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hyunjilicious · 5 years ago

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The safest white - harry styles

Summary: When things with your abusive boyfriend reach a new level, Harry comes to the rescue. 5.7k Warnings: mentions of abuse. I hope you enjoy this! Please tell me what you thought! Your words make my day ❤

Never in your life had you thought you’d end up in a situation like this. Growing up, you got used to the idea of an ideal relationship, and for whatever reason, fell for the glamourized Hollywood look of the downs people went through as they fought for their partner. Real life hit you like a ton of bricks, put a cloth over your mouth and cut your legs from the knees down. Knowing you have to fight for what you want and know is right, even if faced with facts that contradicted your beliefs, you found yourself alone, screaming at nothing in the middle of a sea of darkness. Your own house. And you were screaming internally, because once again, you feared the man you used to call ‘love’. Droplets of sweat tickled your skin as they rushed down your sides, and your hands and feet, although cold, were damp too. You stood in the middle of the bedroom, facing the door. In some twisted way, you knew there was no chance for you to hide, so you stood there, ready take no more hits without hitting back. And harder. After pampering yourself with a pep talk, you ended up feeling quite confident. Confident that you’d get the fuck out of there with your head held fucking high, but it was a confidence that dissipated once the sound of your own phone ringing reached your ears. “Fuck” you mumbled to yourself, after you jumped out of fright. “No, no, no! Y/n. Get. Yourself. Together” You muttered these words through gritted teeth, repeating them over and over again, until the layer of unshed tears in your eyes became too thick and rushed down your cheeks, forcing you to fall to the ground. The impact made your knees sting, but the pain in your heart had already numbed every nerve ending in your entire body. You were at the edge of collapse, and you phone was still ringing. Wiping your face with the sleeve of your shirt, you crawled over to the bed and picked up your cell, only to see Harry’s smiling face on his ID photo along with the pouting emoji you added to his name. It didn’t even take a moment’s worth of consideration before you pressed the red button and declined the call. Not that you had any power left in your body to communicate with another human right now, but you also knew that if it was something important, he’d also send a text, letting you know the matter was indeed urgent. And it came. The text came about 15 seconds later in real time, but for you, it was all a haze. Again, you didn’t think about it. If you declined his call and he still insisted, something must’ve been up. 'Love, I’m stuck at the studio for at least another hour and my mum is coming over’ 'She’ll be at my house in about 20 minutes’ 'If I leave rn I’ll have to come back tomorrow and I want to spend the day with her’ 'Can you go over there’ 'Let her in and hang out or something’ 'Or if you’re busy can she come to you and wait for me there?’

No, way. There was no way you could face his mother right now. She always saw right through your bullshit. Starting with when you and Harry were 18 and started denied your feelings for one another and up until this year, when she sensed something was off with you. When you saw her 2 months ago, it took you about 3 hours to convince her nothing is wrong with you for the sole purpose of keeping Harry out of your relationship. All it took for her to notice you weren’t comfortable with your boyfriend was the way you answered a question about his whereabouts. After that, you had to make up a whole story to prove to her she didn’t need to worry. And they say actors are good liars. You felt you were going to choke with every lie to told her, and frankly, you were surprised she believed you in the end. Maybe it was just how much she trusted you. Nevertheless, you weren’t the person for the job.

You stared at the messages on your phone, and breathed out from the deepest depths of your lungs. You hated that you couldn’t help him right now, but knowing at least 3 other friends of Harry's should be available, you locked your phone and fell back down, leaning against the side of the bed. The mere thought of Harry and Anne calmed you down a bit, but when you went back to reality, another wave of misery hit you. You still had to get out of there, but opening the door to your bedroom was probably the most frightening thing on your mind. There was not much time for you to gather your thoughts and plan your next move before your phone buzzed again. 'You hung up on me. I know u can see these. Everything ok??’ Instantly, you palm connected to your forehead as you rolled your eyes in disbelief. “How did he-” you muttered, unlocking your phone, to assure him you were ok. As it turned out, your text wasn’t enough to convince him you were good, so he called. But for this, you didn’t have the power. This time you didn’t bother to hang up, you turned off your phone completely and fell down onto the carpet. The minutes that followed were excruciating. That is if there was even a matter of minutes, your sense of time wasn’t even hazy anymore, it was gone altogether. The cries you tried to muffle out of fear Jack would hear you from the other room, created an unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach. If up until now it was all psychological, the spasming of your abdominal muscles were sure to force out everything you hadn’t eaten in the past two days. Just gastric acid was threatening to come up, but this feeling alone wasn’t enough to get you to stand up. By now, leaving the house wasn’t the problem anymore. It was the part of you that allowed yourself to be treated like trash that you didn’t know how to get rid of. At this point, the only thing you felt like doing was cracking your own chest open to rip out your heart and pick apart the broken parts. And not even that was good enough, you were afraid you’d be left with nothing. Since there was nothing you could do right now, you slowly stood up, and decided to head to the bathroom and clean yourself up in order to sneak out of the house. Messy hair and running mascara would draw attention to yourself on the street, and that was not something you could risk. As you walked across the bedroom, when you moved past the window, your eyes landed on Jack’s frame. He was sitting at the table in the back garden, drinking straight out of a bottle of Jack Daniels that was more empty than full. As messed up as that was, this sight gave you a rush of confidence. In this state, it was highly unlikely he’d hear you leave the house, and even if he did, you were positive you’d be able to outrun him. Once in the bathroom, the woman you saw in the mirror was not you. You refused to accept that you were in this state. It was a momentary lapse of character, from which you’d bounce back. You had to. In the shower, although feeling like you could break down all over again, you forced yourself to remain on track, and about 20 minutes later, you were back in your bedroom, putting on whatever clothes you found first. You checked the window. Jack was still there, scrolling on his phone. If you played your cards right, you could leave without your eyes landing on him again. You gathered your essentials - phone, charger, wallet, keys and whatever else you found completely necessary and walked over to the door, where you stopped. “I’ll take you less than three minutes to get to your car, Y/n” you whispered to yourself. “You can do this” You mumbled these words to yourself a few times, and when you raised your hand to open the door, the knob turned by itself and your heart fell two stories down. Already in overdrive, your adrenaline kicked in, sweating out of every pore as you instinctively looked for an object to use to defend yourself. All these defence mechanisms crumbled to the ground when you heard his voice. “Y/n?” because it was Harry, “Are yeh in here? Please, answer me!” You breathed out in relief, something you didn’t know you could feel again. You rushed to unlock the door, and he hurried inside at ungodly speed. “It’s Jack, ain’t it!?” he questioned with anger filled words, “I just got off with the phone with my mum, why didn’t yeh two say anything?” “I told her it was nothing” you mumbled, trying to avoid his eyes, but the way he held onto your cheeks made it impossible for you to look at anything else. “You did, yeah.” Harry nodded with despair, “And she believed yeh and now she’s blaming herself. Tell me. What happened? Where is he?” “God” you cried out and tried to lean your head back, but Harry stopped you and prompted you to look at him again. It worsened gradually, but by now, you barely managed to breathe properly as tears cascaded down your cheeks. “Hey, hey, hey” he breathed out, “Look at me, love. I’m here, ok? It’s over. I’m here. I got yeh” You tried to nod, but all you did was choke a sob and collapse into yourself, Harry barely managing to catch you. Holding you tight to his chest, he rocked you in his arms and rubbed the back of your head, “Its me, love. Its Harry”. He tried to chuckle, but pain was audible in his voice too. “Nothing will happen to yeh, ok? I swear on anything that I am, yeh're safe, yeah?” You wanted to nod, but when he moved his fingers up a bit across your scalp, you winced in pain, and he caught sight of it in an instant. “Did he hit you, Y/n?” he asked, pulling away to look into your eyes. You nodded no. For whatever reason, that was what you considered was the right answer. “Don’t lie to me, angel. Yeh don’ ever have to lie to me, ok?” “Ok” you muttered. “So did he?” “Yes..” And that was then the light in his eyes died. They started shining a particular type of darkness that terrified you to your bones. You froze. Your mind was too numb to act on your emotion, but when he brought you to his chest again, you finally realised your fear was unrooted. “Where is he?” Harry groaned in a deep tone. “Please, don’t” “I just want to talk to him” he fibbed. “Harry, I’m serious-” you cried, “Don’t do anything, I don’t want this anymore. I want it to be over. What if he tries to-” “Listen t' me, angel” he said sternly, looking straight into your eyes, “You’re crying. Shaking. I’ve never seen yeh like this. Ever. Not even close. Yer whole body shivered when I touched you. That man, hurt you. I don’t even want to think about what he actually did to you right now. Yeh’re the happiest, strongest woman I met in my entire life and he managed to bring you in this state. I won’t have that, ok? I won’t sleep again if doesn’t pay for this.” “Please, Harry” you whimpered, wiping some of your tears away. You placed your hands of top of his, and grabbed them tightly, “What if he does something to you, what if-” “Think about the girl that will come after you, hm? What about her? He’ll go on with his life thinking he doesn’t need to pay for his fucking demented behaviour, and she’ll walk straight into the lions den” “What if he hurts you?” “It won’t get to that, love. I’ll just talk to him. But I have to do this. I can’t not do it, you understand that, right?” After you reluctantly agreed, mostly because he wasn’t showing signs of giving up and you didn’t have it in you to fight him at that moment, you headed downstairs and he walked you to his car. Harry opened the door for you to climb in, but before that, you pressed yourself against him again, craving his touch and the feeling of safety it provided. “Oh, love” he sighed, rubbing your back. “I got yeh” You didn’t want to let him go, but you knew you had to. Eventually, you got into his car, but turned to him before closing the door. “You’re just gonna talk to him, alright?” you sniffled, “And then you’ll be right back, yeah?” “Yes, darlin’” Harry nodded and leaned in to kiss your forehead. “I’ll be right back” And with that, he left. You watched him walk into the house, your eyes remaining trained on his back until he was out of sight. Not knowing what was going on was driving you insane. Your phone was surely not going to provide any kind of distraction, you felt out of place, like you were sitting on a pile of nails as a train was approaching you at full speed. But there was nothing for you to do about it. Going in and joining the conversation was sure to make things worse, for all of you. It hurt that the right thing to do was sit and wait, you hated it, but you had to be patient. In need of something you keep your mind busy, you opened the glove compartment, and started rummaging through the junk that had pilled up there over the past few months. Mostly napkins, candy wrappers, McDonald’s straws, and seemingly, irrelevant stuff. Eventually, you came across some other things, like your old phone case, which you ended up discarding after you bought a new one while you were shopping with Harry for a birthday gift. There was also there a bottle of perfume, the kind you’ve been wearing for years, and in this one, there was barely anything left. Jumping jacks were taking place inside your heart. You knew Harry was the kind of guy every girl deserved in her life, but you wanted him for yourself only. It was mostly junk, and useless little things anyone would have forgotten existed, but he kept them. It didn’t take long before you got lost in thought again, but in the end, you decided to ignore any rush feelings you might be having, taking into consideration the emotional break down you have just been through. “Hey, love” Harry’s voice filled the air inside his car, as he flung the door open and climbed in in one swift motion. “Did you talk to him?” “Yeah” he said distraught and nodded, before turning around in his seat to check if it was safe to pull out. “With my fists” Your eyes snapped to his knuckles. Skin cracked and little droplets of blood peaking to the surface. However, he gripped the steering wheel as if it was nothing, and kept his smile on. What was most surprising, but actually not quite, was that he looked genuinely relieved. You sighed, “H, what happened?” “Nothing, love. I got there fuming ready to beat the guy to the pulp. But he was drunk outta his mind. I stopped then, I promise. I told him what I had to say but I doubt he understood a word I said” he confessed, grabbing your forearm and giving it a squeeze. “You said you were only gonna talk to him…” “That’s what I was planning on, I don’t- I don’t know what- anyway-” he mumbled, in between ragged breaths, “We’ll deal with it, ok? You won’t ever have to see him again. And he’s fine. He deserved so much worse, but I’m- I’m uh, I’m not-” “Thank you” you whispered, looking down at your hands, knowing any moment now the tears would come back. “Yeh don’t need to thank me, angel. I should have known sooner, this should never have happened” “I know… I’m sorry” “What’re yeh sorry about?” Harry asked, eyes trained on the road ahead, “None of this is your fault” “Then whose is it?” you exclaimed, “Hm?” “Fucking his!!” You tried to change the subject, but all you managed to do was drop this one. Nothing else held. Nothing was of interest, and even if it was, the timing was wrong. There was no way you could have started talking about what movie you just saw, and Harry clearly didn’t feel like boasting to you about what a great time he’s been having with his friends and family. Needless to say, for about 10 minutes, it was you, Harry and the sacred uncomfortable silence. “Can you drop me off at a hotel please” you asked, cringing a bit at your own words. “No, why?” He was clearly surprised, if not offended. “I- uh” you mumbled, too ashamed to use a normal tone of voice. “It’s your mum, H. I can’t see her right now. I don’t want to talk about this anymore, nor do I want someone else to worry about me. I promise I’ll be better tomorrow, and I’ll come hang out. Get a coffee or something” “Is that the only reason you want to go to a hotel?” “Yeah…” “Perfect” Harry nodded, “She’s not at my place. Didn’t expect you to be in the mood for company. But you shouldn’t be by yourself. I can drop you off wherever ya want, but not if you’re gonna be alone”. He took your silence for an answer. “My place it is, then” And you got to his house, and even if you had been there millions of times before, you felt out of place. You were afraid he bought you here out of mercy or sympathy, despite what he had just said. The atmosphere was different, and for whatever reason, you didn’t feel like home. For years, his house and anywhere near him, you felt your safest, yet today, you were afraid anything you’d say or do would be out of place. “Yeh know how this works” Harry said, walking into the kitchen, “It’s your home too, don’t shy away” “I know” you chuckled, and it did sound fake and it was obvious he noticed, but none of you pointed it out. “Are you hungry? Want something to drink? Tea? We can order something-” “I’m fine, thanks though” you sighed, slowly advancing towards him. You leaned your hip against one of the counters, silently awaiting his next move. But he didn’t quite do anything, except change his expression into one of maybe confusion. This must have been hard for him too, you didn’t know what you needed to hear, how could he have possibly known what to say? “Do you wanna watch something?” you asked, wanting to relieve some of the pressure. To be fair, you were not in the mood to watch any movie, but you figured laying down next to him would be calming and an easy way to avoid unwanted conversation. “Yeah, 'course” Harry nodded. “Actually... Got any wine?” He seemed completely taken aback, but soon enough, he came back to reality, offering to get the alcohol while you picked something you wanted to watch. It wasn’t a difficult choice. Seinfeld was a sure option, since you both liked it and it required almost no concentration at all. Just as you laid down on his couch, Harry came back into the living room, two tall glasses in his hands, and a bottle of while under his arm. “Figured white wine was safer, dunno how much we’re gonna drink, and nothing is worse than a red wine hangover” “Just how drunk do you think I wanna get?” you laughed, taking the glasses from him. “As drunk as yeh want, love” Harry smiled, pulling out a corkscrew, “The choice is yours” “Just don’t let me start ranting or anything” “Yeah…” he cringed, sucking in a deep breath as he squinted his eyes, “Can’t promise yeh that. Ya know I’m a sucker fo’ yer drunken ramblings” “Oh shut up” you scoffed. “And why did you bring these?” you questioned, pointing to the glasses, “Don’t you know me at all? Or are you suddenly grossed out by my germs?” “When you put it like that, it sounds gross, yes” Harry laughed out loud, before clutching the corkscrew tight into his hand and opening up the bottle, “But still, I’d be happy to exchange germs with you” “Oh wow” “Wha'?” Harry belted, playfully offended, “Yeh started it!” “Well, it sounds so much worse when some else says it” None of you could ever win this. He came over to the couch and motioned for you to scoot over. During the first episode, you kept your distance, but as the minutes passed and as the level of wine slowly lowered, so did the space between your bodies. By the third episode, Harry was laying down on his back with his knees bent, as you leaned back against his calves. That was when you opened up the second bottle. Still white wine, still safe. Harry's words. Every now and then one of you would chuckle, and in case too much time would pass without one of you making a sound, the other would gently ask an “You asleep?” even though both your minds were way too busy to be able to relax enough to drift off. When you almost finished this bottle too, Elaine was throwing a fuss, in the middle of Jerry’s living groom over some guy she went to gym with. “He wiped his hand on the top of the bottle when I offered him water” she said offended through the TV screen, making you stand up and turn to Harry. “This is the universe, love” he laughed but instantly you shushed him, knowing what line was next. “Are you kidding?” Elaine said again, “He should be craving my germs!” And at that, you both burst into laughter. “I had no idea this was the episode” you barely managed to say in between your crazy giggles. “Is it a coincidence?” Harry smirked, “Think not!” “You’re drunk” “So are yeh!” he defended himself, as if it would change anything. “You know what else I am?” “What?” You picked up the bottle and finished whatever was left in it, and then turned to him with a proud smile on your face, “Ready for the third one” “Stand up” Harry commanded and pointed to the space right in front of the couch. “Why?” “Do three pirouettes and if yeh don’t stumble I’ll open another one” “Buzz kill” you pouted and slapped his legs, “No” “I’ll do it with you” he laughed, and when he stood up, you reluctantly did too. When he motioned for you to do the pirouettes, another smile crept up your lips, “At least put some music on if you want to see my moves” “Oh, is that how it’s gonna be?” he laughed, walking over to his phone on the table, “Are we gonna dance in the living room like the crazy people in those sappy chick movies we used to watch?” “Why do you have to be an asshole?” you joked, leaning your head to the side. “Because-” was all he managed to say before the music turned on, making him stop talking as he silently laughed. “Why-” you exclaimed, “On Earth, were you listening to My Heart Will Go On? Is Harold in love?” “I have a good explanation!” Harry jumped to defend himself, pointing a finger at you, “I tried to learn it” “On guitar I hope” you teased. “Ha, very funny” “Oh my god, Harry!” you burst into laughter, “I’m assuming you nailed it on the first try” “Yess!” he threw his head back, cheeks all red, “Celine stand back, I’m coming for yer money” “What would it take to convince you to sing it to me?” “Sing it with me” Harry responded in an instant, and it might have been the alcohol, but it didn’t even take a second before you agreed. You both grabbed one of the empty bottles as microphones, and sang your hearts out. Even though Harry had the vocal capability to reach some of those notes and sing full verses correctly, nothing that came out of his mouth sounded right. And if you were to carefully listen to the atrocities that came out of yours, you’d feel the need to hide for a week to finally get rid of the embarrassment. But you didn’t care. And neither did he. Harry only got like this if he was in a truly good mood. He wasn't always bubbly and childish, especially not today after everything that happened, and you knew a bottle of wine wasn’t enough to awaken this side of him, but still, he danced his hips into exhaustion, providing you with all the good energy you didn’t think you could possibly get. Your performance ended when some Creedence song started, and you walked over and pressed yourself against Harry’s chest. Since you got to his house, you gradually started to feel better, but it all came so naturally, you literally had to stop and check in order to actually realize it. “Thank you” you mumbled into his shirt. “Don’t need to thank me, love” Harry said softly, rubbing your back, “Seeing you loosen up and smile makes me feel better too” His words warmed up your heart from the inside, and it was probably the amount of emotions that you felt in the last 12 hours that caused you to have so little self control, but your eyes watered. At that point, thinking someone’s happiness relied on yours, was too much for your mind to process. Especially considering that for the last few weeks, it had been quite the opposite. A lot of things came to mind. There were a lot of things you felt like saying to him. Somehow, you couldn’t escape the need to thank him again and again, you wanted to tell him how amazing he was, how much of a blessing he was. Right then and there you got emotional you wanted to rant your heart out, but in the end, you lacked the courage. For some reason, even though you had nothing but good things to say, you were afraid to do so, embarrassed even. “Still-” you said softly as you pulled away from his chest. Your eyes rose up to meet his, and he welcomed you with the same warmth he had been showing all day, “I don’t know how to exactly say this, but I know that there’s no one in my life who would have dropped everything and came to check up on me, but you did. And I know you don’t want to hear me thanking you again, but I’m so so grateful you’re in my life” you confessed, breaking into a light sob. The change of atmosphere was too sudden. He didn’t see this coming, and you didn’t know you wouldn’t be able to finish your statement without a cascade of tears streaming down your cheeks again. “Love” Harry cooed, grabbing your cheeks and wiping your tears away with his thumbs. The heat from his palms gave you a newfound sense of reality, forcing your thoughts to spiral again. “Y/n, I love yeh. So much. Yeh need to realize that someone taking care of you isn’t out of the ordinary” “It is for me, Harry” “I’ll fix yeh” he chuckled, and it was so weak, and his eyes cried because he had to do so. “And we can talk about it, or you can talk and I can listen, tonight, tomorrow, three weeks from now at 3am. Whenever yeh’re ready, I’m here for you, ok? I fucking love yeh so much, Y/n. Don’t push me away, because I’m here for you no matter what, ok? I want to be” His words, his tone of voice, calm but also disturbed and with traces of pain audible in it, the way his hooded eyes bore into yours, the way his chest rose and fell with every breath he took, was all too much. “I don’t wanna talk about it right now because I’m afraid I might say things I shouldn’t” “If you mean it, you have the right to say it. It’s that simple, love” he smiled reassuringly. You contemplated telling him how much you loved him and how it has been him all the time, but you were afraid he would put it on account of everything that had happened during the day, and that he would brush it off. The last thing you wanted was for Harry to believe your feelings for him weren’t solid. And on top of it all, up until a few hours ago you were in a relationship, and it felt wrong to admit that all this time you have been thinking of another man. “Maybe some other time” you finally said, pushing aside the topic and putting some distance between the two of you. “Whenever that may be” he nodded, “I’m here, yeah?” A whole pile of tangled emotions filled up your chest, and you needed an escape. A chance to put your thoughts in order before you said something you’d later regret. The wine was threatening to force out some confessions, and you decided a shower would be the perfect opportunity to delay them. You stayed in the bathroom for a questionable long time, but when you walked out, wrapped in a towel, Harry was still awake, watching the TV. He had laid on the bed some clothes of his for you to wear, and you couldn’t help but giggle to yourself when you finally understood why there were two shirts. The first one was neatly folded, but you didn’t really pay attention to it. The second one, a bit to the side, was obviously recently worn, so you didn’t think twice when you chose this one, the scent of his cologne tickling your senses. After putting the pair of sweatpants on too, you headed back to the living room, where Harry was comfortably laying down on the couch. He signaled for you with his arms open to join him, and you did so in an instant, cuddling into his chest. “There’s only a bit left of the game. 10 minutes tops. Mind if we watch this? I can put Seinfeld back on if you want to” “Oh, no. It’s ok.” you shook your head, “Just tell me who we’re rooting for” “The blue ones, love” Harry laughed kissing the top of your head. After you both shuffled a bit and settled back down in a more comfortable position, with his arms wrapped around you and your head buried into his neck, you only managed to comment on a few moments of the game before falling asleep. Next thing you knew, Harry was rubbing your arm up and down and whispering softly to get your attention. “Let’s go to sleep, Y/n” “No” you mumbled, turning your head so he couldn’t see your face. “Its much more comfortable, angel, I promise” he laughed. “I said no” you giggled back. “I’ll let yeh sleep here then” When he tried to pull away, you tightened your hold around his middle, “No” “Do you know any words other than no?” Harry laughed out loud. “No” His chest shook as he chuckled at your antics, “We’ll sleep here then” “Yess” you smiled and turned to face him again. He seemed amused, but even so, he looked down at you with awe in his eyes. After taking his shirt and his watch off, you both resumed your position on the couch, but this time, you had your back pressed against his chest. “I knew you were gonna chose this shirt” Harry spoke up a second after you closed your eyes, “But it’s weird because you smell like me now” “Harry?” you questioned, playing with his fingers, “Are there things you want to say, but you’re too afraid to?” It took a while before he answered, but you waited patiently. “Yeh mean in general?” “No” you said and squeezed your eyes shut, cringing in anticipation. “I mean now” This time he didn’t answer. Maybe he would have, but when you figured enough time passed, you turned around in his hold. If the answer was no, there would have been no reason for him to hesitate, so you took his silence for a yes. It was a risk you were willing to take. “Good night, Ni” you said and pressed your lips against his; it was hurried, it barely lasted for two short seconds but you put your soul into this kiss and it sent your heart into overdrive. After you pulled away, you turned around immediately and settled back into your spot. He was silent, not one of his muscles flinched. Maybe it was the wine. You shouldn’t have done that. You wanted to move. Not touch him anymore, never see him again. It felt like you ruined the best thing that ever happened to you, all because you couldn’t control yourself. And you were so close. You should have just laughed at his remark about the smell of his shirt and then go to sleep. Why wasn’t he saying anything? This was wrong, and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. “Would yeh have done that if things with Jack happened differently? If they ended on good terms? Or if we weren’t drunk?” “Yes” you whispered, your voice cracking, “I wanted to do that for a long long time. But I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry, forget it” “Will never” he said, and then brought you closer to kiss your neck, “And don’t be sorry” “I love you, Harry” “I love yeh”. He kissed your scalp and spoke into your hair, “The most”

Hey, guys! In case you read this far and thought this sounds similar (or maybe exactly the same) to another fic posted on here, it’s because I had previously uploaded it to another blog. It was a Niall imagine at first but then i was like hm... Harry! Anywayyyy i hope you liked this! Please don’t hesitate to tell me what you thought!

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #1dff

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marshmallow-phd · 5 years ago

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Catching Rain

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Minseok x Reader

Summary: You were more than satisfied with your life. You attended a nice college, had nice friends, a nice boyfriend. That’s what your life was: nice. You weren’t looking for anything more, so what were you to do when this seemingly harmless boy walked into your life and turned your nice little world into one much more dangerous?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I Epilogue

The sound of your pencil tapping lightly against your notebook must have been annoying those around you, but you were too focused on the digital clock hanging above the professor’s head to care. Bright red numbers stole your attention; each time it changed you sat up a still straighter, scooted closer to the edge of your seat. The darkness of the room didn’t help. Even with the projector shining the notes you were supposed to be absorbing did nothing to block out the beacon. You were starving.

