#hopefully will be back to painting within the month
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
idafloreak · 3 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Hey don't cry. Beautiful desert lichens in every color, okay?
19 notes · View notes
toms-cherry-trees · 7 months ago
Text
Cracked || Jacaerys Velaryon x Twin!Wife! Reader
Summary: No one ever said duty would hurt like this
Word count: 3.3k
Warnings: Twincest targcest (Velaryoncest?), angst, spoilers if you haven't watched S2E2, for anti hating purposes is not explicitly stated but all characters are above 18.
Author's note: Won't you look at me, 7 months since my last HOTD fic! That scene with Jace tearing up definitely did something to me. My very first time writing for Jace, hopefully won't be the last!
Also a massive massive thank you and all my devotion to @moris-auri for beta reading this!
Tumblr media
Tumblr media
No one welcomes him when he lands in the Dragonmont. 
The flapping of Vermax's leathery wings is amplified, booming throughout the massive cavern, swirls of steam rising from the cracks on the dark stone. The only ones to witness his arrival are the dragon keepers, but even they are distracted, their focus on the exhausted dragon and not his equally drained rider. When they stride past him, they don’t acknowledge him at all, almost as if he doesn’t exist. Jace wonders if he is a ghost, because only in death could someone feel the agony that seeps from his bones and still be standing. 
He feels like a foreigner in this place. 
Even though he has lived on Dragonstone half his life, he feels like a foreigner. The fortress is not theirs. He doubts it never truly has been. They are just keepers of these ancient walls and the history they carry within. Dragonstone is a relic that will stand on that island for a thousand years to come, as welcoming as a gush of Northern wind on bare skin. The only warmth comes from its very core, from those who habit it and who've made the great fortress a home. 
But the home he left weeks prior is not the one he now returns to. The warmth has been snuffed and the hearth has been shattered. 
He walks with his head held high and his back straight, gaze always ahead and chin lifted in a gesture of near arrogance. He walks like an heir, because he is. He is now his mother’s heir and he must play his part, even if all he wants to do is lay his head on her lap and weep like a boy of ten. 
A moon ago he was just Jacaerys Velaryon. He was a son, a firstborn son, but with no more responsibility than studying and learning, mastering skills that would serve him purpose in 30 or 40 years. His greatest concerns were training Vermax properly, what desserts would be served after supper, and how to avoid falling into another of his siblings’ silly pranks. He had been betrothed long ago, but marriage itself was something distant, something that could wait out a few more years.
He was a brother of five with another sibling on the way; a sister. While most in the castle pined for a son, another boy, he secretly supported his mother’s longing for a little girl.
And now he is Jacaerys, Prince of Dragonstone and heir to his mother’s throne and crown. He is more Targaryen than Velaryon now. He is an envoy, a messenger, a warrior if needed be. He is a strategist and a politician. He is an asset and a threat; someone who has forged great alliances, but also has found strong enemies, their weapons aimed directly at the target behind his head, target painted there by his grandsire many a year before his birth. A wedding , hastily arranged, to strengthen their cause and their line of inheritance. 
He is a brother to just four now, and the crib has been left empty. 
Cregan Stark had been the one to break the news to him. Standing on a cramped lookout on the edge of the world, nothing but whiteness as far as the eye reached, Lord Stark had said that the Wall did more than keep savages and ice at bay. It held back death.
But death came nonetheless.
Jacaerys had managed to maintain his stance as a man and a Prince, receiving the news with unyielding stoicism, even when his knees felt weak and his body chilled, like ice had spread down his spine. But this ice was nothing like the one surrounding him, there on the edge of the North. This one burned, burned like dragonfire while stabbing him with a thousand knives, leaving him to bleed out while not allowing him to die. It stole the air from his lungs and the blood from his veins, and filled him with snow. His lungs couldn’t breathe, his heart couldn’t beat yet somehow he didn’t drop dead right there where he stood.
He recalls little of what occurred after, nothing more than brief, precise memories. Receiving Cregan’s condolences, and feeling the firm squeeze of the older man’s hand on his shoulder. Northerners parting silently to make way for him in the courtyard, where a restless Vermax awaited, his screeches rattling the windows of the nearby towers. Someone handing him a parcel, hastily wrapped, containing a sleek wolf pelt as a present for their Queen. The thunderstorm he traversed in the Riverlands, and the toll it took on Vermax to fly through it. 
The painful tightening on his throat as he wondered if he had encountered a similar one, not far from home.
Servants and courtiers make way for him, as he approaches his mother’s chambers. They bow and curtsy, and offer words of courtesy, lamenting the loss of the young Prince. Some stare out of the corner of their eye as he passes, waiting to see if the new Prince of Dragonstone will crumble like sand before their very eyes. But he never betrays himself; not a tear brimming in his eyes, not a wobble of his lips. The occasional flaring of his nostrils is the single telltale of the sorrow that simmers just beneath his skin. 
He hesitates briefly, pausing at the end of the vast hallway where the royal apartments are. Up the winding staircase, past the single set of double doors to the left, his mother awaits. No, not his mother, the Queen. She stopped being his mother the day the crown was placed atop her head, and the court of Dragonstone bent the knee before her. Grief and loss shaped her, morphing her into the leader and ruler she had been born to be. Jace can only admire her, and hope that he will be able to embrace his new role as effortlessly as she has done hers.
The double doors are pushed open by Ser Erryk. The Queen sits alone, gaze downcast and thoughts troubled, that much Jace can tell by the nervous fidgeting of her hands, twisting her rings almost compulsively. When her eyes rise to meet his, Jacerys sees in them a mirror of himself, the same exhaustion, the effort to push back and bury the wrenching misery, the bleeding wound left behind by their loss.
They are alone, just the two of them in that silent alcove. Jace could break down, weep like he hasn’t done in years and lay his head across her lap; let her slender, motherly fingers card through his hair as she assures him that all will be well in the end. But he can’t, he can’t because she’s more Queen than mother now and she’s grieving too, grieving deeper than he is and if she can keep it together then so can he, because he is her heir and he has to make her proud and be a man worthy of respect. 
The Prince doesn’t cry; the heir doesn’t cry. 
A man remains immovable and imperturbable.
He straightens his back, head held high and hands laced before him as he recounts his triumphs, the Houses he convinced to pledge for them and what each one has offered and asked them in return. This moment should have been his shining glory, with himself striding through the castle with pride and confidence, ready to announce to the council how he had secured the allegiance of the Vale and the North for their cause. He would bask in his wife’s admiration, drink the praises from her lips and show her he was ready to one day be a great King, with a great Queen by his side. 
Instead it is just them two, hidden behind doors, picking up the pieces falling from their carefully built masks before they completely fall apart. He brings good news, great news, but they matter little and now taste like ash in his mouth, burning and bitter. His victories mean nothing to him because his little brother is dead, gone 60 years before his time, and they don’t even have a body to burn and Jacaerys feels it should have been him, because he is the eldest and he should have protected him better. He should have faced their rageful uncle and died instead, but he didn’t and now he stands there, moving and doing because if he stays still the grief will swallow him whole and bury him in a pit of sand.
And then his voice breaks, the facade cracks and they both stop pretending, because pretending hurts, like gripping a white hot rod with both hands and refusing to let go even if it’s hurting you.
Her embrace is warm; her arms feel like home. With his head tucked under her chin, his cheek pressed against her chest, he feels young again. He feels the sobs racking her body, the tears dampening her face and his hair, her fingers digging on the fabric of his cloak. They sway slightly, rocking from side to side like when he was a babe of just a few days old, fussy and restless, keeping the whole holdfast awake at night because he refused to settle anywhere but on his mother’s arms. 
But now Jace suspects the motion is meant for her more than for him, to transport her to days past when she held her babes in her arms and they were safe under her wing and no one could harm them because she would sooner tear the world to pieces. Discreetly the places shift, now it's her forehead against his shoulder and his arms holding her steady. Jace feels the tears stinging his eyes and the lump blocking his throat, but he cannot break down because his mother is broken and someone must stand strong and whole and it has to be him. 
Soon, too soon,  his mother has dismissed him, sending him to his chambers to bathe and rest because they will have the funeral at sunset and they must not show weakness before the court. The cracks must be patched and hidden, no matter how deep they run. Not a single piece can fall out of place.
He drags his feet now; the weight on top of him has grown heavy. His posture slackens, his shoulders slump, the pretence is harder to hold. Sunset feels like a death sentence, because a funeral makes it real. It makes it true. Burning what they have because there is not even a body left behind to burn. That way he can no longer pretend that is not happening, that is all just a tale. And then, he will crack. No willpower will keep him whole because his brother, his little brother is dead and he has to face a future where Lucerys will not be a part of it.
He pushes his chamber door open with one shoulder, his mind blank of any thought; the encounter with his mother affected him deeper than he had anticipated, because even she is cracking and now is just him holding it together because he has to. 
And then he sees her. 
His wife sits before the hearth, so ethereal with the glow of the fire illuminating her face. Her head turns as soon as the door opens, and he immediately notices the red around her swollen eyes. At first he thinks she’s mourning, but she’s had her time to mourn and Jace knows she’s crying for him, crying because she feels the agony straining to break through his flesh. Just like they have felt each other’s every emotion for as long as they have lived, have anticipated each other’s words and read their thoughts. Connected by a bond that runs deeper than marriage, because they are of the same blood, come into the world together.
The last time he saw her before his departure, they had an ugly fight. Jacaerys had convinced their mother to keep her at Dragonstone rather than allow her to fly as an envoy, claiming they could not leave the fortress unguarded and with the larger dragons going in and out on their missions, they had to pile up their remaining strength. The Queen had agreed, and her word was final. 
She could not argue with Her Grace, but she certainly made Jacaerys know how she felt about what she perceived as a betrayal and lack of trust in herself and her abilities. Jace pleaded with her to see reason, to see things from his perspective. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in her, he would never dare to doubt her strength. But he didn’t trust the men she would encounter on her journey, nor did he want her to risk taking a long flight on her dragon and run into danger. She, always the hot headed one, had called him every name under the sun and refused to see him off, choosing instead to sulk in her chamber. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, to leave on bad terms with her, but he trusted they would talk it out upon his arrival. That all would be well and their problems would be solved.
He stands silently before her, and for the first time he feels small. So small and diminished, unwilling to look her in the eyes. His gaze is fixed on the floor because the tears are winning the battle and if they do he will crack open like a dragon egg, but no great beast will emerge, only his insecurities and his failures.
His lower lip wobbles, and he bites it so hard he leaves the imprint of his teeth. His nails dig deep in his palms in his attempt to steady their accusatory trembling. He breathes in and out, slow and steady, his eyes squeezed shut as he feels himself losing control. He cannot allow himself to lose it, not in front of her of all people, not when he is supposed to be her pride, not her embarrassment.
He hears the sharp drag of the chair as she stands, the thud of the heavy tome she had been reading being thrown rather carelessly over a table. Her steps are slow and calculated as she moves across the stone, approaching him cautiously like he is some wild beast ready to lash out. Like he is some fragile thing, so fragile that a gush of wind could break him apart.
Her hands are soft and warm as they cradle his face, gently coaxing him to look up, to meet her eyes. But he can’t, he fears he will see disappointment in them, he will see accusation, he will see her blame him for Luke’s death, for forcing her to remain back when it was their little brother who needed his protection the most. 
For failing the family.
He succumbs in the end, brown eyes gingerly rising to meet her own, bracing himself for the worst. But he sees nothing of what he expected. He sees no anger, no resentment, no pity. Just worry and tenderness, and a desolation that matches his own.
The first tears he has been holding back since Winterfell finally escape the barrier of his willpower and roll down his cheeks. He attempts to blink them away but they cannot be stopped, nor does he have the strength to stop them no more. His wife brushes some away with her thumbs, and smoothes back his hair in a tender gesture
“Jace.”
That little world, the call of his own name coming from her lips is all that it needs for the dam inside him to burst. The violent sobs rack his body, tears blurring his vision and he chokes on them, while also feeling like he’s breathing for the first time since that raven arrived at the Wall. He tries to hide his face but she won’t let him, and tears shine in her eyes too and that only makes the crying worse, because his wife is suffering and he cannot console her because he’s also suffering.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
His legs weaken and his stance falters. The same apology falls from his mouth, the small words tumbling over each other and getting lost in the incessant weeping. His knees falter and he drops down; his forehead rests against her body and his hands are on her hips, fearing he will lose her if he lets go. He sobs onto her dress, not caring anymore about being the perfect Prince and heir, about being the man everyone will respect and be proud of.
His wife drops to her knees too and holds him close, allowing his head to lay against her shoulder. The scent of her body fills his nostrils, aroma of camellias and toasted sugar. It smells of happy memories and easier days, and it evokes a sense of safety in him, of tenderness, of the happiest days of his short life. His cry doesn’t stop, but it is not only for Lucerys now. It is for his mother, for his younger brothers, for himself and for all the losses to come. He cries for his twin, his wife, for now the fear of harm coming her way has increased tenfold, and the mere idea of her being cruelly ripped from his side tears a gash on his heart.
He cries until he’s sure there are no tears left to cry. Until the weight has been lifted from his chest and he is sure he can breathe again. They remain there for what feels like mere seconds and a lifetime at the same time, locked in each other’s embrace. Her fingers card through his hair and her lips press tender kisses to his temple; his arms wrapped around her, hands pressed against her back to keep her close, as close as he can to his own heart. He would gladly stay there forever, spend the rest of his days encased in her warmth and basking in her love. But the moment is broken all too soon when a servant knocks on the door to let them know that courtiers are already gathering in the outskirts of the castle for the funeral.
Jace lets himself be guided by the hand like an obedient child to sit before her vanity. She moves around him silently; unneeded words would only break the feeble spell of calmness surrounding them.
She takes care of everything for him. Wipes his face clean with a damp cloth, presses a cool spoon to his eyes so they will not appear swollen and bloodshot. He changes into a fresh tunic, and allows her to comb his hair and powder his face to disguise the redness of his cheeks and nose. 
They stand together before the ornate mirror, both of them dressed in matching red and black. She helps him pin the cloak onto his tunic, fastening it to his right shoulder with a silver dragon brooch. Jace holds her gaze in their reflection, hoping to convey with gestures the emotions words fail to do. She understands; she always does.
He is rewarded with a kiss on the cheek, and while it does not manage to coax a smile out of him, it fills his veins with a pleasant tickling warmth, the same he felt after their first kiss and the one he hopes to feel until his last breath. 
Her fingers run up his arms gently, tracing the embroiders and trimmings of the doublet. They come to rest on his shoulders and gently push them back, straightening his posture and puffing out his chest. The right index continues the ascent, tracing the curve of the neck and the still sharpening line of the jawline before settling under his chin, pushing upwards ever so slightly to lift his head. Urging him to hold himself with pride. To unapologetically show the world that he is cracked, but not broken.
She comes to stand before him at last, smoothing down nonexistent creases from his clothes until nothing but pure perfection remains. They hold each others’ gaze for a few moments, before she reaches up to steal from him a gentle kiss.  
“All ready, My Prince.” 
This time, he smiles.
2K notes · View notes
remlionheart · 26 days ago
Text
Tumblr media
Growing Pains
part three
♡ˎˊ˗ hiiii, welcome to the final installment of the fic that’s taken over my life for the last four months ♡ ̆̈ be sure to start here if you're new ♡ moving on from this story will be emotional i can’t lie, i've gotten way too invested in this but i'm very happy that i was able to see it through and hopefully do it justice. what started off as a small idea turned into something much bigger and i'm so thankful for all of the love and support you guys gave me. i love u all SO much, thanks for sticking with me on this ♡ biblically-cannon-megumi x fem!reader. slow burn. hurt / comfort. aged up characters. forced proximity. (light) enemies to lovers. eventual smut. this is what jjk could've been if fushiguro was the main character and gege would’ve been hugged as a child. lemme know whatcha think, luv u ♡ˎˊ˗
₊⊹♡ MDNI ₊⊹♡
° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .
You'd lied for him.
Despite absolutely everything– despite your better judgement, despite the sick, burning sense of anxiety that had taken over your mind and body, you'd still... covered for him. Giving Gojo vague and concise answers, fabricating lies to make Megumi's late-night disappearances seem less concerning than they actually were. Telling him that it'd just started happening instead of admitting that it'd actually been going on for nearly two months. Painting a soft, false picture that he was usually only ever gone for an hour at a time though there had been several nights he hadn't made it back until nearly 4 in the morning. Mending his worries with whatever reassuring words you could string together to make him loosen up on his questioning until he'd finally closed the door to your dorm, leaving you with a poignant– "If anything else happens, you come find me."
You weren't sure how you'd managed to hold it together so well, but the minute it was just you alone with your thoughts again, you found your hands trembling as you rushed over to his side of the room. Reminding yourself to breathe while you rummaged through his bookshelf and nightstand for any sort of explanation.
Going through his things felt wrong, but not going through them would've somehow felt worse. If you'd learned anything from your time spent with him, it was that Megumi Fushiguro was a lot of things, but deceitful without cause wasn't one of them. He wasn't the type to lie for no reason. He held his secrets unreasonably close to his chest but never out of malice. If he was hiding something, if he was lying to you, Gojo, Nobara, and Yuuji– arguably the only people he'd ever really let in, it wasn't because he wanted to.
His belongings were every bit as organized and well-guarded as he was though, hardly anything seeming suspicious or out of place no matter how many journals and textbooks you searched through. You were trying to be as meticulous as you could, doing your very best not to acknowledge the race against the clock you knew were up against or the ever-increasing weight that was sitting on your chest as you reached for the only book left– the one that you'd gifted him for his birthday.
You pushed past your body's consternation, carefully flipping through the pages when finally, a folded up loose-leaf piece of paper fell out of it, making your heart completely abandon any semblance of a steady rhythm.
It was a series of bullet-points mostly, jotted down information about reversed curse techniques and different types of healing abilities that didn't seem to go in any particular order. You were almost afraid that you'd hit another dead-end until your eyes landed on the bottom of the page. Your legs suddenly struggling to keep you upright as you trailed over his handwriting, all of the rigid pieces of the last few months gradually beginning to unravel and connect.
"Technique Name: 'Kokoro Kiri' - also known as Heart Severing," it read, "is a reversed curse technique developed to manipulate, distort, and erase memories by severing the spiritual and emotional connections tied within a person's mind. This technique utilizes cursed energy to fracture the target's emotional bonds to certain experiences and people, effectively making them unable to access specific memories."
The page nearly slipped from your grasp, your hand suddenly shaking beyond your control as you forced yourself to take a seat on the edge of his bed. Your breathing was alarmingly uneven, tears desperately trying to push their way out no matter how hard you fought to keep them at bay. As much as you wanted to lie to yourself– to naively choose to believe that all of this somehow wasn't directly related to you, you couldn't.
Reality had you backed into a corner with its steel grip locked firmly around your neck and there was no escaping it.
Your vision was blurry, the words almost bleeding together as you continued on to the last paragraph, "Memory Fragmentation– typically performed by a healer, is used to destroy emotional and cognitive connections attached to selected memories or selected people in the target's mind. In some extreme cases, a skilled enough user may even have the capability to erase large portions of their target's past or sever bonds between them and a specified individual. Unlike memory manipulation or distortion, this ability creates a void in the target's mind, leaving them with a permanent sense of disconnection from who or what was once there."
The oxygen had all but vanished from the room as you stared back at his words, a devastatingly cruel fate laid out in such pretty handwriting. It was hard to fathom, that the same hands that had touched you so gently– the ones that had played with your hair until you'd fallen asleep, the ones that had tangled into yours on the nights that neither one of you wanted to be alone were the same ones that had been carrying around the weight of this plan all along.
You knew him well enough to know that this wasn't something he'd just decided on– no, nothing Megumi ever did was half-thought-out or impulsive. He was unbearably analytical. Annoyingly thorough when it came to most things, but especially research. He'd never bother to waste his time on variables or flimsy possibilities. If he was going to do something, he had to be impossibly sure that it would work, which meant that this… this must've been a guarantee.
All of those moments of hesitation– both big and small. The layers of distance and formality. The harsh, venomous silence that he used to separate himself from you. They all finally made sense.
"Itadori. Kugisaki. Anyone else here that you meet, for that matter," he'd said, "they’re not your friends.”
The tears that streamed down your face were painful and completely unavoidable as you pulled your knees up to your chest, letting your head rest against your arm while his words continued to haunt you.
“You can’t avoid it forever." The way he'd said it had felt so cold and unwarranted at the time. "You’re gonna have to get used to loss and to keeping everyone you meet at a distance." But it'd never occurred to you until now just how necessary that conversation actually was.
It had been a warning, not for you, but for himself.
Your body was numb, mind completely overrun with questions that you weren't sure you even wanted answers to, and they just kept multiplying the longer you sat with it all.
You allowed yourself another minute to breathe before slowly unfolding your legs and using the sleeve of your hoodie to dry your cheeks. Letting your eyes drift over the page one last time as you carefully tucked it into his book again and got to your feet, wedging it back into the spot you'd taken it from.
Would he have told you? Or would you have woken up one day with a void in the place that he should've been, not even realizing that something was missing? How far did this go, exactly? If there were different degrees of memory fragmentation, where did his interest in using it begin and where did it end?
The only real thing that made sense to you was that this must've been some sort of loophole to negate his contract with Yaga. To either free you from Jujutsu Society as a whole or to break his tie to you. It was too late at this point though– after everything that had happened, you didn't want to go down either of those paths and the fact that he did, the fact that he had somehow come to terms with the entirety of this... it made you realize that maybe you'd never actually known him at all.
Your phone buzzed in your pocket, abruptly pulling you back to reality as his name flashed across the screen: "No project tonight," it read, "it'll finally just be us."
You stared at the text, unable to even write back a simple reply with how hard it was to keep yourself standing upright and steady. Your thumbs hovered above the keys, almost typing, but never actually letting a full thought form before another blue bubble popped up from him: "I wish it could always just be us."
Tears were instantly pricking at the corners of your eyes again, your insides burning as your chest constricted. Precarious but determined fingertips spelling out the last bit of honesty that seemed to exist between the two of you–
"It could’ve been...”
° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .
He was frozen in place, the cold chill of the abandoned church that they'd been assigned to suddenly feeling like the very least haunting thing he was up against as he stashed his phone back into his pocket. Nothing had gone right since you'd dropped the three of them off. They'd been stuck in the same cathedral for hours and still hadn't found so much as a trace of cursed energy despite how small the area was.
Everyone was getting worn down and frustrated, but they didn't have the luxury of coming back empty-handed. His concern should've been on finding a solution, on checking the place over again to see if there was a hidden door or passageway that they'd somehow missed– something, anything that might lead them to the cursed object they were supposed to find. But instead, the only thought occupying his scattered, sleep-deprived mind was your use of the word "could've". The concise, intentional past-tense bite it had to it.
You were more similar to him than he'd care to admit, clumsy with your words at times and prone to rambling when nervous, but just like him, you never spoke out of turn. You were tactful. Soft-spoken, yet very deliberate when it came to expressing your feelings.
"Could've been" felt like a serrated knife because it was meant to. "Could've been" held the weight of a threat because it was one. "Could've been" implied that you knew something because–
"God, this is a pain in the ass," Kugisaki huffed, rolling a piece of rubble under her shoe as Fushiguro found himself actually pacing the longer he mulled over it. "We've looked damn near everywhere, there's nothing here!"
"Maybe Gojo gave us the wrong coordinates." Itadori shrugged, plopping himself down on one of the concrete pews as he stretched his arms behind his head.
Gojo.
Why did everything in his god-forsaken life have to lead back to Gojo?
You were the only two people at Jujutsu High with everyone else being out on missions– of course he'd tried to talk to you to see how things had been going. Gojo was constantly keeping tabs on him, always poking around to see how he was doing even when it was none of his concern. And you, being you– you'd probably been honest with him, not understanding how consequential your answers were.
The picture had become excruciatingly clear to him, what must've led up to that one single text from you. There was no wishful thinking left, no maybes or what-ifs that could possibly free him from this hell that you were both aware of now. Reality had him in the same chokehold it had you in, its grip just as merciless around his throat too– you knew and the only thing he could do was accept it.
He drew in a sharp breath, running a staggered hand over his face as his footsteps finally came to a pause. "We're withdrawing for now."
Kugisaki's eyes snapped up towards his, a blend of relief and confusion sweeping over her as she blinked back at him. "You sure?"
Fushiguro had never backed down from an assignment. Never tapped out no matter how long or grueling a mission was, but this was different. He could barely focus on anything, could barely keep himself present and coherent let alone concentrate on piecing together the layout of this abandoned building.
He needed to talk to you. Needed to get back to his room as soon as he could. It was the first time in his life that his emotions had managed to overrule his logic. Whatever was here clearly wasn't as threatening as it was thought to be– it could wait, you couldn't.
He pulled his phone from his pocket, shooting you a text to let you know that they were ready as he motioned for Itadori and Kugisaki to follow him.
"We'll come back tomorrow," he reasoned, trying to sound more sure of himself than he actually was, "we can talk to Gojo about it in the morning and reconvene when we have more information, but there's no sense in staying here all night."
He knew neither of them would fight him on the decision, they'd both been practically half-way out the door before he'd even said anything anyway.
He stuffed his hands into his jacket, a sobering gust of late-winter air swirling around him as they stepped outside and started heading towards the cafe that you'd dropped them off at earlier.
Nervousness wasn't a feeling he knew well, but it had become a deep, painful pit in the center of his stomach the closer they got to you. There was so much he had to explain, so many agonizing words that he had to somehow make seem acceptable even though they were anything but.
He hesitated as he reached for the car door, his eyes meeting yours with all the caution in the world before he finally settled into the passenger's seat and gently reached over to rest the palm of his hand on your thigh, almost flinching at the idea of you pushing him away. It was hard to process that you'd somehow become both the cause and the remedy to his distress.
Your voice was even, your composure seemingly in-tact, but the way you looked at him... your glossy, defeated stare told a completely different story than the nonchalant facade you were putting on for your friends.
The ride back was unnervingly calm– you, Itadori, and Kugisaki all chatting back and forth, the volume of the radio getting turned up and down every few minutes depending on the song, Kugisaki's laughter echoing from the backseat at something Itadori had said. He found his grip tightening around your leg in a feeble attempt to stop his racing thoughts while his head rested against the window when the warmth of your hand landed on top of his. Your eyes subtly drifting over to him with more reassurance than he deserved.
His heart was lodged in his throat by the time you pulled into the parking lot, each step feeling more damning than the last as you made your way to the dorms until you'd finally reached the end of the hall. You both waved and said your goodnights to Itadori and Kugisaki before you dug your key out of your hoodie and opened the door, leaving him alone with you and the truths he couldn't possibly say.
It was quiet, the tension in the room absolutely suffocating as you stripped out of your coats and put your uniforms away, dodging glances from each other while changing into your usual sleepwear. He took a seat on the side of his bed, his pulse ringing through his ears as he watched you put your hair up in the mirror.
He could see your apprehension– the internal debate of whether to say something or stay silent. The indecision of retreating back to your bed or his. It was in every movement you made, every small detail of your mannerisms plagued with a sense of uncertainty that made him ache.
He swallowed hard as he reached his hand out to you, "Can you–" He cleared his throat, watching you slowly turn to face him. "Can you come here?"
The same hurt he was feeling was reflected in your gaze, your breathing coming to a visible stop as you struggled to look back at him.
"Please?"
His voice was barely a whisper, wavering and broken but still strong enough to pull you in.
You turned off the light before taking his hand, letting his arms wrap around you as you burrowed yourself into his chest. The familiar scent of him settling your nerves while his lips pressed against the top of your head and his fingertips began drawing soft, hazy patterns along your shoulder. The two of you welcoming the calm silence that followed as you sank further into the safety of one another.
Growing up, you'd never really known if home was supposed to be a place or a feeling. You'd lost it so many years ago, you figured there wasn't much sense in giving significance to a word that didn't belong in your vocabulary anymore anyway, but finally being with him after the day that you'd both had... You quickly realized that maybe it still did exist after all– not as a place or a feeling, but as both. It was here, right inside the small space between you. It was this, the sound of his heart beating steadily against your temple.
It was him and there was going to come a day where you'd wake up without the privilege of even being able to remember the beauty of what you'd lost.
Your chest heaved against your will, tears soaking his shirt as they spilled down your cheeks, the weight of it all becoming far too crippling to bear. Your arms locked around his waist desperately. Hopeless, childlike thoughts suddenly soaring through your mind like– maybe if you held onto him tight enough, you could somehow stay here forever, maybe if you could find the right things to say then time wouldn't have to carry on.
His grasp mirrored yours, holding you as steady as he could while letting out soft little nothings that all bled together, “Shh, it's okay. I've got you." and "Please breathe, I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."
He was dangerously close to his own breaking point too though, the only thing holding him together was the need to be strong for you. His resolve was crumbling, every wall he'd ever built absolutely annihilated by the feeling of your nails digging into his sides as you clung onto him like he was the most important thing in the world.
"I don't–want–" you shook your head at the thought, your words choppy and almost impossible to get out. "I don't... want to– leave you."
He let out a semblance of an exhale, fighting to keep his hands from shaking as he guided you down onto the bed with him so that you were both laying down with his arms still wrapped around you and your head back on his chest.
The way you trembled against him as he ran his fingers through your hair was the exact reason why he'd kept all of this hidden in the first place– the same reason why he'd tried so hard to keep his distance from you. This pain would've always been inevitable for him, but it shouldn't have been for you.
He continued to brush away your tears, more reassuring whispers spilling out every so often until your body finally started to relax. Your breathing gradually coming back down to a normal pace while his thumb traced along your neck.
"If it were up to me," he swallowed, forcing his vision to stay pointed up at the ceiling. "Things would be different."
You lifted your head slightly, your eyes roaming over his face as your fingers absentmindedly tangled into the collar of his shirt.
"You'd stay here with me. We'd graduate together." He rested a hand over his forehead to keep himself distracted from the weight of your stare, knowing it was the only way he could the next part out. "But, that's not how this place works– things are rarely good and when they are, they don't last long. There's... a lot– so much you don't know about the contract that's keeping you here."
Your lips parted, but no words came out, your shoulders suddenly stiff again as you watched him.
"I haven’t been protecting you because Yaga told me to or because Gojo told me to or even because it was my assignment to... I’ve been protecting you because it's what I promised myself I would do."
It was like looking into a storm over the ocean when his eyes met yours again, graveness mixed guilt. "I need you to listen to me, okay? Really listen to me. This doesn't leave this room. This doesn't leave us."
You gave him a slow nod, chills splintering down your spine as he cupped your face with his hand.
"Yaga's original plan to have you executed didn't necessarily end just because I intervened. All I was able to do was postpone it and have the responsibility of who would carry it out be... transferred."
The air had officially been stolen from your lungs.
"My job? My actual mission when it comes to you? Is to monitor you. To watch you. To see if you'll have any lingering effects after coming into contact with Sukuna's finger as a non-sorcerer. You might as well be a science experiment to Yaga and the other higher-ups.” The disgust in his voice was thick, heavy. “I'm supposed to be the one to make sure nothing goes wrong while you're here. I'm contracted to keep close tabs on you to ensure that if Sukuna takes over Yuuji's body to try and coax information out of you, you aren't able to give it to him..."
It was the first time you'd seen his emotions evolve past his usual irritability or stoicism. He'd finally reached the core of it. The root of all of the negativity that he had bottled up inside of him for so long. It wasn't something as simple as anger or resentment– no, it was... grief that he’d been facing.
"The agreement was never for me to keep you safe, it was for me... to kill you if you became too much of a liability." He could barely look at you, his jaw clenched, the room blurred by tears he wasn't prepared to shed.
"That's why– I leave every night... I got Shoko to tip me off to a healer on the outskirts of Tokyo and we've been... going over different techniques... I've been burying myself in research, trying to figure out–" He paused, more violent waves of shame crashing over him as his thumb continued to lightly trace your jawline. "Trying to figure out the least invasive way to go about this because I– don't want it to... hurt. I want you to be able to keep as many memories as you can. I... want it to be... quick and painless. I– just want you to be... safe. Safe and out of here. That's all I care about."
You were crying again, but this time for both of you, for every single dismal decision that had been made and led to this.
You almost felt selfish for your own feelings, finally seeing the full scope of his. He'd saved you– again and again. And even after managing to find a way to do it one last time, he was still on the losing side of it. He would always be bound to the knowledge of what he'd done to you no matter how much time passed. You'd go on to not remember him, but oh god, would he remember you.
He'd been mourning you since the day you arrived and it'd only been getting worse with each day that he woke up with your body pressed against his. Even when he fought to find solutions, they still came with such a steep price that they ended up feeling like losses in disguise.
Neither side of this was fair. You'd be a late-night what-if that haunted him for the rest of his life and he'd be that place between sleep and awake for you. That confusing, gut-wrenching feeling of waking up and missing someone so immensely only to question if they'd ever really existed or not.
Both of your fates were equally cruel in vastly different ways, but realizing the selflessness behind his plan made something inside of you break. Everything he'd done, all of it, had always been for... you.
His hands were firm and secure against the sides of your face as he guided you up to him, looking back at you with all of the strength he had left.
"You've gotta trust me, okay?" Even through your own tears, you could still see his too. Just barely pricking at the corners of his eyes as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear like he'd done so many times before only none of it felt the way it should've. "I'll get you out of here. I won't let anything happen to you. But I need you to promise you won't fight me on this because.... it's the only way... we have to be in this together. Please."
Your breathing was staggered, your mind completely overwhelmed by promises you couldn't possibly make but had to. Feelings you absolutely couldn't lose but had to.
"What happens to you?" You faltered. "After all of this is said and done– where will it leave you?"
You couldn't help but think that the somber smile that cut across his face was one of the prettiest and most devastating things you'd ever get to see in your life.
"Doesn't really matter..." he whispered, featherlight touches still trailing across your skin. "I get to know that you're okay and that's enough."
His grip tightened around you, delicately pulling you closer to him until his mouth was grazing yours. "Promise me."
You wouldn't– you wouldn't do this for anyone else in the entire fucking world, and yet, you'd do it... for him. Your voice was shattered, barely audible as you finally agreed.
"Promise."
He rested his forehead against yours, taking a moment to soak you in. To share the same space as you. To hold you and know that he didn't have to let go just yet.
"You know, I used to watch you too." he said, lips softly pressing into yours as more tears spilled down your cheeks. "Across from the courtyard– you sat in the very back corner with a book in your hand. I always liked that about you."
You shook your head in disbelief with a half-hearted smile as he kissed you, again and again, more easy little confessions from him slipping out between breaths. Quietly reminiscing while he played with your hair, easing the room back into its usual calm state before he reached for the comforter and wrapped it around the two of you, letting your head nuzzle into the crook of his neck.
He watched you intently as you slowly began to drift off, your words tapering down to incoherent little hums while your body tangled further into his. Exhaustion finally stealing you away. He laid as still as he could, memorizing the ceiling pattern while the sound of your breathing mixed with the snow tapping against the window. The warmth of your skin perfectly contrasting the frigid temperatures outside.
Maybe Gojo had been right after all– because from where he was laying, he really couldn’t imagine any curse or nightmare or hell that was scarier than what he was feeling right now.
° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .
The next day was a blur.
