themselves on me.”

You roll your eyes and wonder what spell you were under that you actually believed for a moment that Jaehyun could have been a decent person. “See, that is why I hate you. Y-you simply don’t care.” You see the regret flash in his eyes and know that you should stop but you continue. “You choose your selfish desires – your lust or whatever – over their emotions.”

“Stop,” his voice low – a warning sign.

But the words continue to carelessly tumble out of you, “And let’s be honest, the only reason you hang out with me is because I’m the only girl who has yet to be rejected by you. All you want is for me to be begging on my knees for you but by then you’ll grow bored and go for the other girls, right? Cause that’s what it all come down to, body count.”

His hands are trembling and for once, he doesn’t have the perfect comeback, or any at all.

“H-have you ever loved any one of your girlfriends?” You ask, even though you had your suspicion. “Any.”

He stays quiet, eyes on the ground and that is an answer enough for you.

“No…” You whisper.

“But none of them concerns you! Why are you so-“

“Because I’m afraid that I’ll be another one of them!” You yell and tears are threatening to spill. You take a deep breath and stills your voice. “Because, if they, with what they have, can’t please you, how can I ever compare to them?”

The ugly suppressed truth comes out: you are in love with Jaehyun, have been since the day that you’ve laid eyes on him. As you stand so vulnerably in front of him, each unsatisfactory answer cracks your heart. But it isn’t until this moment that you hear it, the clean split of your heart in to two.

“All these years, watching you kiss other girls, watching you buy them gifts, watching you whisper sweet nothings to them, only for you to drop them the very next day. I’m so afraid that that’s going to be me. That I’ll be your next victim. That I’ll be lured by your charms and fall hopelessly in love with you, only to have it all gone.”

You see his eyes, wide with shock. The way that they say I’ve screwed up. It almost makes up for the ache in your heart, the way it has been broken into two, then four, then sixteen. Almost.

(Though it’s not like anything can make up for the lies you’ve buried your feelings under. Each time jealously crept up, you told yourself ‘I’m not in love with him’. The idea is that if you repeated it enough, one day perhaps you’ll really stop loving him. It hasn’t happened yet. And every time you wished he’d look your way, you’ll tell yourself that you don’t.)

“I’ve always thought that if you could even feel something other than lust for those other girls, then maybe I had a chance,” You mumble out.

“I don’t care about them,” he finally says something.

And you don’t care about me, either. You want to say it but decides to choke it back down as a sharp pain shoots through your heart.

“Be-because… I…” he struggles to find the right words. His eyes are shaky and avoids your piercing gaze. “I’m in love with you.” He finally breathes out.

It catches you off-guard and you feel woozy, unsure if it’s the alcohol or the shock.

You gulp as you try to process what he had just said. Then your tears come out drop by drop, without your control. Three years of suppressed feelings, it all overwhelms you into tears. The thought that finally, finally, you can be in love with him.

His arms pull you into a comforting hug and hear it for yourself, the way his heart drums against his ribcage. It causes more tears to spill out.

“I’ve been flirting with you for three years, it’s about time you caught on,” he chuckles, his fingers gently wiping away the tears spilling out and, when they don’t work, he resorts the gently pecking them away.

The light touches are enough to garner a giggle out of you. “It’s ticklish.”

You look up into his eyes meet his soft gaze. His fingers gently caress the sides of your now-swollen eyes. I want to kiss him. You wonder if it’s too quick so you lean in, just the slightest, and when you see him leaning in too, you close the gap between the both of you.

Your lips meet his as if to say finally and his meets yours in a way that said I’m here.

A simple kiss. When you pull apart, you can’t help but giggle.

“What?” he murmurs.

“…Nothing.”

You didn’t want him to get the satisfaction of hearing the joy in your heart at the realisation that you’re his and he is finally, finally yours. Instead you just lay your head on his chest, letting his steady heartbeats calm you. And he doesn’t object to it, he holds your tight. Secure.

#nct #nct u #nct 127 #jung jaehyun #mine #requested

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