Okay, maybe not literally, but you were definitely ravenous. Breakfast had been the last thing on your mind this morning and now you were paying for it severely. A headache brewed right under the surface and your stomach gurgled and bubbled from the emptiness. The thought of leaving early did cross your mind, but that would have been rude, not to mention highly inconvenient since you were seated near the middle of the small lecture hall. It was best to avoid the dirty looks and low curses from those that you have to crawl over to get the stairs on the edge.

“And that ends the lesson for today.” The professor walked over to the side and flipped on the light. The sudden brightness made you squint, but it was worth the relief you felt. He’d ended the lesson a whole ten minutes early. You packed your belongs as quietly as possible while still keeping a listening ear. “Please look over chapter six, sections one and two before next class, there will be a two question quiz over the passages.” You scribbled a reminder down in the corner of your notebook and hopped up out of your seat. You weren’t the only one who had called it quits for the day even though the professor was still talking. “Don’t forget the first outline of your project is due next class as well, if it’s not turned in then it’s an automatic twenty percent deduction.”

Standing in line to shuffle out from the row of desks, you made a mental note to go over your outline one more time. You were already on the third stage of the project – gathering the necessary sources for the paper – but it was still a good idea to count your ducks and make sure they were lined up nicely.

You hurried to the cafeteria. The moment you were inside you hopped in the first line you saw, not bothering to take the time to consider your options. The line you were in was for the salads and sandwiches; boring food it was. Your stomach didn’t care if your taste buds weren’t going to be blown away today, it only needed sustenance. With your tray full, you moved over to the cash register and paid for your meal before finding a free table.

“Hungry much?”

Willa slid into the chair across from you, her own tray holding the spaghetti special. The buttery garlic smell drifted over to you and made your mouth water. You chewed slowly on your bland sandwich. Maybe later you could stop by for an afternoon snack….

“Already started without me, I see.” Eric dropped his bag in the half booth beside you and kissed the top of your head.

You smiled up at him. “Early bird gets the worm.”

“But the second mouse gets the cheese,” he countered as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

You leaned around him and stared at the long lines forming across the way. “I don’t think that second half applies here. You better get going before all the good stuff is gone.”

Erik followed your gaze. “Oh, crap. You’re right. Be right back!”

After swallowing a mouthful of noodles, Willa sighed. “You two are so cute.”

You snickered under your breath, but didn’t reply. Erik and you had met in World Music Appreciation your freshman year. In class, he was the slightly loud, slightly obnoxious kid who sat behind you with his friends. Somehow – and to this day you still weren’t sure the steps that led to it – you ended up in their study group for the final exam. You found that the boy who sat behind you was indeed funny, but also intelligent, generally entertaining to be around. After passing the exam that was much harder than any introductory music class should have been, you found yourself going out for celebratory pizza with him that morphed into your first date. The two of you had settled into a comfortableness with each other and you were happy.

As if trying to contradict you, Minseok’s face made an appearance in your mind. You shook the image of his smile away. That… that wasn’t good.

“Not hungry anymore?” Finally through the line, Erik sat down beside you and cracked open the can of pop he’d purchased. You looked down at the half-eaten sandwich in your hand. You hadn’t realized you’d stopped eating. The grumbling of your stomach hadn’t completely subsided, however, the bread and meat combination was no longer remotely appealing. Was this your “grass is always greener” moment?

To wave away the thoughts, you became playful again, reaching over and plucking a lob of cheese off the fresh slice of pizza on Erik’s plate and tossed in your mouth. “No, I just decided that your food looks better.”

“Well, then here.” Erik picked up your plate, took the sandwich out of your hand and slid his tray over to your side. “I’ll eat this.”

“No, Erik, give it back.”

“Seriously, (y/n), it’s fine.”

“Holy crap.”

Willa’s soft outburst stopped the playful argument in its tracks. “What is it?” Erik asked after taking a bite of your sandwich. Giving in, you nibbled on the pizza as you waited for the answer. Your taste buds cheered in victory. This was much better.

“A couple campers were attacked last night in the woods.” Willa’s eyes were trained on her phone, scanning the article that fed her the information. Whatever words she was reading, they must have been bad. Normally, Willa was the more upbeat, nothing-gets-her-down type. It must have been bad.

You leaned forward on the table. Your happy mood at the better-tasting meal as disappeared, replaced by worry. “What was it? Does it say?”

Willa swallowed thickly. “The one that was still awake said it was a wolf. A really big wolf.”

“The one that was still awake?”

“Yeah. I guess there were three of them. One died and one’s in the ICU. The third was only sort of injured when the park rangers found them.”

“Maybe he did it,” Erik said skeptically.

“I thought the same thing, but the police say the scene was consistent with an animal attack.” She clicked the lock button on the side of her phone and put it down. Her eyes flickered to you then back down at her food. It didn’t take a telepath to figure out where her mind had gone.

Erik threw an arm around your shoulders. “See why I don’t like the idea of you going out there by yourself?”

Guilt sunk your stomach. Now you really didn’t feel like eating. To try and hide it, you smiled up at him. “I’ve always understood, but you’re right, that’s a scary thing happen and it could happen to anyone.”

Satisfied, Erik removed his arm and turned his focus back to eating. You continued to pick at the cheese in order to throw off any suspicion. While the guilt of lying was still there, that wasn’t at the most forefront of your thoughts. As plausible as it was, you hoped that it wasn’t your wolf that attacked those people. Well, the wolf didn’t belong to you, but you couldn’t image such a creature killing a human being. He’d seemed to gentle and sweet to be able to do such a thing.

It was an animal, you reminded yourself. They ran on pure instinct. Besides, you didn’t know the whole story. Perhaps, if it was the same one you met in the clearing, he was provoked. Idiots were always teasing animals, whether at the zoo or the park. It was quite possible that the campers brought it upon themselves.

No. You shouldn’t think like that. A person died. Sighing, you pushed the tray away from you.

“Full?” Erik asked. You nodded and he picked up the remains of the pizza, devouring it in only a few short bites. You giggled at the grease stain left in the corner of his mouth. With the napkin, you wiped it away and started to feel somewhat at ease again.

Minseok was devastated. There was no other word for it. This- this was not a possibility he had imagined. How could fate be so cruel?

As he stood near the entrance of the cafeteria, he’d been overjoyed at spotting you, sitting alone at one of the hybrid tables near the middle of the large crowded room, devouring the food in front of you like Chanyeol at his favorite burger place. For a moment, he’d considered walking over and saying hi, but thought better of it since he wasn’t alone. Jongdae was chatting about his classes, laughing merrily with Jongin and Yixing beside him. All the noise was a simple hum in Minseok’s ears. His fellow students were nothing but blurs his peripheral; only you were in focus. One foot started your way despite his previous hesitation, but then another girl sat down across from you. He took that as a sign to slow down. Then a guy joined you, placing his bag down as if he owned that space beside you, and kissed your head. You beamed up at him.

The ground shook beneath his feet, vibrating his whole body. An elbow connected with his stomach and made him flinch. “Hey, you okay?” Jongdae asked.

“Yeah,” Minseok lied as he turned away from the sight that caused his blood to boil. The wolf had never been so hard to fight before. Human. He had to be completely human here. “But I think I’m going to take my food back to the lounge.”

“What? Why?”

“Is everything alright?” Yixing tilted his head in that way he always did when he was trying to read through the expressions on their faces. It was irritating at times, especially when they didn’t want to talk about whatever was bothering them. He meant well, but he wasn’t learning to become that kind of doctor.

“Yeah, yeah.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, Minseok forced himself to turn away before he stormed across the cafeteria. The sure fire way of having you reject him would be to slam your boyfriend against the wall. Jongdae opened his mouth to counter, but Minseok was already moving into the line, grabbing a faded red tray still wet from the washer and sliding it across the three metal bars that kept the herd of college students at bay. He swiped up a plate with a lukewarm slice of pizza and kept going. Bypassing everything else, the last thing he grabbed was a can of flavored coffee from the open fridge before going to the register.

Jongdae pouted as Minseok waved goodbye and walked out of the building. His grip on the tray was strained, knuckles pale and tendons popping out from under the skin on the back of his hands. This complicated things well beyond the obstacles he already had in his way. And here he had the fairytale in his head, thinking he would simply meet you, continue to “coincidentally” run into you and get to know you until the two of you naturally fell in love and then… well, he didn’t exactly have a plan after that, but now that would really have to be put off while he figured out how to get past step one.

Arriving at the mathematics college where he spent most of his time, he made his way through the halls until he found the lounge reserved for the GTAs. There were tables where they studied and put together lesson plans as well as couches where more naps occurred than other types of casual reclining. Against one wall was a stereo equipped with Bluetooth while a TV and game console sat across the way. It was a room where they could relax and bounce ideas off each other. The place was empty at the moment, most of the usual occupants either in class or eating lunch with their friends.

Minseok sat down at one of the tables. He aggressively chewed on the pizza as he tried not to think about what he saw a few minutes ago. And here he thought eventually telling you that he was a wolf was going to be the hard part. A large group came in then, happily talking amongst themselves. Spotting Minseok, they joined him. Sungkyu took the seat to Minseok’s right and dropped a heavy binder on the table.

“Sometimes I wonder why I took this job,” Sungkyu grumbled.

So much for peace and quiet. Oh, well, hopefully this would serve as a nice distraction. Minseok could go back to planning his next step later, once he’d calmed down a bit.

“Having fun with the freshman?” Minseok teased. As GTAs, that was the main group they taught. Not all classes were bad, but it usually took a while for some of them to realize that college was much more serious than high school.

“Actually, it’s not a freshman.” Opening the binder, Sungkyu pulled out a few papers stapled together. A sticky note covered the name written at the top, but the red ink that dictated the score was out for the world to see. “She’s close to our age, a senior, but she put this class off until the last minute. And I’m starting to see why. I don’t want to fail her, but….”

“Just give her an extra credit project,” Varya suggested between sips of her peach tea.

“Like what?”

Changmin was the first to have an idea. “Have her put together a project that applies the math to whatever her major is.”

Sungkyu wrinkled his nose at the idea. “That sounds complicated. She’s an arts major.”

“Get someone to help her with it.”

“Are you volunteering?” Varya snorted. Changmin was… charming and used it quite well, to put it mildly. “Who is it? Maybe I’ll help.”

Sungkyu peeled back the sticky note. “(y/n) (l/n).”

Minseok nearly choked on his food. Was this fate giving him a Get Out of Jail free card?

Varya shrugged. “Never heard of her.”

“I’ll do it!” The word were out before Minseok could figure out how to say them without sounding overeager. Everyone at the table was staring at him, confused. He wasn’t the kind to volunteer for these sort of things. He wasn’t the kind to add additional interactions to his schedule; he was too much of an introvert for it.

“You hate any sort of tutoring,” Sungkyu pointed out.

“I need it… for my resume.” He didn’t even have a resume. At least not a serious one. The last time he’d put together the paper bragging about himself was for a class three years ago. The file was probably somewhere on his laptop, but he doubted he would ever actually add something like this to it.

While Changmin and Varya still eyed him curiously, Sungkyu simply shrugged. “Whatever. This is only if she agrees to do it, anyway.”

“If she wants to graduate, she’ll do it.” Standing up, Varya threw out the remaining ice in her reusable cup and slipped her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll see you guys later. I’ve got a research paper that’s not going to write itself.”

In an overdramatic fashion, Changmin placed his hand over his heart and looked to the ceiling. “If only they did. My school career would be so much easier.”

Sungkyu rolled his eyes. “And yet completely negate the purpose of it all.” Changmin wasn’t bothered by the comment at all, pulling out his phone and scrolling through his social media as he leaned back in his chair. Sungkyu replaced the sadly scored paper and closed his binder. “Are you free tomorrow a little after four?” he asked Minseok. “I want to try and catch her after class. I’m sure she’ll agree to do the extra credit, but maybe having you right there to say you’ll help will nudge her if she’s on the fence about it.”

“Absolutely.” There was no way Minseok was going let this opportunity go. Maybe this was the better way to go about it. The two of you would be spending time together while he helped you with this project; endless time just you and him. He could get to know you, learn about what you liked and disliked, where you saw yourself going and where you’d already been. Then he could properly fight for your heart, win his mate over the right way. The excitement of what awaited him was almost too much. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

You wanted to disintegrate there in your seat.

Right on the front of the homework you just received back was a sticky note asking you to stay back after class. Never had you want a period to not end, to go on and on in a cycle of torture. You knew it was about it your recent grades. It wasn’t as if you weren’t trying. But this subject had never been your strong suit and recently it had been harder to grasp the concepts. You were an arts student, a photographer. When were you ever really going to need to know how to find the function of x after this?

Unfortunately, the end came and you stayed seated while the younger students happily skipped out of the classroom. When it was only the two of you left, you got up and walked over to the desk.

“That bad, uh?” you said in an attempt to lighten your own mood.

Sungkyu, at least, seemed a little sympathetic. “I’ve seen worse.”

“Well, not everyone can be a math genius.”

“No. That’s why I’m going to give you a chance to make up the points.”

You perked up. This was… somewhat good, given your mind had wondered if he was going to suggest you drop the class for now and try again later, under a different teacher. “Really?” You couldn’t help but feel like a rabbit jumping for a carrot hanging in the air. “Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

“Good.” Sungkyu reached behind him and plucked up a sheet of paper before leaning back against the desk. “I’ve got an outline here that’ll explain the project in detail.” He handed it over to you before continuing. “The basics, though, are pretty much just write a paper of how the subject relates to your major.”

You’ve got to be kidding me. Clearing your throat, you said, “O-okay. I think I can do that. Except….”

“You don’t know where to start?” Sungkyu guessed. You nodded. “That’s alright. I’m not going to make you do it alone. I’ve enlisted some help for you. Minseok?”

In from the hallway strolled in the very same Minseok you’d run into the day before. There was no way…. You nearly laughed out loud. This couldn’t possibly be a coincidence, could it? But the manner in which he shyly waved at you and fidgeted from foot to foot told you that it might be.

“Minseok will help you with the research and come with ideas. He’ll also help you with the examples that way you get all the points. Is that alright?”

Your stomach did a backflip. This meant the two of you would be spending time together – alone. Which wasn’t anything unusual; you’d had project partners of the opposite sex before, but none of them sent your heart leaping either. Perhaps it would be best to keep this on a need-to-know basis for the time being. Smiling, you looked at the expectant GTA.

“Peachy.”

#exo #exo wolf au #exo wolf!au #minseok x reader #kim minseok #xiumin #exo werewolf!au #exo werewolf au #exo supernatural au #exo series #exo fanfiction #exo fanfic #Untamed Wolf Universe #Catching Rain

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raziroo · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 3 | I Am Not At All Wise

Pairing: There's hints, but none

Genre: Angst?

Warnings: Overly Casual Mentions of Depression and Anxiety, Mentions of Trading of Lives

Word Count: 1,926

Author's Note: This might appear a little rushed, because I got this sudden surge of inspiration and sat down to write this and this isn't even proofread. Sorry, hehe.

‘Guys, what’s wrong with you?! This my father we’re talking about, my father! Why are you so hesitant to trade him for Lotor?’

The tense energy in the room only became even more suffocating when Pidge let that question, among others, loose like cannonballs. I was glad I was sitting even a bit away from the ongoing discussion, because the questions and not up to par answers were succeeding in making me uncomfortable. After all, the topic at hand wasn’t light at all – a topic such as trading of lives is one that questions your morals, your beliefs, literally everything you, as a person, stand for. I stared at Pidge, her absolutely enraged expression making me gulp nervously`. If Pidge didn’t get her father back now, after finding out his destination, then God knows how many shots are going to get fired at whom. And although I’m not saying that Pidge is wrong, she isn’t even right.

That’s confusing.

What I meant to say was, that although Pidge’s actions and fury and incredulousness were fully justified, it didn’t mean that we could all just nod heads in tandem and send Lotor off as some sort of pig for slaughter in exchange of Pidge’s dad. It wasn’t fair.

As my eyes lost focus, I recalled Captain America’s words – we don’t trade lives.

I snapped out of my thoughts. I couldn’t say anything. I didn’t want to. I wouldn’t, ultimately. Heading to my room now instead of just sitting there and making myself look like an unopinionated fool wasn’t helping me anyways, and neither was Lotor’s presence a couple feet beside me.

I decided to head to my room.

After all, that was what I was best at, wasn’t it? After finally accepting that I was a time traveler and couldn’t ever see my friends or family ever again and that aliens did actually exist, and not just on Mars (wait, did aliens exist on Mars? I never asked that), all I did for a good sum of time was hide in my room. Activities except hiding in my room included roaming through the castle and running to my room as soon as I deducted any trace of intelligent life near me, being strangely intimate with the white lion – intimacy including venting about how I was probably depressed, possibly had anxiety, caressing the lioness because she’s beautiful, and nestling in her cockpit because she felt like home – and running to my room when Shiro questioned me about my connection with White.

A bit after, when I felt more reassured and had begun craving human communication, I finally emerged from my cave, only to find that some of the Paladins didn’t seem too happy with my presence. Time went on, spirits fell, only to rise once again in blazing hopes of dethroning Zarkon, and my naturally social abilities helped me blend in with the Paladins soon. A lot of the comfort I felt among the Paladins, I owed to Shiro and Hunk. Those two were literally angels, especially to me. I couldn’t count on all the fingers of the Paladins and Allura combined how may times those two, and occasionally Lance, came to offer me a hug or talk to me when I looked glum. Even Allura and Pidge talked to meif they were free. The only person I had problems interacting with was Keith. But we’d nod to each other, say our greetings, and I accepted that. I couldn’t be besties with everyone. However, mine and Keith’s communication skills only worsened and problems only increased once Shiro disappeared. Keith straight up would refuse to pilot the Black Lion, and even when he finally agreed, he was so unorganized and his decisions so rash it was costing the coalition. When Lions started becoming unstable to fight after longer, tougher battles, White was expected to fill in. After all, it was the White Lion’s purpose – to be the mind of Voltron when the Paladins couldn’t, to keep the soul, fire, water, air and flora elements in check, Allura had once said to me. Only, White needed a pilot, a Paladin. And all expectations of being White’s pilot were pinned on me, naturally, because I was the one who seemingly materialized in her cockpit out of nowhere.

I, obviously, failed to do that. Because apparently (and quite obviously, if I do say so myself) even though White warmed up the cockpit for me when I slept there and seemed to purr when I caressed her face, I wasn’t worthy enough, in her gaze, to be a Paladin. And I truly had no qualms about that. The only issue was that Keith wasn’t satisfied with that. Pidge and Lance tried to hide it, but they too, felt that I should try harder. Hunk comforted me when I accidentally let the hurt I was feeling shine through. Allura tried to convince everyone that it wasn’t my fault at all, that the Lions only accepted whom they deemed fit to Pilot them, and the reason the White Lion even was the “extra” Lion in the first place was that it was hardest than any of the other Lions to convince to be Pilot of. It was simply too calculating and cynical and choosy – and I agreed with White wholly, because stepping in as the voice of reason, as the mind of Voltron when all these worthy, noble, brave people who were specifically selected to be the defender and judge of the universe when no one else could failed to do their jobs, then you needed to be one hell of a person to be honoured with the name “White Paladin of Voltron”.

When Shiro had come back, or as he said, when Keith brought him back, the Castle seemed to light up more. I understood why he was chosen to be the soul to combine the other elements and form Voltron. I was ecstatic, perhaps happier than some of the Paladins even, but that didn’t mean I didn’t notice – or rather, didn’t choose to shrug off - his strange and simply out of character behaviour at times. I wasn’t the only one that did. It was when I voiced to White about my concerns, and she glowed – literally glowed as if in agreement did I know that shit was serious. White, as weirdly impossible as it sounds, also noticed. She knew, too, that something wasn’t right with Shiro. It was beyond me how she did, but I didn’t get to ponder on that for too long.

Why?

Because Lotor happened. He arrived as our saviour at the most unexpected moment and in the most unexpected way, and then became unpredictability, unanswered questions, and uncertainty personified for us. How many rifts and arguments he alone had caused between the Paladins was the slightest bit alarming, but justified, in my opinion. Lotor had succeeded in messing up our functioning. It didn’t matter if it was only a tad – he was the anthropomorphic form of all the flaws and hesitancies and wrongs and uncertainties in the coalition that we’d turned a blind eye to.

And now Zarkon had offered us Pidge’s dad’s freedom in exchange of Lotor, but I would be lying if I said if I wasn’t the tiniest bit worried as to just what Zarkon would do to Lotor. I know, I know, I really was no one to be straining my brain for that, since Lotor was an alien Prince who had equal chances of being good and evil, was capable of killing us all if he wished to, and had probably endured worse than his father’s wrath. But that wasn’t even the biggest issue we had. Pidge getting fired up was reasonable enough, I was aware of how emotionally driven she could become at times despite being a genius. And her brain refusing to work when her family came into play was the reason I was bothered most – even if she convinced the other Paladins to go through with the exchange, there was absolutely no surety that Zarkon would keep his part of the deal. It was legit the dumbest, most irrational thing the protagonist could do. If that happened, we’d lose both Pidge’s father, and an extremely valuable asset to the coalition.

I didn’t really realize that during my very acceptable train of self-depreciating thoughts I’d changed my route and had instinctively begun for White. I guess it was only right, as I felt more at ease there than anywhere. It was only when I reached her and stroked her, she seemed to… close in on her herself. I furrowed my brow, a small frown on my lips.

I sighed. It was probably nothing.

Relaxing my facial muscles, I closed my eyes, leaned forward, and nudged White’s snout. I jumped back with a start when instead of the usual purr or whimper, she growled at me. The crease between my brows returned with a higher intensity.

‘What is it, girl? Hmm?’ I cooed at her, not risking touching her. ‘Is something wrong? Do you not want to talk? Should I go?’

Silence was what I received in exchange.

‘My love,’ yes I called White “my love”, “girl”, have and will continue to call her “babe”, and no you cannot do jack about it. ‘You need to tell me, please,’ I continued, my voice gentle as ever, ‘how am I supposed to know what you want to say? You’ve never growled at me before. I don’t know how to interpret that gesture. Do I take it as you being upset? Angry? Sad?’ She still didn’t answer. All the life seemed to leave her.

I tilted my head. My sigh bounced off the walls.

‘The White Lion is said to be the mind of Voltron,’ a naturally assertive, deep, thunder-like voice called. I was sure I jumped at least a foot before whipping my head to where the voice resonated from. Lotor. What -?

‘Forgive me if I scared you. I thought it wise to offer some assistance; you seemed to be in need of help.’

I didn’t answer. He took it as a “yes, I need your help”. ‘The most probable reason it is not responding to your calls, is because you are contradicting what the White Lion stands for, you aren’t being wise. That is, assuming the Lion does answer you typically.’

I turned back to White, my jaw setting. My lingering suspicion turned into certainty at Lotor’s remarks.

Well. As much as I cherished my relations with White, I wasn’t going to voice my thoughts and concerns regarding the life trade. I wasn’t particularly keen on getting involved. I wasn’t the White Paladin. I wasn’t the voice of reason. I couldn’t be. This was the exact reason as to why I couldn’t be the White Paladin. I had many a thought, but didn’t always think it wise to share them with others.

Especially not when “others” included a leader that was not being himself, a princess who wanted to get rid of the Galra empire and Zarkon as soon as possible no matter the cost, and a Paladin who was going feral and becoming blind by rage at the thought of not getting her father back when she was so close.

Yes. Now definitely not.

Without sparing Lotor or White another glance, I headed to my room, for real this time. I didn’t notice both of their piercing gazes aimed at my retreating figure.

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seimeinotaka · 4 years ago

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A waltz for two solo dancers (VilXFeMC)

For TwstOC Week Day 2. Relationships.

There is a lingering tension between Vil and Ann, like a waltz. A waltz for two solo dancers, each gliding at their own tune, so close yet so far. Wanting to get close, but not enough to touch each other. Yearning gazes being the only betrayal of those hidden thoughts.

Thanks to polyphenols@AO3 for beta-reading this!

Vil stood in front of Ann, fixing her tie and her hair, unaware or uncaring of the soft smile on her face. Her heart always beat this fast when she was with him, always aware of the way he made her feel.

She loved Vil deeply, ever since that day.

“That’s why I want to give my all to be able to vote for myself proudly.”

Her heart was taken by those words, the deep conviction in his heart.

But she knew things couldn't go the way she wished, because she was a person who did not deserve anything.

It was why she was content with these faint touches, these ephemeral interactions that would go nowhere. At times, it almost felt like Vil was affectionate, an elusive softness that felt like a mirage. But, even if her heart trembled, she pushed her delusions to the back of her mind while simultaneously surrendering herself to the moment until her mind reminded her of her own reality, which marred the moment with a deep shame and grief.

"I cannot enjoy this, no matter how much I desire this. No, it was wishing for anything in the first place that caused me to lose everything."

A risky double thought.

"I don’t like the Potato, Rook," Vil said dryly.

The vice leader arched his eyebrows, with a matching knowing, taunting smile.

"Sure you don't, Roi du Poison. That's why you're mesmerized by the trickster."

"How could I be?" Vil scoffed with disdain, glaring at Rook, a sign to wipe that smirk off his face. "She doesn't know her place and dares to talk back to me. She's untidy, she doesn't take care of her skin, have you seen how she's always yawning in art class?"