Ijichi returned back to class– but you didn't, refusing to leave the comfort of Megumi's bed. As much as you both needed to keep up appearances to avoid any more suspicion being tossed his way from the higher-ups, he still didn't fight you when you told him you weren't going. "I just..." you'd hesitated, your body not at all ready to untangle itself from the faux safety of his sheets. "I think I need a day to..."
"I get it." His eyes were just as exhausted and heavy as yours, but he'd still tucked you in anyway, gently wrapping his blanket around your shoulders as his stare lingered over you for a moment. "Don't worry about Ijichi," he said, "I'll tell him you're not coming. Shouldn't be a big deal. Just... try and get some rest."
You'd nodded, a seed of guilt settling into the pit of your stomach for not being able to pull yourself together when you knew he didn't have any other choice. He didn't fault you for it though– instead, he'd kissed the side of your cheek, whispering a soft but impossible, "It's gonna be alright." before smoothing down the collar of his uniform and heading out the door.
All of the progress that you'd made over the last six months– all of the painfully naïve optimism that you'd been clinging onto about finding purpose and normalcy suddenly felt so hollow, cruel almost. If Megumi's plan played out the way it was supposed to, it meant that you had approximately 9 days left until your mind would be permanently altered in ways that you couldn't even begin to let yourself try and comprehend.
You'd decided that you'd return back to class tomorrow– you'd take your meaningless little quizzes on probability and ratios and listen to Ijichi's lectures and do your very best to pretend that it didn't feel like your insides were catching fire with each passing minute. You'd put your best fake smile forward and go through the motions no matter how much of a slow death it felt like, because that's what you promised Megumi you'd do. But until tomorrow came, you weren't leaving his bed for anything.
You drew in a sharp breath, willing time to stop, even if just for a second as you attempted to declutter your thoughts. Maybe it was a coping mechanism or maybe it was because you were all too aware of the fact that soon, they'd no longer be there, but you couldn't stop yourself from sifting through old memories. Digging through the recesses of your mind like it was an old attic, letting nostalgia crash over you so hard you were almost afraid you wouldn't be able to find your way back to the present.
It started off slow, little snippets and fragments of mid-July air and the sound of your childhood best friend's laughter. Easy things like swing sets and waking up to the smell of fresh-baked bread at your grandma's house, but then you really started to remember the details. The duality and nuances of that house...
You rolled over as you rested your head in your hand, a painful static rippling through your mind.
You'd had to start over so many times in life– from the unexpected death of your parents when you were a kid, to moving into your grandma's house the summer before middle school after she'd gained full custody of you... She'd always been so kind and gentle but also feeble with a slew of health issues surrounding her. You'd been terrified when you'd lost her freshmen year, completely unsure of what your fate would be. You'd managed to avoid foster care though, quietly living in her house alone since it was already paid off. Keeping the utilities and yourself afloat with the small bank account she'd left you with.
"Come by my place after school," you'd never forget how relieved you were when he'd offered his house for that project instead of asking about yours.
Your life had been uprooted more times than you could count, everyone you'd ever loved ended up being torn away from you in the most unexpected and unfair ways imaginable... But even with everything that you'd faced, there was still nothing that could've prepared you for what happened at that party.
Your best friend who went with you... the way she held your hand while the two of you browsed through thrift stores and laughed together. She was the only one back then who really knew your situation...
"Fifteen fatalities have been reported so far, but we're still keeping an eye on it." She was your immediate first thought, yet another part of yourself that you'd lost only this time, it had been your fault. "Usually when something like this happens, the numbers climb more often than they fall."
Your fingers tangled into Megumi's blanket, the smell of him swirling around you as tears streamed down your face. While he may have carried the weight of it differently than you did, he wasn't the only one who had been forced to deal with loss. It'd been a haunting and viciously persistent theme in your life too, one that you were painfully tired of having to accept.
Your head was throbbing, your eyes closing to try and block out the rest of it when a knock at the door forced you back into the room.
"It's me!" Yuuji called out, his voice just as familiar and comforting as it always had been. "Promise I'll be in and out, I just wanted to drop off some curry for you."
You swallowed hard before rubbing a hand over your face to steady yourself. You didn't need a mirror to tell you that you looked like hell, but you still stole a quick glance at yourself anyway as you made your way to the door, cringing at the distraught reflection that stared back at you.
"Sorry to drag you out of bed when you're sick but Fushiguro said that..." The way his face fell as his eyes trailed over you made your stomach drop. "What happened...?"
You shook your head, offering him the most sincere smile you could manage. "Just... a really bad migraine." You shrugged, taking the bag of food from him. "I've been trying to sleep it off, I'll be alright."
You knew he didn't believe you.
“A migraine?”
"Yeah, they come out of nowhere sometimes." You nodded, a tidal wave of guilt washing over you for so blatantly lying to him. “I should be okay by tomorrow. It's really not a big deal."
"Right..." He hesitated, doing his best to map out his words. “Well, you know that if you’re not okay tomorrow… or the day after that… you can talk to me, right?”
The only thing you could do was nod again, the lump in your throat threatening to break as you fought the overwhelming urge to grab his wrist and ask him to sit with you. To tell him how much you were going to miss him. To tell him how much he and Nobara meant to you. To tell him that even if you didn't remember them, they'd always be a part of your heart... But you couldn't, you couldn't say hardly anything between the weight of his concern and Megumi's secret.  
He waited another few seconds, his apprehension to leave you alone palpable. But when you didn't say anything else, he finally took a step back. “Just... get to feeling better, okay?"
You nodded again, your voice catching as you said, “I will."
He shot you a faint smile and you did your best to return it before he disappeared back down the hall towards the sound of Nobara's voice. "She okay?" You heard her ask as you closed the door.
Everything in your life had always been fleeting and temporary but knowing that they were too was a level of a pain that you weren't ready to face. Your hands shook as you set the bag of curry down on the nightstand and fell back into Megumi's bed, curling into yourself as a sob racked through your body without warning.
You'd experienced more grief than you could ever put into words, and still, nothing had ever hurt quite like this.
° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .
Megumi's footsteps were light when he returned, his movements cautious as he approached you, glancing over at the untouched food by his bed.
He ran a gentle hand along your back, trying his best to keep you comfortable despite the selfish part of him that wanted to wake you up and bury his head into your chest after a long day.
You shifted, your hand instinctively reaching out for his as your eyes started to open, your surroundings still a blur. It was later than you'd anticipated it being, the moon just barely lighting up his side of the room. 
"You should eat," he said quietly, his thumb rubbing patterns into the inside of your palm.
"I know." You winced, your stomach burning at the thought. "I just... can't right now."
A blend of understanding and worry flickered through his stare as he pressed a light kiss onto the top of your hand. It wasn't like he'd necessarily been taking the best care of himself either the last few weeks.
He kicked off his shoes, stripping down into a t-shirt and boxers before laying down with you, the warmth of your body settling over him in a way he didn't realize he needed until he had it again.
A small smile crept across your face as he nestled into you, his tired arms wrapping around your waist while your fingers threaded through his hair, your nails just barely grazing his scalp. His legs were cold against yours, the sobering smell of winter air and pine filling the space between you.
You stared up at the ceiling, focusing on the sound of his breathing as it gradually began to sync with yours. It was rare that he clung to you like this, but it never failed to make you feel safe, like the rest of the world couldn't touch you as long as he was near you. 
The thought was soft when it first entered your mind, deceptively dreamy and trancelike with the way it had flowed in so easily. It was warmth, comfort, and... panic.
Your pulse quickened as the sentence echoed through your mind again, louder this time. Three words that you couldn’t possibly let yourself hold onto. Three words that represented everything you were losing. The feeling shifted from something gentle and manageable to sharp and serrated as it started to press against your ribs, demanding space you couldn’t afford to give it. Your fingers stilled in his hair, another rush of static and tears suddenly clouding your vision.
“Hey.”
His voice was low and steady as it cut through the haze, his hand brushing against your side. He propped himself up, tentatively hovering above you while his eyes searched yours. He could feel your heart racing, the way it was practically trying to beat through your chest.
"Breathe for me, okay?" He reached for your hand, but you could barely register it, a haze of anxiety replacing reality as your surroundings began to blur together.
You grabbed the side of your head, desperately closing your eyes to try and escape it, but the static in your mind only continued to spread. The room faded in and out, the edges of his face blurring together as the panic attack swept over you with vengeance. All of the things you wanted to say but couldn't. All of the feelings that you'd tried to bury but couldn't– they were all right there, right at the forefront of the storm.
Your fingers tangled into the fabric of Megumi's shirt, his face just inches apart from yours. He was still talking, still trying to keep you steady, but it wasn't working. There was a deafening ringing in your ears. A sea of scattered thoughts and displaced emotions crashing down around you. And then–
Nothing.
The static had somehow lifted, the suffocating wave of fear dying down. Your panic gradually replaced by what felt like an impossible stillness as he continued to hold you.
"Hey," the franticness in his voice was something you'd never heard before. "Look at me. Please, just–"
Your eyes fluttered open slowly, your vision clearing as you let the hand that you had pressed to your forehead fall back down to your side. 
The relief he felt was fleeting, quickly replaced by something else entirely as you froze again, your gaze locking onto something over his shoulder. 
You thought they were shadows at first– the type of looming figures that you'd see out of the corner of your eye when you'd been up for too long. The ones that would disappear with a simple blink, but the two sets of glowing eyes staring back at you were only becoming more and more visible the longer you looked at them.
Your head tilted slightly, taking in the mix of black and white fur, the matching red markings that decorated their foreheads before the smaller one took a step towards you, its movements gentle but seemingly protective as it laid beside you at the edge of the bed.
Megumi shifted, his shoulders visibly stiffening as he watched your reaction– the way your eyes carefully drifted over the Shikigami next to you. He drew in a sharp breath, keeping his tone as even as he could despite his own fears rising, realizing what this meant.
“You can see them... can’t you?”
° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .
The sun had just started to creep in through the blinds, but Megumi hadn't slept at all. He laid with his eyes closed and his mind racing for the better part of the night, tracing delicate patterns along your skin any time you'd start to stir.
"It's more common than you'd think," Gojo said as they walked across the training field, the August sun beating down on both of them. "Negativity takes on all kinds of different forms, it's not always as black and white as we make it out to be."
Megumi had shoved his hands in his pockets, eyes pointed down at the track as they made their way past two first-years struggling to land a hit on each other. "But if curses only become visible when someone's on the brink of death, then why –"
"That's not the only time it happens." Gojo interjected, "There are exceptions, just like anything else. All it takes is for enough grief and despair to hit someone at just the right frequency and..." He snapped his fingers, pulling Megumi's attention towards him again. "A non-sorcerer would be able to start seeing things they shouldn't– curses, residuals, it would all become visible to them."
Megumi's pace slowed, his brows furrowing the longer he thought about it. "And you think that's what happened to him?" He finally asked, "You think he just... spiraled so hard that he stumbled into this world by accident?"
"More or less." Gojo rolled his shoulders with a sigh. "Look, Junpei was a perfect example of what can happen when all the wrong things line up exactly at the right time. All that bullying, that isolation, losing his mom– his entire life was one long string of pain and anger. That much negativity? It doesn’t usually just sit quietly. It festers. And in his case, it built up to the point where it broke through the usual barriers."
Megumi paused, trying but failing to block out how hard Yuuji had taken his death over the last month. "And cases like him– exceptions like Junpei are... common?"
Gojo's smirk faltered, his hand resting easily on Megumi's shoulder as he bent slightly to meet his gaze. "All I'm saying is that they're not unheard of. Even the strongest people have their limits."
The memory had replayed itself so many times he could barely distinguish the present from nostalgia by the time you woke up next to him. He'd known that he was on borrowed time from the moment you'd arrived, but now... even that was gone.
His grip on you was light but firm as you started to stretch your legs, your eyes barely having the chance to open before your own thoughts began to spiral. No matter how much he tried to keep you calm, the demon dogs staring back at you were a solid reminder of where the two of you stood.
"We have to go... tonight, don't we?"
The silence that followed made your chest tighten, your hand shaking as your fingertips dug into the side of his arm. You drew in a breath before nodding in defeat, sparing him from having to be the one to say it.
You knew the second it had happened that this was what was coming, but there was still something so unexplainably damning about how it felt settling over the two of you. This was the last morning you’d wake up beside him. The last time you’d get to see him like this– soft and unguarded in ways no one else would ever know.
Your lips parted with those three words still desperately clinging to the tip of your tongue, but you managed to swallow them down, refusing to make things worse than they already were. It was the second time in only a few short minutes that you'd been the one to spare him.
His hand caught yours, your quiet acceptance hitting you both in steady but unrelenting waves as you laid together, your feelings embedded into every touch and every movement you made. It was tangible, absolutely everywhere in the space between you, and maybe… that was enough.
° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .
The hours went by like minutes, a heavy sense of finality and dread clinging onto even the most mundane things– from the way it felt to help Megumi with the buttons on his uniform while the two of you got ready together to the car ride where you'd had to take him, Yuuji, and Nobara back to the same church that they'd failed their previous mission at. It was all painfully familiar and foreign at once.
You were digging mental graves for friends that were still very much alive. Glancing over at Yuuji with a small smile as he leaned up to the front of the car to make sure you were actually feeling better. Knowing that this was your last day with him and having to push down the grief of not being able to give him or Nobara a proper goodbye. Kissing Megumi– really kissing him before you left and trying not to break down at the way his eyes lingered on you as you drove off. Every interaction you had was somehow more futile than the last and yet, you had no choice but to endure it.
By the time you reached Ijichi, you were more than ready to take a seat and tune out the rest of the world with one of his infamously dry lectures, but even his monotone voice and horrible puns were finding ways to tug at your heartstrings. Your mind wandered back to your first week with him– how welcome he'd made you feel without even meaning to. His classroom had always felt like more of a reprieve than a punishment, a quiet comfort amongst the chaos.
You shook your head, fighting past the tears that were threatening to spill over as you busied yourself with one of the ratio equations he had on the whiteboard when you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. You swallowed hard, watching his name flash across the screen before getting up and promptly making your way out into the hall.
He'd never called on you while on a mission.
"Hey," you exhaled, "is everything–"
"We found a special grade curse." He said breathlessly, "Nobara– she's alright, but I need you to come get her and take her back to Shoko."
The phone nearly slipped from your hand, the loud, piercing background noise coupled with Yuuji's panicked, 'Fushiguro!' made your heart feel like it was going to stop altogether.
You looked back at Ijichi from over your shoulder as Megumi continued talking, giving you instructions on what to do when you got there, but your focus was suddenly everywhere else.
"Gojo..." You hesitated, "Do you want me to bring him? Just in case–"
"No," his voice was sharp, leaving little room for protest. "No, Itadori and I can handle it, I just need you to come get her, okay?"
You hated the knot that had formed in your stomach, the nervousness that danced through your veins as you reluctantly agreed, telling him you'd be there as soon as you could.
When working as an assistant, sorcerers are always to take top priority regardless of the situation, it was one of the first lessons he'd gone over with you, though neither one of you had any way of knowing at the time that you'd one day be using it against him...
You zipped up your coat, shaking away the thought as you headed down the faculty stairs and dug your set of keys out of your pocket. You didn't have time for remorse– not now, and not when the lies you’d told would be forgotten by the end of the night anyway.
The cold air nipped at your face, snow still blowing haphazardly across the parking lot as you climbed into the driver's seat, overwhelmed and completely unaware of the set of eyes that had been following you since you'd left Ijichi's classroom.
° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .
The drive there was a blur, your mind flooding with nothing but worse-case scenarios and scattered images of Nobara laughing and holding your hand as the two of you walked down the hallway together.
Knowing that she was hurt... knowing that she needed a healer while also not knowing the extent of her injuries amidst the stress of everything else you were already facing had your foot heavy on the gas pedal, your car slightly shaking from the gravel road you were on.
The city lights had vanished a few miles back, the grey overcast not helping your case as you struggled to make out buildings in the late January haze of snow and poorly marked country roads. You weren't sure if it was relief or more dread that swirled through your stomach when your GPS started to chime, but it was too late to let yourself indulge in either.
Your throat tightened when you finally spotted it– an old worn-down cathedral in the middle of a seemingly empty field, surrounded by fresh debris and rubble that only made your anxiety swell. It was the first time you'd ever been to an actual pick-up spot. The first time you'd been exposed to the things that Megumi had tried so hard to keep you sheltered from.
You peered through the icy windshield, searching but failing to find any sign of her. "She'll be out front waiting for you when you get here so just stay in the car." He'd said, "She'll come to you, okay?" Even after you'd agreed though, he still repeated it back with an unnerving amount of conviction laced into his words. "Promise me– you won't get out of the car."
Your hands trembled as you pulled out your phone and began dialing his number, squeezing your eyes shut to try and block out just how wrong all of this felt. Each unanswered ring seemed to drag by slower than the last, your pulse thrumming through your ears by the time his voicemail echoed through the receiver.
You'd done everything that he'd asked and so much more. You'd kept his secrets. You'd protected him. You'd lied for him. You'd cared for him in more ways than you could ever bring yourself to say aloud. But this was one promise you were quickly realizing you wouldn't be able to keep as you watched a familiar thick, black smog seep out through the cracks in the boarded-up windows of the church. Another powerful thud reverberating with such intensity that it shook the ground beneath you.
"I'm sorry." You whispered, though you weren't sure if you were saying it to him or yourself as you reached for the door handle.
° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .
Your breathing came to a halt the moment that your feet hit the ground. The air was impossibly dense, contaminated with a thick layer of smoke that seemed to tangle around your limbs the closer you got to the entrance.
You could practically hear Megumi's voice screaming at you to turn around, but you forced yourself to push past it as you approached the edge of the broken stone staircase, redirecting your focus on where and where not to step.
The entryway was completely shattered, the heavy wooden doors splintered and hanging off of their hinges. You held your breath as you squeezed your way through a small opening, doing everything you could to keep yourself steady despite the trail of fog that seemed to follow you.
Your pace was meticulous, each movement calculated while you navigated your way through the wreckage. It wasn't until you saw the faint waves of light flashing through the darkness that you froze. Your eyes snapped towards the back of the church, watching in quiet horror as the unmistakable hum of cursed energy exploded across the room in bursts.
You were stuck somewhere between fight or flight– your legs carrying you with agility you didn't even know you had as you broke into a sprint. You ducked, taking cover behind one of the destroyed pillars, just narrowly dodging a support beam that came crashing down when a hand suddenly reached out for you.
"'The hell were you thinking–" she coughed, her voice still maintaining its usual firmness despite how feeble it was. "You know you shouldn't be here."
"Nobara," you breathed, your hand cupping her face to wipe away the red rolling down her cheek. Her body was lax, slumped against the remains of a wooden pew with blood dripping from her hairline down to her chin.
Your insides felt like they were on fire, adrenaline flooding your system quicker than you could keep up with as you scanned the area for the most manageable way out before looking back at her. "I'm not leaving you here." You promised, your body acting faster than your brain as you reached for her arm and slung it over your shoulder.
"Are you insane? You can't just–"
"You'd do it for me, wouldn't you?" The question was sharp enough to slice through the tension, time seeming to stop even if only for a second when her eyes met yours.
"Of course I would." She conceded, slowly lifting herself up as she leaned on you for support. "Megumi's gonna... kill you though."
It was one of the first times you'd really smiled in the last three days. "I think I'll be alright."
The calm was momentary though, another amethyst-colored beam tearing through the air. "Hold onto me." You said, tightening your grip around her waist.
Shattered stone cascaded around the two of you, your breath catching in your throat as the cursed energy spiked again, sharper and heavier than before. It almost felt alive with the way it twisted around your legs– that same fear, that same dread from the night Megumi had saved you creeping over you once more. The burning sensation seeped into your pores the higher up it climbed, rooting itself into your chest.
Your movements were strained, each step forward nearly knocking the wind out of you as you shielded Nobara from more falling debris, both of you crouching behind an abandoned altar.
The entrance was just within your reach if you could manage to keep yourself upright and steady, the light from the outside barely grazing the edge of the corridor. Right as you shifted your weight to stand though– a low, guttural growl reverberated across the floor sending another wave of what felt like rogue electricity beneath your skin.
"Fuck," you hissed, your vision becoming blurry as you fought to keep your focus.
"Leave me here," Nobara insisted, trying but failing to shake you off of her. "Look, Yuuji's right over there, he can grab me when he–"
But her demands came to an abrupt end as the two of you became frozen in place, the curse emerging from the shadows to reveal a series of vine-like limbs and skin that resembled ancient bark. The size of it alone was enough to make your heart forget how to beat, but the second its eyes landed on you, the earth seemed to still entirely.
"What the–" Megumi's voice broke through the chaos, the weight of his stare crippling when he spotted you from across the room, his frustration and concern palpable even from where he was standing.
"Go!" He shouted, another Shikigami already forming in front of him.
The figure tilted its head as if it were studying you, the pressure of its gaze pinning you to the floor. It wasn’t just fear this time– it was something deeper, almost primal that wrapped around your spine and pulled tight as the taunting hum of its cursed energy crackled into the space between you. Its floral patterns glowing faintly in the dim light with its vines curling and writhing carefully towards you.
“Why do you fight so hard to protect something so fleeting?”
“Kugisaki!” Megumi stiffened, his hands stretched out in front of him like weapon as Nuu lunged toward the curse, but he wasn't even able make it halfway to you before a branch-like limb sprawled out and slammed the demon dog into the ground with a force that shook the foundation of the already crumbling building.
Your head felt like it was going to explode, your thoughts and emotions bleeding into each other all at once as its question repeated on an unwanted loop.
Fleeting.
“Listen to me!” Nobara’s voice suddenly felt distant, blurred by an odd sense of clarity that had started to wash over you. “Leave me here. You have to go!”
It was right– your life had been made up of nothing more than fleeting contentment and memories that weren't made to last. The things that you were trying so hard to fight for would be gone by tomorrow, just like everything else, but they were here now and so were you. If this had to be your last day with them– if losing Megumi, Yuuji, and Nobara was truly inevitable no matter what choice you made, then you'd do everything you could to protect them.
“No,” you said, the word falling from your lips before you even realized it. “I told you I’m not leaving you.”
The curse moved again, swift but intentional, closing the distance between you while its vines began to thrash, leaving more broken concrete beneath its force. Megumi yelled your name, his expression dropping as he watched the somber smile that cut across your face when your eyes met his.
"Don't!" He warned, his hands cast backout in front of him, but your mind was already made up.
You secured your grip on Nobara, forcing her to lean more heavily on you while you dragged her a few steps closer to the fragmented remains of the entrance. You were so close– just a few more feet and you could hand her off to Yuuji, who was locked in a struggle of his own ahead of you.
But close wasn’t enough.
The energy in the room surged again, its presence suddenly suffocating and absolutely everywhere as thick, sharp tendrils snared around your legs. Your body felt like it had caught fire, the white-hot heat of its touch making your vision flicker in and out as it started to pull you backward, Nobara's weight shifting dangerously against you.
Your jaw clenched, your ears ringing as you fought to garner up every ounce of strength you had left to push forward. You were desperate, every step seeming to tear something essential out of you, but still, you moved.
Another blinding wave of pain hit you– the curse’s vines snapping again, just barely missing your head as they shattered another fixture above you. It was a storm of debris and splintered wood, making it hard to tell where its limbs began and the church's destruction ended.
“Yuuji!” you screamed, your voice raw as your stare caught his. “Take her!"
He was stunned, too worn-down and short on time to argue with you.
Your adrenaline was exhausted, every part of your body ready and willing to collapse, but with one final push, you managed to shove Nobara toward the faint light spilling out through the ruined entryway.
She staggered, her legs barely holding her as Yuuji lunged forward, catching her in his arms right before she fell. It was the first time you had allowed yourself to really breathe since you'd found her, a warm sense of relief cutting through the pain.
But it didn't take long for it to vanish, the crushing reality of the curse now looming over you suddenly outweighing any amount of comfort you'd once had.
Its grip coiled tighter around your legs, your body going limp as it dragged you back once more. There was static in your veins, an overwhelming pressure pushing down on your ribs, the taste of copper filling your mouth.
This was it.
The background commotion slowly tapered down, your senses gradually disconnecting from your body as the chapel started to drift further and further away. A surreal sense of acceptance wrapped around you like a warm hug. No more fighting, no more flailing– it was just you and the comfortable abyss that you were sinking into. Just you and the memories that you were able to keep until the very end. If you had to die in one way or another tonight, at least you were able to do it knowing that you had spared him one last time.
There was a distorted fluttering feeling in your chest. A dizziness in your brain. A hazy montage of impossibly blue eyes and all the things you should've said.
And then,
it all,
faded,
to black...
° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .
Megumi's head was throbbing when his eyes finally opened again, his stomach still in knots as he blinked back tears, trying to piece together where he’d ended up. He was sprawled out on a familiar grey leather couch with a knit blanket carefully tucked over him. The rigid winter air only amplifying his headache as it knocked against the window of his office.
“'Bout time you woke up."
His mind was overrun with the fractured pieces of what had happened, sensations and memories coming back in painful waves: The leveled church. The sound of glass shattering as he channeled his domain expansion. The feeling of your body pressed against his before everything vanished…
“Where’s..." The panic he felt was all-consuming, time coming to a grinding halt when he realized that he was the only one recovering. “Where is she...?"
Gojo's smirk was nowhere to be found, his stare softening a bit as he took a step towards him. "I talked to Shoko,"
"– And?" Megumi demanded.
"She told me about your sudden interest in Kokoro Kiri," his tone was light despite how pointed his words were, "Usually used for memory manipulation and soul severing, right? Causes the victim to forget specific people and events?"
"You know that's not what I meant–" Megumi snapped, "Is she...?" His face was flushed, his nerves completely shot as he struggled to swallow down the rest of his question. "Look, I don't care what happens to me after this, I'll take whatever punishment the higher-ups decide on, but I need to know what happened to her. Please, just..."
Gojo's demeanor was eerily calm, his hand resting easily on Megumi's shoulder as he bent down to become eye-level with him.
"If I had to guess," he paused, "She's probably still asleep."
Megumi's lips parted but the only thing that came out was a jagged exhale, his breathing coming out in short, choppy intervals. "So she's..." His head was spinning, relief and fear both clinging onto him at once. "She's okay, then? I mean, she's not...?"
"She's got some pretty deep cuts on her legs– probably gonna end up with a scar or two once she's fully healed, but other than that," A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he watched the life slowly return back to Megumi's eyes. "She's alright."
The tone of the room shifted into something more manageable despite the multitude of other unanswered questions that still sat between them. Megumi's hands shook slightly as he ran them over his face, images of the ruins he'd left behind coming back in flashes.
"You took down a special grade curse by yourself before I got there," Gojo said, almost sounding proud as he took a seat next to him. "I still had to clean up the aftermath of course, but..."
His stare lingered on him for a moment, the amusement in his tone fading, "She must be pretty important to you, huh? Making you tap into your full potential like that?"
Megumi hesitated, his gaze drifting to the floor as he nodded, remembering a brief conversation they'd had last year during a training session. "Yeah," he admitted quietly, "she is."
"You could've asked me for help, you know." Gojo shifted in his seat, letting out his own sigh while he rested his chin in his hands. "You should've asked me for help. You've gotta quit thinking that you can handle everything by yourself."
Megumi's jaw tightened, his words hanging heavily between them.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Gojo pressed, tilting his head at him as their eyes met again. "About the details of your contract? About the healer you've been seeing? Do you have any idea how bad that could've ended for you? For both of you, if you would've gone through with it?"
"I thought you already knew," Megumi bit back, exasperated by the fact that he was even asking in the first place. "You were there the night that I brought her back– you met me in Yaga's office after the negotiation was finalized."
Gojo looked back at him incredulously, "You honestly thought that I'd let you take on that kind of burden? From the higher-ups no less?"
His head was pounding, his thoughts clouded by an unnerving mix of exhaustion and guilt. "Yaga's never done anything in regard to me without running it by you first, even some of my missions get sent to you for approval, so why the hell would this have been any different?"
"Because you're an adult now." Gojo said simply, the gravity of his sentiment strong enough to break down Megumi's defense. "I didn't ask Yaga anything about your contract because I wanted it to be something that you handled on your own. I just figured you'd be smart enough to let me know if something went wrong."
The walls of his office felt like they were closing in on him as all of the resentment and pain that he'd been grappling with for the last five months suddenly came circling back to the true source of their existence– him. It was never you or Gojo or anyone else that had complicated his life this much, it was his own stubbornness. His refusal to accept help and admit defeat.
"I..." He faltered, his brows furrowing as he fought to keep his emotions at bay. "I'm sorry. You're right, I should've told you. I should've known when it was too much to take on alone..."
Gojo's expression softened slightly, his shoulder gently nudging his.
"Hey," He soothed, knowing better than anyone that getting an apology from Megumi– a sincere one, at that, meant something. "Growing pains are a part of life– this isn't your first and it won't be your last, but it's what makes us human. Sometimes lessons have to be hard to be remembered." 
Megumi was quiet as he took in his words, letting the familiar sense of solace have its moment.   
"Don't beat yourself up over it too much though, alright?" Gojo mused as he leaned back, lazily stretching his hands behind his head. "Your face is rough enough as is and I hear there's a cute girl waiting for you down in Shoko's office."
A small smile crept across Megumi's face as he nodded before getting to his feet.
"Oh and– and Megumi? One last thing."
He paused, his hand resting on the door handle as he looked back at him from over his shoulder. "Yeah?"
"We can go over the details later when you're not so," he gestured vaguely towards his tattered appearance, "Half-dead," he said flippantly, "But she's staying just so you know. No strings attached other than her maintaining her cover story while she's here, but aside from that, the contract is null and void– for both of you."
He froze, his pupils doubling in size as he stared back at him in disbelief. "How did you...?"
"10 million yen and a few offhanded threats tend to go a long way in the sorcerer world." He shrugged. "That, and the fact that we'll have her as an assistant once she graduates. Continuing to room with her is optional, but–" His smirk returned with playful ease. "I figured you wouldn't be in a hurry to kick her out just yet."
There was a part of him that was afraid if he blinked for too long, he'd wake up slumped against a rutted pillar with nothing but debris and ash surrounding him again. His throat tightened, trying his best to ground himself as he hesitated at the doorway.
"Thank you, Gojo." He finally managed. "For everything."
° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .
The next few days were a blur of pain medication, sleep, and holding Megumi's hand as he dozed off in the armchair next to you. He would end up in what looked like the most uncomfortable pretzel-like positions, but he still refused to leave your side no matter how many times you tried to tell him that it was okay if he wanted to go back to the dorm instead.
Aside from the occasional injured first-year that would wander in every so often, the medical ward was strangely peaceful. Your mornings were spent listening to Shoko explain various healing techniques while redressing the bandages on your legs. Checking to make sure that your body was responding to treatment the way it was supposed to while Megumi watched intently, taking mental notes for himself just in case he'd need them later.
Your afternoons were filled with visitors after word got out about how you'd sacrificed yourself to save Nobara against –what you'd later learned from Gojo– was a curse named Hanami. She was still recovering too, but her healing process had been a lot more sped-up than yours with her body being more acclimated to the effects of cursed energy. Yuuji brought you fresh flowers every day– big, well-thought arrangements with all of your favorite colors. "You'll tell her that these are from me, right?" He'd tease Megumi. "Don't want you takin' credit for my hard work."
While you knew that Gojo had managed to revoke the terms of your contract, the weight of it still hadn't fully left you. There were nights that you'd wake up in cold sweats, tears streaming down your face as you'd find yourself frantically reaching out for Megumi's hand. "I'm here," he'd whisper, "I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere."
It wasn't until you'd been released and the two of you were finally back in your room that things actually started to feel somewhat solidified. There wasn't the same looming sense of dread that used to follow you. There wasn't the constant weight of abandonment clawing at your chest.
There was just him and the way his hands felt grazing your jawline as he kissed you. The way that he tried so hard to be so delicate with you despite the pent-up fire behind his stare every time he touched you.
"Megumi," you breathed, pulling him closer as the morning sun began to seep in from the window. "I'm not made of glass." You reminded him, your fingers tangling into his hair.
HIs hands were still lingering on your waist, a faint smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as he looked back at you through heavy lashes. "You'll tell me if it's too much?"
There was something about the care in his eyes, the way he always put you first, even when his own restraint was clearly hanging on by a thread. You cupped his face, your thumb brushing against his cheek as you nodded. "Promise."
His grip on you tightened, the palm of his hand warm against the side of your neck before his tongue parted your lips again.
You could feel the shift of him starting to let go, the way his hand roamed from your neck to your lower back with his movements becoming more and more fervent. Breathy little noises filling the space between you while he helped you out of your shorts and tossed them to the side of his bed.
His forehead pressed against yours, his eyes tentatively trailing over you as he lined himself up with your entrance. It was the very last wall he had left, one that he never thought he'd be able to fully tear down until now.
He couldn't stop the low moan that escaped him as he slid into you, watching how your pupils dilated as you looked back at him with trust that he still wasn't sure he deserved. The words were right there, right where they'd always been, steady and terrifyingly honest.
He drew in a breath, letting himself sink into you, noting the way your body held him tighter the further he went. It had always been you. His hand shook slightly, using his thumb to tilt your head up towards his while his hips met yours with the same deep, consuming pace. It would always be you.
His lips parted, his mind slipping as he finally let go completely and buried everything he had in you,
"I love you."
It was soft but impossibly sure as it brushed across your skin, leaving a trail of warmth you didn't even know existed in its wake. There was suddenly no such thing as holding back– not the tears that were pricking at the corners of your eyes or the feelings that you'd tried so hard to control for the last six months. He was everywhere, embedded into every single part of you.
It settled over your chest, opening up like a floodgate once it began– "I love you." you breathed, your nails digging into his neck."I love you." you whimpered again as your back arched beneath him. "I love you." he panted, his hands firm against your hips as your walls began to unravel around him. "I love you." you cried, letting yourself fall apart for him entirely.
"I love you, I love you, I love you..."
° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .
243 notes · View notes
naffeclipse · 2 months ago
Note
Hopefully this hasn’t been asked quite yet
But what if orca eclipse was more like the canon dca as in-
He was an animatronic instead of a fish man?
*rubs my filthy mitts together*
The setting becomes a Seaworld-esque theme park (not good) called Freddy Fazbear's Boundless Sea.
Y/N is still a photographer. You have been personally invited by the corporation to take stunning candid photographs of everything within the park so they may use the photos in future marketing endeavors. The pay is more than convincing. You're thrilled to get an inside peak into a notable establishment and discover what you can capture with your camera.
You're allowed almost everywhere. You get to see shows with oceanic-themed animatronics that perform stunning water tricks and can morph from their landform to their sea form in the blink of an eye—legs are replaced with fins, and vice versa. The areas have their themes from the warm and relaxed Caribbean-themed shallow pools on the east end to the excited and tidal-wave high pools on the west side to a swampy and green lily pad-dotted south.
Funny enough, you remember a small blurb on a news website about Freddy Fazbear's Boundless Sea shutting down a section of the park. No big deal. It probably just needs to be renovated, but you keep passing maps that have one certain section on the north side of the park either covered up with a big sticker, crossed out with a black marker, or outright torn off. Strange. They did say you could go almost everywhere.