Rook nodded to everything he said. "Oui, she is exactly as you say. When you demand her to move, she asks you 'Why?', instead of 'Is this far enough?'. Instead of being mesmerized by your beauty, she waves you hello. You expect her to fear and respect you, admiring you from afar, but she invades your private space to tell you she doesn't like how you treat others. Didn't she tell you, 'I'm on a raid, don't interrupt me or I'll kill you' without batting an eye, when you were filming in the courtyard she was sitting in?"

"You are proving my point, Rook."

"Unyielding against your charms and uncaring at your status as the Queen. To call this a crush would be a mistake. No, your feelings run deeper than this, ahhhh~ the scorching and relentless feeling of love!"

If looks could kill, the hunter would have been buried thirteen times already, for saying something so ridiculous. Vil Schoenheit in love with her, of all people?

"The Trickster also seems interested in you."

The words aimed directly at his heart, why did he choose Rook as vice leader when he was not careful of his place? And why was everyone telling him things he didn't want to admit?

"Of course, isn't that obvious? I am Vil Schoenheit," he uttered, attempting to assert his dominance, to defend his wounded pride.

"You know that's not what I mean."

He turned his eyes away, she had seen through him, the ugliness he wanted to hide. She saw it and yet...

"Stop spouting nonsense, Rook. I'm in a foul mood. I will be in my room."

He entered his room and closed his doors, fist slamming on them. His heart ached, frowning deeply as how easily he could recall her face and her cheeky smile.

And how he desperately wanted her to look at him.

When she was nice to everyone...

How could he tell if she is looking at him...?

He slammed his fist against the door, once more hiding his blushing face on his sleeve, as he was only accompanied by the sound of his racing heart.

Her feelings were like an open box, the best way to hide something was to be upfront about everything. It was how she had managed to fool herself. Never had she tried anything to reach him, to try to get him to love her.

It was fine if her love was one-sided, as hurtful as it was.

She was okay with being just his ‘professional headache’, the girl who sometimes got scolded by him, the possible friend that sometimes hangs out with him. She enjoyed their talks, their accidental meetings, their bickering.

As long as that line was never crossed, she was fine.

There was a silly contradiction to that trail of thought. She was fully aware of her love, and always acted on it, whenever she greeted him or talked to him. Her reassurance came from the bottom of her heart. However, she had no intention of it being known, she wouldn’t go and confess to him or anyone. She was no idiot and she knew how to avoid the usual talks of romance and love between her friends. It helped that Ace and Deuce hardly talked about the matter, focusing on the day-to-day happenings, and less on whatever she was feeling.

So long she could see him, from an invisible wall she had erected to protect him, she would be fine with whatever they never were.

He was surprised to acknowledge she had similar traits to him, even if they looked like immediate opposites at first glance. She didn’t look much like it, but she favored hard work, that was his first surprise. All of her potato friends had been duped by Azul’s scheme, but she was the one who bailed them out. She had also a hidden passion as well, given her devotion to that game of hers she played, and the art she seemed fond of making. While she was young and inexperienced, given how she often lost track of time, it was precisely this trait that showed her ambition and determination. The fortitude to throw herself into a task she had to accomplish no matter what. It honestly annoyed him, she somehow thought it adequate to go to bed at unholy hours as long as she did what she wanted, her skin care be damned, but it somehow made her shine when he scolded her the next morning.

“Sorry, Vil-senpai, I was at a good part of my game and I couldn’t stop.”

With his cosmetics, he could somehow make up for a tired look on her skin, but at times, it was as if she was glowing instead. He wouldn’t have imagined she had pulled an all-nighter, even if she was supposed to be the potato and him, the beauty expert.

She did possess something he lacked. It was that kindness of hers, one not restricted to her friends. His world didn’t forgive the easily duped, the ones who did something for others, expecting nothing in return. The school they studied at held this principle deep in its roots, where being kind and soft would only leave you as prey to be used. He was far from the likes of Azul and Leona, but he wasn’t the kind to help others for no reason. To give out his secrets for free, it was a way to coddle laziness and neglect. In the industry, it was a sure way to get you killed. But it seemed this concept didn’t apply to her, as her webcomic was a way to help her study (one of the potatoes had come to read it often) and her Magicam was full of advice, the accumulated experience of a high-ranked player in her home world. Everything for free, nothing expected in return.

He himself had been on the receiving end, with her annoying encouragement and unwanted advice. With his own life being saved from overblotting, like she had saved the others. Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil. Some of them people who had attacked her or her friends. Yet she still helped them, she helped him, not asking for anything, not even a thank you. They had argued, he had been cold to her, but she still extended her hand to save him.

There was something Vil Schoenheit possessed that no one else had, a brilliance that lay deeper than his obvious beauty.

Ann knew he was beautiful, but it was the elegance he carried himself with, the strictness he had for himself and the diligence to reach his goals that made him who he was.

Vil never excused himself, taking responsibility for his faults, like his own admission of his failings for his Overblot and making amends for it. He never asked for help, he worked on his own. She had learned his father was a famous actor, and Vil, while loving him dearly, had never resorted to latching on his father’s fame as an easy way into the business industry.

Instead, he had worked hard, went to auditions and prepared himself. The few times she helped him carry props for his Film Appreciation Club, she had seen the worn out scripts, the hundreds of notes and stickers. He took care of everything with meticulous care, she might have found him rehearsing nonstop even on his busy schedule.

Vil worked out and prided himself on being perfect always, even though he was close to wearing himself thin, and it wasn’t out of simple vanity. He was complex, far from perfect, with his secret failings that didn’t make him less beautiful in her eyes. Someone who wanted to better himself, to reach perfection even if such a state was impossible from the start, how could she not love him for giving his all to a goal?

Even if he denied it, he was kind, secretly helping others being their best person they could be. As harsh and strict as he seemed, he looked out for everyone, not only those close to him or in his dorm. He wouldn’t even mind being painted as something he loathed, as long as that person got the drive to improve themselves. It was why for her, he was a true selfless hero, with shortcomings that he struggled with. And it was why she wanted him to achieve his dream, and had tried to help him in the only way she could, through words, written or spoken, and through art so that others might see him in a different light, the things Vil never mentioned about himself that were easily missed by others just looking at him at glance.

He wanted her to look at him. To praise him. To tell him he was the most beautiful.

"I don't care about your opinion. "

It was a bold lie, one to hide his own deepest feelings, the actual fear of her opinion of him. He was aware that he was in the eye of everyone, but...

He wanted to be in her eyes but feared hearing her thoughts. Because she saw right through his efforts. Through everything he did. Would she praise him?

He felt bare, exposed. And, he was unsure if he could handle her rejection. That was why he shut out her opinion fast, fearing the words he didn't want to hear.

Why wasn't she telling him he was beautiful, like everyone else? Why did she approach him easily? She didn't know her place, he kept repeating that to himself, but there was a lingering fear it was because he was nothing to her, hence why she acted so nonchalantly.

He wanted to be her very first thought in the morning and the last one at night, just as she invaded his dreams and haunted him everywhere with her presence or absence. But he couldn't easily go and tell her, "I saw you in my dreams again. We were together, you by my side, the place I yearn for you to be."

He sighed. There was no use getting upset over this. But these words didn't reach his heart, its pace increasing as he thought of her again.

(He knew that it was because she didn't say those words, that she looked deeper, focusing on his sweat, blood and tears, that he looked for her everywhere now.)

"You've worked so hard to get where you're standing on and that's really amazing."

He was in deep.

"I think your beauty doesn't only lie in how you look, you are beautiful, but it's your determination and hard work that makes you shine."

He stopped breathing when she said that, heart aching so much because she wasn't aware that her words pierced his heart, permanently latching on it like the sword in his crown. Whenever he repeated them in his mind, like a broken record, he clenched his chest, losing all strength, a sweet tasting poison that bewitched his soul. It hurts him but, he couldn't stop himself from yearning it.

"Please, look at me."

"...Please love me..."

He whispered quietly in the darkness of his empty room.

There was an irony of the Pomefiore Queen falling victim to her sweet tender poison.

(Was it really poison? Her words were sweet and gentle, beautiful and without any ill intentions. But they killed him slowly, so they might as well be the most dangerous venom in the world. And he wouldn't stop wishing for it, taking them all until there was nothing left.)

"Vil-senpai, good morning!"

She would smile brightly at him and he would avoid her eyes, feigning indifference because he couldn't hold her gaze back. He preferred to nitpick, to tell her that her lips were dry, that she should pay attention to her appearance, harshly scolding her as his hands carefully arranged her tie.

"I won't be always fixing you. You should be always presentable, what am I going to do with you?"

He fussed over her, giving her even some lipstick he had, after applying it to her lips that surely her potato friends would comment on later.

What was he going to do? Wasn't it obvious? He'd look for her next and fuss again over her appearance, because that was as close as he could allow himself to be, safely hidden by the pretense of her untidy appearance.

"Tell me, Trickster Ann-kun," Rook's piercing voice shot through the silence like the arrow from his bow. "Do you have feelings for the beautiful Vil?"

He had suddenly approached her, as she had taken a night stroll in the surroundings of Ramshackle Dorm to clear her head, even though she knew the chaos would remain.

She closed her eyes, she knew that looking away or up front would show the answer, a fawn in front of the perceptive hunter. Vil had already confronted her, her eyes telling a different story than what she wanted to say. Rook would surely suspect, no, she had a feeling he was asking to confirm his suspicions.

"What do you mean?"

"Your eyes shine the most when you are next to him, even if you then look away moments after. You approach him often, during the free times he has or even when your paths cross, in between classes and your personal activities. There's a tension, a soft lingering warmth when you talk to him. I look at Vil the most, so naturally I would notice first anything that happens around him."

She looked up at the sky, her lips drawn in a thin line. There were no stars to reflect on her eyes.

"Would it bother you?"

"Non, naturally there are many who have feelings for him. In fact, I would be most bothered if people didn't realize his beauty."

"You did mention it before, you wanted us to see his beauty back during our VDC training."

"Oui, Vil has a beauty no one else possesses. It would be foolish to ignore it when close to it. But we are not talking about me, we are talking about you, Trickster Ann-kun."

"..."

"Befitting of your name, you try to fool your opponents and the people who surround you. But you should already know I am a hunter and it's my pride to say I do not let my prey get away.”

"I had a feeling you would say that, though whatever. Whatever I feel, it doesn't really matter."

She could feel his sharp eyes on her, carefully examining her every movement, conscious or unconscious. For a moment, she thought he was concerned, but she wouldn't engage in eye contact for her sake. She knew better than engaging in a fight she would lose.

"If I like him or not, it doesn't matter. Someone like him shouldn't be with someone like me."

"Do you think of yourself as inferior to him, Trickster Ann-kun? Vil is the kind of person who can appreciate beauty, no matter how unconventional."

"I don't really know where I fall in that category, and I don't think too much about it anyway," she said with a casual shrug, but it didn't shake off Rook's inquisitive gaze.

"You should be aware that you're already someone important to him. What happened in the VDC put you in another place in his eyes."

What would it be? Vil’s overblot and her desperate tries to save him? Their talk alone after they lost the VDC? She was sure Vil couldn’t know her punching Rook was largely due to her own anger at him for doing this to Vil.

But no matter the reason, it changed nothing.

"...It's because of that...Things are fine the way they are now. I'm fine with that. "

"Perhaps you are, but what about Vil?"

She unconsciously turned to him, his green eyes revealing a strong protectiveness and concern. She winced and looked away, though perhaps she had already shown too much.

"...He is better this way. I...I don't deserve him, that's all."

"Is this why you don't grasp for him? The yearning in your eyes, you cannot hide it from me, but you don't wish to claim him."

Ann couldn’t reply, and the look in the hunter’s eyes told him he knew more, her silence a confirmation for him. He pressed for no more answers, not that she would give them. Her love was doomed from the start and she was fine with that.

“But what about Vil?”

That was the only problem, though she prayed it never happened.

The truth is, I want him to love me. I want him to hold me.

But I can’t have him.

I have to look at him from afar, no matter how much my heart aches for him.

This was a waltz for two solo dancers, each gliding at their own tune, so close yet so far. Wanting to get close, but not enough to touch each other. Yearning gazes being the only betrayal of those hidden thoughts.

His lips touched hers and a bolt of electricity passed through his body, heart aching so much, as his tight chest reminded him to breathe. Her lips were so soft and tender, and when he pulled back in shock at what he had done, her warmth lingering on his lips almost made him wish to continue. Locking mouths, their skin needing to be one, to be this close always, it was a feeling he had been blessed to have just experienced and cursed, because it would never be enough.

Especially when her eyes reflected a pain he would have never expected to see.

The one time he had let himself be overcome with emotion, his relentless feelings deciding something so bold, it had to be the time where he quietly poured them all in one action only to feel a quiet unmoving slap in the form of her gaze.

She didn't have to say anything, too shocked to move but the rejection in her eyes was more than clear, and her lingering lips on his skin added insult to the injury.

It was the pain he felt as he left the room that let him know how hard he had fallen for her, how much he yearned for her love and adoration, and it was crushing him.

"Potato."

"Huh..."

The next thing she realized was his perfume so close filling her nostrils, his soft lips on hers.

And she felt her world crumbling, the small bubble she had crafted for her delusions rupturing and bringing her to the terrible reality she had to confront.

Something took over her, a violent mix of terror and guilt, of her realizing the thing she had done and how far her silly nonsense had reached.

She wanted his love, she yearned for it deeply, but she couldn’t accept it.

Vil was in love with someone else, right? Not her, someone like Rook or someone else who deserved him.

But his lips were on hers, a delicate blessing she wasn’t worthy of receiving. Hence she could only stand in horror, unable to move or react, because what was she supposed to do?

He pulled back abruptly, his cheeks light pink and brilliant violet eyes avoiding hers. He shook his head before vanishing through the door.

She pressed her fingers on her lips, they were warm, so tempting to keep bringing back the ghost of his skin over hers, the thing she had wished deep down for so long.

But the hurt in his eyes kept haunting her, and she felt like dying.

Thank you for reading!

#twisted wonderland #twstocweek #vil schoenheit #twstoc #vil x mc #twst #rook hunt

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wedreamedlove · 5 years ago

Text

Xu Mo - Character Study

Preserving this from Reddit. But the comments are always interesting, so I’m dropping the link here.

This post will include content up to Chapter 18. Plus some calls, dates, and ASMR in the CN server. I always quote from JP and CN (because I have major issues with Elex’s translation).

Also, this is an extremely long post. Last I checked it was about 7,500 words so get comfortable if you’re going to read this LOL.

BASICS

First, I don't think I'd be wrong in saying Xu Mo's character is the most polarizing out of the four men and I believe this is due in large part to cultural differences and how the localization handled that. Putting aside my constant harping about subtleties being dropped, I was enlightened by @sharinluna about an aspect I didn't consider, which is Xu Mo's "social class".

Face, social status, rank, and hierarchy are - and still is - very important in Chinese culture. Easy examples people can relate to are respecting elders and the prestige of being a doctor, banker, lawyer, etc. But I can't stress enough the reverence that is given to these "high" social statuses. How this applies to Xu Mo is that he comes from a lineage of literati that would place him as someone in an upper class status, in addition to his own achievements.

Xu Mo was born from a scholarly family. His parents were highly talented and leading researchers.

In the eyes of the public, Xu Mo is a young and remarkable neurologist and a guest professor at Lianyu University. He is serious and persistent towards his scientific research, which is how he's obtained extraordinary achievements. At 26 years old, he has already obtained achievements that most people wouldn't get in a lifetime. There is no other word better to describe him than "genius".

[CN Profile Translation]

The English definition of literati leads you to intellectuals, but this doesn't carry the weight and history of how literati, or basically scholar-officials, were people appointed by the emperor to carry out day-to-day duties and to help govern the country. I guess the equivalent would be a noble who carries out noblesse oblige. Cultured people with scholarly achievements were very respected in historical China and also acted as role models for the common people.

So, going back to Xu Mo, because we're in modern times and he doesn't have an overtly obvious title (to those not in his field of work) he just comes off as a gentle, unassuming, humble, scholar with an air of sophistication and professionalism from his background. Think of a noble, without any airs.

This is reflected in his polite and modest speech (I will be bringing an updated post on this over to Tumblr to go into more detail about modal particles; the important thing is that Xu Mo NEVER smirks unless he's Ares and even that could just be a cold smile). Not to mention all the descriptions about his elegance and refinement. Heck, he even has a Chinese tea ceremony set in his room, including the tools to make tea [CN "In His World" Event].

Xu Mo's classiness, for a lack of a better word, also emphasizes the purposeful contrast of seeing him do common, mundane things. Like watching cartoons to understand humans better [CN Profile]. It's like how Li Zeyan, with his more understandable poshness from his riches, would be contrasted with mundane things. But, if we were looking for another analogy, Xu Mo would be old elegance and Li Zeyan would be nouveau elegance.

Anyway, Xu Mo also has another trait given to him that's a classic in female-oriented Chinese media and that's being a "black belly; 腹黑". For those who are more familiar with Japanese, it's basically the same word as "haraguro; 腹黒".

Black bellies are people who act nice and unassuming on the outside, but they're sly and manipulative (and at times cruel) on the inside or in secret to other people.

Essentially, they're two-faced but while English has a negative connotation with this word it's normal and accepted in Asia (likely because of the concept of face). The majority of male leads in Chinese novels are all black bellies. BTW, the origin of the word comes from how you only notice their black belly after you're eaten up by them LOL.

So, how this works in female-oriented media is... well, there's many combinations. For example, they can be nice to everyone, including the heroine, but secretly vicious against those who hurt the heroine. Or they're nice in public, but show their sly cunning to the heroine. Mix it however you want! They also like to tease the heroine in all sorts of ways, like leading them into verbal traps to see them flustered.

There's some crossover with black bellies being abusive, cruel, or yandere towards their heroine, but it's not necessary for black bellies to be like that. Just think of these as being Venn diagram circles with overlap [example of a sweet black belly is Xiao Nai from the Chinese drama LoveO2O, also a novel].

Returning to the main topic, you can easily see how this applies to Xu Mo. He's nice and elegant... except for when he's not. It's how he can have this gentle and refined air, but then turn around and be a massive flirt and tease with the heroine (flashing his black belly). Then he goes and turns completely black when he's Ares LOL.

Now, after giving background on Xu Mo's character archetype, let's move onto my other sections.

MAN OF JUXTAPOSITIONS

I wanted to call this section "man of contradictions" at first, but then I thought that might mislead people. Basically, this is all about how Xu Mo is a man of dualities.

[Main Story 13-22] The scarred man describes Ares as being the only person who can be trusted in BS, and yet Ares doesn't hesitate to go against Hades and incapacitate him. I'd argue that this places a wrench in BS' operations, so there goes being the most trustworthy person in BS (although, granted, BS sounds like they're a writhing mess of people with their own thoughts and ideas about how it should be run).

Xu Mo is a gentle teacher to MC, patient and taking the time to explain concepts she doesn't understand or provide novel ideas to her; however, he also gives her the worst betrayal and you can almost call this the harshest of lessons.

For all his image of being an intellectual scholar, as I've mentioned in the previous section, Xu Mo is surprisingly "physical". [CN Archery Date] shows that he's ripped and knows a taxing sport like archery, and in [Main Story 16-22] he straight up kills the goons with ice shards (even if it's in a mental arena).

[Main Story 8-23 & 9] bombards you with light and shadow descriptions. Actually, this imagery follows Xu Mo everywhere but it's most prominent in these chapters. He's always standing at the intersection of light and shadow, or light shines down on one of his sides but casts the other in shadow.

[Main Story 9-14] I will be forever salty for Elex dropping the ball here, but Xu Mo's eyes are described to contain a sense of humanness and life. Then, in [Main Story 12-22] he is described to have an expression lacking any emotion and human warmth. Human descriptions contrasted with inhuman descriptions.

Mm, you just have to love delicious juxtapositions and how it emphasizes his duality of being both Xu Mo and Ares. Two sides of the same coin.

Once again, I didn't want to call these contradictions because I don't believe one of these negates the other. It's like how we code switch in different scenarios. You can be a nice person, but vicious when your bottom line is crossed.

These sides of Xu Mo don't overturn the core of his character or his through line: loving the MC, ruthlessly ambitious for the sake of his goals, and naturally gentle (shown in the way he treats animals and people not in the way of his goal).

But, if you do insist on seeing one side of these as lies, then Xu Mo once said:

"Besides, lies have just as much power as the truth. The true nature of things can be indirectly reflected in the world of lies [...] It is because these lies exist, that one can get closer to the truth."

[Main Story 12 Call: Truth and Fiction]

REVERSING "GOOD" IMAGERY

I haven't been quiet at all about how much I love the evocative imagery Xu Mo gets, but an interesting thing I've noticed is how "positive" imagery is twisted into "negative" imagery when it comes to him. It's brilliant.

[Main Story 13-8] MC leaves the building, after interviewing the elevator Evolver man with Xu Mo, and dazzling light shines down on her, yet she can't feel the slightest bit of warmth. This chapter literally sets up Xu Mo's reveal as Ares through positive imagery turned negative. Not to mention warmth disappears into coldness.

In [Midnight Date] there's a rope with thorns tightening around Xu Mo's heart. In [True Love Date] there is a delicate rope tightening around his heart. I will eat my shoe if this isn't a reference to the red string of fate that binds him and MC together. But, as you can see, it's causing him all the suffering in the world.

[Main Story 13-19] Iridescent, the pen, was given to MC and she ends up using it to threaten her own life. Not only is it Xu Mo's symbol of love (more on this later) but pens aren't supposed to be violent weapons. There's the saying that pens are mightier than the sword, because pens write down ideas that are supposed to convince people peacefully. So, a symbol of something non-physical and literary is now a physical weapon of violence and force.

[Main Story 8-23] Xu Mo tucks MC's hands back under the blanket when she's in the hospital, but MC describes a "cold sensation" touching her before she sees that it's his hands. So, Xu Mo has bad circulation or low temperature. Normally, in otome games, the men are supposed to have warm hands (encourages feelings of security, safety, etc.).

[Main Story 9-18] also talks about how Xu Mo's fingertips are freezing, but this is probably more because of the context of the scene.

To be honest, I'm iffy on the last two points about cold hands because it's a common description I see in Chinese novels, where the male lead is described with a cool temperature or cool breath. So, it sort of sounds like it can be a positive descriptor? Of course, there's also male leads who run hot to show how passionate they are LOL.

Or maybe cool descriptions are used to emphasize a character's rationality but when things get hot and heavy they start to burn in temperature and it's supposed to make you go "OOH! HE'S LOSING CONTROL!" or something.

In any case, Xu Mo being of cold temperature is a distinct thing because Gavin is generally described with warm temperatures (because he's a hotblooded military man). The only time I can recall Gavin having a cool description given to him is the tip of his nose in his birthday date, but come on the nose is the extremity of extremities!

Lastly, Xu Mo also needs a special mention for this point:

[Main Story 16-22] The opposite happens here with imagery reversion. Death, normally a frightening concept, is flipped to be a good thing. To escape Xu Mo's dream you need to die. Dying is another way to live.

SYMBOLISM

First, I think it's interesting to note that despite Xu Mo being a "villainous" character and having all this light and shadow imagery (metaphor for his inner conflict), he's ultimately described with light. He has spatial and solidifying light (?) powers that manifest as white light rather than dark shadows.

It's also cute that he shows his two sides with his WHITE lab coat or his BLACK trench coat.

Second, water is pretty much THE imagery to go to for enlightened, virtuous, and refined people. Heck, Lao Tzu in Tao Te Ching, a fundamental text for philosophical and religious Taoism, connects water with 7 virtues:

Dwelling with the right location: water goes to the lowest point, thus a humble person should emulate this. Arrogant people always try to go to the top.

Feeling with great depth: truly virtuous people are like deep pools of water. You can't see everything about them at first, but as you get to know them it's like discovering a treasure and this should encourage you to cultivate depth in yourself too.

Giving with great kindness: rivers flow across the land nourishing everything in its way; once it's done its work it moves on without waiting for praise or recognition. This is the virtue of unconditional kindness.

Speaking with great integrity: water, when calm and undisturbed, reflects its surroundings perfectly and so should people reflect the truth with the same degree of accuracy.

Governing with great administration: water benefits everyone equally, because water doesn't pass judgment on anyone. Give everyone the same level of basic courtesy.

Handling with great capability: water has great versatility and nothing can block its way; it can flow to the left, right, under, over, etc. It's also not limited to just its regular form and can be steam or ice.

Moving with great timing: summer rains never fall in winter, and winter rains never fall in summer. Water demonstrates there is a time for everything and that everything can occur in its own time.

Remember how I said scholar-officials in historical China are basically like role models and nobles who help govern the people under the emperor with noblesse oblige? This is why scholar characters go hand in hand with water imagery, because it's supposed to emphasize their virtuousness.

So, because Xu Mo is a scholar-type character, the same goes for him. He has SO MUCH water imagery going on for him, and it carries the above weight behind it. I've probably missed some, but here's a list of the ones I can recall:

[Main Story 9-11] MC falls asleep on the bus and, as Xu Mo watches her, the emotions in his eyes are like swelling ocean tides at night.

[Main Story 9-14] MC's dream about Xu Mo has her falling into an ocean.

[Main Story 9-22] MC ends up in Xu Mo's memories about the accident that killed his parents and it's raining.

[Main Story 11-6] Xu Mo brings MC Chinese bellflowers and MC feels that they're fragile, as if the petals are thin ice that'll break if she touches them.

[Main Story 13-4] Xu Mo's voice is like the morning fog evaporating in the sunlight.

[Main Story 13-8] During their talk about MC wanting to continue her investigation, calm waves drift in Xu Mo's dark eyes.

[Main Story 13-19] This is tangentially related to Xu Mo because these descriptions apply to the MC, but it happens after the Ares reveal. She feels like she got pushed into an ice cave, she feels like she's drifting in an ocean, and when she thinks about Xu Mo her memories overwhelm her like a flood and she feels like she's going to drown.

[Main Story 16-16] Xu Mo gets to kill Hades' goons with a copied ice ability. The writers didn't have to give the goons an ice ability; they could have had metal powers, or fire powers, but nope it was water-related.

[The Promised Date] Xu Mo's eyes are like ocean tides at night. When he's abroad he experiences heart pains and finds his shirt drenched and stuck to his back, giving him the illusion that he's drowning.

Third, Xu Mo also has a lot of flower language going for him. Technically, the other guys have flowers and plants associated with them too (for example, Gavin with white lilies and gingko leaves), but I think Xu Mo gets more LOL.

[Main Story 9-14] Red spider lilies appear in MC's dream about Xu Mo. These mean sad memories, mutual longing, separation, graceful purity, beauty of death, endless love, a precursor to death, and a call to the netherworld. The sadness and mutual longing is because the flowers and leaves of spider lilies can never touch; meanwhile, their relation to death is because they bloom punctually around the autumn equinox when people sweep graves.

[Main Story 11-6] Xu Mo gives the MC Chinese bellflowers, which bloomed out of season, when she's at the hospital. These mean eternal love, sincerity, yearning, or hopeless love. The reason for this double meaning is because Chinese bellflowers represent happiness, but only some people can seize their happiness while others miss it, are unable to grasp it, or are unable to keep it.

[Blossom Event] Xu Mo gifts a gardenia to MC, which is called Garda. In Chinese, gardenias mean tenacious, eternal love, waiting for you for a lifetime, and our love.

[Blossom Date] Xu Mo and MC go look at peach blossoms together. Not only do they quote a poem all about a bride serving her clan, groom's clan, and her groom (including having abundant fruit if you know what I mean), peach blossoms themselves mean being a captive of love.

[Under the Mistletoe SSR] Mistletoe, duh. Normally, I'd look at Chinese flower language but they're clearly using the common meaning of mistletoe: love and enduring love to those who kiss under it. Plus, if you refuse a kiss beneath it then you'll get bad luck LOL.

[CN Promise You a Lifetime SSR] Xu Mo's wedding card has wisteria in the background. In China, it means intoxicating love, dependence, born for love and dying for love, obsessed with you, the happiest moment, and indulging in love.

[Golden Days SSR] Xu Mo's flower card, but I can't find a consensus on what the flowers are. Some people think its oleander but they only bloom in summer and fall when the card is about being in the springtime. Oleanders mean a curse and to watch out for danger though.

I personally think they're apple blossoms (blooms early spring and summer) and they mean "trap". Apple blossoms are so beautiful people want to eat them, but their body is poisonous. People represented by this flower look loyal and honest on the outside, but they're sharp and have a thorny tongue. Those who get too close risk being stabbed and only smart people will find their viciousness interesting LOL.

Come on, it's totally not a coincidence that all of Xu Mo's flower symbolism is just a neon sign about how in love he is with the MC. Eternal love is repeated like a billion times. The only odd one out is his flower card, but it still suits his character:

Under his elegant and gentle face, there hides an inexplicable dark side which is the most deadliest poison.

[CN Profile Translation]

Lastly, Xu Mo has a fox as his animal representative. Foxes are pretty much universally associated with being tricksters, masters of illusions, and cunning. It's amusing because, in Asian folklore, they also like to transform into beauties and seduce people to consume them. Sometimes, the nine-tailed fox is associated with auspiciousness though!

[Official CN Animal Figures] Xu Mo is a fox, Gavin is a dog, Victor is a cat, and Kiro is a bear.

[CN Dream Flower SSR] Xu Mo's West Moon card shows him as a fox demon and scholar.

[Main Story 9-14] Xu Mo quotes the fox's line from "The Little Prince" and MC imagines seeing a fox bounding through the wheat fields too.

I think people can see why foxes are so fitting for Xu Mo but I also want to add that, despite me going on about how virtuous scholars are, in order for scholars to survive the swamp of politics in court, these scholar-officials needed to be extremely sly and cunning and it's actually a good thing to be a "wily fox".

In fact, in Chinese novels, usually the honest and genuine characters are... not the main characters and they reach a tragic end or, if they are main characters, they have to be protected by other cunning leads because good-natured people cannot survive in a mortal world filled with greedy people and their materialistic desires. Laughs hollowly at how all my honest military men biases die horrible deaths or get ruined because of this blunt personality.

Hey, check it out, with Xu Mo's historical Qixi card, [CN Vermilion Lip SSR], and his West Moon card, there's two explicit references to how he's the scholar character.

STORIES OF YOU AND ME

Now, Xu Mo brings up three major stories throughout the game in various places.

First, there's "The Little Mermaid":

[The Little Mermaid ASMR] I was on the fence as to whether Xu Mo relates himself to the Prince or the Little Mermaid, but now I think he's the Little Mermaid. He's different from humans but longs for them and wants an eternal soul.

[Overseas Date] Here we learn that Xu Mo can't yet understand the Little Mermaid's selfless, brave, and devoted love (sorry, but you're way too insatiable, my dear) however he finds himself understanding her last choice. That he can continue loving someone despite the pain they bring him (the Little Mermaid's pain every time she uses her legs).

It's, uh, pretty somber that the version Xu Mo has in his head is the Andersen one where the Little Mermaid dies. He also ends the story there and doesn't add the part where she turns into a daughter of air and still has a chance to get a soul after 300 years to go to the Kingdom of God.

Second, there's "The Little Prince" and its a damn good reference. So, this book is actually MC's favorite book and it's about a little prince who raises a rose on his planet, B612, and falls in love with the rose. But he catches the rose in a lie and gets hurt and, even though they reconcile, he leaves the planet to go on a journey.

On the Little Prince's journey he meets all sorts of people with obsessions and learns life lessons through them, but the most important one he learns is how to love his rose. He crashes down to earth though and meets the person he tells his story to (thus creating this story), but before the Little Prince can return to his planet he gets bitten by a poisonous snake and that's it. The narrator likes to think the Little Prince made it back to his planet and rose though.

In [Sound of Silence SSR Call: The Little Prince] Xu Mo mentions how The Little Prince is MC's favorite book. He also compares MC directly to being the Little Prince and how she's growing like the Little Prince through her experiences. I have a crack theory that MLQC's story could actually mirror this somewhat, especially about MC learning the meaning of love and how that'll save the world LOL.

In [Sound of Silence SSR Call: Beautiful Moonlight] there's another mention to the Little Prince where Xu Mo asks if she can find B612, the Little Prince's home planet. They both hope the Little Prince made it back home.

In [Main Story 9-14], like I mentioned above, Xu Mo quotes the fox's line and it goes: "The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back the thought of you. And I shall love to listen to the wind in the wheat".

However, let me explain the context and show the full quote. So, the Little Prince meets a fox in his journey and the fox tells the Little Prince to tame him to "establish ties":

"Just that," said the fox. "To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world..."

[...]

"My life is very monotonous," the fox said. "I hunt chickens; men hunt me. All the chickens are just alike, and all the men are just alike. And, in consequence, I am a little bored. But if you tame me, it will be as if the sun came to shine on my life. I shall know the sound of a step that will be different from all the others. Other steps send me hurrying back underneath the ground. Yours will call me, like music, out of my burrow. And then look: you see the grain-fields down yonder? I do not eat bread. Wheat is of no use to me. The wheat fields have nothing to say to me. And that is sad. But you have hair that is the color of gold. Think how wonderful that will be when you have tamed me! The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back the thought of you. And I shall love to listen to the wind in the wheat."

The Little Prince agrees and tames the fox. But when he has to leave the planet:

"Ah," said the fox, "I shall cry."

"It is your own fault," said the little prince. "I never wished you any sort of harm; but you wanted me to tame you..."

"Yes, that is so," said the fox.

"But now you are going to cry!" said the little prince.

"Yes, that is so," said the fox.

"Then it has done you no good at all!"

"It has done me good," said the fox, "because of the color of the wheat fields." And then he added: "Go and look again at the roses. You will understand now that yours is unique in all the world. Then come back to say goodbye to me, and I will make you a present of a secret."

[...]

"Goodbye," said the fox. "And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."

"What is essential is invisible to the eye," the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.

"It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important."

"It is the time I have wasted for my rose--" said the little prince, so that he would be sure to remember.

"Men have forgotten this truth," said the fox. "But you must not forget it. You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. You are responsible for your rose..."

"I am responsible for my rose," the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.

Isn't this conversation good? I remember reading the Little Prince a long time ago and found it super sad, and now that I'm re-visiting this story again thanks to Xu Mo... well, I understand it better but it's still melancholic LOL.

But, anyway, if we replace the Little Prince with MC and the fox with Xu Mo, this conversation is really interesting. See, the fox is indelibly marked by the Little Prince (like Xu Mo by the MC) and they have made this unique connection between them that will hurt both of them when it comes to the end.

However, this pain doesn't mean their experiences wasn't worth it and that it didn't mean anything. Like the fox says, now he has these memories of the Little Prince that makes life worth living. The fox, before he met the Little Prince, found his life boring and monotonous, but now things are given meaning when they didn't have it before.

On a totally random note, in [CN "In His World" Event] people have taken pictures of Xu Mo's shelves and now we can get an idea of his reading material. It ranges from literary classics (Ayn Rand, Oscar Wilde, Vladimir Nabokov, Charlotte Brontë, and lots of Chinese authors), to research papers (Genome-wide Polygenic Burden of Rare Deleterious Variants in Sudden Unexpected Death in Epilepsy), to things like encyclopedias on flowers, etc.

It'd probably take you years to get through his reading materials LOL. The other guys also have books in their rooms, but I don't remember them clearly. I do know that Gavin has sci-fi books though! Totally not biased. But, I'm sorry, I don't really like reading sci-fi...

Third and last, the most referenced story throughout the game is probably the one Xu Mo made, "The Artist and the Butterfly". I feel like most of us know it by now, but I'll do a translation for those who haven't had the pleasure of getting [Drowning in Love SSR] and its two calls [Artist and Butterfly] and [The Only Color] and because Elex's version is riddled with errors.

Once upon a time, in a secluded castle, there lived an artist. The artist's paintings only had two colors: black and white. It wasn't because the artist loved these two colors, but because in his eyes there were only these two colors in the world.

The artist believed the world to be depressing, so all the other colors were meaningless. But, one day, a butterfly flew in front of him and the artist saw with shock that on the butterfly's wings were all sorts of beautiful colors he had never seen before. The fluttering of its wings made the colors even more lively and charming, and so the artist painted it for the entire day, never tiring.

But the sensitive artist was also afraid the butterfly would one day grow tired of being beside him, and so he thought about catching the butterfly and putting it in a glass jar. Like this, the butterfly would never be able to leave him.

Then, we move onto the conversation portion in [The Only Color]:

Xu Mo: What do you think of this story?

MC: Um... you can't laugh at me when I say this.

Xu Mo: I promise I won't.

MC: I feel like the artist is very relatable.

Xu Mo: ... Relatable?

MC: Mhm, although I don't understand his actions, I can see that he's really stifled and sad. Now, can you tell me what happens after?

Xu Mo: Actually, this is what happens after. Or rather, this story doesn't have an end.

MC: Huh?

Xu Mo: Are you disappointed?

MC: So, not every story has an ending...

Xu Mo: The artist continues to try and catch the butterfly, and even I don't know whether he caught it or not. If I see him again, I'll ask him for you.

MC: Turns out this is a real story?

Xu Mo: Yes.

MC: If you're able to meet that artist, you have to tell him this for me. That he actually doesn't love the butterfly, does he?

Xu Mo: Why do you not think the artist loves the butterfly? If you love someone, aren't you supposed to move heaven and earth to bind them to your side?

MC: But this is too selfish.

Xu Mo: Hah, yes, even I find it selfish. But if he doesn't do that, the artist will likely lose the butterfly. And then his life will be like how it was before; the whole world would just be black and white.

MC: If he really loves the butterfly, then he wouldn't want to see them suffer. Maybe I'm too simple, but for me genuine love is simply loving that person, as an individual, and I wouldn't need a relationship with them. I'd just want them to be happy.

Xu Mo: If you were this butterfly, and there was someone who wanted to confine you to their side so they could keep you together with them forever... would you be willing?

MC: No... I don't think I'd be willing.

Xu Mo: Indeed... exactly what I thought you would say...

MC: Xu Mo... I want to ask you...

Xu Mo: Mm?

MC: Is this story about you?

Xu Mo: I couldn't be the artist, and I definitely couldn't be the butterfly. But if I really did encounter the one and only color in my life, then I certainly wouldn't let them go.

MC: Why?

Xu Mo: Why?... I don't know why either... You don't need to dig to the bottom of everything.

MC: Xu Mo, I'm a bit sleepy all of a sudden...

Xu Mo: Sleep then. Don't be afraid, even if you have nightmares, I'll be here for you.

Gods, I'm going to be endlessly salty over Elex's butchering of these calls, but whatever. WHATEVER.

This is LITERALLY the story of Xu Mo and MC's relationship. And, with this, we are shuffled immediately into my next section.

COLORING EACH OTHER

In [New Light Date] Xu Mo asks "Can you teach me love?" and in [Main Story 5-6] he also asks "Then, will you change me? If we get along together."

The answer is a resounding YES. MC has changed him indelibly, like the tamed fox, and there is only one unique her in his world; he's left the same mark on her, making him the only unique Xu Mo in her world.

(Not to mention in his [CN 2nd Anniversary VIP message] to the players Xu Mo literally says "It's as if under your guidance I've learned how to love".)

In [Firefly Date] Xu Mo talks about how the lights of the fireflies are a danger sign to other creatures (because fireflies eat everything during their larvae form). Then in [Rainfall Date] he thinks the exact same words, that the colors he's seeing emerge into his world because of the MC are a DANGER SIGN but he cannot bring himself to care.

It is not metaphorical in [Rainfall Date]. He's colorblind!

The "Mo (墨)" in Xu Mo's name (许墨) was once his mother's favorite word. This word represents pen and ink, a literary family, and the black and white world in his eyes.

His world is black and white and only by your side can he see colors.

[CN Profile Translation]

Then in [Afternoon Date] there is this exchange:

MC: What do I look like in your eyes?

Xu Mo: ... Colored.

MC: Huh?

Xu Mo: In my eyes... you're full of colors.

So, now that we know MC literally brings color into his life, I'm going to bring back his pen, Iridescent, that he gives MC [Main Story 13-10]. It's a symbol of his love because there's a line that comes from a movie called "Flipped". The Chinese name for the movie "Flipped" is the same as the Chinese name of Xu Mo's [Lovestruck SSR].

“Some of us get dipped in flat, some in satin, some in gloss... [...] But every once in a while, you find someone who's iridescent, and when you do, nothing will ever compare.”

Iridescent is how he sees MC. She literally brought the colors of a rainbow into his black and white world [Rainfall Date].

Now, when we think about his line in "The Artist and the Butterfly" we get... MAJOR ANGST. Because, contrary to his words about not letting the only color in his world go, he lets the MC go again and again and again:

He doesn't catch MC in [Main Story 13].

He saves MC from Hades in [Main Story 16] and then takes advantage of the dream erasing her memories, so she'll have no ties to him or BS (until the next time they meet on the field again, I guess).

Heck, to take this further, in [Memory Palace: The Night Before] Xu Mo traces his previously wounded eye and thinks about how he can barely remember MC's colors and he's going to lose it completely when they meet at the news conference. Then in [Main Story 16-22] MC sees his past all in black and white.

Xu Mo has given up on keeping her colors in his world...

On a side note, I also think he's giving up vividness in his world. In [Rainfall Date] it's implied that the cheerier MC is the brighter her colors are and, I assume, the colors in Xu Mo's world?

There's an intriguing fact in his [CN Profile Translation] too where it says "His sense of taste isn't too sensitive, but it's not completely absent either." What if that fades too when MC isn't around?

Papergames has also mentioned that Xu Mo has glasses he wears to help him see colors (so he can drive safely LOL) but we don't actually see him wear them much except for when he's doing scientific stuff. Perhaps this is a sign about how little he cares about seeing colors in his world if he can't see them naturally (MC-induced colors).

But, hold on, this is a section about how Xu Mo has equally changed MC (it's just, perhaps, more tragic and more obvious with Xu Mo because he only has MC, the sole color in his life, while she has three other guys just lost a friend, mentor, and love interest).

In [Blossom Date] there's an exchange where MC tells Xu Mo that, like how he's told her to take her time growing in front of him [Main Story 9-2], she wants him to take his time going through life. She's echoing his words (and teaching) and, in response, Xu Mo's eyes darken and he thinks about how he's "staining her purity in his colors".

In [CN Archery Date] Xu Mo teaches MC how to handle and shoot a bow and they end up having a mini competition where they both hit bull's eye and get a draw. He's given her one of skills (and a piece of him) again.

Xu Mo continuously gives MC things that he has never given anyone else:

In [Snowy Night Date] he reveals his actual birthday date to MC.

In [Hot Spring Date] Xu Mo reveals that he's never celebrated his birthdays like this, until now with her. Because they probably reminded him of his parents' accident.

In [CN Nightmare's End ASMR] Xu Mo barely remembers his childhood memories (or his real name RIP), and yet he doesn't hesitate to share these memories with MC.

Tangentially related, but I want to throw in here how Xu Mo and MC are described sometimes as having eyes only for each other. I'm sure there's more mentions, but I can only remember these two:

[Main Story 13-8] "Xu Mo didn't respond. He stared at me with a complicated look and I was the only one reflected in his eyes."

[True Love Date] "The girl, with her clear black eyes opened wide, stared at him. The one who was reflected in those eyes was him alone."

My romantic and poetic explanation here is that, because they have pieces of themselves in each other, they're drawn together like magnets!

RUNNING ON PARALLEL TRACKS

In addition to coloring each other with pieces of themselves, MC and Xu Mo are also quite synchronized. He still leaves her confused at times with his intellect, but she can give back pretty good. I will continue to quietly blame Elex for unflattering descriptions of the MC, especially after that call up there, WTF.

For example, [Blossom Date] has Xu Mo quoting a classic poem "Tao Yao" with stanzas 1+2, and MC follows with stanzas 5+6, only for Xu Mo to flirt with stanzas 11+12 (thanks to @love-p for this translation):

1 桃之夭夭 Fresh is the peach tree,

2 灼灼其華 vibrant does it bloom.

[...]

5 桃之夭夭 Fresh is the peach tree,

6 有蕡其実 abundant its fruit.

[...]

11 之子于帰 The betrothed comes home,

12 宜其家人 she serves the clan well.

Then, while Xu Mo doesn't say this unprompted, in [Main Story 13-15] he connects the writing on the wall to 1 Corinthians 13:12. "For now we see through a glass, darkly..."

Then in [Main Story 16-12] MC quotes 1 Corinthians 13:2 at him: "If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing."

However, despite being able to follow up with each other like this, [Firefly Date] shows how Xu Mo and MC have philosophies that differ on a fundamental level, and this ultimately puts them on opposing sides.

Xu Mo believes in mistaken Darwinism, the strong survive and the weak perish, and he also upholds a strict utilitarian view about using people's lives for the greater good of humanity.

The progress of science is often accompanied by many failed experiments, and towards those failed experiments Xu Mo will feel regret. But at the same time he believes that it is a kind of honor to contribute to a better future for humankind.

[CN Profile Translation]

MC believes in helping people out, not just leaving them out to struggle on their own, and she respects and believes in the innate dignity of human life and choice.

We see in [Main Story 16-9] that Xu Mo and MC have another debate about their philosophies and it ends without a victor, again, but also them realizing that both of them wouldn't sacrifice the person they love (consolation prize LOL).

There's also an amazing moment in [Main story 16-12] where MC quotes something Xu Mo told her in [Main Story 13-17]: "Only those who have felt pain and despair can reach the truth of this world. So, even if you feel pain, there's no need to give up on what you want to do. Even if that source of light were to disappear, it would immediately regain its light."

It hurts because, what was a motivational speech for MC, is now used against Xu Mo. It further resolves MC about her principles, but the way she throws his words at him to hurt him like that... yikes. To the both of them, honestly, since Xu Mo wasn't playing nice at all there in assuming her hesitance about answering meant she would sacrifice her loved ones.

Anyway, we see that this understanding and knowing (coloring) of each other lets them hurt each other just as bad. I mentioned in a previous post about the [CN Archery Date] that it's interesting to see their relationship as a metaphorical draw. They take and give to each other, constantly, throughout the story and it shows that they're equals. Running to some place, but not being on the same track. We can only hope they're heading to the same place and that they won't branch off and go further and further away from each other (but he's a love interest, so it should be?? okay??).

On a side note, Xu Mo quotes "Graveyard by the Sea" in [Firefly Date] (I've linked an amazing English translation that comes with an analysis of the original French version).

TL;DR is that the poet realizes timelessness does not exist and that, because his mortality is ever looming, he must go out and accept the challenge of life (carpe diem!) because immortality might not lie beyond the grave. You only get this one chance in life and the future is uncertain, so do everything you can to achieve what you want to do.

This is actually another good reference to Xu Mo's ruthless ambition and why in [Blossom Date] MC wants him to rest and take his time moving forward slowly, much like how he tells her to take her time growing with him.

Uh, I realize I may have taken you guys off guard by suddenly bringing up ruthless ambition again but:

[Blossom Date Translation] Xu Mo reveals how much he worked his ass off when he was younger.

Xu Mo: Yes, I skipped grades.

Xu Mo said that casually, without any pride, as if it were someone else's business. But I was deeply impressed.

MC: You spent all your high school years studying?

Xu Mo: At that time, yes.

MC: Why?

Xu Mo: Silly, there aren't that many why's. It's the same as how you were when you were taking your entrance exams, there were things I needed to do.

[Main Story 13-22] "Ares had a smile cold enough to send chills through someone. The blood that flowed to his mouth made him stand out even more bewitchingly, like a flower. He raised his head and ambition roiled in eyes that were deeper and darker than twilight."

[2nd PV] Xu Mo has a line in Chinese that goes "我贪得无厌　想要你的全部" which I believe English translated as "I am insatiable, I want all of you" which is... um, sure. I mean it works! Perhaps it doesn't fully convey how it's like endless greed, the desire and want for more, never being satisfied, and always hungering. That is what insatiable means, but I don't think the word is used commonly enough for people to click onto all of that.

CONCLUSION

LORD, this is massive. Not including this conclusion, whoever has read down to this point has cleared around 7,500 words, so congratulations.

Anyway, obviously, this post isn't supposed to be all "this is the one and only true interpretation of Xu Mo's character" but I wanted to provide some background from a native (?) context that might have been overlooked, because I don't think scholar archetypes are as common in English and Japanese media (the second culture people are probably most familiar with if they're playing otome games?).

Like how you can point out "ah yes, the tsundere, the yandere, the megane, etc." in Japanese media, the scholar archetype is someone you could spot at a glance from a line up of Chinese characters. If I had to choose a similar type they're probably like megane characters... except their EQ and IQ are both high, so they're not cold, logical robots.

Coming back to a summary of all my points, Xu Mo is a complicated scholar archetype and the game also enjoys spicing this concept up with things that contrast sharply against it (the sexuality from his fox characteristics). He's gentle, refined, and knowledgeable, but also has a black belly that shows when he flirts and verbally traps the MC to fluster her (not to mention all his manipulations behind the scenes).

Every scene he appears in seems to say one thing, but show another, and his references make me want to cry when I end up digging too deep in them. Meanwhile, the silence between the lines of his scenes, words, and actions, scream so loudly with evocative and symbolic imagery.

Feel free to dislike him, but I don't think it can be denied that he's a very intricately written character, and that's what all the fun is about liking him and deciphering his raison d'être.

As an aside, I will acknowledge that I've skipped over other references that I couldn't fit into this post but there were things like the [Roman Holiday] movie he and MC watched in [Main Story 5-6] and the song he sings in [True Love Date], "When I Fall in Love", and its relation to [Sleepless in Seattle], perhaps? But @sharinluna has good posts on these already. I haven't watched any of these, so I won't bother to reveal my ignorance on them LOL.

Lastly, I just want to leave everyone with these two lines from Xu Mo, because it draws such a beautiful circle:

So, in his [2nd PV] he says "我贪得无厌" which I mentioned above was something like "I'm insatiably greedy".

Then, there's a call where he says "谢谢你、成全我的贪心，希望你可以相信，无论是过去，还是未来，能让我倾尽所有想要独占的，只有你一人" which translates to "Thank you, for fulfilling my greed. I hope you can believe that, regardless of whether it's in the past or future, the person who's made me want to exhaust all methods to monopolize them has only ever been you."

Such a beautiful full circle, right? You can imagine him saying this at the end of the game or at a wedding, right? EXCEPT IT CAME FROM A KFC COLLABORATION CALL. YES. KFC. I'm crying and I feel like my soul took a hit. It doesn't count... it doesn't count as canon material does it... I mean, he's not talking about the chicken, because this is in response to a confession you get to write as the player, BUT STILL. LOL.

(I secretly laugh at how English would handle that, since they gave him the "I am insatiable" line. "Thank you for satiating me"? HAHA).

Nah, perhaps the true circle is him asking in [New Light Date] if MC can teach him love and then telling us that we've taught him in love in the [2nd Anniversary VIP Message].

#mlqc #mlqc lucien #love and producer #mr love queen's choice #mlqc xu mo #love and produc(ing) meta

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seizethesam · 5 years ago

Text

Ode to an Angel-Chapter 3

A/N: Hello guys!!! Chapter three is here... I am so thankful for your comments, likes, and reblogs for the story. You cannot imagine how happy I am to be sharing my works with you. Please let me know what oy like or don’t like about the story, or this chapter. Thank you for all people who wanted to be tagged in the story! And please let me know about the songs!!! Do you like them? Xx

This chapter's song is "The Puppeteer" by Sleeping Pulse, one of my favorites.