You find the north section, but it's all covered up in tape and looks to have an Arctic theme. There are polar bears and narwhals painted on the icy-faux walls. The entrance is locked up tight. You keep photographing everything else, everywhere, but the north area keeps gnawing at the back of your brain. Any efforts to find out more information are met with standard explanations of the work required in the area. It is closed until further notice.
Which you sit with for a few days before you discover a back area. The excuse of needing a better angle to take pictures of the animatronics performing their great stunt show gets you through, but while wandering through a cluttered and stacked high mess of merchandise, you find a poster.
The poster features an animatronic you have never seen before. One painted in black and white, and in his seaform, he possesses a great dorsal fin and flukes on his mechanical tail. The background is frosty and pale blue.
You tuck the poster into your camera bag and go about the rest of the day. It triggers a faint memory of an old commercial from a few years back you watched about the park, where there was, indeed, an orca-themed animatronic who had his very own show. In fact, after a quick internet search, you find he was really, really popular. He had shows twice daily—even more than the main cast. He was powerful and stunning, and he would splash people in the audience. Everyone ate it up.
His name was Eclipse.
But then, a few months back, he seemingly vanished. The area was closed down. Complaints are wondering when it will open back up. No one mentions the animatronic.
You don't get it. Why shut down a money-maker like that? Something's going on. Frankly, you want pictures of such a powerful performer. Wouldn't the corporation want you to get good shots of him?
Then you find a little article. A blurb about an incident at the beloved Freddy Fazbear's Boundless Sea. The animatronic was acting strange. Onlookers repeated that there was an agitation to the show, a tension that permitted the water and air. A staff member was pulled into the pool. Immediately, guests were ushered out while help swarmed the water. Then, the entire park was shut down for the day.
What happened?
You try to find more. Yielding nothing, you return to work tomorrow with a plan. You've been studying the layout, mostly to find better vantage points to snap a shot, but now, you realize there are maintenance tunnels below the entire park. You slip into one while a show is happening, keeping most staff members above ground. You wander for a bit before you find a marker pointing to "Eclipse's Arctic Sea."
A door finally opens into the closed section of the park. Most of it is sheltered under a pale, gray colored roof painted to appear like an Arctic sky. The dimness leads you towards an open section. A few aquariums are dimly lit but empty. The walls are painted with facts about polar bears and seals.
Strangely, you hear a faint scrapping. It pricks your ears as you follow the noise. Through a hallway that opens into a view alongside a great tank of water with the surrounding walls plastered with Eclipse's face all over them, you find another maintenance door and slip inside. The scrapping becomes a sawing, loud and sharp, through the metallic hallway, accompanied by violent splashes of water. The shrill noise becomes almost unbearable. Then you step into a narrow room filled with a single, shallow pool no longer than 10 feet.
The sawing ceases as something darts below the surface. The water sloshes until it calms into a deathly silence.
You ask softly who's there. You grip your camera tighter. Is the flash on? You can't remember. You step forward once, then twice. The opposite end of the pool bears great rakes through the flooring like claws dragging repeatedly over and over, shredding it into pieces. The edge glistens wetly by the toes of your shoes. The blue water looks empty until you peer directly over the ledge—
A sharp tooth smile greets you below the wavering surface before a hand flies out and snatches your ankle. The force of the grip rips you to the wet floor, knocking your head. Your vision swims. All senses within you only think to clutch your camera protectively as something rises from the pool. Dripping wet, the animatronic—one eye red, one yellow—grins down at you with utter detest.
"Hello, bird-eye. Come to get a look at the great killer whale?"
272 notes · View notes
westside-rot · 26 days ago
Text
Talk To Me Nice
Pairing: Terry Richmond X Black reader
No warnings for this one. Hopefully there aren't too many errors cuz it's only lightly edited. I'm trying to squeeze in my last post of the year lol
This little idea is the result of a writing prompt and @megamindsecretlair keeping me honest about writing something every day. Figured I'd share the results with whoever else wants to check it out.
Tumblr media
“That’s a bit harsh my love…”
After spending the last 20 minutes filling your home with negative energy you expected reciprocation.  Instead you were being derailed with a new form of gaslighting, the kind reserved for evolved men who appeared harmless on the surface but harbored a petty side few got to see. Though impressive, you knew Terry was only using kind words to paint himself the victim. It didn’t matter how many steps ahead you thought you were. The guilt still hit with the same bruising force.
Six months of newlywed bliss cruelly interrupted by disappointment you never wanted to feel so early into your marriage. Perhaps there was a better way to convey that hurt to your husband. Maybe sitting him down for a mature conversation would’ve spared you from the growing pressure around your temples and the rawness in your throat from all the yelling you’d been doing. You were convinced the window for apologies and grand romantic gestures had closed. He'd started it. You were damn sure going to finish it.
You pushed through your doubts and committed to your frustrations with arms folded tightly across your chest, the initial urge to roll your eyes shifting to a hard, resolute stare. “Well Terrence sometimes harsh is necessary.”
He scratched his beard and nodded as though you’d just agreed on what to have for dinner. Silence took over the room once again, intensifying the conflict between you. His eyes never broke contact.
“Are you done?” From anyone else the question would’ve triggered your inner toxic and possibly resulted in the police being called. But there was note of calmness in your husband’s voice that exonerated him from the accusation before it became your new truth. Terry wasn’t being dismissive. He was simply better at regulating his emotions.  His inability to stop wringing his hands together revealed the stress hidden within. For a second time you were forced to ignore your guilt for the sake of winning. Mirroring his casual demeanor, you continued to stand firm and prepared for whatever he intended to say next.
“I must’ve imagined sitting in premarital counseling for all those weeks. Or maybe I was the only one taking it seriously. That must be it 'cause at the first sign of a problem you’ve broken every promise we made to each other.” His words landed direct hits on your conscience. Everything holding you together began to cave under the weight of his response. Terry wasn’t wrong. Instinctively, you went into defense mode anyway.  
“That’s not fai—”
“Nah, you’re not about to interrupt me. I let you speak. You’ll show me the same respect. Understand?” The natural base in his voice instantly got your attention. Yes sir rang so clearly in your mind you weren’t entirely convinced you hadn’t said it out loud. You prayed Terry couldn’t somehow feel the lust pulsing alongside everything else flooding your system. One day soon under normal circumstances you were going to explore his newfound aggressive side. How, you weren’t entirely sure. With a new goal seared into your brain and soaked through panties clinging to your ass you managed to retain a sense of dignity as you obeyed your husband’s command. 
“You’re my wife. One day you’ll be the mother of our children. I refuse to let them hear us talking crazy to each other, so I’m gonna need you to find a better way to communicate your feelings. If I need to sign us back up for therapy I will but this shit ends tonight.”
All the fight drained from your body. Shame took its place. In its presence you were finally able to recall those important conversations leading up to your wedding, the dreams you shared, the legacy you wanted to create. If not for your anger you could have revisited them sooner and found a better use for them. Now you were facing an evening apart, perhaps more depending on how long Terry held on to a grudge.
All you could do was stare at the ground and wait for it to be over with. Hopefully you’d find a way to sleep knowing you had failed your first test as a wife. When your lip started to quiver you promptly bit down on it to keep your hurt feelings in check.  You hadn’t behaved in a way deserving of care but when Terry's long fingers reached out to palm the side of your face you sought out his warmth like a needy kitten.
“Now you’re breaking my heart.”
“I can’t help it. Did you have to be so mean?” Though you found your ability to speak you burrowed your pout lips further into his hand. The loudest person in the room didn’t deserve to cry. If you were lucky you'd disappear and rematerialize tomorrow with more sense.
“It got your attention. Besides, I thought harsh was necessary. Or does that only apply when you’re cursing me out?” He chuckled.  You weren’t persuaded by the playfulness in his voice to look up. Terry initiated the gesture with fingers affectionately placed beneath your chin. It wasn’t lost on you that he'd repositioned your face at the same proud angle you held while lecturing him as if two nights apart somehow equated to years of neglect. You wanted to look away but soon discovered his eyes remained steadfast and beautiful in the aftermath of the storm you’d caused. They connected with your soul in an instant providing a gentle assurance that you were safe with him.
 The words flowed through your upturned lips effortlessly. “I’m sorry baby. You didn’t deserve all those ugly things I said to you.” Before you could say more he captured your face in both hands, stroking your cheek with his thumb.
“You’re already forgiven my love.” Terry’s lips grazed yours as he spoke. The distance was torture. Finally, after what felt like an unbearably long time, he covered your mouth with his, reestablishing his dominance with a tenderness that sets your heart and mind at ease.  It was a proper reconciliation, but it also wasn’t enough. Not after the way you behaved tonight.
You treated the sincerity on his lips as your own personal buffet. When it became difficult to breathe you pulled away to regain control over the situation.  “I still have a lot to make up for.”
A smile tugged at his lips as he pushed the curls back from your face. “We both do. Your approach needs some work, but you had a right to be upset with me.” You nodded and yet nothing in you wanted to celebrate the vindication. You were simply relieved to know you hadn’t caused any irrevocable damage by overreacting. Even more relieved to see him smiling again.  "I think my beautiful and extremely childish wife should get the honor of going first.”
The frown you attempted to hold cracked under the pressure of his wide grin. You hate being teased. You were also guilty on all counts and willing to take your punishment. “I suppose that’s fair.”
“It’s very fair.” He mumbled between prolonged kisses down your neck.
You exhaled and curved your fingers over his broad shoulders. It was becoming harder to think or even breathe with him sucking everywhere his lips could reach. “Can we talk it out like grown-ups tomorrow?”
“Of course, baby. It's mandatory from now on.” When he spoke the guttural quality possessing his voice registered deep in the places he’s yet to touch. You felt painfully empty but knew you wouldn’t stay that way for long. At the rate his lips were moving you weren’t convinced you'd make it past the couch. You preferred the comfort of your king-sized bed the scene of your crime was a fitting place for getting down on your knees to make proper use of your mouth.
Terry surprised you when he broke the suction on your collarbone to reunite at eye level. There was a noticeable glint of mischief in his eyes before he bent down to throw you over his shoulder. You squealed and braced a hand at the center of his back for support you really didn't need.
"You better not drop me trying to be cute!"
"I was planning on letting you off easy tonight. Now I'm thinking your apology needs to be as loud as all that shit you've been talking."
"Yes daddy. Remind me what all these big strong muscles are really for. Also, please send help!"
With a single act you reclaim the home you’ve built, your gasps and combined laughter echoing along the walls as he carried you upstairs.
398 notes · View notes
jq37 · 9 months ago
Text
Your sister who you love so much (even though you’ve never shown it) asks you to be her sister again, her true sister, in deed not just in name. And yes, of course that’s what you want. That’s what you’ve always wanted and now that she’s shattered your defenses and destroyed the ones who would pit you against each other and died right before your eyes, how could you refuse? How could your answer be anything but yes?
So you go home with her, not the ruins of your perfectly posh prison, but a new home which provides love and care and bunk beds and it’s so so nice. Ridiculously nice. Sickeningly nice. And a small, sick part of you almost misses your old home (if you can even call it a home) because yes, it was cruel and awful and you hated every second of it but you knew where you fit. You knew what your role was. You don’t fit in here. Everyone accepts you because they’re all so nice, but they don’t know how to volley back your sharp words or find a hidden, “I love you” within an offhanded insult. 
And then your sister leaves to save the world again because that’s who she is. She’s the kind of person who goes out to save the world with her friends when she’s needed and you’re not. You’re not, not, not. Not on any count. You don’t save things, you destroy them. And friends? You have to allow yourself to be vulnerable for friends so of course that’s out. Your sister is 16 and she’s out saving the world for the third time and you, fully grown at 18, are a wanted criminal who hasn’t even properly graduated from high school. You can’t stop thinking about it and, without your sister and her friends occupying the house as a buffer, the ones who are left try to get you to talk about it so you make a rash decision, as you are wont to do. You leave, like a thief in the night. You can make your own way. You can. You’ll prove it.
You find a shitty apartment and pay for it with the ill-gotten spoils from one of your many exploits. You could probably pawn some treasure for more luxurious  accommodations–there is that chest of rubies just lying around–but you don’t. That’s not what you deserve. And what if your sister needs help later? You don’t have access to your parental funds anymore which means she doesn’t either. You know she won’t ask anyone for help–you wouldn’t. But someone has to look after her. You’re an abjuration wizard. You protect people. You protect her. No, that’s a lie. But you want to make it not a lie. You want to start now.
If you’re saving the rubies then you need a source of income. You narrow down your least villainous talents to try and find a suitable job and hit on teacher. You’re good at magic, right? So how hard can teaching it be? Hopefully not as hard as securing the job, which proves trickier than expected because, oh right, you’re a wanted criminal who hasn’t graduated high school. But you dip into your villainous talents once more and tell yourself it’s for a good cause. You secure the job. You’re doing it. You’re making your own way. 
You want to text your sister to see if she’s doing alright but you don’t want to intrude and you don’t want to answer any questions about what you’ve been doing because then either you’ll have to lie or explain that you’ve left again, right after you promised you’d be there. Both options make your heart ache, especially since it’s her birthday. So you wait until the house is empty (mostly empty–you’re never really alone in a haunted house) and enter the room you and your sister shared for too brief a time. You paint her walls with carefully rendered runes, filled with all your abjuration magic and stamped with your arcane mark. It’s a possessive bit of spellcraft. A selfish claiming of a climactic kill. You mean to make a different kind of claim. You are claiming your sister, as she asked you to months ago. You are telling the world that she will not be fucked with while you live. Your rooms were so close before. You could hear her. You knew every night she went to bed in the grips of a panic attack with no one to console her. She won’t have to feel unsafe in her own room again. You can make sure of that at least. 
The sun rises one morning and you know that means your sister is alive and well and coming home. You teleport to Falinel to make sure she returns to her favorite dessert. It’s worth the spell slot and the chance of being recognized. The tower where they kept you is long destroyed and you know that this time, if you were ever captured or even killed, rescue wouldn’t be measured in a matter of months. It would be days. Hours even if your clever sister and her powerful divination magic put things together faster. The thought fills you with more emotion than you know what to do with. You leave a note. “I love you,” you think. “Enjoy the nemesis ward,” you write. 
Practicing magic, as it turns out, is a very different skill than teaching magic. The children are loud and obnoxious and you don’t quite realize that maybe your expectations are too high between the hothouse you grew up in and your sister being the world’s greatest diviner, fullstop. You know you can always go back to the manor, but that somehow makes it easier to stick it out. You’ve always been taught that pressure provides the best results but there’s something about the security of a safety net that makes everything a bit more bearable. And so what if you have to take a second job involving a light criminal element. You’re only smuggling–that’s barely even a real crime.
Your sister who has saved the world thrice now, texts you and she wants help. She is looking to you for help. And you do your best to oblige. You offer your knowledge, you offer your rubies, you invite her over again and again. She sends you a text and deletes it. You’re not the diviner in the family but you drain your spell slots scrying for information you already know. Information that you'll hear from her own lips in just a few hours. “I love you.”
She finally visits and you’re not unaware of the state of your apartment. You know you’ve been too exhausted for an Unseen Servant or even a round of Prestidigitations but you know that your sister has seen your mind and there’s nothing messier about you than that. She teases you and you tease her back. She’s the only one who understands how to deliver a complement with a backhand so you can receive it without your skin crawling. The only one who knows how much tartness you need with your sweetness. 
Later, she visits again. She sits in your filthy apartment and you watch trash TV and it’s the highlight of your week. Your month even. That should feel pathetic but, somehow it doesn’t. You want to tell her. She deserves to hear it from time to time without having to filter out the layers of prickliness that you add as second nature, a layer of armor as ever present as your abjurer’s ward. You may not be able to handle naked sentiment but she can. You’ve seen her with her friends. How affectionate they are. You’ve always been taught that loose lips sink ships but you have experience with ship sinking and this prospect fills you with much less dread. You tell her and it’s awkward and fumbling but you manage. Maybe loving people isn’t so different from loving cats.
You have a new job which is perfect because the school year is almost over and, blackmail or no, you aren’t sure how many times you’ll be able to get away with casting Sleep on your class to give yourself a break. Honestly, you should have applied for jobs in Leviathan from the start. Why would pirates care about your sketchy history and lack of credentials? You could teleport yourself to Leviathan every day but that would be a waste of a spell slot when the door to the Compass Points is right there in the manor (and if your sister happens to be there too then hey, happy coincidence). While you’re there, you might as well do your laundry. And stay for dinner from time to time. And spend time with your sister in your her room where your runes stand sentinel and your old bunk lays untouched. You don’t think you’re staring but later, as you go to grab a snack from the kitchen your sister throws you a casual, over the shoulder glance. 
“You can just move back in, if you want.”
And would it really be that easy? Just like that? After a year of trying to make a point or a plan or a better version of yourself or whatever? Just like that? 
You remember a year ago. You and your sister and words that will be burned into your mind forever. 
“Despite the fact that you have not earned it, I do love you.”
Just like that. 
You say yes. You stay. 
435 notes · View notes
potatoplace · 5 months ago
Text
You Can Have It - Chapter 2
Alpha!Feysand x Omega!Reader
chapter 1 | chapter 3 | series masterlist
Story Summary: You've been a baker for 75 years, and are finally moving on from the Winter Court to the City of Velaris to start your own bakery after your grandmother passes. After your grand opening, the High Lord and Lady of Night become daily visitors to your bakery for months, every day having your most popular pastry- one that increases fertility for a short time. All the while, the two alphas want nothing more than to call themselves yours.
Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics, mentions of sex toys, I really don't think there's anything else?
Words: ~7.8k
Author's Note: it's here! I struggled a lot to get writing with this chapter, I think it's because there's so much I want to happen! Things should start moving a bit quicker after this chapter, were done with most of the OC introductions (just lil friendos for reader to have outside of the inner circle~). Hopefully in the next chapter reader will meet Rhys and Feyre :)
18+ only pls
🤍🩵🤍💜🤍
You had been reading for a couple of hours before Mor returned to the inn, busting into your room as soon as you opened the door at her frantic knocks.
“I brought dinner!” Mor squealed as she set a bag onto the table in the middle of the room. “I went to Sevenda’s and got my favorite of hers, it’s this delicious pesto chicken pasta with broccoli in it, I think you’ll love it! We just have to make sure to take the bowls back tomorrow, Sevenda made me promise and I’ve forgotten a couple of times already,” Mor said sheepishly, a grin on her face. She sat down and began pulling out the takeaway dishes along with napkins and utensils.
You sat down in the other chair, gladly taking your share of the heavenly smelling food and digging in. Mor followed suit, and the two of you ate happily in a comfortable silence for a moment.
“So, were you able to set up a meeting with Auric already?” You asked Mor before taking another bite- it tasted even more amazing than it smelled.
Mor nodded. “Yes, he agreed to tomorrow at two o’clock at this cute little café just a couple of blocks down from here. He mainly wants to know your plans for the land before finalizing the sale. Auric’s family has owned the land since Velaris was founded, and since he doesn’t have any children he just wants to make sure it’s a business with good intentions, I think.”
“That makes sense, I would probably do the same in his position.”
“Agreed. I think he’ll find a cozy bakery to be a perfect fit, he ran a custom paint and supply store once he took over, and I believe it was an apothecary before that.”
You smile softly at the knowledge that your bakery will be on land with such a long history, one that must have made so many people happy. “The apothecary part will be somewhat carried on with my bakery, I have a few different pastries with special herbs in them to give different effects to the person that eats it. I have one that was very popular in the Winter Court, it helps to boost fertility. We started having a greater amount of births around every major holiday, that’s when I would bake the most of them,” you gushed, always happy to talk about your baking.
“Really? Oh, that will be lovely! Since the war, everyone in Velaris has had their eyes turned to the future, and it seems almost everyone wants to have children nowadays. Once word gets around, you’d best be ready for constant business for that pastry alone.” Mor’s words instilled confidence in you, something that you needed every so often to be sure you’re making the right choices.
A half hour later, Mor stood from her chair and began packing up the dishes. Before she left, she pulled a small metal card from her pocket and handed it to you. “This is your bank card, you’ll need it to make any purchases within Velaris. Kallias and Viviane had me set up an account for you and deposit your farewell bonus. Ten thousand for every year you worked for them, a total of 700,000 gold marks.”
“700,000?!” You asked in a frantic tone. That was to much- far, far too much. “That- they must have made a mistake. That’s a ridiculous amount of gold!”
Mor only smiled at you as she answered, “No, they were very specific about the amount. They said if you were panicking to tell you that five thousand every year was for your grandmother, and five thousand was for you. And to tell you that there is no way to convince them to take any of it back, so don’t attempt.” Mor’s smile turned to a grin when you stayed silent, still processing the immense wealth that you now possess. “I’ll be here a bit before two tomorrow to show you to the café for your meeting,” she said as she left your room, bag full of empty dishes in her hand.
“Thank you, Mor. For everything you’ve done today.”
One more bright, sunshine filled smile. “You’re welcome, Y/N. It’s no problem, you’ve been lovely to get to know.”
You return her smile, and shut the door when she is out of sight. Standing alone in your hotel room, you suddenly feel the weight of your day crashing into your shoulders. You set your new bank card on the table, the weight of its wealth too heavy at the moment.
You made your way into the bathroom, carefully removing your dress from your body to not snag your wings on the fabric. Then you set to drawing the bath- luckily, it was fully enchanted with plumbing, allowing for hot water to fill the tub.
It was a bit smaller than you were used to, not quite the right size to fit a winged body, but it would do just fine until you could have your own custom tub made for your apartment.
As soon as the tub was filled, you sank into the warm water, keeping your wings out of the water for tonight- too much of a hassle to dry with how tired you are already.
You let the steam relax you, sinking into a soft, relaxed state of mind. It drifted to your grandmother- she had died today, but you weren’t devastated. She had been in pain the past thirty six years, caused by the curse Amarantha had put upon her. Your grandmother had accidentally served burned pastries to the revel, one making its way to Amarantha herself. As Nanna’s punishment, the evil queen had cursed her blood to burn away slowly until she eventually passed.
But she was in peace now- able to move on to the next life, hopefully one that’s happier, less filled with psychotic fae.
And here- here, you could believe that. You’d seen so many different kinds of fae today, more than you’d seen at once Under the Mountain. Every one of them got along, there was only minor haggling and bickering to disrupt the peace. Besides that, everyone had sounded happy, unburdened.
It was nice.
The Winter Court, even six years after Amarantha’s fall, was still struggling to find the same freeness that this city radiated.
Your grandmother would have loved it here, the two Palaces dedicated to food stuffs alone might have convinced her to move here.
You would love it twice as much, just for her. She had always wanted you to live a full life, one of joy, hopefully with an alpha and a family of any size. She had been an omega as well, understanding that need, that overwhelming desire to have a family, an alpha that loves you.
When you presented, your mother and father had already passed, taken by a brutal pneumonia that had overtaken most of your village. Your grandmother had been the only family left to teach you, and she had done all she could to prepare you for your secondary sex and all that came with it.
You had yet to take an alpha, ever. During your few heats before being trapped Under the Mountain, you had taken a beta as your lover, trusting him enough to help you through them.
And Under the Mountain… Well, you were lucky enough to have been relegated to the kitchens at all times besides during your grandmother’s punishment. No alphas had been allowed to work at kitchen staff, so you were kept relatively hidden during your heats, though they had been less frequent due to the stress, possibly even from the magic sucked from your body.
Now, though, they had returned in full force, three months apart and stronger than ever. Viviane had been kind enough to show you to the small shop dedicated to sex toys in the square of the capital city, some of them designed to mimic a knot.
The toy you had gotten that day had seen you through your last six years of heats, along with a special blend of herbs your grandmother had created that lessened the symptoms to a close to manageable level.
Now, though, in a new city? Maybe you could find an alpha for yourself, as well as follow your lifelong dream. You let yourself drift off and think about what your alpha might be like as you washed your body.
As soon as you were clean, you got out and dried yourself off. You wrapped yourself in the towel and padded into the bedroom once more, finally ready to unpack your things.
It went quickly enough, you hung up your dresses and put away your romance novels and cookbooks. One of them was your grandmother’s entire catalog of recipes, all of her tricks to making any recipe a bit easier. It was your most prized possession, your own catalog a close second.
Your bags were empty now, and you placed them at the bottom of the wardrobe, along with your pair of extra boots.
All alone. A new city.
You crawled into your bed after putting on your favorite nightgown, long sleeved and reaching your calves in a blue so light it’s nearly white, and a scooped back allowing for your wings to remind untouched by fabric.
The sheets on the bed are soft, and you bury your face in them for a moment, reveling in the feeling of them on your skin. A gentle huff leaves your mouth, and you turn your head to look out the window, to where it’s snowing.
You’ll be sad when the snow is gone, but you can’t deny that you’re excited to see the other seasons come and go as they do outside of Winter.
And your bakery- you wonder how that will change throughout the seasons. Different pastries, outdoor seating, seasonal themes- would you be able to make it snow inside during winter?
You drifted off to different imaginings of your new business, new home as well as you’ll be building an apartment above the bakery itself.
🤍🩵🤍💜🤍
You awoke the next morning to the winter sun shining into your eyes. You stretched for a moment, then got up from your bed, and walked over to the doors leading to your balcony and stepped through them. Outside, the snow had stopped falling overnight, and now looked to be around five inches deep.
That wasn’t bad, not bad at all. This time in Winter there would be nights with a foot or more of snowfall. It looked to be about ten in the morning- that would be more than enough time to go and grab some breakfast, and maybe shop around a little bit.
You quickly pulled on a pair of thick grey wool tights after removing your nightgown, then slipped into your thickest winter dress, making sure to get all of the buttons into their holes to make the fabric wrap snugly around the base of your wings to protect the skin beneath. The dress, made of thick wool with a silvery fabric layered over the top, was one that you didn’t wear too often, as you didn’t tend to venture outside of the High Lord’s palace often when it snowed heavily. Your wings, even after living in Winter for the first twenty five years of your life and the past six, were still sensitive to the cold at times, so you preferred to stay inside during most of the heavy snow season.
This dress keeps the rest of you warm and cozy, and you want breakfast, so you’ll risk your wings feeling a bit chilled.
You pulled on your boots that nearly reach your knees and lace them up quickly, your stomach’s loud growl making your fingers move faster. Then you throw on your scarf, hat, and mittens, taking care to slip your bank card into your right mitten for safe keeping, and then you’re out the door, locking int behind you and bounding down the stairs.
“Good morning, Y/N,” Druana said from behind the counter as you breezed past her, making your way to the door.
“Good morning, Druana!” You replied enthusiastically. “I’ll see you in a little bit, I’m going to explore the city on my own for a while.”
“Have a good time, and be careful in the snow. It gets slippery on the stones beneath quickly,” Druana warned as you opened the door and slipped through it.
“Thank you!”
And then you were in the crisp winter breeze, breathing in deep lungfuls of the clean, snow scented air. You’ll definitely miss this once the season slips into spring, but you’re here now.
And it’s beautiful.
The snow has iced the roofs of the buildings around you perfectly, and everything looks like a little gingerbread town. You made your way through the streets slowly, following the delicious scent of cinnamon, sugar, and coffee that you picked up.
Soon, you were at an adorable café, decorated with soft pastels inside and out, primarily pink. And you could tell that inside there was a cinnamon coffee cake and coffee to go with it, one of your favorite breakfasts- just perfect for your first official morning in a new home.
You entered the building, spotting a slim high fae beta at the counter in the back.
“Good morning,” she chirped cheerily at you as you made your way to the counter.
“Good morning,” you responded, already looking over the display of baked goods she had out. “I’ll have a slice of that cinnamon coffee cake,” you said, pointing to the perfect looking coffee cake. You then looked behind the other fae, taking in the coffee brewing equipment. “And a coffee with a bit of cream in it, please.”
“Of course,” the other fae said, grabbing your order in a couple of minutes, sliding a plate and a mug over to you after you’d slid your mittens off. “That will be two gold marks,” she said, and you handed over your bank card, hoping that you weren’t doing this wrong. The fae opened up a ledger, and pressed your card against it. “Alright, here’s that back. You can take a seat wherever you like, and just bring the dishes up to the counter when you’re done,” she said softly as she handed you the card back.
“Thank you,” you said with a smile. You grabbed your items, and sat at the table right in front of a window looking out onto the street you’d just come in from.
Both the cake and the coffee were delicious, warming your insides nicely as you sat and watched people go by, the city slowly waking as you ate, a few customers walking in as you did. You returned the dishes to the front, smiling at the pretty fae running the café. “Thank you, it was absolutely delightful! Would you happen to know the way to a bookstore near here?” You asked a bit shyly.
“New to town?” The fae asked, and you nodded your head in confirmation. “If you go to the right and head down five buildings, take a left and then in two more buildings you’ll be at Gina’s bookstore- she’s very nice, and loves meeting new people.”
“Thank you so much, I’ll probably see you again soon. My name is Y/N, by the way,” you said.
“My name is Jayla, it’s nice to meet you Y/N. And it’s no problem, I’ll see you again!” The fae said cheerily.
You followed her instructions well, and within a few minutes you were shaking the snow off of your boots and dress and walking into the cozy bookstore. There were rows and rows of shelves extending into the back of the store greeting you, and when you looked to your left there was a counter with a green skinned fae behind it. Further down from the counter, there was a small sitting area in front of a fireplace- a roaring fire already blazing inside.
“Welcome in!” The fae said with a warm smile as she looked to you, standing just inside the now closed door. “My name is Gina, I’m happy to help you find anything, or you can browse around for a bit.”
You moved closer to her, taking off your mittens and tucking your bank card into the collar of your dress as you did so. “My name is Y/N, I was wondering if you had any romance novels?” You asked, feeling a bit shy at the request, especially once the alpha’s scent washed over you.
She probably thinks I’m some silly romance obsessed omega now, you thought to yourself.
“Ah! Another romance lover! Right this way, I’ll show you some of my favorites too, if that’s alright,” Gina exclaimed as she quickly made her way over to you and grabbed your hand, leading you through the rows of books to the middle of the store.
“Right in the heart of the store is where I keep my favorite genre,” Gina said as she pulled a book from one of the shelves. “And this is my favorite romance series! It’s called Healer of Time, it’s about this omega high fae from the Dawn Court. She has these really strong healing powers, and she somehow ends up traveling back and forth between current time and three hundred years ago, and has to choose between two fantastically hot alphas, one from each timeline. It’s just perfect, and I’ve helped make the series all the rage in Velaris!”
She handed the book over to you, which you eagerly accepted. That sounded like the best blend of romance and adventure to you. “How many books are there on the series?”
“Nine so far, but the author puts out a new one every year or so, thank the Mother!” Gina responded, pointing out the other eight books for you.
“Wow, that’s a pretty good turn around. I honestly think I’ll get the first four today! It sounds like a really good read.”
Gina grins widely at you, and her excitement is too contagious to not smile back. “I’ll take these up to the front for you, but if you have any more questions feel free to come up and ask me!” Gina took the book from your hand and pulled three more off of the shelf.
“Do you happen to have any cookbooks?”
“Of course, they’re near the front, off to the right in the row second closest to the wall Y/N.”
You make your way over to the area, and quickly spot the section dedicated to cooking and baking. One catches your eye, titled Night Court Favorites, with a beautiful illustration of a moonlit picnic on the front. On the back, it promised the recipes for the past three millennium of Night Court nobility’s favorite dishes. Probably as good a place as any to start your full cooking journey, now that most of your meals would not be prepared by the other kitchen staff of the High Lord’s palace.
You flipped through it quickly, eyes snagging on a recipe for Night Court traditional curry- it sounded absolutely delicious.
With the cookbook in hand, you ventured slowly back to the front counter where Gina stood talking to another fae excitedly, your books waiting on the counter for you.
“Ah, Nesta, I’d like you to meet Y/N, she’s the customer I was telling you about!”
The other fae turned around, her movements sending a small amount of her scent- a winter bonfire and very alpha- and you were struck by her beauty. Sharp angles and liquid steel eyes, and lovely golden brown hair twisted into an elegant braid crown on top of her head.
“It’s nice to meet you Y/N, are you new in town?” The high fae’s voice was husky and holding a certain power to it, absolutely lovely.
“It’s nice to meet you, Nesta. And yes, I just moved to the city yesterday.”
“Well I hope you find the city to your liking. Gina was just telling me that you like romance novels?” You nodded your head. “I host a little book club here every second and fourth Wednesday at four in the afternoon, and we mainly read romance novels. I always like to extend an invitation to those Gina thinks would enjoy it,” Nesta offered.
“Oh…” you thought about it for a moment. “I’m in the process of getting my business up and running right now, but maybe in a couple of months when things have calmed down?” You asked hopefully.
Nesta nodded her head in agreement. “That’s fine, just talk to Gina when you’re ready to join, she’ll let you know what book we’re reading. Well, it was nice meeting you, but I’ve got to be going now now,” Nesta said, making her way over to the door.
“It was lovely meeting you as well, Nesta. I’ll see you in a couple of months.”
The alpha was out the door after waving goodbye, and you were left alone in the bookstore once more with Gina.
“Did you find everything you wanted, dear?” She asked, taking the cookbook from your hands.
“Yes, I did. Though I’m sure I’ll be back in a week for some extra reading, if I end up having the time.”
“You mentioned a business? What kind?”
Your books were bagged now, and you handed over your bank card after pulling it from your collar. “I’m going to be opening a bakery in the Rainbow, if all goes to plan.”
“Oh, that’s nice! We can always use more food stores, and bakeries especially! I’m a big fan of anything bread,” Gina said with a laugh, handing you back your bank card and sliding the book filled fabric bag over to you. “It came out to 11 gold marks and one silver mark, and if you absolutely hate the first book, I’ll let your return the rest and pick out something else, alright?”
You grin at her. “I don’t think that will be necessary, but it’s good to know! I’ll see you sometime soon, Gina. Thank you.”
“I look forward to hearing what you think of them! Walk safely, it can get slippery,” Gina warned as you stepped back into the snow and cold, door thunking shut behind you.
You followed your route back to the café you’d eaten at, simply names Jayla’s. You walking, taking the path that you think leads to the inn. You end up making a few extra turns, but you’re back in the warmth of the inn after you finally find the building. Druana is nowhere to be seen when you enter after kicking the snow off of your boots and dress, so you simply go up to your room.
Your bag lands on the table, and you immediately pulled out the cookbook, flicking through it again to find the curry recipe. You spy a notepad, quill, and ink pot which you grab and bring over to the table.
On the page, you write all of the ingredients you’ll need to make the curry- tonight, hopefully, if you can find everything you need in the two food centric Palaces. You’ll need chicken, a few different root vegetables, a good variety of spices, and coconut milk- you hoped that one of the various stalls you’d seen yesterday would have some prepared, you don’t quite feel like going through that hassle yet.
You check the small clock hanging on the wall, seeing that it’s only a quarter to noon still, that should be plenty of time to get the ingredients you need and be back here in time to meet Mor.
Next you look in the cupboards of the kitchenette, which hold a large frying pan, a pot with a lid, a cutting board, cooking utensils and small knife set. There’s also two sets of plates, bowls, cups and utensils. The frying pan and pot should work nice enough for the curry, there’s not much point to you buying your own cookware until your building is completed. And there’s a cold box, enchanted to keep dairy and meat fresh.