Spotify YouTube

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Then…

“Hey, she’s waking up,” the younger man said. He looked like he was in his thirties and had dark wavy hair that he had swept back. His sounded cautious. Next to him was the older man.

“Where the hell am I?” You asked the older them; your voice was croaky from sleep.

“Good morning, my name is Hershel.” The man talked, he was much older than the other man, his hair was whiter than the snow. You did not know these people. The last thing you remembered was the sunset, the pain and a person carrying you in the dark. Maybe you did find what you were looking for all this time.

Now…

The room looked like an average suburban house room. The walls were light colored, and it had two tall and narrow windows on the opposite wall to the bed.

“What is this place?” you asked. You didn’t want to talk about yourself—no, you wanted to learn about them.

“This is my farm, we live here with my family, and this man found you in the woods.” Hershel spoke while the younger man was silently watching your every move. Hershel was cleanly shaved, making you think that they had a system here. “Your wound wasn’t too deep, but it still needs to be tended.”

“How long was I out?” you continued your questionnaire. Was there a chance that these people helped you out of the goodness of their hearts? Or did they look for something in return? The constant dilemma and the heaviness of distrust made your head feel dizzy.

“Almost a day.” Finally, the younger man spoke. He was wearing a dark brown shirt that matched his curly hair. “My name is Rick Grimes; you were pretty beat up when I’d found you. You were lucky…” He said, not knowing your name.

Lucky… What a funny thing to call someone these days.

“Y/N” you said, and Rick nodded.

You tried to get up on the bed but the biting pain on your waist didn’t allow you— not to mention the nausea. That was when you realized that neither your gun was strapped to your thigh anymore nor your knife was hanging from your belt in its rightful place.

“Where are all my stuff?” you asked both of them as Hershel let out a sigh and Rick took a step forward.

“I’ll let Rick explain.” Hershel said and left the room with sluggish steps.

He sat on the chair in the corner of the room and rested his elbows on his knees. He turned his head to you before he brushed his nose with his thumb. You were looking eye to eye.

“Like Hershel said, this is his place, his rules apply. He is good people,” his tone was persuasive, “he doesn’t want us to carry our weapons around the house, he is the one in charge... I took a risk bringing you here, and he looked after your wounds. In the time that you’re here…you have to follow his rules.”

“I won’t be staying long,” you said.

You did understand why he was strict about the weapons; he did not trust you. Well, likewise. You still didn’t know if you could trust them either. Yes, Rick had saved you, and yes, Hershel had tended your wounds. But still, you didn’t know these people.

“You got a group out there?” his tone was sharp, making you startle with the sudden question. He was looking for the right answer.

“No, I—I broke off with them,” you said, which was true, thoughts of them made your heart pound faster, pumping blood to your ears.

“Why?” Rick asked. You were being interrogated.

“They, umm,” you looked for the right words. They were assholes, and they killed my brother. No, he didn’t have to know that, “they weren’t my kind of people,” you finished.

“How do I know I can trust you?” you asked.

“You don’t,” Rick simply answered before he got up from his seat. He walked across the room and opened the door. “Your stuff is safe with me; you can take them whenever you decide to leave.” He said before leaving you alone in the room.

You didn’t know what to do with yourself. A throbbing pain was spreading around the wound. You lifted the skirt of your top and saw the bandage red with blood, your face grimaced.

You looked for a weapon that you could defend yourself with, just in case…

You checked the glass cabinet against the wall, but there were nothing but blankets and towels. Then, you checked the nightstand and saw a first aid kit bag next to the novel Great Expectations.

You opened the first aid kit in a rush and found a pair of surgical scissors. You took the scissors and placed them under your belt where no one could see.

You heard footsteps approaching your way, getting closer with every step; so you put the first aid kit back, took the book and closed the drawer jut in time the door opened.

The door of your room opened to reveal a short grey-haired woman. She was holding a tray in one hand.

“Hi,” the woman said with a warm smile on her lips, “I heard you’d woken up.”

“Hello,” you said awkwardly enough. She seemed…nice. If that was the right word.

“I brought you some food, and painkillers.” She said, laying the tray on the nightstand next to the bed.

“Thanks,” you said. you honestly surprised how genuine people were—so far. On the plate, there was a relatively large piece of meat and small amount of vegetables.

“Daryl hunts for the group, the one with the crossbow,” she said, “you’ll meet him soon.”

Your mind went to the man who helped you at the cottage. You did a quick math on how many people still used crossbows for hunting. It was low. Maybe it was him, then again maybe not. Why did you even care?

You stepped your feet on the ground, sending a wave of pain through your body.

“You should lay down. Your stitches are still fresh,” the women said.

“Thank you for your concern but I’d rather eat outside,” you said hoping that you didn’t sound too harsh, even though you didn’t know her.

You knew you needed to rest and allow your injury to heal faster, but you also wanted to see the other people of the group as well. You wanted to see if they were okay.

You grabbed the tray from the nightstand continued your steps to front door, the woman following you behind.

“I’ll leave you alone,” the woman said, apparently, she didn’t know what to do with herself either.

“I’m (Y/N) by the way,” you called out after her.

“Carol,” she replied and left.

You sat on the stairs of the front porch of the large farmhouse. Hot summer sun was shining in the middle of the sky. Just a little further across the field were an RV and a couple of tents and on the other side of the field was a barn. You spotted a tent that was further away from the others.

You watched and ate as the people of the farm went about their jobs. Some of the women were cooking near the RV; some of the men were doing more heavy jobs. It looked as if they had it all figured out.

And there you saw him; the man with the crossbow who helped you at the cottage. Daryl. Except he had angel wings on his back this time and you smiled at the contradiction. He was sitting underneath a tree, sharpening wooden sticks as arrows. You wondered if he could use those as bolts for his crossbow.

His face was serious and so still, almost like he was made out of stone, completely focused on sharpening his sticks. He must’ve felt your gaze on him as he lifted his head and looked at you. You raised your hand and waved at him, but he didn’t seem to bother. Rude.

You finished your meal, took the painkillers, and tried to get up from your place, but as you were fully standing a sharp pain hit your belly like punch, making your face flinch. You put your hand on your wound as a reflex.

“You shouldn’t be walkin’ too soon,” a female voice said from the verge of the front door, making you jump on your feet.

You turned around to see who it was and saw a young woman who was around your age and had a short dark hair.

“It’s Maggie.” She introduced herself.

“Wanted to see outside,” you said, you weren’t lying.

“I get it, not many good people left out there,” said she.

“Yeah, that’s right,” you replied.

“Our feelings are mutual; we don’t trust each other—” she paused for a second, “but we can always make room for new people.” She smiled.

“Guess so,” you said. You were amazed how people were so nice so far.

You continued your day in your room. Hershel came every once in a while, to take a look at your wound and left. Maggie came once to give you spare clothes as yours were still covered in blood and dirt.

You heard the whole group filling the house when the sun began to set. You heard them talking about deciding what to do with someone named Randall. You didn’t want to get involved with their business, but you were also curious about what was going on.

When you got in front of your door, an old man with a Hawaiian shirt was talking with Daryl, “this group is broken,” said he. You didn’t understand what was going on.

When the night had fallen, Rick and couple of men were headed to the barn, and you were back in your room. You knew they had voted for something, but you didn’t know what for.

You were sitting on the bed, adjusting the scissor hidden behind your belt when you heard a knock on your door. You quickly, lowered your top and said, “come in.”

The door opened slowly to reveal Maggie. She was holding half a glass of water and a napkin.

“Hey,” she said smiling, “dad said to bring you antibiotics.”

“Thanks,” you smiled back. You took the glass and the napkin from her. Your mind kept wandering back to the earlier meeting. “Umm, can I— ask you something?” you said just as she was about to leave, not sure if you wanted to know.

“What is it?”

“Earlier, tonight… you guys were voting. What was it for?” you asked.

She didn’t respond right away. She was deciding whether to tell it or not.

“There is this boy, Randall,” she paused, “Rick brought him here a few days back, he was hurt pretty bad. They don’t trust him ‘cause he was with a bunch assholes,” she said.

“And,” you urged her to continue.

“They were decidin’ if they were gonna let him go,” she said finally.

They didn’t trust him. They didn’t trust you. What you made from it was that they were either going to let him be, or they were going to kill him. The resolution was still a mystery. You opened your mouth to ask Maggie what they decided on, but you were stopped when you heard a scream outside the house.

Maggie looked at you before rushing to the front porch, you were following close.

“What was that?” an Asian guy appeared out of the darkness. The scream was coming further away.

“I don’t know, go!” Maggie shouted, pointing to the direction of the scream.

You made your down the stairs and tried to make out what was going on but the only thing you saw was darkness. The screams stopped a few seconds later.

Taglist:

Then, a sonorous gunshot sound filled the darkness.

Chapter 4

@spidergirla5 @twdeadfanfic @kamieshep @sophia-gwendolyn @jodiereedus22 @purplebtsmagic @itsmanillablog @302rocks

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon icons #the walking dead #rick grimes

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crystalninjaphoenix · 5 years ago

Text

Scary Stories

A Horror Septics Short

“...and all that was left were the bones! Ooooo!” The teenage storyteller lowered the flashlight, looking around at his audience—three other teens, all of whom looked very unimpressed. “Well? Not even a ‘oh no’?”

“I saw that coming from a mile away, Derrick,” said one of the others, adjusting her pointed glasses.

“Oh come on.” Derrick frowned. “You could’ve at least pretended to like it.”

“Your voice isn’t really cut out for horror, anyway,” said another, poking the campfire with a stick.

“Well, can any of you do better?” Derrick looked around at the circle. The four friends were sitting on chairs, set around the central fire pit. There was a picnic table nearby with a kerosene lamp providing extra light, and a large tent big enough to fit all four of them. The campsite was a bit isolated, surrounded by large trees that hid the light of other fires lit by other campers.

“Honestly, I don’t think any scary stories can get to me anymore,” one said.

“Oh really?” Asked the one in the glasses. “Why’s that, Winston?”

“Don’t say my name like that,” Winston scowled underneath the brim of his baseball cap. “And it’s because, Lilah, I know it’s all not real. I mean, yeah, if the story’s good it’ll come back to haunt me late at night, but that’s when all judgement has been abandoned. I can’t find a story anymore that’s good enough to freak me out as it’s happening.”

“Creepypasta has ruined you,” the last one muttered.

“That it has, Charlie. That it has.”

“Okay, I got an idea. Derrick, pass me the torch.” Lilah reached over and the flashlight, shining it under her face as was typical of scary-storytelling, though the illusion was a bit ruined by the sparkly pink ribbon in her hair. “Let me tell you an actual, real-life scary story. Let’s see if that rustles your jimmies, Win.”

“Let’s see if it does.” Winston smiled, settling back into his chair.

“So. You all know my cousin Eve, right?” Lilah started.

“The journalist one, right?” Derrick asked.

“Well, kinda. What she does is she writes articles for a travel magazine. So she goes around Europe, finding cities that don’t have much of a tourist industry and looking for things about them that would, like, draw people to the place. Also she had a partner, Kyle, who she had to write articles with.”

“Ugh, Kyle,” Charlie commented. “What a name.”

“Oh yeah, Kyle sucked. Whenever the family met up, Eve would always complain about him.” Lilah shook her head. “He was like, the kind of guy who always thought he knew best, and when people contradicted him he’d be all like, ‘yeah, sure.’ Then he went ahead and talked shit about them. She always had to double-check their articles before they went up to make sure he didn’t add any bullshit. Needless to say, he didn’t like her much either.”

All the teens muttered among themselves. The disapproval was clear. “Anyway, Eve and Kyle get assigned to go to this city in Germany,” Lilah continued. “And it’s like, a nice place. Clean, has some neat museums, the hotel they’re staying in is pretty swanky. So far, Eve is taking some favorable notes for the article. Kyle is annoyed at everything, though, bitching about how the service is terrible even though there’s nothing wrong with it.”

“Okay, so that’s the set up, what happened to change it?” Charlie asked.

“So, end of the first day, dawn of the second. Eve’s taken notes of everything they could do in town, and she goes down to the hotel desk to get advice on what’s best. The hotel clerk is friendly, answers all the questions. It all goes normally, until right at the end of the conversation, when the clerk said, ‘oh yes, you und your frund vould do vell to be off ze ztreets by nightfull.”

Winston suddenly burst out laughing. “Is that supposed to be a German accent?!”

“Yeah, what’s that supposed to mean?” Lilah said defensively.

“I’ve heard more realistic accents from children’s shows!”

“What, can you do better?” Lilah muttered.

“Ah, in fact, I can!” Winston said, putting on an accent. “And I say your accent is simply terrible, Fraulein!”

“Hey, we’re not here to judge by the quality of the accent, only the spookiness of the story,” Derrick said. “Keep on keepin’ on, Lilah.”

“Thanks, Derr,” Lilah said, grinning. “Anyway, the clerk says not to be on the streets after nightfall. Eve asks why, and the clerk says, ‘it gets very dangerus out zere, zat iz all. I vould hate for anyzing to happen to—’”

“Oh my god, stop, it’s hard to hear!” Winston groaned.

Lilah made a face in his direction, but obliged. “ The clerk says, ‘I would hate for anything to happen to you and your friend.’ Which is a bit sketch, and Eve knows it. She mentions this to Kyle, because even though Kyle’s a bitch she doesn’t want him to get physically hurt, and he’s just like, ‘This clerk was a girl, right? Of course she doesn’t want to walk out late at night.’”

“Ohhh, fuck this dude,” Derrick said.

“Fuck it sooo muuuch,” Charlie added.

“Right?!” Lilah nodded furiously. “Like, at this point with Eve telling this story, I was like, ‘I hope this dude gets eaten by a wolf.’”

“Wait, where did the wolf come from?” Winston asked.

“Shit, I forgot about that. Anyway,” Lilah continued. “They go throughout the city, visiting restaurants and these museums and looking around at the local architecture. At dinnertime, they go to this seafood place, and get chatting with the waiter. They mention they’re from out of town, and that they’re writing an article on the city to hopefully help out tourism. The waiter says, “Vell—sorry, well, if you are from out of town, you should know not to stay out after dark.’ Eve, having heard this for the second time, asks, ‘Why, what happens?’ And the waiter says, ‘Uh, well, we have some problems with wild dogs. They hunt at night.’ And Kyle says, ‘Well, that’s not gonna bring in the tourists.’” Lilah paused while all the others groaned. “So, after dinner, Eve notices it’s getting late, and convinces Kyle to go back to the hotel with her. But of course, he complains about it, and says that they have to check out the nightlife in town and see if there are any after dark specials running.”

“Well, from a business standpoint, he’s got a point,” Winston said. “I mean, he doesn’t have to be an asshole about it, but that is their job.”

“And I’m sure Eve would’ve agreed with you,” Lilah nodded. “But she’s noticing something weird. Most of the local shops and businesses are closing up. Not any of the chains, like McDonald’s or...I don’t know, chain clothing businesses. But the businesses unique to the city, that she’d usually be checking out and putting in the article? Closed. So she thinks there might be something to this. And, in the morning, she goes down to the lobby and there’s a local woman there. Eve starts chatting with her, and eventually the woman says ‘Oh, you are a visitor? Make sure to not go out after sunset, there are some gangs in the area that roam around after dark.’”

“Wait, what?” Charlie perked up, at attention. “Two different excuses? Ohhh that’s not a good sign.”

“Eve thought the same thing,” Lilah said gravely. “And she drew two conclusions. Either there are both wild dogs and street gangs, or the real reason why you shouldn’t go out at night is much worse than either of those. So it’s the third day they’re there, and it goes generally normally, but Eve and Kyle keep getting the same sort of thing whenever locals find out they’re not from around town: don’t go out after nightfall. So, most people would decide not to go out that night, right? Wrong!” Lilah jabbed her finger in the air. “Because here’s Kyle, an asshole who thinks he knows better than anyone else who’s ever lived. He starts to leave the hotel room, and Eve tries to stop him. Instead of doing literally anything sensible, Kyle blows up that she’s always been jealous of him and has always tried to stop him from succeeding, then storms off.”

Winston let out a long, low whistle. “Let me guess, he died?”

“Hmmm I didn’t say that,” Lilah said slowly. “So, Eve goes down and tries to stop him, but he’s already left, and it’s after sunset at this point. The clerk is like, ‘I saw your friend run off. Poor guy. Anyway, would you like some room service?’ Clearly trying to bribe her into staying in the hotel. Eve’s a bit nervous about Kyle, but she really doesn’t want to go out, so she stays in the room. Kyle doesn’t show up the next day, and she calls the local police, worried something happened. They say they’ll get on it, but in that tone of voice that suggests there’s nothing that can be done about this.”

“So, the Kyle guy just disappeared?” Derrick asked.

“Oh, no, not at all.” Lilah’s voice turned low and serious. “About a month later, she’s back home, she gets a call from this out-of-country number. And it’s a police officer from this German city. They need her to come in real quick so she can identify this head they found.”

There was a sharp inhale throughout the circle. “Just the head?” Charlie asked.

“So, Eve goes down to Germany,” Lilah continued. “She sees the head, and yeah, it’s Kyle. Missing his eyes and teeth and with a big hole in the back of the head. She asks the police what happened, and they found the head in a dumpster, along with a bunch of...flesh. And itty bitty pieces of shattered bones.”

Charlie covered their mouth. “Oh my god…”

“That is so fucked,” Derrick muttered.

Lilah looked over at Winston. “Well? What d’you think, Mr. Horror Aficionado?”

Winston adjusted his cap. “Pretty good.”

“‘Pretty good’?!” Lilah repeated. “This guy disappears, and the next month, he’s in pieces!”

“I’ve heard it before,” Winston said, a little smugly.

“Yeah, in stories, I have too!” Lilah put down the flashlight, and put her head in her hands. “This is something that actually happened to a guy my cousin knew, worked with a lot! And they never caught whoever did it, apparently!”

“Wait, how do you know they never caught them?” Derrick asked. “Do you just go down to—what’s the city name again?”

“Ah, I don’t remember,” Lilah shrugged. “Something that started with an A.”

“Do you just go down there regularly?”

“Well, no, but most serial killers don’t get caught, and given how everyone knew about this shit happening in the city, I’m assuming that’s what it is.”

“Where’d you hear that, Buzzfeed Unsolved?” Winston asked.

“Oh, speaking of which,” Charlie jumped in. “Did you guys see the last one? Of the last True Crime season? The finale?” The other three made various negative noises. “Oh.” Charlie shrugged. “I just thought it was funny.”

“What’s the case?” Winston asked.

“Oh, a recent one. I mean, like, two years ago. A YouTuber disappeared. And the boys went on this whole tangent about what if they disappeared.”

Lilah frowned. “How do YouTubers just...disappear? Wouldn’t people notice if they stopped uploading?”

“Not if it was a kinda small one,” Derrick pointed out.

“Well, this guy wasn’t small,” Charlie said. “He had like...ten million subscribers. But a few months before he disappeared he said he was gonna take a break from uploading and other media, so I don’t think the community noticed when he actually disappeared. Though, I guess they started wondering eventually...and that’s why it’s a famous case. Dude straight-up left. Why? The case remains...unsolved.”

“Maybe he just got tired of YouTube drama,” Winston muttered.

Charlie frowned. “I don’t think so. Personally, I think he went kinda crazy. Like...actually had problems or something. After watching the Unsolved episode, I went to look at his last uploaded videos and they were...weird. I’d link you the episode and the video, but y’know. No wifi.”

“Feel free to send it later, sounds interesting,” Winston said. “Anyway—”

“Do you guys hear that?” Derrick interrupted.

“Hear what?” Lilah asked.

The group fell silent. After a few seconds, Charlie said, “I don’t hear anything.”

“Exactly.” Derrick frowned. “There were, like, crickets. But they just stopped.”

“...huh,” Winston said. “That’s weird. Why—”

“Oh my god!” Lilah pointed at something. “What’s that?!”

The group all turned, and saw a shadow, flickering against a tree in the light caused by the campfire. It got bigger, and shifted, and a large man rounded out from behind one of the nearby pine trees. “Sorry, did I frighten you?” he asked in a low, rumbling voice.

“Uh…” Derrick looked around the group, then back at the man. He looked a bit like a lumberjack, with a big bushy beard and a flannel, but the illusion was ruined a bit by the patterned pajama pants. “A little bit, sir.”

“Hmm.” The man nodded slowly. “It wasn’t my intention. I heard you kids discussing...scary stories?”

“Um, yeah,” Charlie said, picking up the stick they’d been using to poke the fire. “I mean, not exactly stories. True stories, I guess.”

“True stories,” the man repeated, nodding again. “I see.” He walked over to the picnic bench and sat down, stumbling on the last few steps. “Well, I have a few true stories of my own. Would you like to hear one?”

The teens exchanged looks, clearly uneasy. Lilah slowly reached into her pocket, seeming to grab something. “Uh...sure, mister,” she said.

“Excellent.” The man leaned forward, the firelight casting deep shadows on his face. “This is a true story, as well. It took place over a hundred years ago. There was a...person.”

“You don’t sound too sure about that,” Winston muttered. All the others instantly made shushing sounds at him.

“There was a person,” the man repeated, unphased. “They were a dollmaker.” Winston rolled his eyes quietly. Of all the group, he was the only one who was unphased by the appearance of a tall, burly man in the middle of the woods. He seemed more interested in critiquing the story’s cliches. “What did they do with these dolls? Which one became evil?”

“This is not a story about dollmaking,” the man said, suddenly stern. “I’m telling you what they do so that you can better understand. The dollmaker puts—put pride and care in their creations, trying to make them last as long as possible. Their life was average, for what they were. Until one day. The dollmaker was home, just about considering going out and starting on another doll, when the phone rang. Now, this was odd. This was long before phones could be carried about in your pocket, and in fact, phones were a new device. A phone had to be wired to a house, and the house the dollmaker was in had no phone wires connecting it. But they were curious, and thinking a friend had found a way to call them, they picked up the phone. ‘Hello?’ they said. But there was no answer. Just the vague crackling of static before it was called so. And after a moment, the dollmaker heard their own voice repeated back to them. ‘H-he-he-hello-o-o?’ Strange. Though the dollmaker said more, the other end never said anything else. So they thought it was a mistake, and dropped it.

“But the next day, the phone rang again. The dollmaker answered it again. And there was indeed a voice on the other end this time, but it was breaking, barely able to be understood as a voice and not just some strange noises. The dollmaker was not dull, it—they knew something strange was happening, knew something was behind it. But they were overconfident. They believed that whatever was calling could not touch them. The phone rang three more times over the following week, and they didn’t answer it at all.

“Then, one day. The dollmaker returned, having been out all night making a doll. And the lights of the house were flickering. Strange. The dollmaker went inside, and the phone started ringing once more. This time, they picked it up. The same voice was on the other end, though they still couldn’t understand what it was saying. Uneasy, the dollmaker dropped the phone. And then they looked out the window.

“There was something there. A many-eyed something, pressed against the glass, smearing blood across it. And it smiled at the dollmaker, and said something that was utterly incomprehensible, but somehow—somehow understandable. ‘I will make you mine,’ it said. ‘I will take what is yours and use it.’ And the dollmaker was frightened for the first time in m—in their long life. So they ran.

“They ran for three years. No matter where they went, the many-eyed thing was always right on their trail. Sometimes it caught up, and they had to fight it, and barely got away. After every conflict, they grew weaker. And the next time it caught up, they were not prepared. They were hiding in a house up north, alone with a single doll who they eventually lost. And when the many-eyed thing showed up, they couldn’t run fast enough. It took...them.

“It was nineteen years before they could find their way out. By then, they could not speak. They could not walk. They could not do half the things they once could, and spent one year with their friend in the wilds, finding new ways to do what they needed. And the many-eyed thing was still out there. Decades passed, and they heard of similar things happening to others, including a doctor who is very like themselves. Nobody and nothing is safe. The eyes continue to lurk.”

Complete and total silence fell. The group of four stared, wide-eyed, at the man. Even Winston, so cocky and unafraid before, was speechless, looking around as a chill ran down his spine.

The man stood up, the movement so quick it caused the four teens to jump. “Well, I’d best be going. You kids here for any longer?”

After a moment, Derrick cleared his throat and answered, “We’re going to leave in the morning.”

Suddenly, Charlie shrieked. Everyone tensed and looked over at them. “S...sorry,” they said. “I just thought I saw something...there.” They pointed at the tree behind the man—or rather, above the man, at the branches above his head.

“Don’t worry about it,” the man said dismissively. “There’s all sorts of wildlife out here.”

“It looked...big,” Charlie said hesitantly.

“Then it was your imagination.” The man tilted his head, and turned on his heel. Without another word, he left.

The total silence continued for a few moments more. Then Charlie jabbed their stick at the fire, and it started crackling again, the crickets chirping once more. “Should we...go to bed?” Lilah asked.

“Maybe some of us...but not all of us,” Winston said slowly. “Just to be...safe.”

Nobody said what they were trying to be “safe” about. Maybe none of them knew. But slowly, the group dispersed, and over time, fell asleep.

When they were leaving in the morning, they passed by a woman talking to one of the rangers, practically frantic. Her husband had disappeared last night. Nobody had heard anything. Anything at all.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #septic egos #septic egos au #horrorseptics

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opheliacassiopea · 4 years ago

Text

CHAPTER 7.

TW: Typical case briefing, mature language, mentions of weapons, a stalker, significant injury, blood/gore and murder/death. Case based off 4x23.

“In the last twelve days two women have been killed by the use of a vehicle in Bend, Oregon. Local police have asked for our help. The first victim, Maria Delgado, twenty three, was hit during her morning jog and the second victim was a stranded motorist, Shannon Makely, forty three years old.” JJ informs you all as she gestures to the monitor behind her.