That would hopefully mean going to only one Palace today, or at least before the meeting. You let the ink of your list dry for a few more minutes, flipping open to the first page of your new book series, quickly reading the first chapter.
Just as you thought, it was going to be a good fit.
You folded your list in half once, then again, and tucked it into the collar of your dress alongside your bank card. You should probably get a purse of some sort soon. But that can wait.
You’re bounding down the stairs again in an instant, and Druana is back at her desk this time.
“Oh, I didn’t even hear you come in! I’ll see you again soon, Y/N.”
You smiled at her and said, “Yes, I should be back at or before 1:30, and Mor will be meeting me here, just so you know.”
“Thank you,” Druana replied with her own smile.
You were back in the winter air, sun shining down on you now. Your breath still made puffy clouds in the air, but you didn’t care. It’s winter, and it’s beautiful.
Slowly, you made your way across the nearest bridge that connected right to the Palace of Hoof and Leaf, your current destination. Upon entering the more tightly packed area, you gravitated towards a large stall, covered in so many different vegetables and large glass jars, only a few still filled to the brim with spices. There was a tall, dark skinned high fae standing behind the stall.
“Can I help you?” She asked in a low voice, and you instantly pinned her as an alpha.
You pulled out your grocery list. “Yes, I needed the vegetables and spices on this list, if you happen to have them,” you said, handing it over to the female when she gestures for you to give it to her.
“I just so happen to have almost all of these spices, and the ones I don’t I can point you to another sweet fae who has them, as well as the coconut milk and rice you need. And I have all of the vegetables you need. Making the traditional curry?” She asked as she began gathering the vegetables for you.
“Yes, I’m new to the city and want to learn some of the common dishes here, and this sounded like a wonderful start.”
“Well, I’ll say that it’s one of my personal favorites, so I hope you won’t be disappointed. My name is Petra, by the way, it’s always nice to see new faces in town.”
You smile at her, so happy that so far you’ve only had positive experiences with the people of Velaris. “I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you.”
“Now, would you like to buy small spice jars that you can bring back and refill, or just go with the amount you’ll need for the recipe?” Petra asked you, holding up a small glass bottle with a metal lid fitted to the top.
“I think I’ll buy the spice jars, please.”
She fills the three small bottles up quickly, putting them in a thin wooden container with a handle, with six slots perfectly fitting the spice jars.
“You can come back and have them filled up for a slight discount for any spice sellers in the two food oriented Palaces, but I’d prefer if you came back to my stall,” Petra said with a wink, placing the container into the tan fabric bag containing the vegetables. “That will be 7 gold marks, please.” You handed her your bank card, and she quickly passed it back after pressing it to her ledger. “Now, the other two spices and the coconut milk you need, you can find three stalls down on the right, and the male next to her has a good price on chicken, just to give a few suggestions,” Petra offered, pointing out the two fae she was speaking of.
“Thank you so much, I’ll be sure to come back when I need more vegetables,” you said before walking away, exchanging waves and warm smiles.
You made your way over to the other stalls, quickly buying the other two spices, coconut milk, and rice you need, as well as the chicken the recipe called for- one large chicken breast. You trekked back to the inn carefully, switching the bag between hands every so often.
“Grocery shopping, I see,” Druana greeted you as you breezed into the inn after kicking the snow off of your clothes.
“Yes, I thought it would be better than ordering in every night,” you chuckled as you made your way over to the stairs.
“Well, good luck with that. And don’t burn my inn down,” Druana added playfully as you began going up the flight of stairs.
“I’ll do my best!” You unlocked your room, immediately dropping the heavy bag next to the books you’d purchased earlier. Groceries sure are heavy when you have to lug them across town. No matter. You’ll get used to it soon enough, especially once you have to purchase for the bakery.
You put the chicken and coconut milk into the cold box, and the vegetables and spices onto the counter. Right after you had, there was a knock at your door. “Y/N? It’s me, Mor.”
You swung the door open, letting the bubbly blonde into your room. She was carrying a large yellow envelope under one arm, and decked in winter gear from head to toe, but still slightly shivering even in the warmth of the building. “Time to go?” You asked, still holding the door open.
“Yes, getting there a little early is wise with weather like this. Nothing quite like eating shit one to many times on your way to a meeting and ending up late,” Mor said, already moving back out of your bedroom door and into the hallway, and you followed her after making sure your bank card was still tucked safely in the collar of your shirt
The door snicked shut and you locked it quickly, following Mor down the stairs and outside once more. She led you through the streets cautiously, obviously afraid of falling down, but you made it to the café within ten minutes, and to your surprise it was Jayla’s café.
“Ah, welcome back Mor, Y/N,” Jayla said from behind the counter as she wiped it down with a cloth.
“Morrigan!” Exclaimed an older male’s voice, gravelly with age. “It’s wonderful to see you again, come, introduce me to your friend,” the elderly high fae said, beckoning the two of you closer to where he was seated at a table, three other chairs surrounding it.
“Auric, this is Y/N, the lovely young fae hoping to buy your property. Y/N, this is Auric, Velaris’s most experienced paint mixer, including magic imbued paints as well,” Mor said as the two of you sat in the unoccupied chairs.
“It’s wonderful to meet you Auric, I truly fell in love with your family’s property the moment I saw it,” you said right before Jayla came over to the three of you.
“Would the two of you like anything to drink?” She asked, and you noticed that Auric already had a mostly full cup of tea in front of him.
“I’ll take a tea, whatever you recommend please.”
“The same for me, please,” Mor said. “Thank you, Jayla.” Jayla nodded and walked away, going behind the counter to begin brewing your teas.
“So, you fell in love with the land? What did you like about it?” Auric asked you, eyes running over your face. It was then that you scented him- a male omega. It had been years since you’d met one yourself, before the mountain you believed.
“I loved the view looking towards the Sidra, you can see the mountains in the background as well as all of the other beautiful buildings in the city. The land itself is so lovely, it’s nice and flat, and I think it would look wonderful with a little extra landscaping, maybe a tree or two of that would be alright. And the location, on the outside edge of the Rainbow would be perfect for a bakery, close enough to a few residential areas, but also involved in the creativity that the area boasts,” you gushed, still picturing the view in your mind. Being able to bake and look out at such a beautiful river, beautiful city, truly, would be amazing.
Jayla returned, two cups of tea in hand that she placed in front of you and Mor. “A lovely raspberry tea for the both of you,” she said before walking back to the counter.
“A bakery, hmm?” Auric questioned, raising a brow at you as you took a sip of the tea- delicious. “Are enough sure you have the stamina to run it? It’s a hefty job.”
You nodded your head once, fully confident in your abilities. “Yes, I previously worked to bake for the entirety of the Hugh Lord of Winter’s residence, and over the course of… Well, being Under the Mountain, I was assistant to the head baker, my grandmother, for twenty years, and for thirty years after that I was head baker myself. I am confident that I can handle running a bakery on my own.”
The older fae’s eyes narrowed at your for a minute, before they crinkled as his lips spread into a smile. “I like you. I’m sorry that you had to go through that, but it’s good to see you’re stronger for it. Now, what type of baked goods will you be selling?”
You breathed a small sigh of relief before answering. “Well, I do have a few favorite pastries of the Winter Court that I’ll have, as well as loaves breads and cakes. Plus I have a number of recipes made with medicinal herbs or berries that have health boosting benefits. My most popular one by far has been a fertility boosting pastry made with a berry native to the Winter Court.”
Auric hummed as he considered everything you had said. “And what will you name it?”
“I… What?”
“What will you name your bakery? Surely you know what you want your business to be called, Y/N.”
“Of course I do, Auric. It will be called Sparaiya Bakery, after my grandmother. She might have left this plane, but she will always be with me, especially when I bake.”
Auric clapped his hands together once. “Very well, then. I’d like to sell you my land, Y/N. I think you have a good amount of experience, you have a vision for your bakery, and you seem like a strong, loyal person. I believe my ancestors would be proud to have your business on their land,” the older omega said sincerely. “I’ve set the price at 100,000 gold marks, are you willing to pay that much?”
The thought of that much money alone being spent made your stomach churn, but you reminded yourself of the massive amount of money that Kallias and Viviane had given you, and that this land was worth every single mark you were going to spend on it. “Yes, that’s perfectly fine with me.”
“Perfect!” Mor pulled the envelope from between her arm and chest, pulling a few documents out and summoning a quill and a pot of ink. “The two of you can go ahead and sign here, and Y/N, you’ll just need to press your bank card to the top right corner after you’ve both signed.” The two of you do as she says, standing and shaking hands afterwards.
“Thank you so much, Auric, for entrusting your family’s land to me. I hope that if you come by once it’s finished, you will be proud.”
Auric regarded you warmly, squeezing your hand an extra time before letting go. “I’m sure that I will be, Y/N. Let me know when you’re opening, and I’ll be sure to stop by.” He grabbed his copy of the sale documents
“I’ll make sure to. Have a wonderful rest of your day,” you said as he walked out of the café, leaving you with Mor. “I’m so happy he said yes! Oh, I should go tell Marcus that I have the plot of land now, and get everything moving in that direction. Thank you so much, Mor. You’ve been such a help in all of this,” you said, placing a kiss gently on the alpha’s cheek. “I’m going to head over to Marcus’s business now, if that’s alright.”
“Oh, of course!” The alpha responded, already donning all of her winter clothes again to bundle against the cold. “You walk safely over to there, Velaris gets slippery when it snows. Now, will I see you for lunch this Thursday?” Mor asked, and you mentally double checked the day of the week in your head- Monday.
“Yes, three days from now sounds perfect. Do you want to meet somewhere or at my hotel room?”
“I’ll meet you at your hotel room this time, alright?”
You nodded your head in agreement. “That sounds good, I’ll see you on Thursday Mor. You walk safely too!” You were already out of the door with your bill of sale in hand, beelining your way as well as you could to the Palace of Flame and Steel. When you arrived at Marcus’s shop, you swung the door open and stomped off the snow on your boots before entering. “Marcus!” You said excitedly as you met his eyes, waving the paper in your hands at him. “I have land now, will you be able to come assess it in the next few days?”
Marcis stood from his place behind the desk and made his way around it to you. “I can go right now, there it too much to do around here at the moment,” he said, already ushering you out of his shop, flipping the open sign on the door to say closed, and locking it behind him.
“If you’re sure…” you said before grabbing his hand and pulling him with you to the Rainbow as fast as the two of you could manage in the snow. “This is it!” You gesture to the dilapidated building excitedly.
“You are planning to tear it down, right?” Marcus asked, amusement in his voice.
“Of course I am, silly, I wanted the land. It has such a beautiful view of the Sidra and the mountains, come here.” You pulled him past the building, to where you had stood when you’d known that this was the land you wanted your dream to come to life on.
Marcus let out a heavy breath. “Okay, I get it now.” He looked around, taking in where they were situated. “And it’s in the perfect spot for a bakery, you really picked the best possible spot.”
“I know!” You squealed, jumping as high as you could without using your wings in your excitement. “So, what’s the procedure for tearing down the old building and starting the new construction?” You asked, ready to learn the necessary details.
Marcus pulled you back onto the street, and the two of you began to walk back to his business. “Well, we need to submit a request for a permit to demolish, and one for construction. But since I’ve done a good amount of work in the past six years, I doubt that there will be much more than two days of waiting time between submitting it and getting the permits. We can fill out all the forms once we get to my office, and I’ll get them sent up to the House of Wind as soon as I can.”
“Alright, that sounds doable enough,” you said as you threw a smile at him, happy that he’s kind about you not knowing much about the building process.
Soon enough the two of you are back at his office, and he swings the door open, letting you go inside first. He went through a filing cabinet behind his desk before pulling out a half inch thick stack of papers in total. Marcus turned back to you, placing them on the desk and gesturing for you to take a seat.
You do as he asks, and he sets two piles in front of you- both are identical. You give him a quizzical look, not understanding the purpose of having two.
“One pile is for your own personal records, and the other is for the permits and for our contract agreement, for payments and things like that. I suggest you read everything closely, and I can explain something to you if you’d like.”
You read through the stack of documents, finding everything to be fair, both in compensation for the company, and certain protections on promises made to you. You signed the contract documents first, letting Marcus take the pages as you finished to sign them himself. Then came the permit application, you needed to state why you wanted to tear the building down, then what you were going to replace it with.
That was easy, the current building would not suffice for a bakery, it might even burn down if you ride to light a fire in it. And building on top of the land, well, a bakery plus a second floor apartment with a small garden.
Once it was all filled out, Marcus went through every page to make sure that everything had been signed. “Alright, everything looks to be in order. I’ll write to you to let you know when it’s been approved, okay Y/N?”
You nodded your head, happy to be done with the paperwork portion of the day. “That sounds just fine, Marcus. I’ll see you in a few days, most likely,” you said before standing from your chair, stretching your muscles and wings slightly.
“I’ll see you then,” Marcus responded, asking you over to the door. By this point, the sun had begun to set over Velaris, but the city was more alive than it had been all throughout the morning.
“And thank you, Marcus. I look forward to working with you,” you added as you stepped outside and away from his shop.
“It’s no problem, Y/N. I’ll see you soon.”
And the you were off, your new property deed tucked under safely against your body. You were eager to make your way home, wanting nothing more at this point than a hot bath and a warm meal- you didn’t particularly care in which order. You were at the inn soon enough, kicking snow off of your boots and the hem of your dress for the last time of the day.
“Welcome back, Y/N,” Druana greeted from behind the counter, waving a bark skinned hand at you.
“Thank you, Druana. I’ll see you in the morning!” You said, already making your way up the stairs in your rush to finally get out of your winter gear.
The door to your room swung open and shut quickly, and you sat at the table in the center of the room, undoing the laces of your boots as fast as you were able. They came off, then followed by your dress after unbuttoning the back carefully. Now you were only standing in your underthings and tights, and very much feeling the chill that had set in from being outside in your bones. You stripped off the rest of your clothes before heading into the bathroom and starting the tub.
Gloriously hot water spilled out of the faucet, and you didn’t wait for it to fill up, merely settling yourself in as the water slowly came up to your neck. You allowed yourself to soak for a few minutes, letting the cold seep from your bones and warmth replace it. Once you felt warmed and comfortable, you washed yourself quickly after hearing your stomach growl loudly.
After toweling off, you went back into your bedroom and donned a soft set of white cotton underthings, as well as an oversized lilac sweater that you were able to wear like a dress, the back already having had the fabric carved out of it to fit your wings. It was so cozy and soft, you felt buried in it. Just how you wanted to feel after an eventful day.
You went to the kitchenette, pulling out the cutting board, pot, and pan. You grabbed the cookbook from the table and set it on the counter next to the cutting board, reading over the instructions once more. Next you pull out the chicken and grab a suitable enough knife, dicing the meat into bite sized chunks as the recipe called for. You set them in the pan, lighting the charcoal beneath the burner to get the heat started.
You washed the knife and cutting board and dried them off, then grabbed the root vegetables that you’d bought earlier. Similar to baking, you switched between washing and chopping the vegetables to moving the meat around the pan easily, being careful not to burn anything while getting everything else you would need prepped.
Paying attention to the recipe, you measured out the right amount of each spice, mixing them with a bit of water to create a paste that smelled heavenly and spicy.
The chicken was done now, and you added the vegetables along with a bit of water and the coconut milk. Then all you had to do was wash and set the rice to cook, and wait. You rinsed the rice in one of the bowls, getting the water clear before carefully draining it out and placing the rice in to the now boiling water.
In another twenty minutes, you deemed the vegetables and rice to be cooked enough, and dished out a nice serving of rice, with lots of curry on top.
You cleared off the table, moving your new books over to the nightstand by your bed, then brought your dinner to the table. You sat facing the windows and stared out at Velaris as you ate, pleasantly surprised with how nicely the curry had turned out, with it being your first time cooking anything like it.
Soon enough you were full and getting sleepy, so you brought your dishes back to the sink. You plated the rest of the rice and curry into the other bowl that you hadn’t used, then washed all of the dishes you had used that night.
By the time you had finished, your bed was calling to you, and it was such a soft, sweet landing when you finally made your way under the covers, deciding to sleep in your massive sweater instead of changing into a nightgown.
It’s not like anyone will see me sleeping, anyways, you thought to yourself, right as you drifted off into a peaceful sleep, filled with the view from your new property.
Series Taglist: @icey--stars @breadsticks2004
162 notes · View notes
chaoticbardlady99 · 1 year ago
Note
Hello! I really enjoyed your fic with the Tav who couldn’t see well. It was really sweet! If you’re still accepting requests, may I request a similar one where the reader needs glasses to see and during a battle they break or get lost. Now they can’t see well and they’re trying not to panic while there’s threats everywhere, but thankfully Astarion notices something’s wrong and helps them. Thank you!
Admiring from Afar (GN! AFAB Reader x Astarion) Part 1- MDNI 18+ ONLY
Part Title is inspired by the song “She” by Dodie (I feel like it reflects Astarion’s POV/feelings towards Tav in this story)
This was not originally supposed to be as long as it is, but the concept started taking on a life of it's own. I hope you enjoy! I will hopefully be positing Part 2 within the next few days!
  CW: Angst (?), violence, jealousy, fluffy (hopefully very? But who knows), smut because apparently I’m in a giving mood (I’m sorry I had to make the joke.), MDNI 18+ only, dom/sub sexual relationship.
Note- this is Unascended Astarion x GN! reader
*This has been proof read one time. It is 2:04 am and I have work in 6 hours LMFAO
Gif belongs to- ibacchante from Tumblr!
Tumblr media
    The campfire crackles in the distance and you think you even hear the faint sound of music.  You desperately yearn to be near the warmth of the fire talking to or watching one of your companions give a dramatic retelling of their experiences in battle.
  The warmth of your companions made places like the Shadow-Curse Land feel a lot less scary and foreign- they provide some normalcy in this strange journey. 
Unfortunately, you are hunched over in your cold tent with nothing but a light cantrip and your will power. You squint as you etch details into the oxen bone, taking the time to add the touches of silvery white dye to add an ethereal effect. Your hands cramp as you work to keep the paint within the designs you carved into the bone.
You have been painstakingly working on this necklace for a little over a month- maybe two? You have lost count at this point, but the calluses on your fingers tell you it’s been a while now since you started this project.
  You polish the bone with your cloth, wiping away the debris from your knife. You admire your handiwork; a perfect carving of the Elven Rune- Cadaith. You were able to create a loop at the top of the necklace for the long, thin, black leather strip you had been holding onto since the day after the Tiefling party- the same day you decided to take on this hand numbing project.
  You and your crew of oddballs had come through for the locals and obliterated the Goblin Camp Leaders- the tieflings had come to your camp and had decided to celebrate.
  It wasn’t that you were opposed to parties, but you’re not the most social person despite your profession as an Artisan. You miss the calm, quiet group of Druids you used to travel with- you even miss the hardwood floor of the Caravans and how much of a pain in the ass they were to fix. You miss not having to spend every waking moment and all of your strength on battling and the art of deception. You miss your tools and the landscapes you use to find your resources. You love to make crafts out of anything in the wild.
 Back to the rowdy tiefling party- again, you aren’t necessarily against parties, but they are overwhelming.
And the men! They are entirely too vulgar after a couple drinks. Silvanus help you if you had another drunk man stumble up to you and ask if he can, “fuck your brains out.” 
 Another man had begun to make his way towards you when you felt a cold hand grab you by the elbow and haul you off into the forest. It had been Astarion- who you had agreed to share a bed with that night. You had shared a bed before- after a camp party to celebrate killing Auntie Ethel, but nothing could have prepared you for the second time and how mind-blowing it would be (you had been excruciatingly awkward as it was your first time ever- he was pretty understanding thank Gods).
  “Astarion-”
  “Yes Darling?”
   He stops and looks at you- you look around and realize you are far from camp. You fiddle with your hands nervously- picking at your nails. 
“I um-” you clear your throat, “I really appreciate you- well- um… coming to my rescue, but I really don’t want to be a bother to you- you don’t need to stay wit-”
 You hadn’t been able to finish your sentence before he was gently kissing you. Your body feels like it’s on fire, your glasses are entirely foggy from your breathing and you smile at him coyly as he pulls away. He gives you a genuine, real laugh before taking your glasses off and wiping them clean for you. You put them on, your eyes back in focus as you avoid his eyes.
He leans in and begins kissing along your neck, along your jawline, and back to your lips. He kisses you roughly, his tongue flicking across your lower lip, asking for access. He lifts you up from under your thighs before backing you into a tree. 
  He grinds up into you- his erection pressed against the burning heat in your core. He pulls at your shirt strings and gives you a look as if to ask if he can continue. You grab his face in your hands and kiss him as an answer to his question. 
  He discards your shirt and makes quick work of your trousers and under garments- all while kissing you so deeply the world is spinning and your entire body feels numb. 
  Suddenly he has you on your back as he smiles down at you mischievously. You look away, embarrassed as he takes in the sight of your body; a breathy chuckle leaves his lips as he gets up and makes quick work of his own clothes.
 You feel the space between your legs grow warmer and needier as you watch him stroke himself before he settles himself between your legs. He presses soft kisses all over your face as he inserts a finger between your folds and begins to toy with your clit. You whimper and moan as he pumps his finger in and out of you.
  “Good girl,” he growls into your ear and inserts another finger, picking up the pace.
  A soft, gasp escapes your lips as your walls stretch to fit around his other finger- getting to the point of borderline tears as you feel your orgasm get closer and closer. Astarion watches you use a stream of profanities, your hands gripping the grass so hard it's ripping. He kisses you on your forehead then- he stops. 
 You keen in protest from the emptiness between your thighs, but your words die on your lips as he pushes himself all the way between your folds, all the way to the hilt. You claw at his back, a pleased whimper escaping your mouth. He begins to kiss your jaw before you capture his lips with yours- he’s still not moving inside of you as you kiss him feverishly- your hands entangling themselves in his hair. He groans against your lips, holding you down by your waist and not allowing you to move. When you attempt to move your hips upward, desperate to get some friction, he groans in your mouth before pulling out completely and then thrusting himself roughly back into you. You look at him in anticipation as he gets off of you, still inside you as he adjusts your left leg so that he can get more access and he begins to massage your sore, neglected nipples with his fingers. 
You are desperate for any movement from him and you can tell he knows it- even in your drunken haze. 
 “Please.”
“Please what, my dear?”
 He says before pulling out to thrust into you completely again. You cry out, tears streaming down your face as you look away from him, trying not to let him have the satisfaction.. 
  He hums as he roughly grabs your jaw, making you look him in the eyes.
 “Tell me, Darling,” a sly, teasing smile on his beautiful face, “do you want me to fuck your brains out?”
You nod and he pinches your nipples roughly- you arch your back and you feel him lift your hips up before spanking you hard.
"You don't get anything until you answer my question," he goads, his hand snaking it's way around your throat, "so tell me, do you want me to fuck your brains out?"
"Y-es. Yes I want you to fuck me ple-" he cuts you off with a snap of his hips.
He grabs your jaw roughly with his hands, "You know that's not what I asked you."
He begins to slowly move in and out of you, teasing you mercilessly. You groan in frustration- he knows he’s the only person who can say this to you and demand you to say it back to him.
"Please Astarion," you say tearfully, your need for pleasure taking over, "please fuck my brains out."
He smiles at you widely, "it would be my pleasure."
You whine and he pulls out of you, rolling you over onto your hands and knees. He comes up behind you and his hands find purchase in your hair as he begins to pound into your mercilessly. You lose yourself in pleasure- surely alerting everyone and their mothers to your activites- and if it's not the vulgar moans, it's the filthy sound of your bodies colliding.
He pulls you up to his chest by your hair, switching to putting his hand around the upper part of your throat, and puts his fangs to your neck, teasing the skin as he fucks up into you. You have one of your hands wrapped around his arm as he chokes you and the other is touching your clit- the coil of pleasure building up in your stomach as you whisper your consent between moans for Astarion to drink from you. He gives you a pleased hum in response.
The moment his fangs are piercing your neck is the same moment your orgasm rips through you and you have to fight not to slump against him. You feel his strong arms hold you up as he keeps fucking your sensitive mound, chasing his own orgasm. He stops sucking from the bite marks on your neck, lapping up the blood that begins to slowly trickle down towards your shoulders and chest. He let’s go of his grip on your throat and pushes you back onto your belly before roughly inserting himself inside you again.
"You are such a good girl," he grunts, "you are taking me so fucking well."
You begin to feel lightheaded when he finally cums inside you. Good thing you have a potion for that.
You both get your clothes on and he whisks you away to his tent- where you cuddled and talked for almost the entire night.
  The sex, as noted, is amazing, but you also enjoy so much more of him than just his body. You know Astarion struggles to believe you find anything about him interesting outside of sex, so you make a point of reminding him about all the other wonderful parts of him and you don't ever ask for sex or sexual favors. That ball is in his playing field as far as you are concerned.
You find yourself gravitating back to Astarion’s tent every night to listen about a new book he is reading or just to let him shower you with (arguably) questionable knowledge about the higher ups in Badlur's Gate . Sometimes you just talk about your lives, tangled in each other’s embraces, and falling asleep that way.
You had begun sleeping in the same tent shortly after he drank from you for the first time. You had been scared during a storm one night and he had heard you sniffling in your tent. You missed the safety of your Caravan during those first two weeks. 
  He had quickly dragged you over to his tent- griping about his hair, how “I told you that you needed better camping equipment”, and “really darling? Why are you wearing clothes with holes in them? No wonder you’re scared.”
    You have had an incredibly close bond ever since and you speak very freely with one another. You still become closed off every now and then (mostly from being socially and emotionally exhausted) but he was content to sit in the silence and just be in each other’s company. If he's in a grouchy mood, you sit with him in silence or let him just talk at you, and you support him when he wakes up from a particularly grueling nightmare. You rarely, if ever, go to your tent or stay in your tent anymore.
  However, your current passion project was not to be seen by his eyes until it was completely finished- hence the reason why you are in your freezing, semi abandoned tent. You enchant the amulet with “Invisibility” and after a test, you can proudly say your necklace for Astarion is ready.
  Shortly after the fight with the Goblins, Astarion had been complaining to you about how Gale “ate” the last necklace of Invisibility that they had found. 
  “He did call finders-keepers.”
 “Finders-keepers my ass, Darling. If he really believed that rule he wouldn’t have inhaled it the way he did right after finding it.”
  “It was rather unbecoming of him, wasn’t it?”
 “Cazador has done a lot of horrible, vile things to me over the last two centuries,” he scoffs, “but, Gale eating a perfectly good Amulet of Invisibility has somehow landed in the top 20 of worst things to happen to me.” 
  After that, you began your work on the Amulet and now that it’s finished- you get to give it to him.
 The idea makes your stomach turn. 
  What if he hates it?
  It’s not really his style, but you don’t make gaudy jewelry and you tried your best to make it look like it shimmers (you succeeded FYI, Nat 20 all the way). You hope he appreciates it on principle alone and doesn’t criticize you too harshly if he dislikes it. When you ran the idea by Karlach and showed her your sketch, she was immediately convinced that he would adore your gift.
“Don’t worry about a thing Soldier,” she said cheerily, “Fangs is going to adore it as much as he adores you!”
  You wrap the necklace in the nice, silk handkerchief and stuff it into the little leather bag. You take one final deep breath before pushing through the tent flap. You look around camp and see that mostly everyone is in their tent- Astarion included- but Wyll is by the fire dancing. You remember joking about him giving a demonstration for the camp. As you begin to walk towards Astarion’s tent- Wyll calls out to you.
 “Tav,” he says brightly, “join me for a dance?”
 Another thing you love about Astarion- he is very good at telling people ‘no’ for you. Yes, you should be sticking up for yourself and setting boundaries on your own. You are so wired to make everyone else happy that it impedes your ability to say no. Astarion is helping you learn and supports you when you freeze up, but Astarion is not here in this moment and if he hears what Wyll has said to you- he has made no indication of it.
  You smile tightly and put the pouch in your pocket before taking his hand. You are basically robotic as you go through the motions and yet- for some Gods forsaken reason Wyll plants a kiss right on your lips. As he pulls back and sees your look of absolute horror- he begins to apologize profusely. 
 “Honestly Wyll,” you awkwardly squeak out,”it’s totally fine. I just- um- well… I really like Astarion and I’m not looking elsewhere.”
 “I understand and as disappointed as I am- I am grateful for your forgiveness and I hope we can remain friends.”
 You smile brightly, “Thank you Wyll and of course. Good night.”
 He bids you farewell and you walk with extra pep in your step. You set a boundary and you are over the moon excited to share with Astarion. 
  Except when you get inside the tent- all of your stuff is right in the entryway. Astarion has his back facing you and is pretending to be interested in a book. You frown.
 “Star?”
 “Oh don’t worry Darling- I figured I would save you the uncomfortable conversation,” he says with apathy in his voice, “we both know those aren’t your strong suite.”
  You flinch at his cold, blank tone and the harshness of his words. You feel yourself becoming consumed with confusion and hurt. Your hand is clutching onto the pouch in your pocket. He looks at you and he looks far away despite the smile on his face.
 “Well go along now, I’m sure your new lover is waiting for you. I’m happy for you honestly,” he pauses, giving you a cold, malicious grin, “pretending to be invested in this connection has really been bothersome these last couple weeks.”
  Logically, a part of you knows he is just jealous and is lashing out. You should stay and try to explain what happened- reassure him even? 
  Emotionally? You feel like you just got stabbed over and over again. Oh and then someone came up to you and used a shocking grasp. You try to open your mouth, the tears welling in your eyes as you look at him. 
  He just looks at you coldly, “Well, leave.”
  You wordlessly nod, dropping the leather pouch back into your pocket and you grab your things and numbly head back over to your tent. You roll out your bed roll and stare up at the dark tarp above your head; you let the tears stream down your face as silent sobs wrack your body. You already miss him.
 _________________________________________________
  You didn’t sleep well that night- you woke up with puffy eyes and a sore throat. You had spent the majority of the night freezing and jumping at every noise. You would get the occasional thirty minutes of sleep here and there, but if you weren’t scared awake, your bruised, broken heart woke you up. Your heart thumped unevenly all night- worried the bumps in the night were Astarion packing up his things and leaving. 
  Your chest aches as you get ready to leave and you are grateful that the Shadow-Cursed Lands are so poorly lit because it allows you to hide the rough night you have. You are also grateful to see Astarion is still here.
You, Astarion, Shadowheart, Karlach, and Wyll set out to explore more of the Shadowlands. Karlach told Astarion he didn’t have to go if he didn’t want to- you were too tired to say anything in response to his complaints and you suppose Karlach became fed up. He’s quiet after that, so quiet you think he might have left. Except you hear him chatting with Wyll during a short rest.
  Shadowheart walks happily next to you- chittering about Dark Justiciars and how she can feel Shar or whatever. You are just trying to focus on her and stop thinking about him. You have been successful in avoiding him and not looking at him for the entirety of the morning and you need to keep it that way. 
  _________________________________________________
   Astarion can’t place where in the conversation he went wrong, but the fight with Malus Thorm has been nothing short of a disaster. The Sisters are ruthless and Malus is much stronger than any of them anticipated at first glance.
  Astarion usually fights right at your side, but he assumes that your new lover will be keeping you safe. He suppresses the bile and tears that threaten to come up. He has your protection still and he knows that because Wyll would have thrown him out of camp otherwise. He was never meant to end up with you- you were always meant to be a means to an end.
If anything, he should be thrilled for you. Wyll is a good, decent man and much worthier of your affections than Astarion could ever be.
 So why does it hurt so fucking much? And why did he want to kick Wyll over a ravine when he kissed you?
He shakes the thought as he strikes down two more Sisters. He steals a glance in Wyll’s direction (to check on you) and immediately notices that you are nowhere in the premises and the Blade of Frontiers was battling with Karlach. Astarion scans the room in a frenzy of panic.
   He turns around just in time to see Malus lift you up by your neck and fling you into a column. Your glasses fell to the ground as your back makes contact with the stone and the sound of shattering bones echoes through the room as the Sisters begin to move forward.
 Astarion watches in horror as you are struggling to pop up and begin touching the floor around you , but by the time you seem to realize finding your glasses is a moot effort- the Sisters descend on you as Malus turns his attention to Wyll and Karlach.
  Wyll acknowledges what just happened, but doesn’t go to help you. Anger rips through Astarion like a wildfire as Wyll turns and tells Shadowheart you need help. He’s about to help Malus take out Wyll- until another scream for help pierces the air as you throw random cantrips at your attackers.
 Astarion rushes forward, cutting his way through the remaining Sisters in the middle of the room. He really could give a shit less at this time if it pisses Wyll off that he was the one who protected you- in fact, he’s probably going to be stabbing Wyll when you all get back to camp. 
  Astarion destroys the Sisters surrounding you in a flurry of gore and steel. He ignores his other companions as he searches for you frantically. 
  You had disappeared by the time he came to your aid. Astarion knows that you have a tendency to slip into your Cat form when you are particularly scared and can’t see- using the animal’s powerful nose to guide you away from danger. 
 Astarion goes near the beds and crouches down- a sigh escaping his lips. 
  All 8 pounds of you and your black fluff is crouched under the bed and you hiss in surprise when he clicks his tongue at you. You squint your eyes at him before sniffing the air. You cautiously walk forward and sniff his outreached hand. You begin to purr loudly and rub your head against his knuckles.
 He laughs with a mix of hysteria and joy as the realization that you are okay settles into his bones.
 “It’s okay Little Love, the Sisters are dead,” he says softly, “I’m so sorry, I should have been next to you. I just assumed a beast with such prowess as yourself would be able to fend for themselves.”
 You meow in indignation as you climb on top of him to bite the tip of his nose and he can’t help but laugh. 
“Does your ego hurt less now, Little Love?”
You give him an amused look that makes him bust out laughing again.
He had asked you once why you were just a Black domestic cat instead of a Panther. You had argued that you are just as ferocious as a Panther in that form. Not to mention, you would have a better chance of shooting an arrow straight than turning into a Panther, but you weren’t about to admit that (even though he knows). 
   Astarion scoops you up in his arms and pauses- the smell of your blood floods his senses. He grabs you by your scruff and you yelp as he inspects you for injuries. 
  You scratch at his hand and he drops you. You yowl in pain and leer at him as you begin to change back into your humanoid form. 
If Astarion was capable of feinting, this would have been that moment. He drops to his knees beside you and begins trying to find a healing potion to take the edge off.
  You have a compound fracture where your shin was and it’s bleeding heavily. Your right shoulder is out of place, your left wrist is twisted in an atypical fashion, and your left cheek is blooming with an angry, purple bruise. He winces when you inhale a sharp breath as you try to breathe in, clutching at your rib cage. 
He doesn’t catch the choked gasp that climbs up his throat in time- your eyes search for him in the dark before finally settling on him.
“Your beautiful eyes are really helpful when it’s blurry.”
Your voice is so tired and he can hear the pain in your voice.
“How come?”
“I can actually find you,” you pause, “you make me feel safe.”
  You look at him, your eyes glassy with shock. You smile brightly at him and he smiles brightly back at you. He never thought anyone would associate him with protection, safety. Your words echo in his brain.
You’re make me feel safe.
You go to say something again before you look at him with wide, scared eyes and promptly lose consciousness. The scream that comes out of his mouth is foreign to his own ears. It sounds fearful, angry- heartbroken. Astarion tries to shake you awake, yelling your name over and over.
 “Please wake up Darling- you’re safe,” he whispers through choked sobs, “come back to me please.” 
Nothing. He can barely tell if you are breathing still as your heart thuds softly in your chest. He calls for Shadowheart two, three, four more times.
"Please," he whimpers, "I don't want to have to be without you forever- I can't be."
  The weight of his words hits him like a train- his plan had well and truly failed. Under normal, non- life threatening emergency situations, he would probably panic about the strength of his emotions. Instead, he sits here begging for the chance to be able to tell you how he really feels. He wants to move so badly, to drag Shadowheart over here to heal you, but he can't bare to leave you in your vulnerable state. He keeps calling for Shadowheart- his voice begins to crack.
Astarion feels the worst of his anxieties vanish as you suddenly start taking long, ragged, tired breaths. He grabs a healing potion out of his pocket and tilts your head as he pours it into your mouth. You swallow the fluid gingerly. Your eyes are barely open when he hears you communicate through the tadpole.
Thank you for saving me. Again.
Astarion slowly strokes the side of your face, brushing the flyaway hairs out of your eyes.
"I saved you for my own selfish reasons," he whispers, while taking your right hand gently, "close your eyes and rest- I will keep you safe. Shadowheart is coming."
You nod lazily before closing your eyes, your hand in his still. Astarion sighs in relief when your breathing gets stronger, but he is no healer. Where the hells is that damn Cleric!?
 “Shadowheart!!!!”
601 notes · View notes
thr0wnawayy · 4 months ago
Text
Rei-Demption: A problem and my solution (ft. Rei's trauma and Hori's bullshit)
Might as well give my shot at it.
My take on Rei's personality has always been based in suppression.
Rei's whole life has been a balancing act of doing enough to protect her family, while still staying within the lines to not get disposed of.
She's everything Enji isn't. An iron will, a golden heart and a strong sense of empathy.
So with that in mind, hopefully it she'd light on it thought process with this post
A theory I have is that Rei was aware of the hospital's corruption
Tumblr media
These panels always felt off too me, it always made me wonder: "does she know?"
The wording is very specific.
"I told him I liked it, around the first time we met. But only once"
It always struck me as odd, We're talking about the man who looked at his eldest death and kept going, man who destroyed multiple lives for a redundant pipedream.
It's not even why would he remember such a small detail, but rather how?
Unless... the doctors are feeding him information.
Think about it, who pays for all this. Surely it's not Fuyumi, on account of this being a massive money sink.
You really expect her to pay for all that on a teachers salary?
It can't be Natsuo because Enji has likely cut him off from everything to his name.
And that's assuming Enji even bothered to save up a college fund for any of them. Plus Natsuo is a full time student of medicine.
If the doctors are watching her every move, looking for any sign of deviation from the narrative then it makes sense for her to disguise her words.
Of course there's still more
Having PTSD isn't something you can keep someone institutionalized for. Especially when Rei's is very proportionate, given what she's gone through. (No, Japan's stigma of mental health wouldn't justify this)
I mean what are Rei's triggers?: Enji and that's about it.
"But we still... haven't met face to face, I'm still too afraid"
That's a standard reaction to have to your abuser (especially when he raped you multiple times)
Tumblr media
('Just stop' gets a whole lot darker when you consider it's context)
Not to mention she's no longer fearful of anything resembling Enji, just Enji himself. So there is no real reason to keep her there unless they are afraid she might speak out.
This whole thing makes me think she's trying to tell Natsuo and Fuyumi what's really going on, in a way.
Subtly and under the calm, complacent mask she's expected to wear, in case anyone else is listening. Anyone who could report back to him.
It might also be she doesn't trust them. Fuyumi or Natsuo could blab or say something within earshot that could set Rei back months.
And she can't have that, not with how close she is to finally breaking free. She loves her children, all of them but the trust just isn't there, how can it be when when they don't have all the pieces.
So here's my theory: The hospital staff are in Enji's pockets. Either taking bribes (as recent as Dabi's Dance) or they were given a large sum of hush money when Rei was first hospitalized, with the goal of keeping her there as long as possible and possibly molding her to either keep her mouth shut or (sickeningly) gaslight her into returning to Enji.
(Note how she was only released when they could no longer keep a lid on things, the moment Dabi frops the bomb. She's out, no struggle)
This paints a picture of grotesque corruption, sloth and apathy (the very same cocktail that created Shigaraki) even by Hori's narrative standards. Shedding light on just how deep MHA's despotic nature goes.
The anime makes this even more apparent. Rei's fake smiles make the whole thing that much more viable. She seems so dead, it's like she smothered her soul or something.
I've seen both the sub and dub of this scene. The sub is the correct translation, the same as the Manga panel above.
The Dub however, while severly off mark, adds it's own flavour of dread. Rei sound so hollow, it was jarring the first time I heard it.
It sounded like she was reading a script (in-universe). Like she'd rehearsed this in her mind a million times, staring at the same 3 white walls + the window and waiting for an opening to finally speak.
That was supposed to be Shoto, until the dorms ruined that. Suddenly Rei's lifeline is gone, reduced to letters that don't even tell half the story.
10 years, 10 fucking years reduced to lines on a page.
Can you imagine the despair, dear reader?
The frustration. The sheer vitriol coursing thorough her veins, far hotter than Touya could ever manage.
Having to do the same thing she's been doing even before she was locked away. As the the skeleton in the closet of a criminal with a license.
Wearing masks for so long you can hardly breath and in the brief moments you can take them off. You can hardly recognize yourself, how you once were.
It must be the truest form of hell.
The Rei-demption Arc
Rei's redemption arc takes the attention of our theoretical arc without overtaking it.
The arc would mostly focus on the more domestic aspects of our trio being: Midoriya, Shoto and Uraraka.
A few minor changes would occur. The dorms never happen, allowing the characters to exist outside of UA.
There is solid confirmation that Fujiya is corrupt and is keeping Rei institutionalized on illegal grounds (ie: not meeting the criteria set up to ensure her silence)
The dinner scene would still happen only it would bd framed for what it really was. A pathetic attempt at creating a moment that never existed.
There's no family with Enji.
Just a family held hostage and a tyrant. I have my own grievances with Fuyumi, but I'll leave that for the future.
The only difference besides Natsuo being properly portrayed as a victim acting well within his right, the reasons for our trio going would be for Shoto's emotional wellbeing, because he asked them to.
Uraraka could have a moment where she realizes that money is as much as good as it is bad. An actually decent shift into her change of goals.
Here Enji motivates her to "watch the watchmen". Her need for money is still a crucial part of her reasons for becoming a hero, but she also has a more front and center goal.
I'd imagine she has a moment parallel to Midoriya's during the Sports Festival.
Where (alone in front of the Dojo after the failed dinner) she rightfully calls out Enji for being a self pitying piece of shit and that "sorry" doesn't cut it.
"You've hurt them in ways you can't imagine." Would probably be the last thing she says before walking away.
She may not know the whole story but she knows it hurt them and that's enough.
Rei's ascent
Rei's biggest hurdle is accepting that she was also an abuse victim. She's furious but she's only furious on her children's behalf and what they lost.
Her unintentionally harmful actions weigh on her, be it her neglect or the night she scalded Shoto, these events have impacted her deeply.
She learns to reconcile with her past, improve her relationship with Shoto and even meets Shoto's friends at one point.
Eventually she finds closure but that's later on.
She also acts as an advisor at times, having given Shoto the idea of using Ice projectiles (as seen in the Licensing Exam)
The second half comes from the Hospitals corruption, as Rei learns that she is long overdue for release (by about 8 years) among other horrific practices. This would play out as the arc's B plot, building up to what I call "The Summit"
The Summit
Eventually Rei fights Hood.
After gathering the evidence, she escapes the hospital. Planning to go to Natsuo for protection. As she's walking across a crosswalk however, she hears what sounds like an explosion.
Eventually she hears screaming and is forced to use her quirk as a bus is suddenly sent hurdling in her general direction.
As of her body moved on its own, she envelops it in her ice. Stopping the bus and saving those behind her in the process.
Only to see Hood land on top. They lock eyes and Rei can't help but see Touya in Hoods ambition.
In response to Rei holding her ground, Hood dashes. Rei counters this by manipulating her ice to send him crashing into an empty building, impaling him on the glaciers end.
Hood is impressed by Rei's proficiency and chooses to fight her.
Rei having no experience, fights for her life. Where as Rei avoids Civilians, Hood has no care for them which forces Rei to play the role of hero.
Rei uses every weapon in her arsenal in order to stave off Hood, who only gets more relentless as the battle stretches on. The upside is Hood's regeneration struggles in the cold, which Rei is constantly producing.
Each side gets blows in, with Rei taking them surprisingly well but still being worse for wear. Hood notes this saying "as if y-you've done t-t-this before" (close, Hood very close)
Eventually Hood gets the upper hand, towering over Rei in a manner that triggers her PTSD and leaves her stunned.
One of the civilians (Horoshi Tameda) emboldened by Rei's efforts, picks up a loose chunk of pavement and chucks it at Hood's back. It hits, causing Hood to look back.
Civilians begin making loud noise, others begin picking up anything they can find and throw it at Hood. Further catching him off guard long enough for Rei to snap out of her episode and strike back.
From here the fight kicks into high gear, with Rescue heroes & paramedics arriving on the scene and a camera crew recording the fight from above. Overall I imagine the scene to be very uplifting, with the Orchestra swelling as Rei prepares a final attack.
The move rivals that of Shoto's, arguably even surpassing it. Hoof is incased in a prison of Ice, covering an entire city block worth of destroyed buildings. And the fight finishes with Rei collapsing to her knees.
From here on out things change. Rei's newfound fame leads to the hospital being forced to do their job. Because of this Rei gets out early (around the time the Internship arc would started had I not scrapped it)
As for what this could lead to I'll let you decide. I'd love to read some suggestions.
Bonuses:
Theories:
The reason they kicked Fuyumi from her job is because she covered an abuser's ass for years. While Fuyumi is a victim, it doesn't excuse her complacency in regards to Enji's treatment of Shoto before and after his "self pity" arc.
Natsuo didnt go to someone because he wouldn't likely be believed, being seen as bitter and untrustworthy (his time away from home wouldn't help with pinning evidence).
Extra:
Hood survived the fight, Rei opted to capture him as opposed to kill him. That doesn't mean he didn't get frost bite. Police found out it is very difficult to question a Nomu.
Out of all her trauma. Rei accepting she was never given a choice will be the hardest to accept.
Rei's family is not inbred, rather her parents ran away so her father wouldn't be forced into a marriage with his cousin. Only to ironically do the very same to their daughter.
Hiroshi still becomes a meme, his 'Can't you see speech' leads to him becoming a motivational speaker.
The reason Hood appeared is because Dabi lost track of him. He nearly had a heart attack when he discovered his mom was holding the Nomu off.
100 notes · View notes
ourfatherwhoartinhell · 2 months ago
Text
Silent Hearts // [Part VI]
Pairing | Cowbell x reader
Word count | 4.2k
⚠️ Warnings | Canon divergence, f!reader, Y/N is used. Brief mention of blood/wound, nothing descriptive.
Chapter Summary: After Felix saves you from meeting your end, he brings you back to his den and you learn a thing or two about the strange ghoul you are now unknowingly connected to.
A/N: Between Ghostober and just mental health being utter shit, I'm so sorry this part is so late. Things will start heating up again in future chapters, so enjoy the little break with this one!
[Prev][Next]
Tumblr media Tumblr media
There were so many thoughts running through your head. Almost too many. At some point you didn’t even remember how you got into the woods. You just kept walking aimlessly with no real direction as your imagination ran rampant. 
The only reason your face hadn’t repeatedly kissed the forest floor by now was because of Felix. Even in his conflicted state, he had always been one step ahead. He caught you with ease each time you neglected to step over the branches beneath your feet. It wasn’t until the third instance where he caught your stumbling form that finally brought you back to your senses. 
Looking around, once again able to see through your real eyes instead of wherever your mind had been the last few minutes, you saw almost nothing. Not because your eyes didn’t work, but for the lack of light within the forest Felix was leading you through.
For the most part, the canopy of leaves that sat high above hid the already faint light from the moon, leaving the two of you to walk in almost complete darkness. Realizing you could hardly see, and had no idea where you were going, you made a point to start paying more attention to your steps and hold onto Felix’s arm just a little bit tighter. 
Since it was nearing winter, the leaves had started to change, painting the ground with the colours of autumn. Some of the trees had already begun to show signs of the upcoming dormant months with branches almost completely barren. The few remaining leaves they did have were sparse, casting web-like shadows onto the ground like a living mosaic of moonlight and darkness.
Fitting, you thought.
“What’s fitting?” Felix piped up, looking down as he towered over you much like the trees he was effortlessly maneuvering around.
“Hm?” You questioned. “I didn’t say anything?”
His attention turned back to the makeshift path he was carefully walking along, helping you over a decent sized log before replying.
“You said ‘fitting’. I wanted to know what you were thinking about.”
“Oh... I was just looking at how the light on the ground looks like it’s dancing with the shadows.” You looked down, studying the image on the forest floor. “Kind of like what’s going on in my head right now.”
Felix slowed his walk to imagine it for himself, trying to visualize what you were describing since he couldn’t see it the same way you could. He imagined the scene; the moon illuminating the night sky, casting rays of light through the trees onto the dirt below. Leaves crunching beneath his feet after being discarded from the trees, watching them fall from high above like autumnal snow. He could feel the wind flowing through the shedding branches, causing them to sway and shift the casted shadows below, merging them with the bright silvery glow like a silent, earthly dance.
However, there was still the evilness in his head that imagined a version of himself. Standing there under the soft light with his own shadow staring back at him like its own sentient entity, looming and engulfing everything he found beautiful like a living disease.
Pulling his mind back to the present, he shook his head violently in an attempt to free him of his own thoughts. There was no way he would let his demons anywhere near you. He made that vow the moment he found out how important you were. A vow you would hopefully never have to know about.
You stopped abruptly in your tracks, in turn also bringing Felix to a halt a step ahead of you, feeling the resistance through your grasp on his arm.
“Wait a second, how did you know what I said? I didn’t say that out loud.”
“No, but you thought it.” He said with a slight shrug, acting like it was common knowledge. “Remember earlier, when I told you to crouch and run? I didn’t say that out loud, did I? But you still heard it all the same.”
You thought back to earlier that night. You supposed it was being in the heat of the moment that didn’t make you think twice about it. Your inevitable impending doom was clearly more important.
At the time, it wasn’t important how or why you heard him whispering, but now that you had time to consider, it was completely impossible. He had been standing much too far away for it to ever have been audible. And yet, in spite of that, you had still heard him clear as day. The words rang in your ears like he had been right beside you, as if he was as close as he is now.
“Can all ghouls do that?!” You asked curiously, not bothering to hide the accompanying faint hint of fear that went along with it.
Felix chuckled and shook his head, ultimately knocking a leaf free that had landed in his hair moments before. “No, that’s… something special.”
“So, it’s just a you thing.” You stated.
“Yes and no. All ghouls are capable of it, but certain things have to happen first.” He huffs and takes your hand, once again leading you further into the forest. “It’s complicated.”
You decide to just leave it and follow behind him, making sure to pay extra attention to your feet this time. Maybe you’ll find out later.
After what felt like forever, you reached his… house? Home? Burrow?
“It’s called a den,” he said without a single invitation. It was like he could read your mind now! Or maybe your facial expression was just that obvious. “Ghouls have dens. I know it’s not much… Not really my style either. But it’s the best I could do out here.”
His den was actually quite nice, all things considered. He had hidden it well so it wasn’t super obvious to anyone who might be passing by, unless you were specifically looking for it. Maybe some of the Earth ghouls would’ve noticed, since they’ve got a keen eye for this type of thing, but they never usually venture out this far past the perimeter. 
The exterior of the den was mainly covered with branches and leaves. The longer you looked, the more you realized it was almost like an earthly igloo. It had a rounded shape with an entrance at the front. He had even made little open spaces where branches wrapped around to imitate windows. The doorway was more than big enough to accomodate the average person, but you already knew Felix would have to crouch down to get in without bumping his head.
You wondered if he ever thought about fixing it? Though, if it truly bothered him, you’re sure he would’ve done it by now.
Looking down at your expression of admiration as you took in his living arrangements, he gave your hand a quick squeeze and walked you inside.
“Once I was strong enough, I was able to use a little bit of my element to tidy it up and make it a bit nicer to look at. You should’ve seen it before, you’d think I stole it from the beavers.” He chuckled, letting you enter first.
If you thought the outside was impressive, what he had managed to scrape together on the inside was beyond anything you could have even imagined. The atmosphere was so peaceful, you almost forgot you were still out in the woods and not in some fancy hobbit hole. 
He had some fireflies in jars hanging from the roof, which were softly illuminating the surprisingly spacious interior with a warm glow. You were about to say how cruel it was for him to keep them in there, before realizing that none of the jars had any lids. It was just the glass.
Noticing you looking up and assessing his makeshift lighting situation, Felix’s lip pulled into a small smile. “They’re free to go whenever they like. We’ve gotten to know each other over the years. They seem to come back at night to help me out, even though I don’t really need them. They’ll leave once we fall asleep.”
The rest of his den was neat and tidy. He had a small raised area in the back corner which he must've been using as a bed. He had everything you would expect from a small living space; a desk, a chair, a couch. He even had some blankets and actual pillows sprawled out over his bed. 
You had half a thought to wonder where he had gotten those. Last time you checked, blankets and pillows weren’t naturally occurring forest items. Did he go back and steal them? Did someone bring them for him?
“I don’t know what to say…”
“I know it’s not much, but trust me. It’s a lot safer, and easier for me to look out for you if you stay here.”
“Don’t apologize. I kind of love it actually.” You gave him a smile before shivering. A crisp breeze made its way through the open door, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. However, the chill doesn’t last long before it’s replaced by a warmer breeze, which was definitely out of place for this time of year?
“The spirits are back.” You giggle softly as you feel the air change.
It was Felix’s turn to look at you with a confused glance. “What spirits?”
“You know… the spirits. The ones that always come out during the month of October?”
He just shakes his head and shrugs. Clearly not following, but intrigued nonetheless.
A playful grin works its way along your lips as you roll your eyes, amused at his blatant look of confusion. Taking a few steps further into the den, you sit on the chair in front of his desk before beginning to explain.
“Every year around this time, I always feel the spirits in the graveyard poking through from the other side. I heard some Sisters around the Abbey say that apparently the veil is thinner around October, so that's how they were able to get through. They always stop by to help me out, I think it’s their way of saying thank you?”
“Spirits… coming to say thank you? But they’re dead?” Felix was not buying it in the slightest. “Once you’re dead, your soul either gets set to us, or to the idiots upstairs.”
“Hush. Just let me imagine it, okay?” You chuckled, sending him a playful glare.
While you spoke, Felix had quietly taken a seat on the couch opposite from where you were sitting. The more he listened to you passionately ramble, the more things started to make sense. He couldn’t help the smirk that crept onto his face as he lounged back, tapping his fingers over the arm of the couch in amusement.
“If it wasn’t the spirits, then how come sometimes the flowers I left never wilted? That would be impossible after 2 weeks of being cut! Or… or how they stayed exactly where I left them after that bad storm last year?!”
You just sat with your arms crossed, waiting for your explanation. Unconsciously mirroring the ghoul in front of you, tapping your own fingers in the same pattern against your bicep.
“That's easily explained.”
“Oh, really?” You raised a brow.
“Yeah.” He flashed his signature grin, the one that entranced you from the first night you met. “It was me.”
“I know I haven’t known you for that long, but taking credit for others' work seems a bit too shallow for you. I’m not buying it.”
Knowing there really were no words to explain, he simply decided to show you. 
Holding out his palm, he skillfully grew a perfectly healthy, peach tulip. Exactly like the ones in the last batch you left. He made a point of making it wilt and bringing life back into it once again right in front of your eyes.
While you were focused on the flower, a gust of air came out of nowhere, surrounding the both of you inside the den. Your hair went wild as it got picked up in winds so strong you could’ve swore you were in the middle of a tornado. Quickly you shifted your gaze from the flower to look at Felix in a panic, thinking you were in actual danger. 
Without thinking, you were immediately brought back to your childhood. You knew how the story went, and right now you definitely were not the lucky little piggy in the house made of bricks. 
However, when you met his gaze, his expression was eerily calm. Even the cloud that sat around his eyes was steady and unbothered by the sudden gusts of wind. Felix simply held out the blush coloured flower that rested in the palm of his hand.
You must've looked at him like he was crazy because he simply chuckled and gestured for you to pay attention.
When you finally brought yourself to look, you immediately expected the flower to be blown away given the situation. 
Yet it stayed. 
Not even a petal, or a leaf on the stem moved an inch in the whirlwind that had taken over the space between the two of you.
After he was satisfied, the wind died down as quickly as it appeared. Instead it was now making the flower float in mid-air like it was being dangled on a string. The entire thing appeared to be as light as a falling feather, dancing in front of your eyes before eventually landing on your lap with a graceful softness.
“I hope the wind didn’t bring you a chill.” Felix said, his voice soft as to not startle you, clearly lost in a place of unimaginable wonder.
You didn’t know what to think. You sat there completely speechless after witnessing whatever act of god was just blessed upon you. You knew ghouls had powers of sorts, but this was something else. Something magical.
When you finally met Felix’s gaze, you gave him a smile. “No. That was amazing! H-How did you-”
“All those times you thought it was the spirits messing with you out there? That was me. While my element is mostly Air, I do have some Earth tricks up my sleeve. Though Mountain would beat me on every front in that regard.”
Felix looked to his feet as he remembered the last few years. When he saw you shiver as the nights grew colder, he would silently scold you for not bringing a coat before warming the breeze. When he sensed a storm coming, he would run out and protect the flowers you had just left, returning them to their original state before you even knew they were missing. All to avoid hearing your sighs of disappointment.
Yet, his fondest memory was when he got brave last year and arranged the stems to spell out, ‘Hi’. He would remember your little gasp and the way your face lit up for the rest of time. It was his way of looking out for you without having to meet face to face. Once he realized he could use your imagination to cover up the suspiciousness of it all, under the guise of Halloween, the ideas were endless.
“So, you’re a multi?” You asked in disbelief. You had heard about Copia summoning multi’s, apparently they were a lot of work and quite a handful.
“Of sorts.” Felix gave a genuine smile. “My Earth element isn’t really strong enough to be what the Ministry considers to be a true multi. Simply being an Air ghoul suits me just fine.”
As you sat there processing, he spoke up once more. 
“I tried to warn you, didn’t you realize? When you came to check on me.” He spoke softly, not wanting you to think he was upset. He was just curious.
You tried to think back to what he meant. A lot had happened between then and now but you didn’t recall anything out of the ordinary. “No?”
“The wind was cold and sharp, wasn’t it? It mustn’t have been pleasant to walk through.” He explained, trying to jog your memory. 
Actually, now that you thought about it. When you went to see Felix after your meeting with Mountain, you remembered noting the weather was rather unpleasant.
“That was because of you?”
He nodded. “I was hoping you would turn back, so you didn’t end up literally walking into this mess.”
“Was that why you were so angry too?” You asked softly. “You were trying to protect me?”
He sighed in defeat. “I did a pretty bang-up job of that, didn’t I? It ended up happening anyway.” Felix stood and ran a hand anxiously through his dark locks before his ears twitched, clearly hearing something outside.
“What is it?”
His pointed ear twitched once more but he didn’t seem overly concerned about what he heard this time. “No one to be afraid of.” He grinned as he walked over and held out his hand, offering to help you stand.
Once you had taken up the space at his side, you subconsciously positioned yourself to be able to easily slip behind him. You didn’t know who he was expecting, and you weren’t about to take any chances after you had already had a run in with death today. Leaving Felix as your best chance of survival if that situation arose again.
You nervously awaited whoever, or whatever, was supposed to be coming through the door. Though, neither one of you had to wait too long before you could hear the rustling of leaves as the sound of bootsteps approached. 
Moments later, a familiar face walked into the den. You weren’t sure who was more shocked to see the other, you or him.
“Y/N?”
“Mr. Miller?”
“I just came to check in on Bell to see if everything went alright.” The Ministry’s groundskeeper looked at you in shock. “I didn’t expect to find you here.”
“You know Felix?”
“Who’s Felix?” The older gentleman looked at you clearly confused.
I guess Felix hadn’t told him yet. Oops.
You looked at Felix with an apologetic smile but his expression didn’t look overly bothered in the slightest. “Don’t worry about it. Would’ve happened eventually.” Felix turned his gaze from you to give Mr. Miller a quick smile. “Felix is just my real name, Thomas.”
“Ah, I see.” The groundskeeper nodded in acknowledgement.
There was a short silence while the three of you stood in what was considered to be Felix’s living room, before the older man spoke up to break the silence.
“Y/N, did you get hurt?” He questioned, pointing at the side of my jeans which was sporting a rather large bloodstain. 
You had forgotten about the little slip you had earlier when Felix had ran you off. In the midst of the adrenaline, your talk with the chained ghoul in the catacombs, and eventually being kidnapped– could you even call it kidnapping if you went semi-voluntarily? You had completely ignored the minor scrape on the side of your thigh in lieu of more important things.
If you could’ve seen Felix’s full expression, you were sure he looked utterly horrified. He was mentally beating himself up for not smelling the dried blood or noticing you favouring your right leg before now.
Mr. Miller slowly approached and took in what he could, assessing the damage.
“I slipped when I was running down the hill earlier, I must've scraped it on something.” You explained. With the adrenaline quickly wearing off, and your attention brought back to the injury, you were starting to feel the sting.
“I should be able to fix this up the human way, since your boyfriend here is far from being a quintessence ghoul.” Thomas chuckled, already starting to look around for what he was going to need.
“Oh! No, he’s not my-” 
“She’s not my-”
The groundskeeper halted his search and turned to the pair of you with the most amused expression, much like a proud father witnessing his son bringing home a girl for the first time.
Before you could let the awkwardness get any worse, you quickly interjected. “I didn’t know you knew about ghouls, sir. I’ve never heard you speak of them.”
“I didn’t, not at first.” Mr. Miller replied, continuing his search for medicinal ingredients. “Not until I caught this one stealing my chickens.” He jokingly scolded, giving Felix a look over his shoulder.
The ghoul couldn’t even bring himself to argue, knowing it was completely true. It wasn’t one of his proudest moments. But at the very least, it led to his first healthy human friendship. 
The Ministry’s groundskeeper had helped Felix more than the ghoul cared to admit. Especially while he was recovering and getting used to his new life outside the Abbey. And in return, Felix provided protection for both Mr. Miller and his small batch of crops. Even helping his harvest endure an unexpected early frost, making sure the human could have food for the upcoming winter months.
Thomas would have survived that year just fine with what he had left over from the previous lot, but he would never stop Felix from lending a hand. He had taught him better than that, after all.
The two had created a unique, yet mutually beneficial arrangement.
After Mr. Miller had gathered all the ingredients he had needed from around the den, he laid them out on the table beside a wooden bowl, combining who knows what together to make a paste. Felix tried to look disinterested, standing with his arms crossed. But you could see how he looked over the human’s shoulder every five seconds, silently judging what he was putting together.
“Are you sure you want to add that? I don’t think those go together-”
“Son, why don’t you go for a walk while I finish this?” Thomas offered with a forced smile, ceasing his stirring and glancing at the very large, anxious ghoul lurking over his shoulder. “She’s in good hands. It's the same mixture I used on you a couple years ago, I promise.”
Felix looked a little offended at first to be honest, but looked over to get your opinion on the gentlemans suggestion. If you didn’t want him to leave, then even the devil himself couldn’t force him to go.
However he just found you nodding in agreement, followed by a soft, tired smile. “It’s been a stressful day already, Felix. Why don’t you get some air? I’m sure once you’re back, Mr. Miller will be all finished patching me up and you can finally get some sleep.”
It wasn’t his favourite plan, but he reluctantly accepted and sauntered through the entrance of his den into the forest waiting outside.
As soon as you thought Felix was out of earshot, you finally let your exhaustion show. Letting out a breath and slumping further into the chair. It had been a long day for both of you. But unlike Felix, who was a ghoul, humans could only take so much.
The groundskeeper was working on finishing up adding the last ingredients to the healing paste, catching you folding in on yourself out of the corner of his eye but saying nothing. There really wasn’t anything he could say about the matter, since he still didn’t know why you were here. 
As he turned to face you, he dipped his finger into the pale green concoction to test the consistency, wiping a small amount on his forearm before giving a satisfied nod.
“He’s talked about you for years, you know.” He spoke, trying to lighten the mood and get your mind off whatever was bothering you.
“He has?”
“Sweetheart, you’ve had him wrapped around your finger long before you even knew he existed. And naturally, I had to hear all about it.” Thomas chuckled lightly.
The two of you fell into a comfortable and quiet conversation as he carefully looked after your wound, somehow finding a moment of peace inside the surprisingly warm den.
Outside, Felix was about to have a conversation of his own. Although he didn’t expect this one to be quite so amiable.
Moments after he had left the den, there was an unmistakable rustling of leaves and crackling branches that filled his sensitive ears. With his senses on high alert to make sure they weren’t trying to come for you again, he could smell the intruder from miles away.
Realizing who it was, he made a plan and walked with a false sense of obliviousness to a clearing nearby. He didn’t want to wander too far and leave you unprotected, but he couldn’t lead the ghoul to you. 
Thomas was with you, sure, but how well could he protect you against someone like him? Those were odds he would never even consider gambling with. And if anyone on this godforsaken Earth was likely to bet on improbable odds, it was Felix.
Once the ground became more plush under his boots, he knew he had made it where he needed to go. If anything was to happen, he was going to make damn sure it happened right here. On his terms.
Leaning with his back against one of the forest's robust trees, he listened carefully to make sure that his tail had followed like he had planned. 
Felix smirked contently as he heard those familiar clumsy footsteps drawing closer. Aside from his scent, he was completely hidden from the approaching creature. Waiting for just the right moment to reveal himself.
“Well, well, well.” Felix eventually spoke up. “Long time no see… cousin.”
Tumblr media
[Next]
...
Taglist: @cyra-aa@plethora-of-imagines@pandasleepy07
29 notes · View notes
behindthesoul · 1 year ago
Text
Mistletoe - Johnny Cage x gn!reader
Masterlist
Summary - Johnny gives you a Christmas gift.
Word Count - 842
Warnings - not proofread, not my highest quality work
A/N - I wanted to post more this month but life got in the way. ‘Tis the life of little ol’ me. Hurried to get this one out. It’s 11:32 so Christmas isn’t over yet!
Tumblr media
The fireplace provided comfort to all that passed by, almost as if it were a blanket. It stands tall, its dancing flames within cast a warm, flickering glow that paints your face in hues of amber and gold. The crackling of burning logs adds a beautiful soundtrack that accompanies the sound of Mariah Carey’s All I Want For Christmas is You blasting from speakers across the room. Loud chattering mixes into the already existing sounds. You listen, the flames in front of you commanding your full attention.
Shoes clacking against the hardwood floor break the trance the fireplace had you in. There’s no need to turn your head to the person who approached you; you already know who it is.
“You outdid yourself with the Christmas decorations this year, Cage,” you say, voice in awe.
“Surprised you even noticed them,” Johnny replies. He takes a spot on the floor next to you before continuing, doing his best to make sure you see how hard he’s rolling his eyes. “You’ve been drawn to this stupid thing since you walked in.”
You finally look at him, confused. “I’ve been paying attention to them!”
“Really? Then you would’ve noticed the stocking I got for you,” he points to a large stocking hanging on the fireplace. It’s a classic red and white stocking, but you notice your first initial stitched into the fabric. How did you not notice that?
“Oh…I somehow didn’t see that. Thank you, Johnny.”
He laughs before taking the stocking off the mantle and throwing it into the fire. Your eyes widen in bewilderment as the fabric melts on top of the logs. “Actually, it belonged to my ex-agent. Hated that guy.”
You let out a small huff of amusement before standing up. “I guess that’s my cue to go walk around.”
“Shit - wait, wait, wait,” he quickly scrambles up to his feet, placing his hands on your shoulders to make sure you don’t move away. You shoot a quick look of curiosity as Johnny grins.
“You’d really think I’d let you walk away without giving you a gift?” his grin shifts into a small smirk.
“Oh! I didn’t expect a gift from you. Where is it?” you look around, as if you’d spot where he presumably hid it.
“Easy there,” he drags out, chuckling, “it’s nothing major, but hopefully you’ll like it…hopefully.”
“You notice how Johnny’s voice got quieter at the end of his sentence, avoiding your gaze for a swift moment. His eyes hold a glint of something negative. Uncertainty? Insecurity? He returns to his normal and lighthearted self before you could fully decipher his emotions. Johnny just pats your shoulder before grabbing your wrist. He leads you outside to his patio, quiet and away from the peering eyes that were likely to ruin this moment for him. Breathing in the fresh air, you feel a slight chill run down your body.
Johnny lets go of your wrist and gains your attention. He takes a deep breath, “close your eyes.”
“Hm? Why?” you hold back a laugh which would let Johnny know that you’re teasing him.
“So I can give you your gift, stupid,” Johnny gives you a massive eye roll, and you laugh as you close your eyes. You hear him shuffling around in his pockets for a quick moment and you wonder just how long you’ll have to keep your eyes closed.
“Alright,” you could almost hear him grin, “open.”
Your eyes flutter open to see Johnny holding a mistletoe in the air. It’s cheap and made of plastic; it would most likely break if he dropped it on the ground. You stare at it, unimpressed, and your expression made him deflate a bit.
He sighs, “look your actual gift won’t be here until next Saturday. I panicked trying to find something nice.”
“And cheap mistletoe was your definition of ‘nice’?” you tease, but you change your tone when you see him cringe at himself. “I - I was just joking.”
Johnny shakes his head, letting you know there was no need to apologize. “Nah, you got me. I just found this in a random box of decorations.”
Silence consumes the two of you - but only for a minute. Johnny’s always been allergic to it.
“My arm’s getting tired here…”
It’s your turn to roll your eyes. You lean over and kiss Johnny on the cheek. A faint, pink tint decorates his face. One that wouldn’t have been noticeable if the dark night wasn’t there to contrast it. He tosses the mistletoe to the ground and cups your face in both his hands. He then leans over to kiss you on the lips. His lips burn more than the fireplace. It could keep you warm for days.
He pulls back just enough for him to breathe and studies each detail of your face. The tender moment is dead when you notice the mistletoe on the ground, missing a leaf. It’s hard to hold back a smile.
“I knew it would break,” you mumble. Johnny shuts you up by kissing you again.