Hotch takes over from her, relaying more information, “both women were driven back over after the initial hit and the treads at both scenes match, indicating large wheels and a raised bumper, so they’re thinking either a large SUV or truck. Unfortunately, the tires aren’t factory issue so they could be on a number of different models”.

“No witnesses to either one of the killings? A hit and run is typically loud due to the large amount of force, somebody usually hears or sees something.” Reid chimes in, not looking up from the case file as he commits it to memory.

JJ shakes her head “both victims were attacked in remote locations”

“Two tons of metal would make a hell of a weapon, it wouldn't be hard to pick it out of a line-up with that kind of damage” Morgan adds as he looks over the recent crime scene photos.

“Thrill kills perhaps? It’s opportunistic and easy; he’s got randomly selected targets in a secluded location.” you suggest, placing the case file down and you see the others nodding in approval.

You’d worked your fair share of cases, but this was the first you’d seen with a vehicle being used as the weapon so you wanted to sit on your inner musings for slightly longer than usual before you voiced them. The jet hasn’t even been in the air for ten minutes before the briefing continues.

“Back at the round table you said ‘he’s got randomly selected targets’, what makes you think we’re looking at a male here, Doc?” JJ asks you once you’re on the jet.

“Well given what we know about road rage and dangerous driving, it’s safe to assume so. The biggest indicator being that the vehicle in question is of a larger size, which is quite the phallic symbol”.

“So what..he’s compensating?”

Reid speaks up, offering an alternative point of view, “or overcompensating potentially he could be impotent. If the unsub sees himself as physically defective, the car would give him a certain amount of power, whilst also using it as a shield”.

“So he avoids physical contact” Rossi offers, looking toward Hotch for some direction.

“Where are we with victimology, what does that tell us?”

Unfortunately, the victimology didn’t reveal all that much, the only link between the two victims was their gender, but you were all hopeful you could learn something from the two crime scenes. Hotch instructed you to accompany Morgan and Rossi to visit the latest crime scene, whilst he and Prentiss would attend the site of the first attack, leaving JJ and Reid to head straight to the local precinct to set up. After walking through the site of the attack and doing a general sweep of the area looking for any missed evidence or signs of foul play, you headed back to the precinct with Rossi and Morgan to discuss the initial findings from the scene, but not before swinging by a local cafe to pick up hot drinks for the team; police station coffee, or tea in your case was nearly always nasty, especially after an early start that morning.

“What did you gather from the most recent crime scene?” Hotch questions as the three of you walk into the conference room, he and the rest of the team stood around the pin board as they looked over maps, case notes and photos, writing down any workable theories. As Morgan hands out the freshly made coffee, you can practically see their eyes light up which elicits a soft chuckle from you as you pick up your own drink.

“She left the car, presumably to call for help and that’s when he hit her. Made a complete stop before fully accelerating and then backing over her” Rossi informs the group before taking a sip of his coffee.

“Selwyn, did you manage to get anything else?” Hotch asks you

“Actually yeah I was think-”

“This must be the rest of your team, Agent Hotchner” a younger looking detective interrupts and he’s actually quite attractive you come to realise, but not in the same way as Hotch, more conventionally so. You scold yourself; you’re working a case, this isn’t the time. You can tell Hotch isn’t best impressed with the interruption, in fact everybody can, you didn’t even have to look at him to work it out.

“Yes. Detective Fulbert, these are Agents Rossi, Morgan and Dr Selwyn.”

He moves to shake hands with the three of you, keeping your hand in his grip for just a few moments longer than necessary. “Nice to meet you, Agent” he greets you, brown eyes shining and a smile on his face.

“Um, it’s actually doctor, but don’t worry about it and likewise, shame about the circumstances though” you respond, hoping he’ll take the subtle hint and get back to the case at hand.

“Shoulda’ known, you seem like an impressive lady” he flirts, winking at you in the process as he backs away to watch from the other side of the room, you pay no mind to the comment and flash a small smile in return.

“Selwyn, what did you get from the most recent crime scene?” Hotch asks, redirecting the focus onto the case, ignoring the detective's remark.

“I was just thinking about the location of the breakdown. It just seems too much of a coincidence that it happened in that particular spot. No oncoming traffic at that time of day, which leaves us with no witnesses and then she’s left with nowhere to run and hide for safety along with no phone signal to call for help”. Pulling out a pen and circling one particular area on one of Reid’s many maps, you continue explaining. “It’s the perfect place for an ambush, that’s no coincidence” you finish, spinning back to face the table.

“She’s right, it’s deliberate. What did you guys manage to get from the crime scene?” Morgan asks as he looks through the photos of the initial crime scene that Hotch and Prentiss had visited.

After taking a long sip from her coffee, Prentiss responds “Similar story, the hiking path she took as her jogging route wasn’t that popular and is incredibly secluded, which made it the ideal spot for an attack, only difference being that there was oil left on the dirt tracks at the scene, which meant he was lying in wait for her”.

“So you’re saying that it wasn’t a random attack.” JJ asks, looking round at the rest of you.

“So if he is targeting specific women that would mean he’s not doing this for the thrill. The fact that he was lying in wait and knew the victims personal routines suggests he knows them, this type of stalking behaviour has a personal depth to it.” Reid interjects.

Moving from his position at the other end of the room the detective speaks up “how did he know about Shannon Makely, how did he know her car would break down?”

“Did crime techs take a look at her car?” Rossi questions him

“Guys said the water pump blew, which isn’t anything uncommon, but I’ll get them to take a second look”.

“Sorry to interrupt guys, Shannon Makely’s husband is here” JJ informs you and all share a mournful look, this was one of the shortcomings of the job, talking to victim’s families and asking them questions that nobody should ever have to answer. “Who do you want in there?” she asks, eyeing Hotch as she waits for a response.

“Selwyn and I can handle it, thanks JJ. You good with that?” he queries and you nodded in response, there was no point in shying away from it and as much as you wish it didn’t, it came with the job. Throughout the entire meeting Mr Makely was wiping tears away from his eyes as he answered questions about his wife. It wasn’t proving to be very fruitful until he was able to recall a large truck parked slightly further on from the house during the week.

Hotch presses him for any extra information “Could you see anyone inside?”

“No, well, I couldn’t tell, the windows were blacked out, but not just on a couple, all of them were covered up” he reveals, wiping at his tears as they continued to fall.

“Do you think you’d be able to recognize the same truck if you saw it again?” you ask, keeping your voice soft, you knew how hard these questions were, even if they only called for one word answers, they were draining. By the time the two of you had finished up with Mr Makely, Detective Fulbert was able to tell you that the victim’s car had in fact been tampered with, which didn’t really come as a surprise given what you’d come to find out from the victim’s husband.

Whilst the rest of the team were out looking into potential leads, you had spent the majority of the afternoon reading and rereading the initial profile and police reports, trying to gain an understanding of the murders. Just as you were thinking of asking Reid for his input, you had a sudden brainwave. By sabotaging Sarah Makely’s car, the unsub had isolated her, proving him to be more focused than you’d first profiled him to be, he was highly motivated and highly organised, but for what? The two victims had no connection, other than being targeted. This unsub didn’t hunt a specific type of victim, meaning that there must have been some sort of contact before the murders. This contradicted the team’s initial idea that he would shy away from any contact, yet you were looking at two victims who had no idea that they’d triggered something for the unsub and it was most likely something as trivial as hair colour, or the way they’d spoken to him.

After alerting the team about your thought process, you decided to head back to the hotel early, you were exhausted and didn’t think you’d be much use for the last remaining hour of the day and with Hotch’s permission, you’d decided to call it a night. Throwing on you oversized shirt that acted as your pajamas, you ordered yourself some room service, as you wondered how you were able to get away with your more casual style at work, considering that most of the team always looked sharp in their professional workwear, and you came to the conclusion that

Hotch probably had something to do with it. Not that you were complaining, you’d take smart casual and comfy any day of the week. Watching Grey's Anatomy as you ate, you wondered about the progress the rest of the team had made, hoping that they’d been able to find a new lead of some sort.

Sprawling yourself out on the sofa, you decide to read through yet more paperwork for the case, you were starting to feel slightly guilty for leaving the precinct early and wanted to make sure you hadn’t missed anything obvious. You set yourself to work, listening to your classical music playlist as you went. Music had always interested you, your love for playing the piano manifesting itself through your tell that Hotch had so kindly pointed out to you all those months ago. Taking note of anything that might prove useful and by pulling up old case reports of similar crimes, you find yourself coming up with possible theories as you worked late into the night.

One of the last things Aaron Hotchner expected to see when he walked into his hotel room that night was you, fast asleep laying across the sofa, covered in paperwork, wearing nothing but an oversized shirt and your underwear. Despite his confusion, he smiled at the sight before him, he knew the team would be doubling up at the hotel, and just assumed you’d share with one of the others. Setting down his go bag and briefcase, he quickly got himself ready for bed and crossed the room to you, freeing you from all the papers you’d dropped onto yourself as you fell into a slumber. He looked over your features as he gently picked you up and placed you softly on the bed, before rounding to the other side and slipping under the covers. Even in your sleep, you were beautiful, not that he would ever tell you that though.

His mind was normally consumed with thoughts of a case before he fell asleep, but tonight it was you. You plagued his every thought; the way you twisted one strand of your hair through your fingers when you were overcome with your thoughts, the way you tilted your head back as you laughed, accentuating your features, and how you were able to make him feel so at peace whilst simultaneously making him feel alive. Was it a coincidence that he’d walked into the room as your favourite piece of music was playing? ‘Comptine d`un autre été - l'après-midi’. You’d mentioned it during one of the many times he’d sat at your desk, only he’d failed to mention that it was his favourite too. Thoughts of you floating through his mind, he drifted into a peaceful sleep.

The next morning, you had awoken to find Hotch’s arm wrapped loosely around your waist. Under any other circumstance, you would have been thrilled to wake up like this, but you were slightly confused, why was he in your hotel room? Then it dawned on you, somebody had mentioned doubling up as you were on your way out of the precinct, but you were just too tired to care, only nodding along so you could leave sooner. It was a comforting feeling, having his arm thrown haphazardly over your waist and you lay there for a few extra moments, basking in the serenity that his touch brought you. Slowly, you began to disentangle yourself from his hold as you slipped out of the covers and headed to the bathroom to get up and ready for the day. As you rinse the shampoo out of your hair, you turn your thoughts to the day ahead, you knew there was still a lot of work to be done on the case and you could only hope that the team had managed to come up with something substantial during your absence last night.

Upon finishing getting ready, you exited the bathroom and were promptly met with the sight of Hotch standing in the middle of the room with two mugs, offering one to you with a sheepish grin on his face. Hearing his morning voice as he bid you a good morning and seeing him in just a white t-shirt and shorts with unkempt hair nearly sent you over the edge. How somebody could look so good first thing in the morning was a mystery to you, but then again, he looked good no matter what he did. Catching you staring, he raises an eyebrow ever so slightly as he speaks.

“I got you a tea, I know you can’t start your mornings without one”

“Thanks, bathroom’s yours to use if you want it” you inform him with an appreciative smile as he finishes his coffee before telling you he’ll be ready to leave in ten minutes. Left to your own devices, you start clearing the small amount of mess that had accumulated around the small hotel room as a result of your late night study session when you were suddenly hit with the realisation that you had fallen asleep on the sofa, not in bed. Panicking slightly about the fact that your boss must have seen you in nothing but your pajamas as he moved you into the large hotel bed, you wondered if you should thank him, surely that would be the polite thing to do, but deciding you wanted to avoid any awkwardness after you had woken up in his embrace, you opted against it. True to his word, Hotch emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later and the two of you left for the precinct.

During your brief absence, the team had managed to figure out that the vehicle in question was an older, American made model that had been stripped of any identifying features so it couldn’t be readily identified, and the local police department had started combing through their records to see if there were any matches in the system. One everybody was present, you all began to build on the profile as you all sat round one of the larger tables in the conference room, fresh hot drinks in hand.

“Clearly he’s mechanically inclined, he knows his way around an engine if he was able to tamper with the second victim’s car” Reid begins as he starts the discussion.

Prentiss nods along agreement before adding, “physically strong too if he can pull a dent, he’s fixing the body of the truck to hide the damage and avoid suspicion”.

Throwing his empty coffee cup in the bin, Rossi takes over “both women were killed during the hours of a typical working day, meaning he either has a flexible schedule, or he’s unemployed. Stalking somebody, getting to know them, their routines, it’s a pretty serious time commitment”.

“Statistically, eight percent of this state is unemployed so job loss would be a classic stressor” Reid chimes in, flipping his case file closed as he does so.

Hotch stands up from the table whilst announcing “we need to look for men who are employed in any area of the motor industry; mechanics, body shops. It’s worth looking at those with criminal records for reckless driving and assault”.

“Two murders within two weeks isn’t much of a cooling off period, he probably won’t wait for another opportunity to come by, he’ll seek it out, create one for himself”. You pipe up, looking over toward Morgan who had been quieter than usual and wondered if you had missed something.

It’s a few hours later when JJ gets the call and announces that there’s been another killing. This time the victim is a male, Victor Costella. He’d been found in the car park of the building he worked in and the sight you were met with was gruesome.

“The impact nearly cut him in two, he ran down a level to get away. The initial collision was up on the higher floor” Detective Fulbert informs you all on the scene.

“Look at this, it’s a reserved spot, the unsub knew that he’d park here and have to return to his car at some point, meaning he would've gotten here early and sat in wait” Reid speaks up as he points to the sign mounted to the wall that indicated the victim’s private parking spot.

“Anybody see anything, hear anything, detective?”

Nodding twice and looking down at his notebook, he answers “for once yeah, an x-ray tech who noticed a truck here when she arrived, said the window was cracked open and whoever was inside was smoking”

“Your crime techs manage to get any cigarette butts with viable DNA we can use?” Rossi questions thoughtfully as he walks over to the pile of cigarette ends on the floor, taking a closer look before speaking again “he’s field-stripped them”.

Speaking up with another fact, Reid jumps in “this type of technique is taught to soldiers to avoid leaving traces in the field”.

“Detective get this run through DNA, if he’s in the military, we may be able to get a hit.” Rossi instructs. This was a time critical case, so the faster the results came through, the better. Shortly after looking over the newest crime scene, the team found themselves back at the precinct going over and adding to the profile. You had just finished going over the geographical markers on one of the local maps when you felt a presence next to you and as you looked up, you were faced with Detective Fulbert.

“I was right yesterday when I said you were impressive, you predicted that he wouldn’t wait long before killing again. That profiling you do does have some stock to it after all” he tells you, his tone flirty and light.

Chuckling at him in response you reply, “not especially, but thank you, realistically profiling is just the study of human behavioural patterns. It’s quite simple really”.

“I’m not so sure you know, your team makes it look very impressive, well you make it look impressive”.

“I think you’d be up to the challenge somehow, Detective” you tell him, throwing him a wink as you do.

“Do I need to remind you that we’re here on a case, Selwyn? You’re not here to recruit people, get back to it.” Hotch’s ice cold tone rings out into the room as the others filter in behind him. Shit. You hadn’t realised that he had overheard your conversation from the doorway, however, you did notice his clenched jaw and balled fists. Though you weren’t sure why it mattered, nothing was going on between the two of you, so why was he bothered?

“Yeah, Selwyn, you should know better” Morgan mocks, swatting you in the back of a head with a case file as he seats himself down next to you.

“Since when did you become such a kiss-ass, huh? Still looking for Hotch’s compliments I see?” you fire back instantly, ignoring the look you were being given from across the room. This kind of interaction was normal for you and Morgan, it was completely harmless, never failing to bring a smile to either one of your faces.

“I’ve been wanting to ask, why does this guy choose a truck as his weapon if he was military? Surely that goes against what he would have been trained to do?” Detective Fulbert asks, directing the question to you.

“Well for him to use the truck in the confines of the hospital car park when he knew there was a risk of being caught, shows that he’s becoming more brazen and whilst that may seem like a mistake, it will have been perfectly calculated. It’s also-”

“Is that all you’ve managed to come up with?” Hotch interrupts you, his eyes cold and hard as he stares at you, the air suddenly so thick with tension you could cut it with a knife.

“If you hadn’t interrupted me, you’d know that it wasn’t. Reid and I worked out that all of the victims drove red convertibles, meaning that if that’s how he’s finding his victims, the initial contact between then would definitely have come from being on the road” you reply, trying to keep your voice as neutral as possible, but you can’t help the slight tone of annoyance beneath it.

“Well I’m glad to see you’ve actually done some work, Selwyn. What other theories do we have about this?” Hotch asks and you don’t respond, letting Reid take over.

“All three victims had one particular road in their daily routines; route seven. Route seven is known for being the most dangerous stretch of highway in the state”

“Suicide seven, that’s what us locals call it. It’s either a head on collision, or they just go right over the side” the detective voices.

“Maybe our unsub had been in a crash on that particular road and if it left it with significant injuries, it would explain the sense of power and mobility from the truck” Morgan suggests, working the new information into the profile.

The discussion carried on for slightly longer, theories being, either being added to the profile, or quickly disregarded. For the rest of the afternoon Hotch avoided you like the plague and truthfully you were grateful, ever since the incident in the conference room you’d wanted nothing more than to keep out of his way. Fixing yourself your fourth tea of the day, you almost laughed aloud at Hotch’s childish behaviour; the snide comments, the accusing looks, it was hard to take him seriously at times and quite frankly it was becoming infuriating.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfic #fbi #behavioural analysis unit #aaron hotchner #aaron #aaron hotch hotchner #ssa aaron hotchner #ssa hotchner #hotch #hotch x you #hotch x reader #hotch x oc

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dreamcatcherjiah · 6 years ago

Text

MONO: MOONCHILD

Words: 1129

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader (ish)

Genre: Angst

Warning: mentions of depression, some feelings might be triggering.

Tonight’s a full moon. Watching through your window you can’t help the feeling of belonging when you look at it. The house is silent, you’ve had dinner, organised everything you might need and that left you without anything to do, except look at the full moon in all its glory. You’ve always found the night calming. It is the only time of day where the streets are quiet, where the moon looks down on you, and the darkness embraces you as an old friend. To you, the walls of your small room become the night sky, the stars looking at you, accompanying the moon. She’s so big tonight, you want nothing more to go out and walk with her, if only for just a bit.

Will it be okay? Seeing her through your window is not nearly enough. You need to feel the freedom of walking the streets beside her, you yearn the night air filling your lungs and the slight breeze touching your cheeks, unchallenged by a multitude of other bodies. You feel as if, maybe just for a short while, the moon may be your confidant, she’ll keep your secrets to herself, so that you don’t have to tell any other human being.

Not bothering to even take your jacket with you, you put on your shoes and leave. The smile that you feel forming on your cheeks is the first genuine one in a while. It stretches your lips, showcases your teeth and reaches your eyes. A true smile. It takes you a while to leave the cover of the trees that surround your building. It’s all beautiful nature and yet, you feel like if only for the sake of seeing the moon unfiltered, it’d be worth it to get rid of those trees. You move faster when you see the moonbeams moving pass the canopy of leaves, stretching your hand forward, your heartbeat accelerating when your hand finally touches the white light beam.

Once you are bathed in the night, everything becomes still. You are able to breathe. Raising your head to the sky, you feel the loose threads of your hair, moved by the wind, caress your face, almost as if they were ribbons, not ropes. Even with your eyes closed you feel the moon looking at you, you feel how your face is touched by her, telling you how good you really are, giving you that support, that calm reassurance that you so desperately need. Little by little, you let go of the air you had been trying to keep inside you all day long, for it is only when the moon shines on you that you can breathe, you feel like no one can really blame you for being you. Being this little human being, inside of a universe of other people, who is allowed to feel sad, caged.

You keep wandering and your mind moves with you. You think, something that you try so hard not to do. And tonight you try to get answers. You think how suffering, how sadness, is something so intrinsically you that you can’t let go. But maybe it’s not only just you, but every person that smiles during the day, those loud creatures who express themselves exuberantly can also be sad. It’s that sadness that people have to overcome, you think. Moving forward, putting one foot in front of the other, just like you are doing now, bathed in the moon, until you’re dancing through the pain, revelling in your own strength.

You keep walking and the night scenery changes, as you get closer and closer to the river. The street lamps suddenly look like huge roses, with that artificial light reflecting off your glasses. They look more like thorns pinching the night, they don’t help with their lights, they only interrupt the tranquillity and darkness. They are nosy in their stillness. And you don’t need noise. The silence, yourself, that’s the only thing you need to get better.

Now you are walking next to the river, you look up at the moon and smile again. There she is fixed, but moving with you. Illuminating the path you are taking and guiding you. Looking around you, expecting to be alone, you’re startled out of your trance when you realise you are not. There, sitting on the ground, ankles crossed and arms firmly planted on the grass, there is a young man. His head is tilted backwards, much like yours had been for the whole night. Curious, your mind wanders towards him, and your feet end up taking you towards the sitting figure. His face comes into focus and you see how a solitary tear leaves his eye and travels, excruciatingly slow, down his smooth face, touches his ear and disappears. His presence there is inconspicuous and yet he is iridescent, he shines in the middle of the night, a beacon that absorbs you. He looks magnificently wounded, that’s the word. Because tears keep falling, and your soul calls to him. You want to tell him that crying sometimes is okay, that thinking about nothing is also thinking and that is okay, not because someone wants to be swallowed by the void means that they welcome emptiness. Keeping on living, breathing, fighting, that is the bravest thing someone can do. Smile through the tears. Just like he is doing right now, you realise. Just when you are close enough to touch him if you dare, you realise that his smile is the most brilliant thing about this man. It stretches his cheeks, giving you the most wonderful glimpse of his teeth, even his closed eyes crease with the spreading force of the smile. He is a wonder in his contradictions.

And then you reach for him, not realising that he knows you’re there. He feels the lone droplet of water touch his cheek, and slide the same path his have been following since you were watching. Two lonely souls in the fixing now look at the sky, thorns puncturing the night sky. You don’t speak, but your shining presence becomes a balm for each other. You no longer feel the moonbeams in your skin, because all the light you need is now coming from the person next to you. A shared burden, and your chest feels lighter than it has in a long time. Your souls look towards the sky, a small window into existence, your hidden heart, your hidden sorrows there for the world to see. But what a relief that the world right now is only this man, and the moon. Both tell you that when you feel like dying, you have to live twice as hard.

Moonchildren, that’s what you are. Two souls in the fixing that find comfort in each other’s thorns.

Lovely @mabel-k3 convinced me that it was worth it to keep posting my mono. series so here is the second part: moonchild. I am not following a set order, just writing what I feel right, so this series will be updated randomly. Still, I hope you guys like it! I love you, my sweets🥺🥰

💜🌙

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yukiwrites · 6 years ago

Text

Byleth, Coming to Terms

Thank you for the support as always, @xpegasusuniverse! Everything’s getting connected little by little... I hope you like it!

Summary: Still taken aback from the surge of memories from Sothis’ side of their link, Byleth connects all of the information he has on his hands, though missing a crucial detail from his past...

Commission info HERE and HERE!

______________________________

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15

Byleth didn't feel any warmth from Sothis' hand. For a long time, the Professor felt only grief in sympathy to his mindmate whose stifled sobs filled the darkness around them.

For what it felt like an eternity, Byleth saw a torrent of memories run past him, settling inside his mind and silent heart as they did -- memories of Sothis' past as the Goddess of Fódlan.

He saw the many green-haired children Sothis had made from her own blood; saw the days Sothis and her children spread a vast, ancient knowledge throughout the land, earning the respect and fear of the humans that inhabited there prior to Her arrival.

He saw as Sothis still retained part of her consciousness even after she had been dismembered and turned into the Sword of the Creator -- she felt the flesh of her own kin being cut through her entirety as Nemesis wielded her to butcher the inhabitants of Zanado.

He watched. He watched Sothis drown in grief as she watched her children share her fate of being turned into a weapon only to slay more and more of their kin.

Sothis never stopped crying, gripping at Byleth's hand with everything she had. "So that is why... I did not want to remember..." She murmured over and over, curling so much into herself she blended with the darkness.

"Sothis-" Byleth called, feeling the mind sway as Sothis slowly was engulfed by the nothingness enveloping them. He felt like he had said her name with his own lips, not inside his mind, however.

A faint warmth shone within his chest, as though cradling him into a peaceful waking.

Slowly did the Professor feel his own eyelids opening, the light shining on his chest coming from Manuela's hands in order to close it all up after the surgery.

"Mhm-" Byleth tried to speak, but his throat and lips were terribly dry.

"Oh, dear!" Manuela gasped, quickly turning her gaze to someone on the other side of the bed. "Quickly, give him some water, old man! He's been out of it for almost 18 hours!"

Groggy, Byleth turned his head to the side as though he floated on the bed, not feeling anything other than the warmth of Manuela's magic. He saw Hanneman scramble around to fill a cup with water, quickly bringing it to Byleth. "How do you feel, young man?" He helped the Professor sit up before handing him the cup.

Blinking slowly, Byleth quietly accepted the cup, chugging its contents so quickly it made him choke.

"Hey, don't scramble your insides yet! I'm making sure I closed everything!" Manuela complained, sitting on the bed due to Byleth's change of position, her light never stopping.

"Thank you-" Byleth's voice sounded hoarse. He looked down at himself, seeing his bare chest just the way it's always been -- old scars here and there, but no trace of the operation he had just underwent. "How was it? What was inside my chest?"

"You really should rest up more before we can have this conversation." Manuela frowned, reluctant after stopping her magic. There was nothing else to cure inside of him, but he still needed his rest.

Byleth sighed, exhausted. His mind was still much too foggy for him to think straight, but the urge -- the urge to know; the urge to find out if sacrificing Sothis' peace of mind was worth it -- that was stronger than anything inside of him at that moment. "Please. I need to know." He huffed.

Manuela and Hanneman exchanged glances before looking equally preoccupied. "I-" the healer looked down to her hands. "I've never seen anything like it. There was- there was something inside your heart."

Hanneman placed a heavy hand on Byleth's shoulder, making the younger one tilt to his side. "The Crest Stone was thoroughly absorbed into your body, my lad. It was placed right in the middle of your heart, being masterfully engulfed by it -- there were veins, arteries and cardiac tissue all around it. The Stone took over your heart's role and now is the one pulsing the blood through your body."

As though jaded, Byleth looked down, expressionless. "No wonder it doesn't beat, then." He clutched his chest as though grieving for the heart that allowed another to take its place if it meant for them both to live.

Once again Hanneman and Manuela exchanged concerned glances. "Professor-" The healer started speaking, reaching for Byleth's free shoulder.

"I remembered a lot of things, you know." Byleth said out of nowhere, still looking down at the blanket with glazed eyes. "Well, the one who remembered wasn't me, though."

Both crestologist and healer frowned, looking at their fellow teacher with concern. They squeezed their hold on Byleth's shoulders, though it simply strengthened his resolve to tell them everything.

Sothis was silent -- she had closed herself in her grief, leaving Byleth's mindscape only to himself.

That thought brought a sliver of emotion to his brow, making his mouth curl up in hesitation. Sothis was already such an important existence to him -- to think that he yanked those memories out of her like that, bringing so much suffering...

"Hanneman... Do you..." Byleth started, though the silence stretched for so long after that it was as though the words were never uttered.

There was also the question of who placed Sothis very heart within his own, though Byleth had an educated guess, especially after perusing the tragic memories that flooded his mind. "Remember when I mentioned that the Heroes' Relics could be made from the goddess own bones?"

Manuela let out a soundless gasp, looking from one Professor to the other. "Since when were the two of you cooperating in these dangerous researches?"

Hanneman nodded solemnly. "Not very long." He said, then turned to Byleth to answer his question. "You mentioned it quite recently -- your face was very pale that day as well, if I remember correctly."

Slowly did the younger man place one hand over his chest, over the mingled heart he and Sothis shared. "I was slightly wrong, though mostly right." He said, absent-mindedly scratching his skin. "Only the Sword of the Creator was made out of her -- the other ones originated from her children."

"The Children of the Goddess?! So they were truly real and- gave up their own bones to help mankind?" Hanneman sat heavily on a nearby chair, focusing his entire attention on Byleth. Manuela looked from one man to the other, frowning deeply.

"This doesn't make complete sense yet because I'm missing a critical information about the end of that ancient war, since, well, it contradicts everything the Church's been telling for over a millennia."

Hanneman squinted, then widened his eyes. "How do you know- wait! You claimed that the Sword of the Creator was made out of the goddess' body, and seeing that its Crest Stone is deep within you..."

Byleth nodded. "Yeah. Sothis -- the goddess -- is inside me. She speaks to me in my head from time to time, though now she went to sleep -- she remembered everything up until the day she was murdered."

"Murdered?!" Hanneman got up in a flash. Manuela quickly looked around, suddenly worried that they could be under watch -- yet, there was no way that could happen since she had closed off the infirmary for the day and had instructed the nurses under her the previous night (before the surgery) to attend to any patients at the eastern infirmary.

"Watch your mouths! We might be in a closed room, but who knows what kind of magic looms around these walls." She whispered gravely. "Do you know how dangerous it is to talk behind the Church's back... Inside its very base?!"

"We are not fools, Manuela!" Hanneman returned the hiss in kind. "We've been studying this all in utmost secrecy -- and don't worry about any magic! I've carefully inspected every stone to make sure there weren't any dangerous enchantments."

"Being 'sure' isn't enough! To talk about this you need to be 'absolute certain' at the very least!" Manuela looked from one man to the other. Her frown deepened as she saw how red Byleth's skin was turning under all that scratching, so she slapped his hand before he could injure himself. "Don't scratch it! I JUST closed that spot."

Byleth drafted a smile in thanks. "You're right, though I still have a few things to say and a lot more to think about this topic."

Manuela sighed gravely, too jittery to lie still. She got up if only to look at the door, then walked back to the bed, her hands crossed over her chest. "Fine, but don't take long! You still need to rest before I can release you, so the more time you spend awake, the longer we'll all be stuck here."

"Alright. I promise it won't be long." Byleth nodded. "Thanks."

"Memories of the very being we worship! You truly are 'unique' in every sense of the word!" Hanneman sat back down, taking a small notebook out of his chest pocket. "Now, my lad, I'll need you to tell me everything about housing the consciousness of the goddess inside of you! There's quite literally nothing more I can research in your body, especially after watching you be cut open only a few hours ago, so now I can only rely on what your mind says about the matter." He turned to the bedside table where a feather and an inkpot were awaiting at the ready for him to start writing.

Byleth adjusted his back on the pillows, somehow starting to feel his body, most likely awakening from the stupor of the surgery. "I'll tell you all that I remembered for now -- but as for the reason why I have Sothis with me, you'll have to wait until I can talk to my father. I feel that he has the final piece I seek to finally solve this puzzle..."

"Of course! Since you've had the Stone inside your heart from a young age, the only one who can truly tell us what happened is the man who raised you -- Jeralt Eisner!" Hanneman hummed happily, writing something in astounding speed.

"Your class and the Knights of Seiros will go to this month's mission in three days, yes? You'll need to rest plenty until then, though hopefully you can take your time talking with Sir Jeralt after it's over." Manuela tapped her index over her own arm, still crossed over her chest.

"This can't wait that long, though it has been hard to talk to my father these past few weeks. I want to catch him before the mission... It has to be as soon as possible."

"To think the already mysterious Sir Jeralt could hold the answers to such outstanding secret! I don't suppose you'd let me witness this talk?"

Byleth chuckled weakly. "No." He replied readily, chuckling even more to Hanneman's disappointed groan in response. "I'll tell you how it went later, though. For now, let's get all these unpleasant memories out of the way..."

"Ah, yes!" Hanneman raised the feather, at the ready to start documenting it all. "At your command, Professor!"

#fire emblem three houses #fe 3h #byleth #hanneman #manuela fire emblem #my writings #spoilers #yuki's commissions

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catboybee · 7 years ago

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A Wild Fox Chase

Since links don’t work on tumblr anymore, I’m going to post my fic on here as well!

Chapter 1

Andrew couldn't say he was even remotely interested in anything that had to do with the supernatural. But, when Renee, with her belief in God and all that seemed hell bent on telling him all about her new job at a small psychic parlor he had to admit he was intrigued. Still, after hearing her out Andrew thought it was all a bunch of bullshit, considering magic didn't exist. When he told this to Renee she only smiled and shook her head.

“It isn’t magic, Andrew. It’s more like being able to distinguish the difference between our world and the one of the dead.”

“And doesn’t whatever it is that a psychic does contradict what your beliefs dictate?”

“I believe the psychic world is deeply intertwined with religion, and don’t forget that there were prophets in the Bible. Even though tarot is a little different, they share the same foundation.”

Andrew nodded slowly, seeing her point, but also getting disinterested in the subject. Renee had her beliefs and he had his. He wasn’t going to judge her based on that, but he did wish -as much as Andrew Minyard wished- that she would change the subject.

“You know,” Renee’s tone turned sly and Andrew didn’t like it one bit, “I think you’d actually be interested in the guy who owns the place.”

Andrew cocked one eyebrow in a silent question. “Is that so?”

“I guess you’ll have to come by sometime and find out for yourself.” With that she got up and left him alone on the roof of their dorms.

It was normal for them to slip up there after their sparring sessions or whenever Andrew felt like talking. Renee was one of the very few people he could trust and he didn’t hate spending his time with. He knew there were running bets on whether or not they were dating, but Andrew couldn’t find it in himself to give two shits about what the rest of the world thought about him. Andrew wouldn’t be wasting his breath trying to prove anyone wrong.

Friday rolled around, and with it came a visit to Columbia, where the Monsters attempted to drown all their sorrows in alcohol. It was their futile attempt at trying to forget all their problems by drinking them away. As per usual the car ride there was filled with Nicky's endless chatter, only interrupted by Aaron's one worded replies here and there.Andrew tuned them out for the most part, until Nicky mentioned Renee’s new job.

“Oh my god, you should see the guy that owns the place, he’s such a cutie. We should go there and get a reading together, it’d be so awesome. Andrew, could we go tomorrow?”

“No.” He wasn’t going to indulge Nicky and he sure as fuck wasn’t going to get scammed by some so-called psychic.

“Come ooooon, it’s not gonna hurt and you don’t even have to do it if you don’t want to, you could just watch us, and-” Nicky rambled on trying to convince Andrew to go.

“Fine. I’ll think about it.” Andrew finally snapped, just so Nicky would shut up.

The next day, Nicky was back on Andrew’s back about it and despite only meaning to shut him up, Andrew did think about the possibility of going to the psychic parlor.

“We’re leaving in ten. If you’re not ready by then, you can say goodbye to ever seeing me anywhere near that damn place.” Andrew ignored the shining grin and the way too happy ‘thank you’ Nicky offered him and went into his room to change as well.

The place wasn’t exactly hard to spot with its numerous neon lights and sparkly shit in its windows. Andrew decided he already hated it.

As soon as they entered he was enveloped in the smell of incense, curtains and beads arranged in such a way that everything looked like a maze.

“Through here,” a voice called from somewhere behind the beads on Andrew’s right.They headed towards the source of the words and emerged into a spacious room filled with crystals, herbs and numerous other objects Andrew couldn’t identify.

In the middle of the room was a round table that the guy working there -the owner, Andrew presumed- was seated at. Recognition flashed through the stranger’s eyes -there and then gone- at the sight of Kevin and that was definitely interesting. . . He would have to figure that out later.

“Sit down,” the stranger urged them and there was something almost hypnotic in his voice. Something told Andrew that he wouldn’t’ve been able to refuse even if he wanted to. Andrew had to give it to Nicky, the guy was indeed attractive: piercing blue eyes accentuated by flaming red hair and cheekbones sharper than Andrew’s knives. Another notable detail were the vicious scars scattered on top of said cheekbones that made even more questions pop up in Andrew’s mind.

“So, what are you here for?” Andrew let Nicky respond, opting to try and read the stranger instead. He seemed calm enough, but Andrew could see that he wasn’t comfortable in their presence.

“A tarot reading. One for the each of us.” Nicky grinned, and the man simply stared back at him before responding.

“Whoever wants to go first stay here, the rest of you please go wait in the waiting area to my right.” Andrew tensed at the word ‘please’, but did as he was told while Nicky went first.

Andrew was the last one to get his reading, in the meantime inspecting the weird things the ‘psychic’ put in the room Andrew was in.

Soon, it was his turn, a clearly shaken Kevin walking by him on his way to the reading room. As he entered, he inquisitively looked at the guy.

“Some people simply don’t cope well with the truth,” the man explained with a shrug, as if reading Andrew’s mind.

“We’ll see about that.” With that, Andrew sat down opposite him, waiting for whatever he got himself into to start. When the guy only stood there studying him like he was the most interesting thing in the world, Andrew spoke up.

“Well? Aren’t you going to start whatever mambo-jambo I’m paying you to do?” The stranger glowered at him, but picked up the tarot deck.

“What kind of reading do you want?”

“You’re the psychic here, you choose.” Andrew decided that it was quite fun riling this guy up.

“Fine, asshole.” Andrew supressed a smirk at the retort and simply waited.

He watched as the guy started shuffling the deck with practiced fingers, an intense look in his eyes. When he was done, he made Andrew cut the deck and then proceeded to lay down the cards in a weird pattern. Andrew noticed that some were upright while others were upside-down and he wondered if it made any difference. If he hadn’t been looking closely, he wouldn’t have noticed the strange look the guy gave the cards before shaking it off and telling Andrew the interpretation.

“Since you let me choose, I decided to do a love reading,” the little shit was pretty smug about it, as if sensing that this was the thing Andrew cared about the least. “You’re going to meet someone soon, a hopeless case and a runaway that might just stop running for you.” That was just amazing, wasn’t it. When Andrew didn’t say anything, he pulled another card and continued.

“Surprisingly, it won’t end up in flames.” The guy got a distant look on his face before focusing back on Andrew. He took that as his cue to leave and the attractive enigma followed suit. They paid way more than Andrew was expecting,further cementing his belief that this was all a scam and, as they were turning to leave, the man spoke up.

“See you later, Andrew.” Which was weird since they hadn’t introduced themselves, but he thought perhaps Nicky had told the guy about him. And yet, Andrew had a nagging feeling that wasn’t the case. The man was a mystery wrapped in a riddle that Andrew would eventually solve.

#tfc #aftg #all for the game #the foxhole court #andreil #psychic!neil #my fic #my writing #fanfiction

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formlesscopycat · 7 years ago

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Distance of the Falling Sun

A Kuroko no Basuke fanfic.

Pairing: Aomine x Kise

Rating: G

Summary: Sometimes, Kise wonders why he even tries. Because it kind of hurts whenever he finds himself chasing after the bright streak that Aomine leaves behind.

Notesy-notes: Gifted this to my dear friend, @digimondestined because I thought she might like Teiko!Aokise with some angst and a little bit of Aho-reverence.

Inspired by this. Prompted by this.

Read on Ao3

Ten.

It takes ten years and four for Kise Ryouta to find the person, only ten seconds to fall in love.

He never expects that meeting his love would hurt—a basketball thrown into the back of his head—and when he turns around, his gaze fixes on sun-kissed skin, the color of bronze, a shock of hair the color of deep blue ocean. He never expects to be caught off-guard by the husky lilt on the boy’s tone, as he says Kise’s name with enthusiasm and familiarity, as if he’d known Kise for a long time. He never expects himself to be drawn towards the basketball gym—to where the boy headed—and see said boy battle out several opponents with quick, calculated, almost graceful movements as he strides about across the court, ball in hand, bouncing to the ground in a rhythmic tempo. Kise stands rooted to the spot, seconds turning to minutes. Within him, a spark is lit; soon, it’s a wild fire blazing as he watches the boy pull his weight, spring into the air, and slam the ball effortlessly inside the hoop with a smooth and quiet swoosh. He catches the boy’s expression and it holds the light of the sun.

Kise is captivated.

“I’d like to join the basketball club!” Later, Kise tells everyone in that gym. He’s never been so sure of anything in his life.

Nine.

For the nine, unbearably long school days he’s waited, the in-between two weeks before gets to join first string.

Kise is a little disappointed, a little exasperated that he has to start from the ground up before he can join the regulars, before he can finally play with the blue-haired boy (and well, with the rest).

He learns that the boy’s name is Aomine. Right after third string practice, Kise never fails to drop by the first string gym and watch the regulars—they always put on extra time, always staying longer and Kise can’t help contain the excitement he feels, when he sees how passionate and devoted his teammates are. And then his eyes stay glued to the tanned teenager for the rest of the time, picking out moves, techniques, style. Sometimes, Aomine just steals his breath by simply dunking a ball.

Kise admires from afar and it’s like looking up into the skies of endless blue-- Aomine, talent and all, seems too far, too high, too unreachable. Yet it fuels Kise’s desire to be good enough to share the court with Aomine someday soon.

When his time finally came, Kise manages to keep a cool exterior, schools his features just enough so he won’t look too giddy and stupid when the team manager ushers him to the first string gym, but deep down, his heart drums with exhilaration. Finally, the time has come.

“That’s amazing.” He hears Aomine say. Kise’s heart flutters a little inside his chest.

Eight.

Eight weeks later, Kise finds himself well-assimilated into the club, into the sport. Practice can be grueling, but basketball has been anything but dreary—he’s quite sure he’ll stay for a long, long time, maybe, even for good. There are lots of new things to learn, Kise’s got a huge room for improvement, the mechanics of the sport always posing a challenge to him. Not to mention, he has to work doubly hard if he wants to keep up with Murasakibara, Akashi, Midorima and Aomine. Especially with Aomine, who seems to be getting stronger and faster every day.

In eight weeks, Kise gets to hang out with a rather eclectic crowd of people, and he finds them infinitely more interesting than the bimbos who always crowd his social space, fawning even over the smallest things he does—Kise could be rolling his eyes at them and these fan girls would still worship the ground he walks on.

In eight weeks, he’s played his first official match, with lanky, little Kuroko showing him a valuable lesson, enough for him to pay the teal-haired teen a considerable amount of respect despite Kuroko’s below par basketball skills.

In eight weeks, he’s played countless one-on-one matches with Aomine and has never won a single game.

Play. Lose. Repeat. They throw him sorry looks and Kise is well-aware that the others misconstrue him as a masochist already, because why would anyone want to be repeatedly beaten to the dust by the Ace of the Generation of Miracles?

Yet Kise gets up every time, a smile tugging on his lips, as he looks up at Aomine and declares, “one more”.

What they don’t understand is how every defeat pushes Kise to discover more of his potential. Because if he wants to get better, he has to go against the best.

Aomine just smirks, throws Kise the ball and puts on a defensive stance. There’s even a hint of amusement in his ocean-blue eyes and for whatever it means, Kise finds himself wanting of a way to overcome, finds it endearing even, finds himself drawn to the fire more than ever.

Seven.

Kise thinks and comes up with reasons:

Aominecchi is mean.

Aominecchi is loud, and headstrong, and just likes to fool around. He loves provoking people, Kise particularly, and when Aominecchi is in detention, it’s most likely that he ends up in detention as well.

Aominecchi is lazy--he likes to sleep, likes to skip cleaning duties, likes to run late for practice. What an irresponsible jerkface.

Aominecchi swears a lot.

Aominecchi is an idiot, his grades are miserable. (Not that he’s any better).

Aominecchi just loves smacking his head, pushing him, throwing him the ball too hard when he’s not looking. Not a day passes by without Aominecchi and him bickering, trading bruises and bumps here and there, and it’s sometimes bothersome because Kise likes to keep his body and face (especially his face) flawless.

Aominecchi is just plain annoying.

Kise stops on the seventh. He has plentiful more reasons to hate on Aomine but he cannot bring himself to add more, just as he considers other things as well.

Because Aomine may be all of the above but childishness aside, he actually has a kind heart. He’s very protective of Momoi, he’s been a steadfast support to Kuroko, and sometimes Aomine even shows a bit of concern for Kise, too, coaxing him to eat more “or he’ll be a liability to the team if he’s too weak” and carelessly throws off comments like, “Your eye bags make you look uglier, Kise. You should sleep some.”

Aomine is fun. He’s a concentrated bundle of energy that couldn’t sit still. He’s reckless and spontaneous. Adventure sings in his veins that when Kise hears the call, he just can’t help but be pulled and lured into some irresistible exploit with Aomine. Even if it lands them both into trouble.

Aomine is honest. Often, he’s an idiot who blurts out things without thinking. But he doesn’t sugarcoat, doesn’t just say things to please anybody.

And Aomine’s not bad-looking. Not at all.

The mess of contradictions that is Aomine Daiki. Kise ponders these things in his heart most of the time, maybe so much more than he’s aware of. Lately, his day dreams are filled to the brim with the blue of Aomine’s eyes, the sharpness of Aomine’s smirk, the storm that’s born on his skin where Aomine’s touch has accidentally or intentionally made contact.

No, he tells himself.

No, he pleads with himself. Because he can’t be falling in love with Aomine.

The realization terrifies Kise.

Six.

Unstoppable, precise, effortless as always. Kise marvels in awe, a stare lingering a tad bit too long at the wearer of jersey number 6, after he scores another basket despite having been marked by three of the players from the opposing team.

Before Kise’s feet move in step closer to the Teiko Power Forward so he can voice out a compliment for the Ace, Aomine has already rushed to Kuroko’s side to give the Phantom Sixth Man a fist bump. Kise watches as the two share meaningful smiles, the clarity of the message traded across is almost glaring despite the lack of words.

As Aomine became the brightest point where all of Kise’s fantasies, hope and admiration come together, Kise also has soon become aware of his rightful place in Aomine’s world. Aomine’s light is blinding indeed, but not blinding enough for Kise to unsee where it shines at.

It’s Tetsu. Always at his Tetsu.

They’re light and shadow after all, inseparable like the yin and yang.

--x--

Kise is often told he’s beautiful. It’s not quite strange when people say he’s bright, talented, special. Yet when he looks at Kuroko, Kise sees everything that Aomine wants; Kise looks at himself in the mirror and sees that he’ll never be enough.

There are times when he’d be willing to give anything just to be in Kuroko’s shoes.

While Kise often finds himself at the receiving end of Aomine’s profanities, there’s never a single harsh word for Kuroko. While Aomine pokes fun at Kise’s skills despite his enormous improvement since that day he started playing, there’s always fond encouragement for Kuroko, who is perpetually stuck with an abysmal aim and weak stamina. While Kuroko always gets friendly taps on the shoulder, casual fist bumps and resounding high-fives, Kise gets kicked, smacked, hit by the ball and laughed at.

The more he sees, the more Kise learns that grief is really just love, a burst of emotion that demands to rush, to flow out, but cannot. He learns that it’s just love that pools at the edges of his eyes, it’s just love that brings the dull ache in his chest. Kise learns that grief is just love with no place to go.

Five.

It’s been five days since Kise decided to keep his distance. The sudden break from his usual routine leaves a strange, hallowed feeling within the confines of his heart, but at the same time, he’s washed over with relief, knowing that he’s stopped himself in time before more damage is done.

To keep the hurt at bay, he signs up for more modeling jobs and tells his teammates that he’s swamped with work so he’ll have an excuse to cut basketball practice shorter and leave school as soon as possible. During lunch, Kise gets to sit again with the bimbos who melt at his feet with just a bat of his eye lash, who laugh at the corniest joke he tells. He lets himself laugh a little too loudly at his own joke, without sparing a glance at the table where he used to be, where the famed Miracles are. He’s stopped sending funny memes or random messages to his teammates and only speaks to any of them when spoken to. Kuroko he can handle but dealing with Aomine is an entirely different matter. Kise stays as far as he can, promises himself that he’ll never sit beside the Ace during the classes they share, vows not to ask for a one-on-one again, even if it kills him not to.

It can’t be helped, Kise reasons with himself, that he has to shut off his friends at the basketball club, while being fully aware of the unfairness of his decisions, especially to Aomine and Kuroko. Though he’s grown to love basketball so much, Kise contemplates that the best course of action is to quit altogether, because everything and everyone reminds him of the pain he wants to get away from.

He’s fading.

It’s better this way.

In a short span of days, Kise lets all the bridges burn slowly, slowly, leaving behind a trail of numbing emptiness at its wake.

--x--

Making up some stupid excuse to skip basketball practice later, Kise finds Nijimura-senpai right after first period, tells his senior that he’s feeling a little bit under the weather. The Captain gives him a probing stare, Kise almost chokes out into confession as he’s sure senpai sees through his lie, but thankfully, the Captain had let Kise get away without asking questions.

Time dragged on. Last period took forever to end. At the sound of the final bell, Kise gets up from his chair, straps up his bag on his shoulders, but before he can fully exit the classroom, somebody has grabbed his right arm.

Aomine demanded for Kise to stay, fingers tight around the blond’s wrist, while he glowered at everybody else to leave the room immediately.

Four.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

Aomine’s question resounds against the four walls of the empty room, making Kise reel, the shock of this sudden confrontation almost constricting him. Kise peers up at the other boy under thick lashes but he can never hold Aomine’s gaze for too long. He swallows the lump in his throat, opens his mouth to say something, but Aomine cuts in, as if reading his mind.

“And don’t you dare give me that ‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about’ crap. Get to the point.”

With naked panic settling at the pit of his stomach, Kise stalls. He keeps glancing on his shoes, lets his fingers fumble on the hem of his uniform before whispering, “I’m just busy with work, is all.”

The reply comes by way of a familiar snort.

Kise bites his bottom lip. With nothing more to say and nowhere else to go, he wishes so badly for the ground to swallow him up.

And Aomine waits and observes Kise with impatient eyes. Between them, a tensed silence stretches for seconds, for an eternity too long.

Finally, Aomine lets out an audible sigh like a huge weight has to get off of his chest, too.

“I’m sorry,” Aomine says quietly, making Kise’s head snap up. “Sorry I’m mean to you… and I said a lot of stupid things to you before. And I’m sorry for all the times I hurt you…”

“Just don't…” There’s an obvious break in Aomine’s voice as he lets the last of his words hang, like it’s taking him such effort to pull their meaning out of his mouth. “…I wish you'd stop pulling away from me.”

Oh.

With emotions astir, Kise gives in, lets himself break down, tears pouring like rain down his cheeks.

“…Not Aominecchi’s fault…” Kise mumbles, lips quivering. “…it’s me.”

He finds the courage to finally meet Aomine’s eyes, finds the strength to admit the truth without holding anything back.

“I’m in love with Aominecchi. So, so much. But it’s Kurokocchi that you like so… yeah.”

The pain of saying it all out loud makes Kise weak on the knees, he holds on to a nearby chair to steady himself. Desperate to find even a morsel of comfort in the silence that followed, Kise lets the revelation sink in between him and Aomine, as he tries not to mind the dull ache that begins throbbing in his chest.

But Aomine, though caught off-guard, has to say otherwise, his own feelings becoming a jumbled mess as he rushes out to explain that Tetsu’s just his friend and nothing more, that he’s annoyed at Kise for making stupid assumptions and jumping hastily to conclusions, and also quite sorry that Kise reads them that way.

Three.

Aomine launches into a mouthful of words but Kise hears the only three that matter.

“I love you.”

And he says it again and again, stealing Kise’s breath away, luring Kise’s feet to dash into Aomine, making him fall with abandon into Aomine’s waiting arms. And among other things, Kise is grateful that Aomine has let him sob on his chest, because right there Kise finds rest as warm arms circle around him, a reassuring hand finding its way to gently stroke the back of his head.

Two.

The two of them are idiots in love, this, Kise is sure. He lifts his head and meets Aomine’s face with a smile. Happiness sweeps across Aomine’s features too, as he thumbs softly on the skin under Kise’s eyes, wiping away his tears.