Tumblr media
117 notes · View notes
kimsohn · 1 year ago
Text
it takes 2 to mango
Tumblr media
pairing . beomgyu x gn! reader (ft. yunjin of le sserafim) about . 12.2k words, fluff + angst warnings . cursing, a lot of food mentions, kissing, mentions of murder/dying (it's all jokes), y/n is in denial half the time (about beomgyu and mangoes), it took me like 2 months to write this so it may be all over the place i'm sorry in advance
synopsis . after your parents drop you off at your aunt's, leaving you with your whole life packed in bags, all you can do is wonder when you'll finally be able to get back to your old life. except, of course, when a brown-haired boy makes you wonder if staying here isn't so bad after all. note . literally after 2 years of delay and many plot changes it's finally here!! happy (late) birthday @urmelo, i told you i would write it and it's here (albeit two months late but wtv). also i literally wrote this whole thing based on this image but halfway through i realized he's sitting in a classroom so my whole broadcast idea was stupid 😞 and this is slightly inspired by all of us are dead and f4thailand! i stole the mango pun from google tagging . @invuwrld @tocupid @mmmsvnts @seung-scrittore
Tumblr media
You have never loathed mangoes more than this moment.
It’s only been a couple of hours since your parents dropped you off at your aunt’s house, your whole life packed into suitcases and a Hello Kitty backpack you’ve owned since fifth grade, and you’re already sick of this situation. You don’t even understand your parents’ thought process, because who would even leave their whole life behind to start a mango supply business in Thailand, and you’re even angrier at your aunt for encouraging it. Now, you’re forced to leave behind the comfort of your old life and start anew in the four walls of your new house, miles away from your parents and old friends.
You even hate the stupid smile on your mom’s face when you agreed to their plan. At least you’ll be somewhat rich when your parents decide to come home, however long that might take (hopefully it’s within the next five minutes or so).
“Y/N, let me know if you want to paint your walls, okay? Your uncle loves interior design, so he’ll be happy to organize your room.”
In your old house, your walls were a bright, cheery yellow. Now they’re a boring beige, reminiscent of the hospital walls you’ve always hated. It’s okay though, because now yellow will remind you of mangoes, and you’re just about ready to hurl something at the mere thought of the fruit.
“It’s okay Auntie,” you respond, tracing your finger across the indents of the walls, “I kind of like the beige.”
Your cousin Yeonjun snickers from behind your aunt, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. Yeonjun is definitely the type to hate beige because even his personality shines a bright red flag. Even now, he’s on his phone, probably flirting with (code word for annoying) some poor soul.
“Okay, honey. Yeonjun can help you finish unpacking, and then he can take you to school so you can find your classes. Tomorrow is your first day, after all, I don’t want you to get lost.”
With that, she closes the door behind you, leaving the two of you in your drab room with no personality. Instead of helping you unpack, Yeonjun sits on the chair in the corner, typing away with no care in his mind.
“I thought you were supposed to help?” you huff, though it’s not angrily.
Even though you and your cousin were friends, at first forcibly due to your family relations and later willingly because he’s actually quite interesting, you know that he won’t hesitate to note whatever he can to have leverage over you. Already, he’s taken a picture of your backpack, and if he helps you unpack, he’ll definitely find the shark plushie you brought for the sentiment. It’s not out of malice; it’s just the way your relationship is, however annoying it may be.
“Like you need my help,” he scoffs, crossing one leg over the other as a means to get comfortable, “just let me know when you’re done.”
You survey the mess of your belongings scattered across the bed. It’ll probably take hours, if not days, to sort out properly, and even you are itching to leave this stuffy room and get some fresh air. You’ve sorted out what you need for the next few days, so you might as well revisit this mess later.
“Actually, we can go now. I kind of need a break anyway.”
“Goody-two-shoes Y/N needs a break? Are you in your rebel era?” he jokes, but he opens the door and sticks a leg out, leaving it open for you to walk through.
You smack him on the shoulder as you walk to his car, sitting shotgun and itching to put your feet on the dash. You’re an average kid and you do average things, but you’re not in the mood to argue and correct your cousin.
“Just shut up and drive.”
Tumblr media
You kind of wish you stayed at home because even mangoes wouldn’t survive in this environment.
Actually, there’s nothing wrong with your new school. It seems even more modern and spacious than your old one, and it has way more amenities than you could even imagine. You can see yourself fitting in here quite well, and since Yeonjun is popular, it’ll be easy to make friends.
The only problem is that the air conditioner isn’t working today, which means it’s extremely hot in the building. The hot sun outside paired with the lack of cool air means the whole building could resemble the Sahara Desert, and you wish you’d worn something more fitting for the weather, like the tank top Yeonjun has on right now (although, he seems to have other motives for wearing it). The sweat beads trickle down your forehead, and the only thing saving you right now is the popsicle your cousin was kind enough to buy for you. Unluckily, the gas station only had the mango flavor left.
“Yeonjun, are we done yet?” you ask, although it sounds more like a plea as you trudge along the hallways.
“Actually, no. We still have the science hallway, and the math hallway, and—”
A shrill noise fills the air, and you cover your ears shut and watch Yeonjun’s popsicle fall from his hands. Startled, the two of you find stability against the wall as the sound disappears and is replaced with crackling noises.
“Fuck, my popsicle!” Yeonjun exclaims, looking extremely disappointed as he grabs a tissue and cleans the mess up.
“Forget the popsicle, what was that? It’s a Sunday, who’s playing with the speakers?”
“It’s probably the media team preparing for the week’s announcements. Come, I’ll show you the broadcast studio.”
Yeonjun’s flip-flops squeak across the floor as you two walk, and in a matter of minutes, you reach a bright blue door next to the auditorium. Big block letters indicating which room it is are engraved on top, and Yeonjun knocks on the door repeatedly until it opens.
“I knew it was you,” a blue-haired boy answers, “you’re the only one annoying enough to knock that many times.”
“Hey! You should’ve answered faster.” Yeonjun protests as you giggle, glad you’re not the only one who finds your cousin annoying.
The boy pouts as he lets you two inside, and immediately you feel like you were cast into a recording studio. Shelves of CDs and books fill the sides, and behind the glass panel, a room full of microphones and levers peeks through. You feel like Radio Rebel in her bedroom, only intensified, and as you check out the large computer screens that line the walls, you find yourself imagining sitting in the center and being a part of whatever goes on behind the scenes here.
Your eyes cross over a brown-haired boy sitting at the table, headphones covering his plush hair and a teal highlighter in his hand. He’s looking down at a piece of paper, probably a script, and unknowingly you’re leaning forward to get a better look at his face before Yeonjun taps your shoulder and you straighten yourself.
“Y/N, this is Soobin,” Yeonjun gestures to the blue-haired boy, “and that over there is Beomgyu,” he continues, pointing to the boy at the desk.
Soobin smiles warmly, shaking your hand awkwardly as if this was a courthouse and not a classroom, but your eyes are more focused on Beomgyu. They’re focused on the way he taps the highlighter on his lips when he’s deep in thought, or when he adjusts his headphones when he’s satisfied with something. Yeonjun moves to interrupt him, probably to introduce you, but you hold him back so he can continue his work.
 “Are you interested in joining?” Soobin asks, handing you a flyer, “we could always use more people.”
“I’m not that much of a speaker,” you respond, taking the handout anyway.
“You don’t need to be. We do more here than just talk, you know?”
As Soobin waves you goodbye, you take one last glance at the room, particularly Beomgyu, before you step out. You don’t know for sure whether you’ll join the club or not, but you have a feeling that you’ll be seeing him around pretty soon.
Tumblr media
You might hate your alarm clock more than you hate mangoes, but at least it’s useful.
It’s the first day at your new school, but you’re not really jumping for joy. School is school wherever you go, and you don’t really feel the excitement or jitters someone would usually feel after transferring. You’re just about ready to pass through the rest of the year as smoothly as possible and hopefully not gain unwanted attention as the resident new kid. You’re already suffering enough by joining after a whole semester; you don’t need to bring any more trouble to yourself.
“Y/N, are you ready?” Yeonjun yells from outside the house, revving the accelerator so you can hear his annoyance.
“Coming!” you yell back, grabbing your bag and rushing out the door, holding a half-eaten piece of toast and a glass of orange juice.
Yeonjun likes to go to school a little early so he can talk to his friends, but this was a fact you didn’t know until five minutes ago. In an ideal situation, you wouldn’t have been rushing on your first day, but your cousin never makes things easy for you. At least he didn’t drive off without you.
Yeonjun attempts to lecture you about your lateness in the car, but you tell him to pay attention to the road and stuff the toast in your mouth. One thing you won’t let your cousin disturb you about is food, so you’re glad he calms down and lets you enjoy a peaceful ride to school.
You’re finishing your orange juice as he pulls into the student parking lot. He has a spot reserved for him, apparently, and the fact seems to be true as he parks in the space with “YEONJUN” decorated in bright red spray-paint letters. He puts on sunglasses as he exits the car, and you’re extremely glad he doesn’t have fans swooning over him in front of his car because you don’t know how much more you can take. Who does he think he is?
Thankfully, the air conditioner seems to be working this time around because as soon as you enter through the front doors, a blast of cool air hits you in the face. It’s only January, but the sun outside doesn’t seem to be taking a break this week, so you’re grateful for the human wonder that is A/C. Yesterday’s empty halls are now filled with students, and already Yeonjun is dragging you off to introduce you to some new people. You’re just glad he has pink hair because otherwise, you would’ve lost him.
By the time you reach your first class, your mind is riddled with names of people you’ll probably never talk to again. You’ve met at least three Jaehyuns, a Yunjin and a Yujin and another Han Yujin, two Jisungs, and many more students you definitely won’t remember. If you were on your own, it would’ve taken you a whole year to talk to this many people, but with a semi-superstar by your side, it only took ten minutes. You’re just glad your presence seems to be well-received.
Your first class is math, and already you find yourself falling asleep. A stack of books finds its way onto your desk, a textbook for everything you could need, and you can foresee yourself sleeping in to skip this terrible class. The only good sight about this class is Mr. Kim, who’s nice and tries to be entertaining, but there are only so many ways you can make numbers and formulas fun. At least the girl sitting in front of you, Yunjin from earlier, helps you pass the time by doodling her number on the margins of your notebook.
Bored and half asleep, you trudge your way to your second class, history. You’re grateful your cousin helped you find your way across the school yesterday, because your class is across the school in a corner you wouldn’t have even known existed. Unlucky for you, Mrs. Jung isn’t as nice or entertaining as Mr. Kim, but just before you can succumb to slumber, the intercom buzzes.
The morning announcements play, but instead of Soobin’s voice, you hear someone unfamiliar.
“Hey everyone, happy Monday! It’s the beginning of the week, which means we have a long road ahead, but I believe in each and every one of you to get through it. We’re only a couple of weeks from break, which is an exciting thought to look forward to…”
You realize halfway through that the voice is Beomgyu’s, and you don’t know what it is about his voice, but it seems to be perfect for starting off the announcements. He seems to be tasked with maybe a desperate attempt to cheer up the student body on a dreary Monday, but they seem to be doing the job because you feel much lighter than before the announcements. Others seem to feel the same way too, because the atmosphere in the once stale, cornered history classroom is now bright and jolly. You honestly wish you had listened to the full script he had prepared, but either because of your previous fascination or his soft, honeylike voice, you find it hard not to be lulled to dreamland.
After, he's followed by Soobin, who talks about the daily updates and the weather, and you wonder how he manages to sound so upbeat and cheery this early in the morning. He then passes the mic to a boy named Taehyun, who voices important announcements and leads the school pledge before the mic crackles off.
You can’t stop thinking about Beomgyu for the rest of the class period, so when he slides into the empty seat next to you halfway through the lesson, you think you must be imagining things. It’s like he’s glowing, as if a dreamy filter spans across his face. You stare at him until he stares back and raises an eyebrow, a quirk to show his feelings of confusion. He throws a rolled-up piece of paper at you, and when you catch it, you realize he’s very much real.
Bit by bit, you unfold the paper, and in scratchy handwriting, he’s written ‘Am I that interesting?’ in all caps. Your face feels like it’s on fire, and you tuck the paper in between the crease of your notebook, filled with doodles of Beomgyu’s name. You quickly shut it, hoping he didn’t see it, and avoid his gaze for the rest of the period.
Unluckily for you, fate doesn’t seem to be on your side because as soon as the bell rings, Beomgyu is reaching out to grab your elbow. You think you’re utterly and absolutely fucked, and you’re even more mortified when he links elbows with you and leads you out of the classroom.
“What’s your next class?” he prods, and you only answer after he asks a second time because you’re too embarrassed to register anything.
“English, with Mr. Yoon. Look, I’m sorry about before, I thought I was dreaming—”
“Dreaming? Are you in love with me or something?” he asks, and even though the question is accusatory, his smooth voice makes it sound like music to your ears.
“No!” you exclaim, a little too loudly that you have to apologize to the teachers standing in the hallway before continuing, “Look, I was falling asleep in Mrs. Jung’s class, okay? Since the seat next to me was empty beforehand, I thought you were a random daydream that I was making up to distract myself. I genuinely didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable with my staring or anything, I just didn’t know you were real until you threw that ball at me.”
“Oh, it’s okay,” he responds, his features softening at your explanation, “her class is pretty boring anyway. You’re new here, right? Yeonjun’s cousin? I’m Beomgyu.”
“I’m Y/N, nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too. You’re a little weird, you know that?” he remarks, laughing as he walks you to class.
You look down at your linked elbows and his goofy skipping. His observance is contradictory, but somehow, his weirdness is a little endearing to refute.
“Yeah, but you’re a little weird too. We cancel each other out, I guess.”
Tumblr media
As soon as you step into the production room, you’re cast with the smell of mangoes. Seriously, those damned fruits seem to be following you, and you can never seem to escape them.
“Y/N! Hi! Welcome!” Soobin greets, ushering you into the room and grabbing you a seat, “We’re so happy to have you.”
It’s the next Thursday, a week after the dreaded daydream incident, and you’ve decided to show up to the broadcast meetings. You’ve been toying with the idea of joining ever since you walked into the room on Sunday, but it was Beomgyu’s insistence yesterday that really pushed you over the cliff of uncertainty.
“We have a lot of fun there. You don’t even have to speak on the morning announcements to be a part of it! We do much more than that, like run the newspaper and manage the yearbook. There’s a place for everyone, Y/N, you won’t regret joining.”
Even now, he waves warmly from the seat next to you. You’ve been talking frequently these days, partially because he’s in quite a few of your classes and partially because he’s part of a group chat Yeonjun added you to. He’s interesting to talk to and he always makes you laugh, and being around him makes you feel warm and fuzzy. Like your initial observance, he’s a little weird and goofy too, but it makes him all the more delightful.
You’re not crushing on him, of course. He’s a nice person to pass the time with during and after school. Besides, your friends at home are much better; he’s just a placeholder.
“Have some cake, Y/N!” Soobin insists, pushing a plate toward you, “It’s mango flavored!”
You smile hesitantly as you pick up the spoon and take a bite. It tastes good and you hate admitting it because mango is a good flavor; you just don’t like being reminded of the sentiment that comes along with it. You gaslight yourself into thinking it’s strawberry and finish the plate quickly, downing your water bottle straight after.
“Was it good?” Beomgyu asks, his voice a little hard to hear due to the conversations of next week’s script being tossed around behind him, “I got it from a bakery near my house. We actually have a snack at every club meeting, and this week was my turn to bring it.”
“Yeah, it was good. I’m just not really fond of mango,” you respond, already cringing at the words coming out of your mouth.
“You don’t like mango? Who doesn’t like mango?” Beomgyu voices, responding exactly how you expected him to.
“Me. I just don’t.”
Beomgyu drops the topic at your insistence and talks about the club instead, introducing you to some of the members. Taehyun, the boy from the announcements, is president, and Soobin is vice president. You learn that Beomgyu does a little bit of everything, and you try not to smile as he blushes when his friends list out his talents.
“Is Yeonjun not part of the club?” you ask after he’s introduced you to one of the many Jaehyuns part of the management team, “you guys seem to be good friends.”
“He was initially, but he has modeling lessons on Thursday so he can’t make it. He’s more like an honorary member, to be honest, but he helps us out a lot.”
You hum in agreement, meeting another Jaehyun (why are they all so attractive?) and rounding the corner to talk to Taehyun.
“I’ll leave you with Tae. He’ll help you figure out which team you’re best suited for.”
Taehyun pulls out a chair for you as Beomgyu walks away, and you can immediately see why he’s president. He’s a little reserved but he’s domineering, and he seems perfect for managing things behind and in front of the scenes.
“So, Y/N, did you have anything in mind when you were joining?”
“No, not really. I’m not very talkative though, and I don’t know how to handle a camera.”
“Yeah, Beomgyu also mentioned those things. I think you’ll be a good fit for the newspaper, based on first impression. Editors mostly work on the scripts and I think you’ll find it interesting. Come, I’ll introduce you to the head.”
He introduces you to Yunjin, the girl from your math class, and she helps you get the editing software and drive set up. Yunjin tells you that she’s the type of person who has a lot to say, and writing is a powerful outlet for her because it allows her to explore topics she’s passionate about. You don’t exactly know if you relate to her thought process, but it does make you feel a little excited.
“Is Beomgyu also part of the editing team?” you ask, mainly out of curiosity because you saw him revising the script on Sunday.
“Ah, kind of. He floats around between everything so I guess I could say that he is. Would you like to read some of his work?” she asks, pulling out a newspaper article from a stack in the corner, “Last issue, he wrote the front page spread dissing the school lunch menu. It might seem silly, but it was actually a huge hit, and honestly, the food has even gotten better since.”
You skim through the newspaper, and the interactive, colorful parts draw your gaze in. Elements like the pie chart, bolded words, and quotes make the article worth reading, and you can already tell from skimming the text that Beomgyu is a good writer. You flip through the rest, reading the story headlines and noting that some are serious, some are current, and some are merely just for entertainment. Even throughout the rest of the spreads, you can tell the writers put effort into making sure the newspaper is actually catered to the student population, and you can already imagine yourself publishing an issue of your own in the near future.
“Since you’re new, you can help Beomgyu out with his new piece. Let’s take things slow, okay?”
You nod, turning to face Beomgyu. You don’t know what’s going on in that fascinating mind of his, but you’re excited to find out.
Tumblr media
It’s been a busy few weeks since you’ve moved here. Unfortunately, school doesn’t slow down time for you, so you’ve had to handle piles of schoolwork on top of adjusting to your new environment, at school, and at home. Your aunt, for one, is double the amount of hyper your parents were, and it’s taken you a while to get adjusted to her presence. At least you’ve had Yeonjun to help you out.
The one thing that you’ve actually looked forward to at school is the broadcast club. Taehyun was right about you fitting the editor role, and you’ve grown to fit in quite well with the other members. Mainly, however, you spend most of your time with Beomgyu, often looking over his shoulder and bouncing off ideas he has and grammatical errors he needs to fix. The issue is a little satirical, making it fun to read, and you’ve enjoyed helping him out because he actually values your input and your experiences.
It's the reason why he invited you to come to school on Sunday. He thought working in a quieter environment would help you two brainstorm better, and you agreed. You’ve been busy all week working on collecting student opinions for him, and today, he hopes you two can get a significant portion of the article complete.
Unlike the first Sunday you were here, the air conditioning is actually on now, but you still feel a little sweat prickling at the top of your forehead. You’re nervous because this is the first time you’ve actually been alone with Beomgyu, without anyone else nearby to mitigate your nerves. You’re scared about screwing up in front of him, or even worse, floating off into dreamland, but hopefully, you’ll be able to concentrate on your work and keep your thoughts at bay. If anything goes wrong, you can just blame it on his sweet voice.
You’re at least thankful Yeonjun hasn’t caught wind of how you two met, because he would never stop holding it over your head.
You knock three times on the blue door and Beomgyu pulls it open, wearing a bright grin on his face. He’s in a hoodie and sweats, a little bit more casual than his school attire, but somehow it just makes him more attractive. Combined with his dimples, he resembles a teddy bear, and you’re honestly surprised he hasn’t joined the modeling industry like your cousin. He’d make so much money as a loungewear model, you just know it.
“Hey, come in! I just got here, so I’ve been working on some scripts for the next week. You can get your stuff sorted while I finish.”
You nod, pulling the papers out of your bag and opening your laptop. Your mission for the week was to interview students regarding the article. You don’t know if he’ll like them, but hopefully, you’ve got some good anecdotes for Beomgyu to include in his writing.
Or, apparently not.
“Beomgyu.”
“Hmm?” he asks, looking up from his paper.
“I accidentally grabbed Yeonjun’s bag. I left the data at home, I’m so, so sorry. I can’t believe how stupid I am; how could I even forget something this important?”
“Hey, Y/N,”
“I just knew something was going to go wrong today, and I was so scared I was going to fuck things up and I did, and—”
“Y/N!”
You stop in your tracks, eyes wide and close to tears. You’re usually not this sensitive at all, but this means a lot to you, working with Beomgyu means a lot to you, and you don’t want to lose all of this over your stupidity and inattentiveness. However, Beomgyu looks far from angry, and he has his hands on your shoulders, rubbing them to calm you down.
“It’s okay. You’re all good. We have so much more time until the deadline, so don’t beat yourself up, okay? We can just hang out and have fun. Look, I even brought you some mochi from the corner store!”
He shows you the packet, and the bright yellow color is enough to have you burst into tears.
“Did I do something wrong?” he asks, looking at the packet, “it’s mango flavored. Oh! You don’t like mango. I’m so sorry, it slipped my mind. Forgive me?”
You sniffle, bringing him into a hug. The mochi wrapper crinkles between you as you put your head on his shoulder, clutching onto him as a means to calm you down. Beomgyu stills for a moment, probably out of shock before patting your back, albeit awkwardly yet reassuring.
“Sorry,” you mumble, “I didn’t mean to have a breakdown like that. I just didn’t want you to hate me. And I’ll eat the mango mochi, don’t worry.”
“I could never hate you, Y/N.”
“You’ve only known me for a couple of weeks; how could you say that?”
“Because even in the short time I’ve known you, I can tell how much of an amazing person you are. You’re bright and talented, and I love spending time with you, so stop apologizing, okay? It was just an accident.”
“Okay, I will,” you whisper, stepping back, “So, what now?”
“We could finish the mochi, for starters.”
You nod as you open the wrapper and take a bite. It’s tasty, so much so that you hate it, and you’re honestly five seconds away from letting go of your stupid grudge just to enjoy some fresh mango. However, your parents have plagued you enough with the fruit on their phone calls, which seems to hold your desires back well enough.
You stand to your feet as Beomgyu beckons you to follow him, wanting to show you something. He lets you in through the small door leading to the glass panel room, and you’re immediately illuminated by the huge screens around you. So much technology surrounds you, from microphones to switches to headphones, but you’re more intrigued by the feedback noise that emits once Beomgyu twists a knob, similar to the one you heard when you first got here.
“Does it usually make that noise when you turn it on?” you ask, walking around the room.
“Yeah, it’s a little bit annoying. That’s why we have to keep it turned on before school starts.”
“I figured. I heard it when I came here with Yeonjun before my first day.”
Beomgyu turns to you with an expression of mild surprise.
“I think Soobin and I were here that day. You should’ve visited us.”
“We did. We talked to Soobin, but you were working on something so we didn’t want to disturb you.”
“Is that why you thought I was in your daydream the day after?”
You feel like you’re on fire, and you look away from him. You didn’t expect Beomgyu to be this perceptive, but it was probably your fault for walking straight into this.
“Umm. Yeah, kind of. It’s embarrassing,” you say, covering your face with your palms.
“It’s not,” he responds, tapping your shoulder, “it’s actually kind of cute. Now that you’re in this room with me again, will I be in another one of your daydreams? I loved feeling like a celebrity.”
You mentally shrivel in humiliation, cringing when he lets out a laugh. If Yeonjun is a tease, then Beomgyu is most definitely a menace.
Tumblr media
You are extremely close to falling asleep.
Currently, you’re sunbathing on one of Yunjin’s many beach chairs. They’re colorful and the sun shines ever so gently on your face, so the setting is perfect for you to take a nap. Too bad you’re at a pool party and not in your backyard, and Yunjin just might murder you if you drift off to dreamland after all the hard work you’d put into setting things up.
It’s spring break, which means one whole week of warm sun rays and well-needed rest. The newest issue of the magazine was published yesterday, and particularly this time around, it seemed to be quite popular amongst the student population. The group decided to throw a party to celebrate all the hard work that’s gone into publishing, and what other location would it be at than Yunjin’s gigantic mansion?
You’re particularly proud of Beomgyu’s hard work because his spread was absolutely stunning, but he merely brushed it off and thanked you for helping him when you thanked him earlier. He can be calm and graceful like that at times, like a soft breeze. Now, however, you turn to your side to see him sipping a mocktail on the chair next to you, donned in sunglasses and shark-decorated swim shorts, the farthest thing from serene.
“What flavor is that?” you ask, your voice tinged with sleep, “Actually, never mind. It’s probably mango.”
He laughs, and it’s so, so pretty. If you had to pick one sound to hear for the rest of your life, you’d take your chances on that.
“It is, but it’s kind of watery. I’m gonna save it for later though,” he starts, turning to face the pool and pointing at Taehyun.
“What about him?” you ask, craning your head to see him lounging in the pool with a duck floatie.
“If I cannonball into the pool, just how drenched do you think he’ll be?”
Your cries are practically unheard as you watch Beomgyu jump into the pool, absolutely obliterating not only Taehyun but also poor, unsuspecting Soobin next to him. Ten minutes later, after receiving a well-deserved scolding from Taehyun and issuing apologies, Beomgyu slogs his way back to the chair on your left with a shit-eating grin on his face.
“That was definitely worth it.”
“It definitely was not,” you counter, sitting up and leaning against the back, “you’re literally such a nuisance. If I had known you were this terrible, I would not have become friends with you.”
“I mean, you technically didn’t choose. You can’t really help who you daydream about, right?”
You’re glaring daggers into him, but he’s cruel enough to still find the situation funny. You can’t believe he’s trying to hold back laughter even in this situation, but you probably shouldn’t have expected any better. Seriously, how did he go from the sweet-talker broadcast boy to the literal devil?
“Watch your words, or I will slice you up as I did to all the mangoes in Fruit Ninja last week.”
“Woah, chill,” he starts, putting his sunglasses back on and taking a sip of his watery mocktail, “why do you even hate mangoes? You talk about them as if they were your exes.”
“My parents left me here to start a mango business in Thailand,” you say, picking at the skin next to your thumbnail and wincing when it hurts.
Beomgyu spits out his drink in alarm, but you kind of saw it coming. You’ve noticed that he tends to exaggerate things a lot, but you guess it’s just part of his personality.
“Wow, that genuinely sucks. I’m really sorry; I shouldn’t have prodded.”
“It’s okay. I don’t tell people because it’s only temporary. I might not even be here next year.”
Two months ago, you would’ve been happy at the thought. Now, however, even mentioning it brings a pang of sadness to your chest. You’ve known your time here was momentary all along, so why do you feel guilty?
“Are you happy?” he says, his voice a lot quieter now, “I mean, would you want to stay here or go back?”
You want to tell him what you think is logical, and logically, your old home was much better than here. You practically grew up there, and the place suits you so well that you’re meant to be there. However, the words that rush out of your heart speak differently.
“I honestly don’t know. I like it here, but I like it there too. I’ll just enjoy my time here before I leave. I still have a while anyway.”
Beomgyu flips to the other side, away from your gaze before he speaks. If you weren’t listening carefully, you might’ve not been able to hear his words.
“I don’t want you to leave. I like it when you’re here.”
He sounds so soft and clingy that it almost makes you cry. Instantly, you know that no one has ever cared enough to share the same sentiment back at your old house.
Home. You should’ve called it home, but it doesn’t feel right anymore. You used to think that home was a physical feeling, a place where you were raised and nurtured. Home before was the walls of the building you spend the most time in, but now, it feels a little different.
No, home isn’t your old house. It isn’t your new house either, even if the beige has grown quite well to your liking. Home is sitting here on this beach chair, surrounded by your closest friends, and the feelings of warmth that surround you all. Home is an emotion, something you’ve never felt in the past years of your life until you moved here. Home is being surrounded by people who want you, just because you’re you and not because it would be convenient.
“I like being here too,” you whisper back, and although he has his back turned to you, you can still feel his smile.
“Then just tell your parents you want to stay here.”
You can’t tell him that your mindset has made you feel that this is all temporary. Ever since you moved here, you’ve felt like a ticking bomb, waiting for a single phone call to determine your fate. Once, you would’ve been able to answer that it’s where you belong. Now, you seem to question if it’s merely just an obligation.
“It’s not that simple, Beomgyu.”
He sighs, and as he turns back around to face you, you drape an arm over your eyes. You don’t want to feel the intensity of his glare, but even without your vision, you feel his eyes shooting daggers into your abdomen. If only life were as easy as being able to sense Beomgyu’s responses, for you would’ve been sipping margaritas on some island with your talents.
“Isn’t it? Or maybe, just maybe, you’re overcomplicating it.”
You sigh, unwilling to answer, and the conversation falls to a standstill. You hate thinking, especially about this, but eventually, Beomgyu’s words are going to catch up to you. Whatever the implications of this conversation are, you’re sure you won’t enjoy them.
Not one bit.
Tumblr media
You’re walking home with Beomgyu a couple of days after break has ended, an unfamiliar scene for you. Usually, Yeonjun drives you home in his shiny car, but he had to stay back for some tutoring today and you were left ride-less. Thankfully, Beomgyu swooped in to save the day, saying he’d keep you company since he knew the route. You’d accepted quite freely, definitely because you didn’t want to rely on Google Maps and not because you liked spending time with him.
Spring is in full season, which means the walk home is filled with greenery and a lush breeze. You feel like something out of a Studio Ghibli movie, but as you turn to look at Beomgyu, you realize he’s more aptly fitted for the scenario.
His hair is fluttering slightly through the wind, and his side profile is so perfect that only an animation artist could’ve crafted it. Beautiful is the only word to describe him, and each glance you take becomes increasingly hard to look away from.
You like him. It’s not a realization that’s come from this moment, but rather a million moments beforehand. Whenever you try to pinpoint an exact moment, your mind runs blank, as if you were pre-programmed to have him in your heart since the beginning of your existence. You’d just been so immersed in convincing yourself that you didn’t that you never really accepted you did.
“Y/N,” you hear from his lips, “are you going to the spring dance?”
The spring dance is next week, and it’s all everyone has been talking about lately, especially Yunjin. Honestly, if the Jung Jaehyun asked you out (yes, you can finally differentiate between the multiple Jaehyuns), you wouldn’t shut up about it either, but you don’t have any interest in it otherwise. The only updates you hear are when you don’t tone out Yunjin in math (there’s only so much you can hear about his features), and you’re growing quite sick of the talk.
Mainly though, you’re just annoyed you have to go without a date. A certain someone always pops up in your mind when you think about the event, but you’re too shy to ask and he seems to be preoccupied with other things. Even if it’s going just as friends, you’d take the chance, but it doesn’t seem in your cards for the near future.
“Yeonjun is forcing me to. I’d much rather spend my Friday nights with a show, but it is what it is.”
“Oh, come on!” he protests, shaking his head, “it’s always super fun. You won’t regret coming.”
“I guess, but I don’t really know who to go with. Yeonjun has a date, and I don’t want to be a third wheel.”
Beomgyu fishes something out of his pockets and holds it out to you. Upon closer inspection, you realize it’s a rectangular mango drink, and you raise an eyebrow.
“I know, I know, but it’s still driving me crazy that you hate mango. I want to be the person that changes your opinion on it, okay? Whenever you think of mango, don’t think of your parents, think of me!”
You roll your eyes as you grab the drink and punch the straw in. You don’t want to admit it, but the gesture is sweet, and already your negative thinking is rewriting itself to include positive memories with Beomgyu.
“Whatever,” you say, attempting to take a sip out of the straw only to find it stuck, “is there something wrong with your straw? Mine isn’t working.”
“No, there isn’t,” he replies, confusion settling across his face, “is it blocked? There might be something inside.”
Sure enough, you peek through the hole to see something white stuck in the straw, and you try your hardest to pull it out with your fingers. The texture is a little rough and thin, almost paper-like, but sadly you fail to get it out.
“Can you actually not get it out?” he asks, looking worried.
“Yeah, but it’s not that big of a deal. I’ll just get another straw after I get home.”
“This cannot be happening right now.” he mutters, grabbing it from you and trying his hardest to squeeze out the object, “Of course I fucked this up.”
“Beomgyu, it’s okay. Relax. It’s not that big of a deal,” you respond, trying to calm him down after seeing him get this worked up, “it’s just a drink.”
“But it’s not! Ugh,” he says, frustrated as he pulls out his phone, “you were supposed to be able to pull out the paper.”
“What are you talking about?”
He passes over his phone to you, and there’s a picture of a small piece of paper on it. When you zoom in to get a better look at the writing on it, you gasp.
“It takes two to mango, so will you be my partner?” you read out loud, looking at Beomgyu.
He smiles awkwardly, shrugging his shoulders.
“You’re asking me to be your date for the dance? Oh my god, yes!”
You hug him tightly, pressing your head into the crook of his shoulder. You don’t know if his intentions behind this are friendly or romantic, but the mere thought of being together, even just for a night, has you reeling. You feel so, so giddy as if you’re already on the dance floor and swaying in his arms.
You feel him sigh in relief, hugging you back.
“I’m so sorry I fucked up everything. It was supposed to be super cute—”
“Don’t worry about it. Even if you just asked me the question, I would’ve been happy. It was so creative though; how’d you come up with it?”
“I, um. I searched it up,” he replies, and you hear the bashfulness in his voice, “I just wanted it to be meaningful enough to us. I know that it’s unoriginal, sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Even just you researching to find something this creative is meaningful to me.” you answer honestly, “I’m saving that straw forever, I swear.”
He laughs, and you feel his chest vibrate against you. It’s a comforting feeling, one you’ll hopefully experience at the dance next week.
“I’m so excited. I can’t wait,” he whispers, pulling you in a little tighter.
“Yeah,” you whisper back, holding onto him, “Me too.”
Tumblr media
The dance is a little lame, but being here with Beomgyu makes it worthwhile.
Seriously, if you’d come alone, you probably would’ve ended up sitting in the corner and munching on the brownies (they’re actually tasty, you can’t even deny it). However, Beomgyu has made it his personal mission for you to have fun, which is why he pulls you onto the dance floor to vibe with the beat of the song.
“This is so high school,” you mutter, feigning annoyance, “what song even is this?”
“I think it’s ‘Good Boy Gone Bad’ by TXT.”
“I’ve never heard of them.”
“Who cares? Stop being a downer and let loose a little.”
Contrary to your dislike, you do end up dancing. The song has a peppy beat and the two of you lose yourself in it, but even as you forget all of what occupies your brain, Beomgyu still remains in your head.
You’ll never forget the sparkling expression on his face when he saw your outfit as he picked you up from your house or the way he turned up your favorite song as you sped along to the venue. You would pay a million dollars just to relive that moment again, laughing at each other’s singing and enjoying each other’s company, but you realize that you don’t need to experience past moments with Beomgyu when he constantly makes better memories with you. With Beomgyu, you like living in the present, and he makes you forget about special days in the past you had coined as ‘the best day ever’ because nothing could compare to the feeling of being by his side like this.
The song ends, leaving you all woozy and excited, but the feelings quickly shift away when a much slower beat starts playing. You don’t even have to ask for the song name, because Beomgyu is already whispering it into your ear.
“’Fairy of Shampoo’ by the same artist. They’re pretty good, right?”
You move to nod, but the action is long forgotten as Beomgyu wraps his arms around your waist. He’s staring you in the eyes, a silent request for permission, and your response is wrapping your arms around his neck in a similar manner. You sway, and Beomgyu follows your lead, but this time around, the only thing you’re losing yourself in is his eyes.
The soft, angelic singing and chatter around you are muffled as if everyone in the room has disappeared except you and Beomgyu. You’re in a trance, with the perfect feeling of his arms around you as if they were always meant to be there. It’s so easy to will yourself away from everything to focus his gaze that you should be concerned, but one look at his eyes can confirm he’s in the same boat.
Maybe friends can ask each other out to dances. Maybe friends can slow-dance together. However, you find it hard to believe friends can look each other like this in the eyes and pretend they don’t feel anything.
Before you know it, the air grows hazy, and the only thing that makes your vision clearer is leaning in closer to Beomgyu. Or maybe that’s what’s making you crazy in the first place, but you don’t care because you’re trapped in the magnetic pull he emits that drives you closer, and closer, and closer. You’re close enough to notice the small moles on his cheek and the faint cologne he wears that smells like jasmine. You can’t even tell if you’re moving anymore because the only action you’re focused on is the fluttering of his eyelashes and the pursing of his lips.
It takes your brain a while to register what he says next because his voice is husky enough to be covered by the music, but the mere fact that his voice dropped three octaves has your mind spinning.
“Do you want this as badly as I do?”
Your throat is so parched you can’t even speak, but you don’t need words to imply what you want. You nod, the tiniest nod that if he wasn’t so focused, he wouldn’t have seen it, but his eyes are solely on you and that’s enough confirmation for him. The last thing you see is him leaning dangerously close before your eyes flutter shut, but the moment is ruined as your phone rings from your pocket and startles you both.
You fumble with the device as he clears his throat, leaning back, and with wide eyes, you see that it’s your mother calling. You’re cursing her mentally for calling at the worst possible time, but one look at Beomgyu has him motioning you off the dance floor.
“Take it; it’s probably important. I’ll be right here.”
You smile tightly before rushing off the dance floor, finding a place near the entrance that’s much quieter than the center. From this position, you have a straight view of Beomgyu in the middle, but you’re blocked by a sea of people surrounding him. It reminds you just how many obstacles you have between each other, and you mentally berate yourself for being so careless and almost kissing him before answering the phone.
“Hello? Mom?”
“Oh honey, hi! Your Auntie told me you were at some school dance, are you having fun?”
“I am,” you whisper back, just now realizing how much you miss your parents sending you off to these dances, “but I miss you a lot.”
“Actually, I called you about that!”
“What do you mean?”
“Our business here is doing so well that another company wants to buy us and give us a huge amount of shares. This means we can move back home and still make a profit!”
Your mom goes on about the logistics, but all you hear is white noise ringing through your ears. You knew this moment would creep up on you, but you just didn’t expect it so suddenly, especially after sharing such an intimate moment with Beomgyu. God, Beomgyu. How can you even begin to tell him?
“Mom, I have to go.”
“Of course, you must be busy! I’ll call you later, okay?”
Your fingers shake as you cut the call, tears brimming at the corner of your eyes. The room feels hazy once again, but this time, it feels suffocating. Your cheeks feel hot and you have no idea what to do, and all you can feel is Beomgyu’s gaze staring at you from across the room, boring into your eyes. All you can think is that he knows, and he hates you, and he’s going to feel so betrayed—
“Y/N? Are you okay?” you hear, and Yeonjun steps in front of you, blocking the connection between you and your crush.
“I- I need to go home. Please.”
You’re glad Yeonjun knows when to not be a nuisance, because all he does is nod wordlessly and clasp your palm, leading you to the car. You’re thankful that your cousin is actually a nice person deep down because he’s ditching his date and dropping his many it-boy moments just to take you home and let you cry on his shoulder. You try so, so hard not to look back because you know you’ll break down, but you can’t help what your heart wants. As you turn and make eye contact with Beomgyu, you see his confused and betrayed expression as he pushes past the people on the dance floor, but the crowd is too large, and he’s stuck between the masses. It’s bitter how these people once reminded you of obstacles, and now they’re exactly that, but you’re thankful because you’re sure you won’t be able to stop the tears if he talks to you right now.
As Yeonjun whisks you away in the dreary night, all you can hope is that Beomgyu remembers only the good moments between you, and not the worst. Maybe one day, just one, you hope he’ll forgive you, even though you know that you’ll never forgive yourself.
Tumblr media
You have no heart to even attempt the history homework sitting on your desk.
It’s only been a week, but you feel like you went through five years of trauma from it alone. If it weren’t for Yeonjun, you would’ve locked yourself in your room the whole week and finished a bucket of ice cream. Instead, you showed up to class every day, draped in an oversized hoodie and making no means of eye contact with anyone. Any time you encountered Beomgyu, you tried your hardest to avoid it, even going as far as bargaining with your teacher to switch seats in history.
The only person you even talked to this week was your cousin. He was the only person you could confide in, probably because he was the only one who truly understood your current predicament. It’s silly, depending so much on the person who could use this as blackmail at any moment, but you have to say you’re a little grateful for him dragging you to school in the morning instead of leaving you to allow in the four walls of your bedroom.
However, even the motivation from Yeonjun can’t stop your bleeding heart. You feel like you’re going through hell and back, and with exams coming up your mind just isn’t in the right place. How long are you going to keep your homework sheets sitting on your table void of pencil markings? Even the mere act of reading the instructions has you tired, and all you can do is rest your head against the table and try not to let your thoughts drift off.
Even this homework reminds you of him. It reminds you of how you would goof off during your lectures, texting each other through the crevices of your desk, or how you would sit for long hours in the library and attempt to study, kicking each other’s feet beneath the table. Even now, you can hear him knocking on the door, asking you to open up and talk.
“Y/N, it’s Beomgyu!”
Okay, maybe that part isn’t your imagination.
Why is he even here? What business would he even want with you after you’ve wronged him so much? Your mind has no idea, but the only thing you’re listening to is your heart as you pull open the door and take in his presence.
He looks beautiful, like always. His existence is something that you want to cuddle into a ball and put in your pocket, yours to keep and cherish forever because he is simply the word soft personified. Today, however, he sports dark circles under his eyes and a paler shade of skin. What has made your teddy bear so sad? Is it your doing?
“Hi,” you whisper, and your hands itch to reach out and wrap him in a tight hug.
“Yeonjun told me what happened. I wanted to give you some space, but it’s torture without you.”
Now you’re confused. Why is he showing up at your door and giving you comfort? Isn’t he the one who has been wronged this whole time?
“You mean, you’re not mad at me?”
“Why would I be? It’s not your fault you need to move back. Sure, I’m sad about it, but this isn’t something you can control, right?”
Now, nothing stops you or your conscience as you wrap your arms around him, furrowing into his familiar scent as tears escape your eyes. You’ve done a lot of hugging recently, but this time, it feels like an eternity has gone by. You never want to let go of him or this moment, and you can even feel your mind memorizing every aspect of this moment.
You guess Beomgyu makes you feel that way. Mind and heart combined, with no conflict.
“You always know what to say,” you point out, sniffling.
“I’d hope so; I have to do it every Monday.”
You laugh, although it’s choked and dry from your crying, but as your head moves, you hear a crinkle from his back pocket.
“What’s that?”
“Oh, um,” he starts, grabbing the object out of his pocket, “they’re mango popsicles. I was going to try and bargain with you if this didn’t work out.”
“Hmm, well, I’m not really convinced yet,” you joke, motioning him to follow you and sit on your bed as he rolls his eyes.
Silence ensues for the next couple of seconds as you both open the wrappers and enjoy the delicacy. The flavor doesn’t even bother you anymore, because now when you think of mango, you think of Beomgyu. You think of his sweetness, his humor, and his bright sunshine personality that matches the color of the delightful fruit.
“Oh, Y/N, you have some juice dripping down your chin,” Beomgyu notices, pointing to the area.
“Where, here?” you ask, patting the left side and feeling its dryness, “or a little higher?”
“No, I- here,” he says, leaning closer with his thumb and brushing off the liquid.
You want to thank him, but as you look up into his eyes, you realize how imperceptibly close you two are. Suddenly, you’re thrust back to a week ago when you were in his arms, leaning into each other until you could feel his breath upon yours, but this time, there’s nothing stopping you. No phone, no crowd, and most importantly, no insecurities come between you two now, and your mind is clear as you lean in and latch your lips upon his.
If you were unsure of what mango meant to you before, you’re definitely sure it will remind you of Beomgyu now, because all you can taste is the mango on his lips. It’s like your mind has gone into overdrive as you move closer, and you can vaguely register him using his free hand to palm the back of your head and tilt it up. The atmosphere doesn’t feel hazy anymore; instead, it feels shy and awkward, as if you were two lovers learning the world together. Like everything with Beomgyu, it feels right, just so right, and you never want to leave because you are his wholeheartedly, and he is yours.
Until you register what’s happening, of course.
You pull away quickly, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Beomgyu’s lips are puffy, and you’re sure yours must mimic a similar appearance, but that’s the least of your worries.
“Beomgyu, I—”
“I love you,” he breathes out, and his voice is light and airy as if he can’t hold in the words anymore, “I love you so much that it kills me you’re leaving. I don’t know how to fix this pain, but what I can say is that I’ll try my hardest to be by your side. Every day I’ve spent with you has been the happiest I’ve ever been in my life, and being without you this past week has made me realize how much light will disappear from my life if you leave. I’ll take you in any way you’ll let me, even if it’s through late-night calls or sparse texts. Please be mine, please.”
He's begging you now, holding your hands within his and clutching tightly, but even the words you want to say are trapped in your throat. You can’t do it to him. You can’t force him to love you thousands of miles away and look forward to you when he has a whole future ahead of him. You may be burdened by the ghosts of your past, but he isn’t, and you can’t deprive him of the one thing that makes himself him: his sunshine.
“I’m so sorry Beomgyu. I can’t put you in that position.”
Even the tears that once hesitated to fall now escape freely as he nods, cradling your cheek. After all that’s happened, he’s still so understanding, and even though he has a tight smile on his face, he keeps on a brave front for you.
“I knew you would say that. It’s okay, we can just enjoy the last of our days together.”
“Don’t hold yourself back for me, alright?” you whisper, wiping the stray tears that you don’t want him to see.
He notices the tear stains on your cheeks anyway, wiping the wetness with the pads of his thumbs. You notice he doesn’t respond, but at this point, he doesn’t need to. Even though you’ve warned him against it, you know without a doubt that he’ll always be waiting for you, even with all your uncertainty.
Tumblr media
The last bell of the year rings, but as your classmates bustle around you with joy and laughter, you don’t know what to feel.
Moving is a funny concept. You leave behind everything you know just to start anew, but unlike most people, you’ve finally gotten the chance to go back to the past. Your old friends, your old family, your old life. Months ago, you would’ve jumped for this opportunity, as many others would in your situation, but now you’re experiencing a bittersweet emotion. You can’t even deny it: this place has had a tremendous impact on you through the experiences it put you through, the people it made you meet, and the emotions it caused you to feel. Even just thinking about going away leaves a pang in your heart, but you suppose life is about these occurrences, whether they’re sad or happy, and you’ll just have to persevere through it like you always do.
You’re walking out to the parking lot when Beomgyu joins you. You’ve still been talking even after the dreaded incident weeks ago, especially since you studied together for exams, but your relationship since you rejected him hasn’t been the same. It’s like you’re tiptoeing around with each other, waiting for one another to break, but you’ve already broken before so you don’t know why it feels so fragile. Maybe it’s the tension in the air around your departure or the lack of definition within your relationship, but either way, it feels suffocating.
At least you’re grateful he hasn’t shut you out yet.
“So, how was your last day of school?” you hear, but this time you focus your eyes on the ground instead.
It feels too weird to look at him. It’s like you don’t have permission to admire his beauty anymore, so you rarely ever make eye contact with him. Instead, you focus on the gum he’s chewing, the one you know is mango-flavored but always so bitter. Maybe it was a sign you two were never meant to be.
“It was good. You know, tiring as always, but I’m glad it’s over.”
“Yeah, I get it. Are you going back home soon?”
Honestly, your parents haven’t been super transparent with you, but from their calls, you assume that you still have well into the summer before you move out. They sound busy wrapping up things, and they haven’t given you an exact date, but they have promised you they’ll be here soon. Like all things in your life, even your parting is uncertain, and that’s what you tell him.
“So, what I hear is that I can still terrorize you over the summer.”
You laugh, but it’s forced and uneasy. The tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife, but honestly, you’ve gotten a little too used to it by now.
“I guess you could, Gyu.”
He stops you in your tracks by stepping in front of you.
“Look, I know we’re a little awkward right now, but I feel like I have to say this, or I’ll never get the chance. I’m so honored to have been your friend, and I’m going to miss you a lot. Like, a lot a lot. I’m sorry for putting you in so many awkward situations, but I hope you can remember the good parts when you think of me.”
You sigh, patting his head. If you were on good terms with him, you would’ve gifted him a hug, but you hope the small gesture can do your feelings enough justice.
“I’m gonna miss you too. A lot a lot,” you mimic, watching him smile, “so text me often, okay? I’m sorry for making things awkward too.”
He shakes his head, willing to argue in your favor, but before he can even start a car horn sounds from the parking lot. You crane your head to see a familiar vehicle, one that’s accompanied you throughout your lifetime, except this time, it’s adorned with a painted mango on the side.
“Mom? Dad?”
Your parents step out of the car, and your legs are moving you towards them before you can even register it. Video calls don’t do their beautiful faces any justice, and it feels so surreal as you stop in front of them, waiting for them to just be a figment of your imagination.
“Hey, sweetie,” your dad says, and that’s all it takes before you’re leaning into his touch, burrowing yourself into him as you would often do when you were a little kid.
You forgot how much pain you felt when they left you here. All this time, you’ve suppressed it, and only at night when you were in your room, half-asleep and overthinking, did you let your tears come to bay. You wanted to be strong for them because everything they did was for you, but it was hard not to lose sight of their eventual return and get lost in the lifeless emotions associated with their disappearance every waking day that passed. It took every ounce of strength in you to pick yourself up every day and pretend like you were fine, but although there were many factors that helped you mitigate those feelings, none of them could truly ever make the ache ebb away.
“Why are you here? I thought it would be a while,” you ask after you’ve calmed down and properly reunited with them, “are we moving back soon?”
“Actually, about that… we’ve changed our minds a little bit.”
Your mom holds your face in her palms, pinching at the skin on your cheek ever so slightly.
“Your aunt told us how happy you are here, and how you’ve grown so much from moving here. I know that losing your parents so suddenly must’ve had a huge impact on you, but if this place helped you with those struggles even just a little bit, then it must be worth staying here. We thought that you might like it if we stayed here permanently. What do you think?”
You can’t believe it. It’s as if the world has deafened and all you can hear is the ringing echoing through your ears because what they’re saying sounds too good to be true. Moving here? Permanently? Is life playing some sort of cruel joke on you?
“You aren’t joking, right?” you whisper, and all your parents can do is laugh as they shake their heads.
They say that your life flashes before your eyes as you die, but right now, all that flashes through your eyes are the memories you’ve made in your seemingly short time here. You remember sitting shotgun in Yeonjun’s car as he annoyed you on the way to school, texting Yunjin during math while you two try not to fall asleep, and teaming up with Taehyun while wreaking havoc on poor Soobin.
However, most importantly, you remember Beomgyu. From the curve of his lips to the rings on his fingers, from the walks home you’ve shared to your first and last kiss in your very bedroom, he’s always been with you wholeheartedly. You haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since that very first day when the boy with dark curls caught your watercolor eyes, and for the foreseeable future, you don’t think you’ll be able to stop.
When you turn to look back at him, he’s there. He’s always there, waiting for you no matter how far you go. Even if he is just a speckle in the distance, just the size of an atom, you are his nucleus and he revolves around you, chasing you until he breaks down into a black hole of nothing. Even now, as you stare at him from the parking lot, one look at you tells him everything he needs to know. He’s here, here before your eyes in a matter of seconds, and as your parents ask him who he is, you know that only the most perfect boy would respond with such a beautiful answer as he directly addresses you.
“I’m whoever you want me to be.”
You shake your head, unable to hide the smile that flits across your face. After a long, long time of shying away from Beomgyu, you’re finally ready to embrace the feelings he brings you, whether tears or smile lines.
“This is Beomgyu, my lover.”
Tumblr media
Your bedroom is still bare with your whole life packed into boxes once again, but at least this time around, your walls are painted yellow again. However, instead of a sunny yellow, they’re more of a mango color, your mom going even as far as to say it’s the exact same hue as the mangoes they grew in Thailand, fresh and ripe. Honestly, you’re just glad you’re not sitting within the depressing beige color again, because why did you even convince yourself it made you happy?
What’s not fresh is the old carpet you and your boyfriend are sitting on, but sometimes you can appreciate the old things too. In fact, it’s somewhat comfortable as you lie in his arms, sprawled across the carpet with no looming future dangling over your head. It’s just you, your other half, and nothing more, enjoying your well-deserved summer break weeks after school has ended.
“I’m not ready for school,” you complain, liking the feeling of being illuminated by the bright sun peeking through your blinds, “I like sitting around doing nothing. Imagine how hectic it would’ve been if I actually moved back.”
Your statement is only half-true though, because there are many things awaiting you once school starts that you’re actually very excited for. For starters, you get to have your own article published in the newspaper, and you have a slight inkling as to what it’s going to be about. Also, you have many wonderful friends who will make your life a lot easier, so even though school is school, at least you’ll have amazing people by your side. Really, you’re just complaining for no reason.
“I’m just glad we won’t have to throw you a farewell party. I don’t think Taehyun or Soobin would’ve let me near Yunjin’s pool again.”
You smack his chest lightly, and he laughs, curling in closer to lay your head against his chest. You really should be unpacking your things, at least, that’s what you told your parents you’d be doing, but you can’t pass up the chance to cuddle with Beomgyu every time you get it. You both have been pining for each other for far too long anyway, so why waste any more time?
“Y/N!” you hear from outside the door, “I brought you food!”
You get up to let your mom in, but Beomgyu is already five steps ahead of you. Your mom gives him a warm smile because seemingly, your parents seem more smitten with him than you are. You can’t really blame them though; who doesn’t like Choi Beomgyu?
“Thank you for the mango, auntie!” he responds, and of course, the endearment has her reeling.
“I thought you two would be hungry after working hard,” she says, leaning over to peek through the gap between him and the door, “but it seems you two have done nothing at all. Oh well, you can eat it anyway. You have all the time in the world.”
You two really do, because as you make yourselves cozy on the carpet once more, bowls of mango in hand, it feels like time has taken a pause after all the misery it has put you through. You eat the slices wholeheartedly as you think, with Beomgyu brushing off the juice that escapes your mouth occasionally when the piece is too big. You’re glad that time is moving slowly because you want to savor every moment you have with him. He deserves it, and so do you.
“We should really start setting things up,” Beomgyu starts, “How long are you going to sleep with just four yellow walls and no decoration? That would be so depressing.”
“Hey, at least it’s less depressing than beige walls,” you grumble, “but even just being here makes me content enough to fall asleep. I have nothing to worry about this time around, especially when you’re just five minutes or a phone call away.”
Mere seconds pass before he’s leaning in to place a kiss on your lips, and of course, everything about him tastes extremely mango. Your malice for the fruit is far gone now, far, far gone because not only are your parents back, but also because Beomgyu is the only thing you think about when reminded of the flavor. However, your rollercoaster feelings for the fruit are the last thing on your mind as you lean in closer, placing the mango bowl beside you.
“You still hate mango, baby?” he whispers between kisses, and it takes everything in you to pull him back, reminding him that you two are supposed to be unpacking and not making out.
“Answer the question,” he whines, a cute little pout on his face that makes you five seconds away from forgetting your very own warning and kissing him breathless again.
“No, I don’t,” you finally answer, grabbing his hand and interlacing it with yours, “I love it now.”
He grins, and you decide to succumb to your desires, forgetting all sense of rationality when it comes to him as you press a kiss to his lips again.
“I love mango just as much as I love you.”
192 notes · View notes
guns-and-brimstone · 3 months ago
Text
{ - JUST A SINNER? - }
||
Guss had finally applied for a new job. His first job in hell, Ever since he got here in fact. He’s come to the realization the he can’t get by on begging forever. He needs a safe place to stay. Warm meals and a solid income. Otherwise he doesn’t know if he’ll make it through another extermination day. The last few times had already been a very close call for him. Finding himself on the streets when exorcists were on the prowl…
||
Of course, The sinner couldn’t just pick ANY form of job. There were things here in hell that even he refused to do in his desperate state. No… It had to be something inside the lines of what he had always been good at. What he had trained to be good at a long time before his death… CONFLICT.
||
It took time. A lot of time to be honest. After weeks of searching through heaps of newspapers, listening to tons of pub conversations. And practically diving head first in to the sewage pit that was hells social media. He had finally heard a rumor of a certain Prince within the Pride ring. A Prince by the name of Stolas. Whom had been unfortunate enough to have a big target painted on his back for… Some reason. Guss didn’t really know the full story behind it. And whatever it may be, he wasn’t really interested at this point. He couldn’t afford to be picky.
||
Guss did his research before he made any attempt to approach the royal. Looking up if he had any bodyguards already working for him. He found nothing… strangely.
||
After working up enough courage, The sinner wrote a letter to Prince Stolas. Giving him his name, and explaining that he was a sinner with a lot of combat experience in life. - Guss only had two minor demands When it came to working as a protector to the goetia family. A place where he could lay his head to rest when needed. And minimal wage payment once a month. If these things were provided, He Would happily lay down his afterlife in protection of Prince Stolas and his Kin. This Guss made very clear to express in his letter.
||
He also wrote that if Prince Stolas was suspisious of him, he would absolutely come in for an interview before any decision was Made. All that was left to do Now was simply wait for a reply… Which would Hopefully come.
@stolas-arsgoetia-rp
31 notes · View notes
c-e-d-dreamer · 9 months ago
Text
A/N: Nesta has had many metamorphosises within the series, but one of my favorites is her relationship with her sister and how that has changed, especially Feyre. And when Noah dropped Stick Season and I heard Orange Juice, I just knew that it was Nesta and Feyre's song. This is short but hopefully sweet. Hope everyone enjoys! cc:@nestaarcheronweek
Read on AO3
The streets of Velaris are strangely quiet this time of evening, most of the residents either wrapped up in their homes or holed up in one of the local taverns for the night. The street lamps and building windows all flicker with golden fae lights, only adding to the ambiance. The first snow of the season falls in soft swirls, catching in Nesta’s hair and eyelashes and further adding to the quiet peace. Even her footfalls don’t make a sound against the snow dusted cobblestones as she walks.
The wrought iron fence that surrounds the River House comes into view, ivy twisting around the metal and up the stone of the home. Just the sight has Nesta’s heart pressing up into her throat, memories breaking free from their cage in the back of her mind and threatening to overwhelm her again. Her skin crawls at being back here again, standing in this place again.
For a moment, the snow melts away around her. For a moment, it’s green grass and flowers. For a moment, raucous laughter floats through open windows and billowing curtains. For a moment, it’s six months ago.
Shaking her head against the cloud of memories, Nesta unfolds the piece of parchment in her hands again, reading the slanting, looping script of her youngest sister.
Come over, please? The party’s gone slower
With a soft sigh, Nesta folds the parchment again, slipping it back inside the pocket of her dress. She swallows down the emotions welling in her chest and pushes through the front gate, following the footpath up the steps and to the front door.
She barely has to knock once before the door is pulled open, Feyre standing on the other side. She’s dressed comfortably with a soft looking sweater and leggings, golden brown hair the same shade as Nesta’s own tumbling down along her shoulders and spine. Though the sleeves hang long, Nesta can still spy paint flecks stuck to the skin of her fingers, can still spy the short nails that are indicative of the habit that still clings to her youngest sister from when they were girls.
“Nesta,” Feyre breathes, offering a small, friendly smile. “I’m so glad you could visit.”
Feyre steps back, gesturing with her arm for Nesta to step inside. Already, Nesta’s eyes start to flit around, noting everything that’s changed. Everything that hasn’t. Her eyes linger on the portraits in golden frames lining the large staircase, lining the hall that leads to the large living room beyond.
“There’s orange juice in the kitchen,” Feyre continues, drawing Nesta’s attention back to her and leading her down a different hall. “We bought it for Nyx, but it’s yours if you want it. I know you got sober.”
“Six months,” Nesta offers, following Feyre into the large kitchen. “On the dot.”
Feyre’s steps pause, and she turns to smile over her shoulder. “That’s great, Nesta.”
She continues deeper into the kitchen and toward the ice box, pulling the door open. Her hands hesitate, and while her back is turned, Nesta recognizes the way Feyre’s fingers curl and twitch, the way her shoulders stiffen. It’s clear that her sister is frowning at whatever she sees, more likely what she doesn’t see.
“Just tea is fine.”
“Right,” Feyre breathes, letting the door fall shut again. “Tea.”
Feyre turns her attention to the cabinets, rummaging to get the kettle full and placed over the flame. The clink of dishes, the shuffle of tea leaves, it all fills the space between them, breaking up the underlying tension threatening to bubble up and stifle them both. With a soft sigh through her nose, Nesta lets her gaze drift back toward the kitchen doorway. Toward the faces and voices she hasn’t encountered since she moved away from the city. They float down the hall and into the kitchen like ghosts on the breeze.
The whole city is like a ghost town, roots and branches twisting like limbs reaching toward her. Shadows creeping out from every corner and alleyway. Nesta feels as much as a stranger in Velaris now as she did six months ago. As much a stranger as she felt in her skin. As much a stranger as she felt in this family.
And if she closes her eyes, Nesta can still see that hillside she passed when she arrived. She can see the white stone, glistening as brightly as the snow that swirled around it. Can see the monument that rises like a beacon, like a ghost all its own.
“I saw father’s grave earlier,” Nesta comments, her voice quiet.
Feyre nearly drops the teacups in her hands, but steadies herself and she sets them down on the counter in front of Nesta. “Elain had the monument built. She tends to the flowers around it every week.”
Nesta hums, taking a sip of her tea. It burns almost as much as the anger flaring through her veins. Almost. No matter the time that’s passed, it still fills her like a raging sea, still scorches like those silver flames she’s tried to swallow down. There’s no escaping it some days. No way to stop it from pulling her and drowning her through her silent screams.
“You know,” Feyre begins, sliding the tip of her finger along the rim of her teacup. “I feel like I’ve been waiting for you to come home for so long.”
“Velaris isn’t my home,” Nesta reminds her, dropping her gaze to the swirling liquid of her tea so she won’t see the expression she’s sure will take over her youngest sister’s face. “Besides, we both know I’m third in the lineup to your lord and savior of a High Lord.”
“That’s not fair, Nesta.”
“It doesn’t matter anyways.”
Feyre sighs, a sound that Nesta knows well, one that tells her that her sister clearly disagrees but is swallowing down her argument. “I didn’t think to ask you where you ended up after you left… or why you left in the first place.”
She says the last part quietly, her voice trailing off, and guilt roils through Nesta’s gut and cloys up her throat. But she refuses to let its roots twist around her ribs, refuses to let it settle. Because she still remembers how it felt six months ago. She still remembers every cut, every bruise, every open wound that festered beneath her skin. Every ache that weighed down her soul. She still remembers the way her heart felt changed until it was little more than an unwelcome intruder in her chest.
“After the war… after the Cauldron, really, everything changed,” Nesta explains, finally raising her gaze back to Feyre’s.
“I know that everything was difficult for you…”
“No, you don’t understand. The world had changed. My life had changed. My heart and my very soul had changed, and yet you hadn’t changed at all.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t you find it strange that after everything that happened, you just went ahead and carried on? You came back here and celebrated as if nothing had happened. Everything had changed irrecoverably for me, and for you, it was just another day.”
“Nesta–”
“Did you know that the last time I drank, I was right here in front of your house? That I passed out right there in your lawn?”
Feyre’s entire face shifts with the admission, pain spilling through her blue eyes. “You–I didn’t know.”
“Gods, I must look like crow to you now compared to everything you have. Just pulling you down.”
Nesta pushes her half finished tea away from her, moving to step back and head toward the door, but fingers curl around her forearm, holding her in place. Feyre’s expression is pleading, but there’s understanding flickering beneath it as well. It’s the sort of look only a sister can give. One who shared the teeth and the claws. One who can recognize and see through any mask or bullshit.
A mirror in the truest sense.
“It wasn’t your fault, what happened to father,” Feyre tells her quietly.
Emotions clog up Nesta’s throat until she fears she won’t be able to breathe. But she doesn’t dare break away from Feyre’s eyes, doesn’t dare pull away from her sister’s grip.
“You didn’t put those bones in the ground.”
Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @lady-nestas @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @books-books-books4ever @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune @that-little-red-head @readergalaxy @thesnugglingduck @kale-theteaqueen @tarquindaddy @superflurry @bri-loves-sunflowers @lady-winter-sunrise @witch-and-her-witcher @fieldofdaisiies
49 notes · View notes
equallyshaw · 1 year ago
Text
the one where - | nico hischier
Tumblr media
─ nico x erik johnson oc sister
warnings: swearing, anxiety attack. angst, thats all i can say. a bit slow burning as well. sexual themes at end, but its like pg.
word count: 5.8K
shoe link.
dress link.
clutch link.
second outfit.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
the first time they met.
miranda stepped into the prudential arena for the first time since she had been hired by the management team. she followed the team assistant that had been waiting for her as soon as she walked into the staff wing, and the two made their way up to her office than she would be getting a personal tour of the arena. miranda johnson was hired as as the devils second in command to their head psychologist, thought she was hired for the social worker aspect. "is it true your erik johnsons little sister?" the assistant asked and the girl nodded towards the older girl. "yep unfortuntly." miranda hummed causing the blonde girl to giggle. "i have an older brother too- id like to kill him sometimes." and miranda laughed. "oh good lord, i want to sometimes as well. sometimes they need their lives threatened every once in a while." miranda joked as casey opened her office door.
four walls covered with grey paint, a desk, small leather couch, mini fridge, a tv, some fake succulents and a desktop computer filled the room. "home sweet home." miranda said softly, setting her bag down under the desk. "lets head down to the ice, I'm sure its different then denver." casey smiled and miranda grinned. "well for starters yall have no mountains." miranda joked. miranda had done her undergraduate and graduate degree at the university of denver, and as soon as her brother was traded she no longer wanted to be in denver. so she headed out to the east coast, looking for different jobs in the new york area and came across the devils. match made in heaven she thought, doing what she loved and working within the sport she adored. the two headed down talking about jersey and the team themselves, "i would say the captain does a great job of keeping the team together but he's also younger so sometimes it doesn't always work out." casey explained and miranda nodded. "good to know." she hummed, now walking down to the bench. the ice was clean, patiently waiting for the players. they sat on the bench taking in the quietness of the arena. "it definitely is different than ball arena." miranda commented, with slight sadness in her voice. the two spoke about the team, the coach and anything else casey had to say. they stood up just as some of the players began to filter out. "casey!" the boys said as they noticed the girls. they smiled at miranda before stepping out on the ice, and then nico stepped out. "hi casey!" he said and then stalled seeing the dark haired girl. casey noticed him trying to figure out who miranda was as she watched the players skate around. "oh this is miranda johnson, the new social worker we just hired for the team!" casey explained and miranda was pulled out of her trance and turned to look at nico. "miranda johnson, nice to meet you..." she trailed off as she held out her hand. he took off his glove and held out his hand, "nico hischier, captain." and she nodded before pulling back her hand. "hopefully we arent too much work." he joked and she waved him off, "nothing i cant handle." she smiled and he chuckled softly. "let me know if that's the case in a...week." he joked before stepping onto the ice. miranda looked at casey, "you're gonna hate jack hughes in a week." casey joked causing miranda to smile respectfully. "trust me, you will..." casey added, before the two headed back upstairs.
°
the time she ended up at his place. and one where she got fired.
it was saturday night, before a early afternoon game between her brother and the devils in jersey. she had been with the devils for about two months already and was enjoying her time, and most definitely understanding the chatter (mostly harmless) around jack hughes. he definitely had a lot to say, and most of the time it was just drama he wanted to talk about. she had to remind him many times, that she was a mental health professional not somebody who talked about drama all day everyday. he still came around, to do just that. but she enjoyed getting to know the other players and some of their wives, all of them wanting to meet the person on the team who had been knocking some sense into their men and who was making progress. like real progress. and creating an environment that made the team, staff, and everybody who came across her safe.
she smoothed down her black mini dress and stepped into her baby blue heels, making sure everything looked good before she left her apartment. she quickly made her way down to her car, sliding in and letting erik she was on her way. about 35 minutes later, she pulled up to the Italian restaurant in lower manhattan and pulled up to valet, letting them pull her car around back. she made her way in and greeted the hostess, and they took her towards her brother. "bean!" he said wrapping his arms around her 5'5 frame. "hi bear." she smiled, taking in the hug she had missed the most. they parted, and he pulled out the chair for his sister and she thanked him. "so tell me about jersey, how is it?" he asked as she sipped the wine he had ordered for the two. she smiled, "its good! i've pretty much have found my groove with everybody. i think they're really taking to my style of work and i think the way everybody has responded to it has been good. though." she paused giggling, "there is one guy that quite literally just wants to gossip with me, he knows my role and stuff but just wants to gossip. half the time its funny shit but others its like serious and so i tell him he cant go around blabbing his mouth but i know he doesn't listen." she said and ej laughed. "hows buffalo though, hows josty?" she questioned, a small smile forming on her soft pink lips. ej laughed, "he's great! he's happy to have me on the team...y'know he still asks about you." ej said grinning and miranda rolled her eyes. "last time i checked..isn't he the one that said we couldn't be together after he was traded? that he didn't want to do long distance?" she smirked, quirking an eyebrow. he shrugged, "i think because im now there, he realizes how much he's missed having a johnson in his life." he said with a toothy smile. she rolled her eyes, "alright big bear." she hummed.
_
as the dinner progressed, miranda's phone hadn't stopped vibrating in her clutch that sat next to her. erik took notice of it, but did not say anything at first. "hey randy, you wanna check your phone?" he asked slirping spaghetti in his mouth. her eyebrows creased in confusion, and she pulled out her phone to see multiple messages from nico as well as a few phone calls. she read the messages, nico clearly in some sort of distress. "do you need to take it?" ej asked and she looked up at him, "its one of the players." she said looking back down debating if she wanted to call or text. she chose the latter,
miranda: you ok?
nico: i dont know whats happening
miranda: whats going on? are you hurt? do you need an ambulance or me to call somebody?
nico: thats why i was calling you. my chest hurts, i cant breathe.
miranda sighed knowing what was happening.
miranda: do you need me to call?
nico: can you come over? i need to talk face to face with whatever this is
miranda thought long and hard, before looking back up at erik. "one of the players needs me to come to his place and i-i don't know." she paused to bite her lip, thinking if ethically she could. "ej-im sorry." she said looking up at him but he waved her off. "your job calls, don't worry randy. go, ill take care of the bill. ill see you tomorrow." he said standing up to hug the girl. the big bear wrapped his arms around her, kissing her head before they pulled apart. "ill let you know when i get home!" she said before taking off towards valet. she texted nico, asking for his address and he responded quickly. back to jersey.
_
she knocked on the highrise apartment, alerting the swiss inside. he stood up and dragged his feet towards the door and as soon as she saw the state of nico; she knew she was in for a long night. he opened the door wider for her, and she took in the surroundings. clean, crisp, and sleek, she thought. she turned around to face nico, keeping a bit of distant between the two. he took in her attire and then looked at her. "were you on a date?" he questioned, with somewhat of a distaste in his mouth. she shook her head, "no i was out with my brother. him and buffalo just got in." she said and he was confused. "my brother is erik johnson." and then nico's eyes went wide. "i had no idea, I'm so sorry!" he said feeling bad, his anxiety rising even more. she shook her head, "no no, its ok! i just want to make sure you are ok nico. whats going on?" she asked softly. he closed his eyes and sighed. she took in his composure and his inability to relax. may it be because he's the captain and he feels as if he can't show any weakness or maybe its pride. "take your time nico, you don't need to spit it out all at once i promise. whatever you feel comfortable with." she said trying to gage his reaction. he nodded, reopening his eyes, and looked towards the kitchen. "would you like some water?" he asked shooting himself in the foot, calling himself stupid for not asking it to begin with. "sure, ofcourse, thankyou." she said following him towards the kitchen now. she could tell that it was eating him up inside, and knew at some point she'd need to inquire about it. but tonight was not the night. she sat down at the island counter, and he pulled out a bottle of water for himself and her.
"how are you feeling right now nico?" she asked sipping a bit before setting it back down. he shrugged, "i feel a bit better, after you said you were coming i kind of calmed down a bit but my mind wont st-stop racing. which is causing my to be nervous about something, i have no idea." he rambled as bit and she nodded. "what are the thoughts you're having? are they about hockey, personal things, family?" she asked tilting her head to the side just a bit. he bit his lip, "its-its nothing." he said closing off, and she nodded "okay. in order for this to work nico and to understand more of why you called me, can you explain a bit about how you were feeling earlier?" she questioned, treading water. he was either going to answer it or retaliate and get upset. he sighed, "it felt like i had a weight on my chest or something, i couldn't breathe. my breathing was fast and shallow, i was sweating..i-i cried a bit." he said looking down at the ground. "I've never had that happen before though, it was a shock and so that made it worse." he said looking up at miranda. "well it is completely normal, nico. i can assure you that. sometimes our bodies can not always tolerate or compensate our anxiety. thus, leading to anxiety attacks. so we have chills, the sweats, overwhelming thoughts for various reasons. could be from work, could be our family or personal life or it can just be triggered for no apparent reason." miranda explained and nico nodded. "i don't want you to feel as if its wrong or that it means you are weak, because that is far from the truth. i like to say that when people have an anxiety or panic attack, it shows how strong mentally we are because to get to the point of an attack we would have had to gone through so much turmoil mentally and emotionally. and sometimes the only release is for those to happen. to think of how much you might have been taking on and that is remarkable in itself. besides, having an anxiety attack makes humans more resilient." and that made nico relax just a bit.
"well good thing you said that, i was feeling like a freak over here." he said cracking a small smile. she nodded, "yeah no, you are from a sneak i can assure you. if its considered to be a freak, then call me one. i don't wanna feel left out." she hummed, "you've had them before?" nico asked quickly. she nodded after realizing what she had said and the fact that she shared personal info, "uh yes. I've had them throughout my childhood and adolescence. its gotten better over my young adult years but i still get them occasionally. especially when i feel like a fraud at work or in my personal life." she said shrugging. "a fraud?" he questioned, moving towards the kitchen island and resting his elbows on it, their hands now only inches away from one another. she nodded, "yes. i believe and feel as if i don't belong where i have ended up. i believe that i don't know enough, have enough experience for the work i do. and then i don't feel as if i deserve the friends i have, especially the ones i made back in denver. I've always thought that if they did not know my brother, they wouldn't give me a second look." she said shrugging before she took some sips of water.
nico took in that information and his heart broke just a bit, she didn't understand what a god send she was. how kind, open hearted, always willing to help in any way she could and on top of that, she was hilarious. always had a joke or two to cheer up some of the guys. he didn't like how she sold herself short over friendships. "i don't buy that for one second." he said, "the friends part. you're pretty rad miranda." he hummed and she felt her cheeks heat up just a bit. "oh really? i guess ill add that to my case file." she said laughing, and nico chuckled softly with a smile forming.
"what do you like to do to relieve any stress or anxiety?" she asked, trying to regain focus on why she was here. he shrugged, "does hockey count?" he asked genuinely. she nodded, "ofcourse but that is also your job. so anything else that you do outside of work would be a good place to start." she said and he nodded. "i uh like to hang with the guys, um i read a bit, i like to workout and play video games." he said, "but i don't know if those count." he said but she nodded anyways. "ofcourse! anything you do to distract yourself in a healthy way and relieve stress are coping skills, the ones you have are great nico!" she said smiling and he nodded, mirroring hers. "i would stick with those but would not limit yourself to just those. there are so many out there, i can definitely offer some others when i go back into the office monday." she offered and he nodded.
"thankyou, i definitely am feeling much better now. you've relieved a lot of anxiety i had tonight, by just talking and listening to me." he stated and she nodded. "I'm glad nico, i find that talking about things in a safe place can do wonders. and having somebody understand you as well can be beneficial. would you like to come see at some point this week?" she questioned and he nodded. "yeah id like that." he said smiling. the smile he gave everybody closest to him. "great, ill send out a few times for you and we can go from there." she said standing up. he nodded, again taking in her outfit. "sorry, i came right from manhattan so i didn't have time to change." she said feeling self conscious, "nonsense..you look uh, you look really nice." he said. really nice? oh my god, he thought. "well uh thankyou nico, ill see you monday. text me if you need anything else." she said praying to the universe to get out of there as quick as possible. he nodded her walking her back to the front door, he thanked her once more and she slipped out.
_
she woke up the next morning to a text from her boss, stating the he needed to see her in the office today. she groaned as she stood up, her body feeling the effects of only getting 6 hours of sleep. she quickly got ready and stopped at starbucks before heading over there. when she walked into the arena, some of the players had just begun to arrive. she slipped between arena personal trying to get to her office. once she opened it, she saw nico sitting in one of the seat two seats in front of her desk. "ah hi nico, how can i help you?" she questioned setting her bag down under her desk and sitting down. "i wanted to apologize for calling you over last night. it was way outta line and it shouldn't have happened." he said feeling remorseful and guilty for the reprimand she was about to get, "oh uh, no problem nico. its all good." she said trying to reassure him but she could tell that by the look in his eye, it was not. "i have to go see larry, ill stop by and talk to you guys soon. just check in." she said as they both stood up. he only nodded before walking out. she sighed, placing her hands on her hips. what did all this mean? she did not have time to ponder anymore because larry knocked on the door. "hi larry! what did you want to speak about?" she questioned, her hand raising for him to sit down in front of her. he sat down sighing, not sure of how to say what he was about to say. "you're fired miss johnson, i'm sorry i have to do this. but you are not permitted to treat players at their residences." larry said feeling horrible, he really liked miranda but nobody from upper management liked that she did what she did. "wait-what? he was having a crisis! i went over there, besides. nobody wanted to tell me this, tell me what i cannot do?" she said as her heart beat began to rise. he shook his head, "it was in your contract." he stated and she shook her head. "larry excuse my language, but what the fuck? it was not!" she said taking out the contract she kept in her desk. she threw it on the table before them, "you no what no. I'm taking this." she said snatching it up and putting it in her bag. "seriously larry what the fuck. fuck you." she said angrily. she hoisted her bag up and threw open the door, and made her way down the hallway toward her car.
"miranda!" he screamed but she didnt budge. she continued walking faster now, weaving in and out of people. she sighed knowing that she was about to pass the lockerroom and most likely a group of guys playing soccer. "miranda!" larry yelled again, gaining some attention from people. "don't you fucking say another word larry. you guys will be hearing from my lawyer." she spat as she turned around to face him. larry froze taking in the words, and knew she was serious. the group of players looked up as soon as she had said that. all of them confused and looking at one another. she shook her head turning around and continued towards the exit. larry stood there shocked, and mentally panicking. they did not need a scandal to get out, and he quickly made his way out to find somebody in upper management.
°
the one where she confronts nico.
she sat at the bar, sitting next to a friend she had made in her time here in jersey. "i cant believe they didn't even give you a warning! fuck them, I'm never supporting them ever again." molly spat, and miranda chuckled. the two had had there fair share of cocktails the past 2 hours as they conversed. "but that means you can come work with me!" molly added causing the dark brunette to giggle. "we'll see. I'm sure erik would want me to come to buffalo." she sighed. "or ill go back to denver." she said shrugging. molly nodded before swearing, "you are fucking kidding me." she growled seeing some of the devils players walk in. miranda followed her eye sight before the taste of vile hit her throat. "fuck off." she mumbled, pinching her nose. "lets go." molly said looking at her phone calling an uber. "yes lets." miranda sighed, "lets head outside it'll be five minutes." molly said and they both stood up. as they began their dissent out, nico took notice of the dark haired girl. he immediately felt guilty and a sense of dread washed over him. "isn't that-" jack didn't even finish his sentence before nico was off to go talk to the girl. molly and miranda held hands as they filtered their way through and miranda felt a tap on her shoulder as they were close to the door. she turned around and looked up at nico. "oh no not you." she growled but he wouldn't let her leave that quickly. "wait miranda!" he said but she was not in the mood. "what do you have to say nico, huh? wanna let everybody else in the world know that i came to your place last night to talk? huh! you wanna tell explain to them that that was the only reason why i came over? you wanna tell management that that was all that happened? because they think other stuff happened and i'm you know quite disappointed in you, being the captain and all. let me know if you need some help, i know a great captain that can help you out if you need it." she seethed, molly and the rest of the team taking in the interaction between the two. nico felt like an ass watching her as she walked out. he felt like an idiot too for telling a trainer that they had seen each other last night. not thinking anything of it when they asked what he did over the two day break.
°
the one where nico apologizes.
miranda was back in denver by new years, taking on a new position with the denver hospital. she would be working in case management and was happy to be back with her friends and the organization that adored her. she worked part time for the avalanche, after nathan mackinnon begged for her to come on for the rest of the season. he accredited some of his work these past few years to her. even if she was just a student at the time, her advice had helped tremendously. it was right before all star break when the devils came into town and she was dreading the game. she stood down near the entrances that the players used to get to the lockerroom. she was chatting with the head sports psychologist about a research article they'd both read in the past when nico saw the girl. she did not notice him at first but when she heard jack, she knew that the devils were arriving. she turned to look when she heard the whiney voice call her name. barabra the psychologist laughed and then bid her goodbye until after the game. "if it isn't mr hughes." she said crossing her arms, "oh it is me johnson. I'm sure you've missed our gossip sessions." he said cheekily, smiling widely. she rolled her eyes, "not in the slightest, bud." she said smiling just a bit. he grabbed his chest where his heart was, "that hurts." he said causing her to giggle. she saw luke walk in and she smiled to him and he waved back with one. "hows luke doing?" she asked the older brother, and he shrugged. "taking it one game at a time. day by day." and she smiled. "well good, im glad." she hummed. nico stood by jack, waiting to continue their walk together but also hoped there would be a chance to apologize. "well jack, good luck with the game." she said bidding her farewell. he nodded, saluting her briefly before turning back around. as miranda was about to take off, she heard her name. "miranda!" nico called out, his thick swiss german accent sending shivers down her spine. she sighed stopping and turned around, "yes?" she asked curtly. "can we talk..in private?" he asked and she thought for a brief second. "come e're." she said motioning for him to follow. they walked off into a hallway over from the opponent's lockerroom that was deserted. "yes, nico?" she asked, and he sighed. he knew he didn't have much time, "im sorry." he blurted, and her lips turned inward. "im sorry i said something without clarifying what had happened. im sorry i didn't defend you or speak to management. i fucked up badly, i know that and i wish i could take it all back." he said taking in her reaction.
her arms were crossed per usual, her neutral stance. "nico, i-i cant talk about this." she said shaking her head. he knew why, he knew about the lawsuit going on. "yeah, i know. I'm sorry about it though." he said and she nodded. "yeah, thanks." she mumbled. " i really am, you were an asset to our team. larry couldn't crack half these guys in the time he's been here and it took you all of 2 days to. the guys miss you, especially me." he said the last part softer. her eyebrows crinkled, "you made my job easier ofcourse." he teased. "ahh gotcha." she said rolling her eyes playfully. "its unfortunate that you guys are the most affected by this. the constant in and out of psychologists and therapists is not good for the morale and the mental health of the team, so I'm sorry you guys are going through the ever-revolving door." she said and he nodded. "yeah its too bad. i don't particularly feel comfortable talking to any of them." he said non chalantly. alrighty, she thought. "i hope things get fixed soon nico, i really do. if any of the guys need a place to talk outside of larry, i can send some referrals out." she said looking at nico in the eye, and he nodded. "thankyou miranda and again...i really am sorry." he said genuinely. she nodded, "its all good." she said. "good luck tonight, you'll need it." she said grinning as she began to walk backwards towards her team. his face lit up in a cheeky smile one second and in the next she was gone.
°
the one where they confess.
molly and miranda laid out in the sun of sunny hawaii, as by week had finally rolled around for the nhl. molly jumping at the opportunity to join the girl, her brother and her brother's fiance. the two chatted for a while in the sun, sipping on some mimosas after brunch. miranda stood up, stating that she was going to get another. she walked from the private pool area where the villas were and walk towards the main one that had a bar. she took in her surroundings, lots of families, couples, and great, the familiar group of guys from jersey. she sighed hurrying towards the bar across from them, and she quickly ordered another mimosa and a water bottle. she tapped her fingers tapped the wooden bar and took in the slight chill that was coming off of the ocean just beneath them. "holy fuck- johnson?" she heard to her right and she turned to see john marino. "john!" she said smiling softly, "how are you?" she asked taking the mimosa and water bottle from the bartender. "good, good! can never be sad with by week." he mused and she nodded, "no you cant, or else i would knock some sense into ya." she teased and he laughed. "oh don't we know it." he said laughing. "randy!" she heard her brothers name from the left of her, and she turned to see him waving her over. "good luck with the rest of the season and have a wonderful rest of the week." she said before walking off.
she walked towards erik when she heard the group of guys talking loudly, all now looking over to see the girl. nico took in her two piece suit, the soft waves hanging off of her shoulders and the confidence she possessed. "whats up bear?" she asked erik, shielding her eyes from the sun. "dana wants to know if you guys wanna get dinner at 7." he stated and she nodded, "i don't see why not. we didn't have any plans." she said and erik nodded, "see ya bean!" and she smiled, "see ya big bear." and the two went their separate ways. nico watched as she went back to the private area with bungalows. he prayed to the universe he'd see her again.
-
it was 6:20 when molly and miranda went down to the hotel bar before dinner. the two had napped and sobered up since their mimosas and sun time. they stood there drinking some champagne, when molly had left briefly to use the washroom. miranda sat down on the bar stool and took out her phone. she heard the familiar deep voice of the swiss she hadn't seen for a few weeks. she turned to her right and saw him in black collard shirt, black suit jacket and black pants. he looked good, she thought. too good. she turned back to her phone and hoped molly would come back soon. "fancy seeing you here." she heard and she turned towards nico who had a toothy grin. "hi nico." she said setting down her champagne. "what can i do for ya?" she said turning towards him. "well for one you can let me join you." he said boldly and she was taken back, but found her self nodding softly. he sat down next to her, "how are you enjoying your by week?" he questioned, sipping his drink. "its been nice thus far, especially when i'm not the one footing the bill." she grinned and nico chuckled. "i told ej to spread the wealth one time years ago and thankfully he hasn't stop providing." she teased causing nico to laugh again. "all jokes aside, im extremely grateful for him. he just doesn't know how to take no for an answer." she said as nico looked at her. "oh really? so you're not a moocher?" he grinned, and she grinned. "not in the slightest!" she said placing a soft hand on his arm. he looked down at it, and then back at her. she didn't move it, especially not when he looked back at her. she left it there for a few seconds, before pulling away. "sorry, i should probably be finding molly. we've got dinner with my brother and his fiance." she said clearing her throat. nico nodded, a tad bit sad. "well i think she'll be a bit occupied for a while longer. saw john sneaking her into the elevator as i walked in." he mused and miranda's eyes went wide. "no way!" she said, her hand going back to the spot it had just occupied.
"things have happened since you left, that happened quickly after you screamed at me in the bar." he said and her face flashed through guilt and remorse. "yeah...sorry about that." she said biting her lip. he shrugged, "i needed it. it knocked some sense into me." he hummed finishing the rest of his drink. "well now i don't feel as badly." she grinned, enticingly. he looked at her, and she at him. her hand softly moved down his arm, her head cocking to the side. call it alcohol, call it the heat of the moment, or the fact that she'd been thinking about nico since she spoke to him in his apartment. "maybe you could also sneak me into the elevator." she whispered just loud enough for him to hear. nico had a mischievous look on his face, once he realized what she was getting at. "lets go." he said pulling her off of the bar stool by her hand.
as soon as they entered the elevator, nico placed his hands on her waist pulling her in closely. "god I've been waiting for this." he whispered in a husky voice. "oh really?" she teased innocently, catching the heat in his eyes. "hmm mmm. couldn't wait to tell you that i like you...the first moment we met i was a goner." he said as the elevator dinged to his floor. "is that so?" she grinned, feeling butterflies flutter in her chest. "uh huh. surprised you didn't notice that long stares, always finding ourselves in the same area and the smiles i reserved just for you." he said as they entered his room. "i thought you were just being nice, nico." she hummed, placing her hands on his chest. "oh no, only reserve those smiles for the girl who stole my heart one casual conversation at a time." he hummed sliding out of his suit jacket as she began to work on his buttons. "i feel quite flattered, cap." she grinned looking up at him with a glint of excitement in her eyes.
clothes were quickly discarded after that, teasing and many kisses were exchanged after that. "well its a good thing i like you too, nico." she said as she laid in his arms. she looked up at him with a smirk, before he leaned down and kissed her. "how bout i come to denver after the season ends?" he questioned and she nodded. "id really like that, really would." she smiled resting her head on his chest. they looked at one another for a minute more, "now tell me whats going on in that pretty head of yours." she smiled and he blushed. "where do i begin?" he smiled.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
pls like and reblog if you enjoyed, it would mean a ton!
@hischierhaze @nicohischierz @jayda12 @skatesnstuff
95 notes · View notes
veevz-drawz · 8 months ago
Text
DoaHD | Entry 2: But Tea Time with Friends is the Best
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
A/N: hey remember when i said i would upload biweekly? yeah so that was a lie LMAO. anyways sorry for literally uploading a month after, i was busy moving and switch to working full time;; (and working on a zine :0!) but i've been getting used to the schedule change so hopefully updates will be more consistent now!
Taglist: @minecraftninjerkid (DM if you would like to be added!)
Previous | Masterlist | Next
Tumblr media
The summer months were never Strawberry Tea Cookie’s cup of tea.
It was so oppressively humid. The consistent moisture never failed to soak through her dough, making it intolerably soft and sticky. Her curly locks always flatten the minute she stepped out of Strawberry Mansion, with the glaze holding her hair up immediately dissolving upon contact with the damp atmosphere.
However, on this day, the Great Witches seemed to have taken pity on the former heiress, sending waves of cooling wind across the kingdom after hearing of yesterday’s misfortunes.
The breeze traveled deep within Hollyberry Palace, carrying ballads of rustling leaves and songbird melodies past pristinely kept rose gardens and winding bush mazes. It softly brushed past four cookies huddled around a tea table, careful as to not disturb their conversation.
Strawberry Tea Cookie was situated under the protective shade of a berry palm tree, recounting what happened between sips of refreshing fruit tea. Princess Cookie and Wildberry Cookie basked under the oven-hot sunlight, listening to their friend intently— the former more visibly angry. Knight Cookie stood beside his princess, insisting to keep his post despite the chair offered to him.
“...And now I’m no longer heiress,” Strawberry Tea Cookie sighed, placing her now empty cup back on its saucer. Dread crept through her dough like mycelium across a dish of rotten fruit. If the weight of her parents’ decision hadn’t hit her last night, it certainly did now after she told her friends everything.
“How dare they!” Princess Cookie huffed. “Your parents had no right to do that!”
She turned to her retainer for affirmation, which he gave in the form of a quick nod and a “yes princess!”
“I agree, it’s strange that they would forfeit your position like this,” Wildberry Cookie commented.
“Yeah! You practically launched House Strawberry into high fashion!” Princess Cookie added. “That alone makes you more than deserving of that spot!”
Strawberry Tea Cookie leaned back into her chair, remorse pulling her mouth down into a slight frown. “I… Don’t think that mattered to them.”
The designer agreed that this achievement alone should’ve solidified her place as heiress. She clearly remembered the proud look in her parents’ eyes when FragariA debuted during Hollyberry Fashion Week, its popularity instantly skyrocketing to rival established oat couture powerhouses such as House Blueberry.
A fresh wave of betrayal snapped open the wounds she had stitched up the night prior, her sullen expression digging deeper into her features. “I just… Don’t smile like the rest of my family.”
Strawberry Tea Cookie’s brows furrowed, her previous emotions washed away by resentment. From the moment she was born, House Strawberry’s intertwined principles of creativity and expression were emphasized in every aspect of her life. She studied every immaculately painted portrait lining Strawberry Mansion’s walls, was tutored by the best artists in the Hollyberry Kingdom, and attended the same kingdom’s most prestigious fashion institute.
Yet she will take drawing a naked cookie for eight hours straight in the smallest, most dingiest studio over being forced to smile and laugh like the rest of her family members.
Growing up surrounded by creativity also meant that she was constantly criticized for her lack of emotion, which her family never failed to remind her of. Yet she always believed that forcing expression countered creativity. Acting happy impedes one’s ability to connect with where art fundamentally came from— their true feelings. Plus, Strawberry Tea Cookie would argue that her defiance was still a form of expression, much to her parents’ dismay.
Sure, disobedience was undesirable within her family circle, but what’s the problem if that’s what she truly felt? She couldn’t possibly perform at her best if all her family wanted were soft smiles and saccharine words towards their benefactors.
Then the realization sank in, pulled down by a heavy peach pit as horror blew out her frosted pupils. “...And that’s the problem…”
“That’s not true and you know it!” Princess Cookie practically jumped from her seat, grabbing Strawberry Tea Cookie and pulling her closer from across the table—into the light. “You are perfect the way you are, Peach Jam Cookie’s words mean nothing!”
“They meant nothing until my parents agreed with her,” Strawberry Tea Cookie argued, voice cracking as she retracted back into the shadows, holding herself close. “And what father said…” 
Bare minimum. Incapable of expression. Too spoiled.
“He’s right, I’m far from a good heiress.”
If showing up to family dinners was a rare occasion, then attending parties hosted by other nobles was something that didn’t even occur on a blue moon. She found them to be a waste of time that otherwise could have been used on building FragariA’s name.
Yet they were excellent opportunities to network, as her parents constantly stressed, but Strawberry Tea Cookie found no use in it. She already had strong connections with the royal family and a few notable designers, there wasn’t any use for more besides maintaining the ones her family already forged.
Ones that she has actively destroyed due to her inactivity.
In retrospect, the designer should have put more care into strengthening these precious relationships— she only did when her parents implored her to. Perhaps she naively believed that they would remain static for years to come.
Though, if she were to be completely honest with herself, it was because those cookies weren’t all too interesting to talk to. But that excuse was leagues more fragile than her cousin’s ego.
“Don’t tell me they brought up Blueberry Raisin Cookie too?” Princess Cookie asked heatedly. “Removing him from your life was the best choice you could’ve made!”
“Your aunt already crossed the line by mentioning him.” Wildberry Cookie stated, an annoyed inflection edging his tone.
“No, thankfully they didn’t.” Strawberry Tea Cookie sighed. She would have truly snapped if they did. “But, I think they were referencing other events…”
The fighting finally died down after what seemed like a millennium, leaving the once elegant banquet table an absolute mess. Strawberry Tea Cookie stepped over scattered silverware and shattered plates, grimacing when she accidentally stepped on a piece of sticky cake. She sat down on a nearby chair, watching as cookies regained their senses.
What a great start to the Princess Contest.
The designer was still dumbfounded by the amount of cookies who drank the punch after seeing it turn a different color— they didn’t even listen to her warnings when she made said observation! She was left stuck on the sidelines watching the feast turn into a battle royale until whatever was mixed into the punch wore off.
“Whew! I need a break.” Princess Cookie sighed tiredly, slouching next to Strawberry Tea Cookie. She looked worse for wear, but her dress was still impressively intact— as expected of the true Hollyberry Princess.
“Why are cookies always fighting,” she bemoaned. “It’s not fun, AND it’s exhausting!”
“How dare you, that is an insult to the noble House Raspberry!” Raspberry Cookie proclaimed, pointing her candy cane blade towards the two. “We have built our culture and wealth with nothing but the tips of our swords!”
Strawberry Tea Cookie and Princess Cookie exchanged confused looks with each other. But while the latter seemed only bewildered, the former was growing ever more annoyed with the pompous raspberry heiress.
“And how exactly is that an insult?” Strawberry Tea Cookie questioned, standing up and shielding Princess Cookie. Not only had Raspberry Cookie called her friend “unimpressive” earlier, it now seemed she was just cherry-picking—or rather, raspberry-picking—a reason to confront her.
“Fighting is what molded us!” The noble fencer explained fiercely. “What brought us above the other Cookie Houses!”
“Yet here you are, needing a silly Princess Contest to prove your family’s worth,” the designer shot back, eliciting an indignant gasp from her opponent. “House Raspberry is far past its glory days, it’s evident from the way you’re so desperate to undermine Princess Cookie.”
Now that was an insult, not a harmless comment her friend made.
“You just insulted the great deeds of my ancestors,” Raspberry Cookie furiously cried. “Who risked every speck of flour in their bodies upon their blade.”
Strawberry Tea Cookie had to fight every grain of sugar in her body to not openly roll her eyes.
“I demand an apology, here and now!” The raspberry fencer ordered, pointing her rapier towards the irritated designer. “Strawberry Tea Cookie, I challenge you to a duel!”
“Hold up!” Princess Cookie interjected, standing up and marching towards Raspberry Cookie. “This is MY battle,” she declared with determination, swinging her scepter to match the stance of Raspberry Cookie’s sword. “And it’s time for me to find out what kind of dough she’s made of!”
“You were defending her highness’s honor!” Knight Cookie interjected. “I see nothing wrong with that.”
“Yeah! And I really appreciate you supporting me throughout the Princess Contest,” Princess Cookie chimed in. “Plus, you apologized to Raspberry Cookie after, right?”
Strawberry Tea Cookie shook her head shamefully, her mother had to apologize on her behalf. She didn’t miss the way Princess Cookie’s expression shifted subtly.
“And that’s not even the worst of it,” the designer lamented. “I permanently severed ties with House Blueberry after I made Blueberry Cookie cry during that one ball.”
Fate seemed to have it out for Strawberry Tea Cookie that evening, being forced to face Blueberry Raisin Cookie’s granddaughter only a short month after being dismissed by him.
The young blueberry noble looked undeniably nervous under the designer’s scrutinizing gaze, a stark contrast from her usual bubbly self. 
“Spit it out.” Strawberry Tea Cookie demanded frigidly. Cookies began gathering around the two out of concern and curiosity, surrounding them like a blinding spotlight. Blueberry Cookie glanced at the crowd anxiously, stuttering out jumbles of unintelligible words.
The strawberry heiress couldn’t care less.
Out of patience, she walked past the trembling noble, purposely bumping against the other’s shoulder. “Wasting my time just like your grandfather, good to know that it runs in your family’s dough.” She remarked tartly.
That seemed to set Blueberry Cookie off. “Why are you so mean!?” She shakily blurted out, so loud that it cut all conversation and music in the ballroom. “I was just trying to apologize for what Grandpa did!” 
Strawberry Tea Cookie’s jam stilled. She turned around, the hot tears running down Blueberry Cookie’s face biting through the heiress’s hardened expression. Every sob-induced hiccup and whimper pounded more guilt within, grinding it into her very dough like she was trapped in a mortar and pestle.
Blueberry Cookie ran off before the designer could utter an apology, leaving the crowd’s scornful gaze solely on her.
Judgemental murmurs filled the room as Strawberry Tea Cookie’s face grew hot with embarrassment and shame. The sea of ornate ball gowns slowly melted into a tall, amorphous wave of burnt caramel, yet she could still feel the contemptuous heat radiating from each individual cookie.
The spotlight was all on her now.
“Why does Lady Blueberry Cookie have to apologize anyways?” A voice whispered.
Strawberry Tea Cookie glanced at the direction Blueberry Cookie ran off to. If she’s quick, she could probably catch up to her and apologize– she didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of the designer’s frustrations.
“No, no, Lady Blueberry Cookie was apologizing on behalf of Sir Blueberry Raisin Cookie.” Another cookie corrected.
“But he’s such an upstanding cookie!”
That caught the heiress’s attention. All plans of apologizing flew out the window with that single phrase alone.
Upstanding? They can’t be serious.
“I heard she was so difficult to deal with that Sir Blueberry Raisin Cookie dismissed her as his apprentice.”
Strawberry Tea Cookie turned to face the gossiping cookies, anger threatening to boil over. They were glaring right back at her, as if wanting her to hear their absurd rumors.
“I’m not surprised, given how she acted with Lady Blueberry Cookie.”
This was ridiculous.
“Well maybe if he wasn’t such a gross wretch, she wouldn’t need to apologize in the first place!” The words just slipped out of her mouth– a culmination of months worth of resentment and stress.
The entire ballroom collectively, and dramatically, gasped at Strawberry Tea Cookie’s statement. A surge of indignant shouts rose after the brief silence, drowning out all attempts at explaining herself. 
Strawberry Tea Cookie was tired. Tired of this ball, tired of her family, and especially tired of maintaining that geriatric raisin’s reputation for the sake of public relations.
The heiress rushed to get out of the limelight, wading through the massive ocean of angry cookies towards an exit— an escape.
“House Strawberry’s relationship with House Blueberry was already a thread away from snapping,” Strawberry Tea Cookie sighed, burying her face into her palms. “I completely severed it that night.”
She made such a huge mess that not even her family’s extensive connections could clean it up. House Blueberry refused any contact, turning away Strawberry Tea Cookie and her parents when she tried entering their estate.
For months, the former heiress couldn’t show her face in public without hearing the scrutinizing whispers of cookies nearby. She had to endure her relatives complaining about the endless rumors at social gatherings— not to mention the arguments that ensued after.
“Crumbs, and now my cousin is heir,” Strawberry Tea Cookie cried. “That means House Strawberry will belong to the Peach Clan, and who knows what will happen afterwards.” Strawberry Sugar Cookie’s stagnant view on art and Peach Jam Cookie’s… personality were already concerning enough. She couldn’t possibly imagine what would happen if the Peach Clan got their sticky hands on her house. “Great Ancients, what do I do?”
How could she possibly fix this? Would her parents even consider giving back her inheritance? Just how long ago did they decide Strawberry Sugar Cookie would take her place?
“You’ll figure something out.” A strong, warm hand grasped Strawberry Tea Cookie’s shoulder. She looked up to meet Wildberry Cookie’s comforting gaze. “I know you wouldn’t let this go without a fight.”
“Yeah! You’re THE Strawberry Tea Cookie after all!” Princess Cookie added, wrapping her arms around the designer.
“The Princess has her faith in you,” Knight Cookie exclaimed. “You better not fail!”
“Thanks, you guys.” The designer smiled, uplifted by their encouragement.
But what should she do..?
“Oh! Isn’t Hollyberry Fashion Week coming up in a few months?” Princess Cookie perked up. “This would be the perfect time to prove you’re the rightful heir!”
“A comeback during one of the biggest events in the Hollyberry Kingdom…” Strawberry Tea Cookie thought for a moment. “That’s a really good idea.”
If she were to come up with a collection so compelling that it got cookies talking about her again, she could revive FragariA’s popularity and skyrocket the brand back to the top. At the same time, she’ll work on mending those severed connections while also forming new ones. That would hopefully demonstrate to her parents that she’s more than capable of taking over House Strawberry. Determination filled her jam, and for a brief moment, she felt there was hope in this situation.
But there was still one problem…
“What do I base this collection off of..?” There’s a reason why Strawberry Tea Cookie hasn’t participated in Hollyberry Fashion Week in almost two years, let alone released any new designs. She had simply exhausted all sources of inspiration in the Hollyberry Kingdom. Worse yet, it seemed that the more time she spent stuck here, the more creativity drained out of her.
“Why don’t you go traveling?” Wildberry Cookie suggested. “You have been burnt out for quite some time, perhaps a change in scenery could bring new ideas.”
“That’s true, but where have I not gone to?” Strawberry Tea Cookie pondered. She had made collections based on all the nearby regions, and reusing ideas wouldn’t garner the necessary attention for her brand.
“Wait, what about that Isle of Tea collection you made years ago?” Princess Cookie mentioned. “It was so pretty, but you never released it...”
“Considering how much of a fuss my parents made when I showed off just one of the dresses, I doubt they would allow it,” Strawberry Tea Cookie sighed. It was a shame, that collection was genuinely her favorite— her magnum opus, even. “I should refrain from arguing with them anyways.”
This left the trio–or quartet when counting Knight Cookie–stumped. The designer considered writing to Mont Blanc Cookie for some help, perhaps arranging a short visit to the Cookie Kingdom so she could get some inspiration.
“...Her Majesty, Hollyberry Cookie, and I have been invited back to the Crème Republic to celebrate its reconstruction,” Wildberry Cookie brought up. “Perhaps you could join us.”
“Isn’t the Crème Republic on the other side of Crispia?” Strawberry Tea Cookie queried, she was reluctant to travel that far when Hollyberry Fashion Week was just around the corner. It would take a couple of weeks alone just to figure out the logistics. However, she couldn’t deny her curiosity regarding the city-state. The snippets Wildberry Cookie shared of its culture and architecture piqued her interest back then, so perhaps risking the trip could rekindle that spark.
Anything to become heiress again.
“Would Her Majesty allow me to tag along?” The designer asked.
“Of course, she always enjoys the extra company,” Wildberry Cookie reassured. “…And she’ll probably use this as an opportunity to get her hands on more strawberry juice.” The dread in his tone was apparent.
“Then I’ll be sure to procure House Strawberry’s finest bottle,” Strawberry Tea Cookie chuckled. “When are you two planning to depart?”
“A week from today.”
Strawberry Tea Cookie’s eyes widened in surprise. A week? There’s no way she could arrange travel plans that quickly, even with the help of the Strawberry Estate staff.
“I’m aware it’s rather last minute,” the retainer admitted. “But don’t worry, I will make sure accommodations are arranged for you when we arrive.”
“Thank you,” the designer smiled, bowing her head towards Wildberry Cookie in gratitude. “Then I suppose I shall start packing.”
38 notes · View notes