“If only you told me sooner,” Aomine tells him with a smirk, their faces only inches away from each other.

“Excuse me, but you should’ve said something too.” Kise shoots back.

“Are we bickering again?”

“We’re not.”

One.

Aomine presses one kiss on Kise’s lips—quick and obviously in want of experience: chaste, gentle, but intense enough to lift his feet a little off the ground, making his heartbeat roar in his ears, making everything dissolve away, making time halt into stillness.

When he meets Aomine’s eyes again, Kise lets himself stare just a bit longer as he commits this moment in his memory, basking in the bright light that has ultimately lead his heart home.

-END-

#aokise #aomine x kise #aoki #aomine daiki #kise ryouta #knb #dailyywritingprompt #my fanfiction #fanfic

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blancasplayground · 7 years ago

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Best and Worst of AoS Season 5

Here is my season five postmortem, in the form of a roundup of what I loved and didn't love. It got really long, so I won't spend too much time on the intro. Let's just dive in. Obviously, major spoilers for the entirety of the season follow.

Best: The Future

For the first half of season five it felt like the team was stuck in a dystopian YA novel. In a good way. It was a bold move to completely change the look and feel of the show, but it worked from both a narrative and production standpoint. Not only did it make the best use of the reduced budget, since they could film primarily indoors on smaller-scale sets, but they didn't have to deal with the goings on in the MCU back home (that would come later -- and it's not on the "best" list). Creating a future from scratch requires tremendous imagination and planning, and they delivered a rich backdrop. I was sorry to leave behind the characters we met there, like Tess and Flint. Of course, they had to return to the present eventually, but they did a really good job of world-building for those episodes.

Worst: Contradicting Time Theories

The showrunners have said in interviews that there were a lot of heated discussions in the writer's room about time travel logic, and it shows. Back in the season-three episode "Spacetime" they gave us one answer (which happened to be one I really liked) -- time is an illusion. As Fitz explained, the past, present and future happen simultaneously. We just experience it in a linear way because we're limited to the third dimension. So it cannot be changed. But when they blew up the Earth for the season’s main storyline, they also blew up that theory, because they HAD to change the future now. They weren't going to allow the world to be cracked apart. It's not that kind of show. Plus, they’re still tied to the MCU, so they couldn't let that future play out. And yet, when they returned to the past they had characters still behaving as if it were fixed (the whole "invincible three" idea, which so many people disliked), but trying to change it anyway. Either the future is pre-determined or it isn't. Trying to have it both ways makes for sloppy and confusing stories. It also gives viewers a headache.

Best: Fitz's Journey

Fitz's absence was notable in the first few episodes, but to make up for it we got "Rewind," one of the best episodes of the season. We saw Fitz struggling with his dark side, only to have to embrace it in the future to save Jemma and Daisy in the most badass way (a total "baller move" as Daisy put it). The blend of pre- and post-Framework Fitz was exactly what they needed at the time. Unfortunately, it may have opened the door for The Doctor to take control in "The Devil Complex." He got a chance to marry the love of his life, but that happiness was short lived. His psychological break (which was an incredible reveal and riveting to watch from an acting standpoint) and what he did to Daisy split the team and the audience, sparking a lot of debate about the nature of good and evil both on screen and off. Which, I think, was exactly the point. Was he redeemable? Could he have learned to control his dark side? Could the team ever learn to accept this new version of Fitz and his morally questionable, yet undeniably effective, methods? We'll never know. Which brings me to . . .

Worst: Fitz's Death

(Jemma gif because I can’t watch that death scene anymore.)

(But this is almost as bad.)

We've been over this, and the wounds are still fresh, so I won't rehash what so many others have said more eloquently. I will point out that the issue is not with the death itself. They had to do it in order to bring back Cryo Fitz (or perhaps because they knew they could), who hasn't experienced the majority of season five. It's an intriguing idea, and should open up a lot of pathways for his story next season. Also, it gave Iain another chance to show off his crazy talent (like he needed more this season, but whatever, we're grateful). It's just the way they did it, and the fact that anyone thought this would be an acceptable sendoff for a fan-favorite character if it really was the last episode. The fake-out (which wasn't even a proper fake out because they REALLY DID have to bury Fitz) undercut what should have been a bigger moment -- Phil's departure and impending death as well. They botched it, plain and simple, and there's no taking that back.

Best: Philinda Endgame

They took their time getting there, but May and Coulson finally expressed their feelings for each other (at least, the human versions), each in their own signature way. May finally telling Phil she loved him just to shut him up was classic May. And that kiss behind the shield ought to go down as one of most iconic TV kisses in history. I sincerely hope they get lots of parasailing in, and, despite it being a lovely sendoff, that we'll see one or both of them back next season. Incidentally, I believe the fact that Robin drew the two of them on the beach in Tahiti before they changed the future means that they wound up together in the previous version of the loop too. Of course, Phil had to be gone to allow May to become Robin's mom, and now I'm giving myself a headache again. See what you've done, season five!

Worst: Team Infighting

This show is never better than when the characters work together as a team, whether it's on an action-packed mission or simply solving a problem on the ground. Which makes the decision to split everyone up along multiple fault lines later in the season a confusing and super frustrating move that wasn't at all fun to watch. Families fight, sure, but the divisions this year were deep, involving the loss of trust and respect, and the questioning of each other's core moral principles. These are not minor squabbles. I'm not sure what they were trying to accomplish by stepping up the tension and having them take sides against each other in the face of their greatest challenge yet, but I don't think it worked out the way they wanted it to. I would love to see everyone come back together and be a family again, as long as it's done realistically without sacrificing characterization.

Best: Graviton

With this season possibly being the last, the writers took the opportunity to pick up a thread they'd left dangling in episode three. Ever since the introduction of gravitonium way back when, fans have been wondering if the show would follow through and deliver the major comic-book villain Graviton. Considering this season could have been the show's swan song, it was a good time to deliver on that promise. And they did, in a way that was surprising yet somehow fitting. Glenn Talbot has been a thorn in Coulson's side since he showed at the end of season one, so to have him become the final Big Bad is a satisfying, if tragic, fate for the character. Especially since, in his twisted mind, he believed he was doing the right thing, right up until the end.

Worst: Ruby Red Herring

Sorry Dove Cameron fans, but the show let your girl down. Despite the potential in her first few episodes, Ruby never lived up to the compelling, cutthroat (or cut-arm, haha) villain they set her up to be (her hooded alter ego never even got a cool villain nickname). As it turned out, she was only there as a distraction, to confuse the characters and the audience about the real identity of the Destroyer of Worlds. And just as she was getting interesting -- the way she watched and mimicked Fitzsimmons alone told us more about her cold upbringing and the lack of human connection in a few moments than we got in all her episodes before that -- they killed her off to give the team something else to fight about.

Best: Nostalgic Callbacks and Fan Service

We got so many callbacks to previous seasons throughout season five. Maybe it's because the writers knew there was a chance this would be the last year, so they packed in as many references to the history of the show as they could. There was also the milestone 100th episode, which naturally lent itself to looking back. In addition to paying off older plot points (see above re: Graviton) they directly acknowledged their loyal viewers with that "small but active fan base" line. It was exciting seeing Mike again. And good to have Davis back too, with his mysterious survival story (that I hope they never reveal). Not to mention Hunter (which I will, down below). These were all gifts to long-time fans and we ate them up.

Worst: Infinity War Tie-In

If you're going to go there (and yeah, they had to, given the show's history), then fully commit to it, rather than using the cop out of ending the season just before the movie's biggest moment. Anyone who's seen it knows that the ending could potentially have a major impact on the show. So embrace that (imagine Phil handing Mack the keys to Lola, only to watch them fall to the ground). Or they could have used the multiverse to disconnect from the MCU once and for all. There were already so many questions going into the finale, whether they would or wouldn't go through with the snap was one debate I could have lived without. And it's still up in the air as to whether it will be a factor next season. Given that the airdate is after the next movie comes out, I'm inclined to think not, but I kind of wish we didn't even have to worry about it.

Bonus Bests:

The Return of Lance Hunter

Every single moment he was in was pure gold. I really hope we haven't seen the last of him.

Fitzsimmons Wedding

I mean, obviously. So beautiful and emotional. A shining moment of light to balance the darkness of the rest of the season..

Deke

I love Deke. End of story. He is still around and he will be back. See my explanation post here. I have no official confirmation of this, I'm just thinking positively.

One final note: These gifs were pulled from all over. I’m still rather new to Tumblr, so if you see something that’s yours and would like credit, let me know (and also if you could let me know how to do it that would be great).

#agents of shield #agents of shield s5 #aos #fitzsimmons #philinda #phil coulson #daisy johnson #leo fitz #jemma simmons #alphonso mackenzie #yoyo rodriguez #deke shaw

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meucaoscriativo · 7 years ago

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One for the road WIP

“Hey, I’m sorry, but we are closing.”

Guys drinking by themselves weren’t a rare sight. But that guy was an interesting specimen to study. He sat at the stool as soon as the bar opened and he still didn’t show the least intention to stand up and leave.

It took some minutes for him to admit the girl’s presence and raise his ice-blue eyes.

His gaze pierced her soul and caused shivers to travel down her spine. It had been a long time since she last got that feeling. He looked handsome but forbidden with the perfectly unkempt hair and the spotless black suit, the tie knot loosen just a bit. It was impossible not to like what she saw, but at the same time she knew there was more to his moody expression than simply unfriendliness.

There was a heavy cloud surrounding him with what she sensed as regret. His eyes resembled window panes, clear and empty glasses framed by sad dark circles produced by a restless night.

“Rough day?”, She kept talking since he remained silent. All her words had a ring that made them sound like an unobtrusive music.

He looked around and noticed he was the last customer there. The radio had already been turned off and she had washed all the glasses while waiting for him to close his tab.

“What time is it?, His question sounded monotonous, the husky voice cut the air and added to thrill she felt while near him.

“Almost two a.m.” Her eyes darted to the clock on the wall behind her before informing. He followed her movement and saw for himself it was one-fifty. He let a long sigh escape, as if the fact irritated him.

“What about one for the road?”, She suggested, a persistent smile shining in her eyes.

Mumbling a dispirited “whatever” was his way of accepting her offer. Under his careful watch, she refilled his glass with the whisky he was drinking.

“So… were you waiting someone?”, She was aware most of the sentences she directed at him were questions, but she couldn’t help being intrigued. The truth was that anything she spoke would unnerve him. However, the look on his face indicated she had just chosen the most off-limits topic of all.

“Nevermind”, and she left the counter to finish her tasks.

The bell at the door rang then and when she looked over her shoulder, she found the spot he once occupied vacant. On the counter top, there was what seemed to be a wad of notes. Getting closer to examine the money, she got outraged by the amount. It covered the price of the entire whisky bottle but he hadn’t drunk that much.

She grabbed the bunch of bills and ran to the exit.

“Hey, mister!”, Shouting, she raced to the sidewalk, looking around and not seeing anybody. The street was desert and not even a car rolled by.

“What’s the matter?”, Startled, she turned around after listening his voice. He was close to the frontage of the bar, the arms crossed in front of his chest, partially because it was cold. His raging eyes glistened like sharp cut jewels.

“Gee, I almost had a cardiac arrest!”, But she laughed while complaining, getting close to him.

He simply looked annoyed.

“See, I can’t accept all this money”, she counted the bills taking only the appropriate amount and giving the rest back to him.

“Just keep it”, he avoided her hand, walking away, looking a little too aggravated. He stopped under the lamp post. There was a mysterious halo of fog around the lamp that only added to the atmosphere of the man’s sadness.

She didn’t understand him and that was what drew her to him one more time:

“Are you drunk?” He didn’t look a bit tipsy, but maybe that was the reason of his crankiness and dismay.

“No. Can you just leave me alone?”

She opened her mouth to rebuke him but then closed it without a sound. He could be stubborn all he wanted, but there was clearly a problem there.

“I’m just going back inside to turn off the lights… if you don’t mind, would you walk me home?”

“What?” He turned to face her, unable to believe his ears.

“Yes, you know… I live just two blocks away but… it’s kinda late… and… please?”

He twisted his brows but ended up agreeing.

Ten minutes later she was locking the bar door. She put her hands in her coat’s pocket and approached him:

“Let’s go in that way.” She pointed the right with her chin and they started walking. “You aren’t by car…”

“No.”

“Were you waiting your lift?”

“I was about to call an Uber.”

“So you live far away from here…”

“I’m not from town.”

“Really? And what has brought you here?”

He glared at her again. Oops, she had just bumped into the wrong subject.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry…”

“But what?”

“You look like someone who needs to talk.”

He didn’t say anything but at least he didn’t contradict her.

“What do you do for a living?”, She stole a glance from his face but for the most time, they only looked forward and walked in a natural fast pace.

“I work with network security.”

“Are you a kind of hacker?”

“Yes.”

“Interesting. Well… we’re here… thank you”, she took her keys from the small purse, stopping in front of a brownstone building. “Why don’t you enter and wait your ride?”

“What are you trying to do?”

“Help you, why can’t you see it?”

“I’m not interested.”

“That I know. But insisting won’t hurt. Come on, step in. It’s so cold.”

He shook his head but followed her because it was easier than arguing. She didn’t look like someone that gave up easily when finding an issue to solve, obviously being the protective type. He let himself take a good look at her now that they were under the bright light of her apartment. She was a pretty girl, with lovely grey eyes and her red hair looked so soft, it begged him to run his fingers through it. She was not only beautiful, but also kind and cheerful and that caring disposition warmed him even against his permission.

“I’m Cathy Bloom. What’s your name?”, she brought him a cup of instant coffee. He had sat on her sofa and was toying with his cell phone, looking very far away from the room.

He took the cup and sighed:

“Heero Yuy.”

She sat on the armchair opposite to him and took a sip from her mug.

They exchanged glances, the situation suddenly awkward.

“What hotel are you staying?”

“At the Star of the Pleiades.”

“Right. Great place, by the way. You aren’t here in a business trip, I imagine.”

He only stared into the distance, drinking. Heero actually didn’t hear what she said, for if he had, he wouldn’t be feeling that comfortable. It was the first time he felt good that day. The coffee, her presence, her attention… all of that brought him some welcome reassurance.

Maybe if he talked to her he could feel even better. Would he trust her? He directed his eyes to her heart-shaped face. Would he be able to tell her?

It hurt so much he started to think he was exaggerating and that was another reason for him not to open up to anybody. He didn’t want to seem silly. He didn’t want to look weak. He didn’t want to cry. Those thoughts lacerated his core because they proved how much he was missing and betraying her.

“There’s something I must do here.”, he spoke low and slowly.

Surprised by getting an answer after so long, Cathy left her mug on the side table and hugged her knees.

“And were you procrastinating it at the bar?”

“Are you a certified therapist?”

She snorted, again too startled for a proper reaction.

“Of course not!”, And her melodious laugh filled the spacious room, echoing inside his heart.

“So what’s with all these questions?”, He dared to show a subtle smirk.

“I’ve told you. I can see you need to talk. And I’m willing to listen… so start spilling everything.

“You don’t need to go through this trouble for a stranger. I’ll call the car and leave.”

“I see. You know where to find me.”

“Thanks.”, He parted with Catherine using this solitary word. She smiled and nodded, watched him enter the car and closed the door.

“Who knew Catherine Bloom was inclined to casual trysts?”

“Hilde! Did I wake you up?”

“Yes, with your ridiculous cute laugh.”

“You ditsy!”

“Who was here? I know it was a guy, and I know it wasn’t your brother.”

“You are right. We met at the bar…”

“So it really was a one-night stand.”

“Stop it already”, Catherine gave another sample of her ridiculous cute laugh. “It’s not like that but I wouldn’t complain if he had decided to give me some kisses… he was damn hot.”

“So tell me what was more important than making up with this guy?”

“Talking. He looked so sad, Hilde.”

“All guys that drink alone at bars look like that… defeated, lonely, messed up…”

“Yeah, of course I know that! I’ve been working at the bar since I was… well… I wasn’t even legal for this kind of place when I started helping dad there… but Heero was looking much worse than all these things you mentioned.”

“Uh-oh, so he’s already got a name… you know what people say about giving stray puppies a name.”

“Had you saw him, you would understand. He looked miserable. Agressive, but miserable. Anyway, I’m calling it a day. Sorry to have disturbed you.”

“No problem… I’m going to the bar with you this night, just in case he reappears. I’m curious to check him out and see if I approve him.”

“I’m not sure I trust your taste in men.”

“How come? Don’t you like Duo?”

Cathy shrugged, not knowing what to answer.

::::::::

At the same time it was expected, it also was pretty shocking to see Heero again the next night.

“Look, there he is”, Cathy came cleaning the counter top with a white cloth and whispered to Hilde, who was sat at the together with Duo, drinking beer.

Both turned to the door and saw him stride to the counter as an Arabian horse pulling a filthy cart.

“Looking good…”, Hilde murmured, but she couldn’t ignore the sorrow he brought with him. She had never saw somebody wearing their despair as an armour with such grace and intensity.

Heero stopped short in front of the small stage where a couple was singing. The bar hosted an open mic night every Saturday night. He was aware of that, but it didn’t help diminish his suffering. The duet was pretty, but since it didn’t include her, it was only a distasteful reminder that she would never be heard again.

He shook his head, dying to cover his ears with his hands. But that unbearable sound came from his memories which he couldn’t escape.

He leaned on the counter. Cathy's brother, Trowa, was working that night at the crowded bar too.

“What’ll it be?” He asked with a helpful look on his eyes.

“Whisky. Neat.”, Heero didn’t need to think twice.

“Hey, Heero! You are here…” Cathy approached and greeted him with cautious. “This is my brother, Trowa”, then she introduced, keeping her expression cheerful and light.

That new data Cathy offered didn’t agree with him and the distortion of displeasure in his face told about how poorly had he digested it.

“Heero, please…”, the scorn in his eyes hurt Cathy, taking his pain as her own.

Her frowned face was a mirror for the frustration and pity in her good heart.

Trowa’s glance traveled from Cathy to Heero and he didn't like how his sister seemed entangled in the guys tantrums.

“Cathy, no… just leave him alone.” She deserved better than being lashed by the proverbial proud wounded beast.

“You don't understand…”, she whispered. And even though she obeyed her brother, going back to work, Catherine’s thoughts stood by Heero as in an effort to soothe his pain.

#fanfic #wip #gundam wing

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dragon-fics · 5 years ago

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S&H: Ch. 24 The Big Day

Chapter summary: Molten and Zion finally get to have their big day.

Notes, Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, Ch. 7, Ch. 8, Ch. 9, Ch. 10, Ch. 11, Ch. 12, Ch. 13, Ch. 14, Ch. 15, Ch. 16, Ch. 17, Ch. 18, Ch. 19, Ch. 20, Ch. 21, Ch. 22, Ch. 23, Ch. 24, Ch. 25, Ch. 26, Ch. 27

Molten combed his damp hair slowly. Fireworks erupted in his stomach as the teeth ran through his strands of hair. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt and black suit trousers—the most formal thing he had worn since Ember’s christening. He stared back at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. It was ten in the morning, just an hour before he’d be standing in front of the altar, waiting for his beloved Zion to arrive.

He thought back to his early days of being a DJ, how he’d often be around wedding parties. He remembered how happy the newlyweds looked, sitting side by side at their table. He hoped that Zion and he would be that happy today.

Once he felt he had fixed his hair enough, he entered his hotel room. On the bed lay his suit jacket, tie and a set of horn cuffs—a piece of jewellery worn by married dragons. This set was silver, with a gold band above below the silver on the band. An icy blue sapphire set in each, to match Zion’s engagement ring. The rings matched the wedding ring Zion would give Molten today—it just wouldn’t have a stone in it. Their ring bearer—Kate—had their wedding rings. It just so happened Zion forgot the horn cuffs. And by Roanain tradition, neither groom could see the other during the week up to the wedding. So Molten was begging that fate would let them give the rings to Kate before the wedding began.

Molten picked up the white box and looked in at the velvet embraced jewellery. He blew on the cuffs and clicked his fingers. A small blue flame ignited between his fingertips. The silver and gold reflected the blue light shiningly, while the sapphire reflected it glowingly. He nodded approvingly at their shine and closed the box. He placed the box back down and started on his tie.

“Molten?,” called Flame from outside the room. “We’d better get moving soon; just remember that we still have to travel to Askel.” He strode into the room as Molten fiddled with the tie. He sighed quietly and did it for him. “You nervous?” he asked.

“A little,” Molten admitted.

“Good,” Molten looked at his sire, confused. “It means you care about him—” he pulled the knot tight “—and that you’re in love." Molten pulled on his jacket and Flame brushed it off. “Now, we better get going,” he said, grabbing the jewellery box and leaving the room.

“Right,” Molten whispered. He spun on the spot, looking around the room before leaving.

The next time I’ll be entering this room, I’ll be carrying Zion in my arms.

*-*-*-*

Zion sat in front of his dresser, a hairdresser trimming his blonde strands. Under the hairdressing cape, he twiddled his thumbs, fighting the urge to mess with his hair out of nervousness. He allowed the hairdresser to finish and leave the room before standing up. He was nervous, excited and anxious. He knew he loved Molten, and he knew Molten loved him. He just wasn’t sure if it was the right step. He was 25, Molten 24. A year after they had moved into their new house, two years since Molten proposed and three years since they’d met.

His thoughts interrupted as his sire entered the room. Already dressed in his best of royal suits.

“I knocked,” Arryn said.

“Sorry, I just...”

“Panicking?”

“... Yeah.”

“Don’t. I’ve seen how you two look at each other, how you are together. And I know for a fact you’ll be both very happy today,” he said softly, fixing Zion’s white tie around his black shirt collar. “And I’m sure he’s just as nervous as you are right now.” He rested his hands on Zion’s shoulders and pulled him into a hug. “And I know she’d be happy for you.”

Zion knew who he was talking about; his dam, who was rarely ever mentioned. He gripped his sire a little tighter. “Thank you.”

And then they were interrupted by another knock on the door.

“That would be your maid of honour,” Arryn said, as he they released their embrace. “And don’t forget your crown,” he said, leaving the room.

As soon as her sire had left, Mona rushed into the room, seeing Zion in only his white suit trousers and black shirt.

“You jacket and tie?!” She exclaimed in a rush. “Have you seen the time?! And we still have to get to the church through the massive crowd of people who want to see a royal wedding!” She was practically yelling at him.

“Alright, I’ll hurry.”

*-*-*-*

Molten stood in front on the huge white alter at the front of the Roanian church. A mass of mumbling echoed through the church filled with high lords of Roania, Molten’s family, and journalists. Compared to the Wyrmian churches, the stone wasn’t laced with gold wire embroidery or scattered with gems, instead it was engraved with messages in Old or New Roana—the native language of Roania—or basic tongue. There were also pictures from their religious book, which—after a bit of inspection on Molten’s part—wasn’t very different to the Wyrmian religious book.

It was about ten minutes past eleven, ten minutes behind schedule. And Molten really wasn’t sure what to do. Not much could’ve gone wrong. Right? He had got from the hotel in north Shovania to the church without running into crowds. Then again, he came from Wyrmia, not Roania. And he knew Zion’s sisters wouldn’t let him fall behind schedule... Well, not by a huge amount, anyway.

He glanced back to his family sitting in the front row, unease resting on his face.

“Relax,” CJ whispered beside him, He was his best man. “He wouldn’t do this purposefully.”

“I know, I know,” Molten whispered back, but his voice contradicted his words. Then the muttering was silenced. Molten looked around. The royal families of both Roania and Wyrmia had arrived; this wedding was more than a show of love between a couple, it was a sign of peace between two segregated countries. While the families settled Molten saw Kate take the jewellery box from Flame.

At least that’s sorted(I), CJ said to him. Molten smiled and drew in a breath.

Then the organist played Bridal Chorus. Molten had never felt so relieved at the sound of an organ play.

About time!

He saw CJ’s lips curl.

A lifetime seemed to pass as Zion walked up the aisle, Mona by his side. He wore his white suit proudly, along with his silver crown. What Molten didn’t know was coming was that Zion had taken some artistic liberties in wearing a shoulder-length veil, because same-sex weddings weren’t traditional, and that there were no rules in place.

So when he joined Molten at the alter, Molten was somewhat surprised, but he liked it.

“Hey,” Molten whispered as the Archbishop made his way out.

“Hi.”

*-*-*-*

The ceremony itself wasn’t all that long, a basic wedding ceremony, but what happened after took the more time than expected. Pictures. Goddamn pictures. The one thing Zion and Molten hated more than anything else in the world. But they had expected it, and Molten had brought his iconic shades, so there wasn’t much worry on that part. But the newlyweds still had to pose for dozens of photos, say thank you to the high lords and royal family of Wyrmia, sign autographs and had to make their way to their Rolls Royce stretch limo. The ceremony and escape route took the better part of an hour, and Molten was sure his family had escaped unscathed long before that. Well, he hoped, because they were never as keen on paparazzi either, and no fan truly knew who Molten’s family was—apart from Mona.

It took another hour to get to the reception at the hotel Molten had stayed in the night before. Most of the guests were already there, chatting away, so the couple freshened up quickly before they had to face the crowd.

The couple stood in front of the door for a moment as Molten unlocked with his key card. As soon as it was open he turned to Zion, a somewhat devilish look on his face.

“Go on,” Zion sighed. No sooner as Molten got permission, he scooped Zion up and carried him—bridal style—into the room. He then placed him down.

“So what dis hold you up?” Molten asked, checking his tie in the mirror.

Zion nudged him over a bit, so he could fix his crown and hair after removing the veil. “I got distracted by my dear sire, that and the hairdresser took forever.”

“In other words; you slept in? Or you procrastinated? Which?”

“I hate you,” he said, looking up at Molten. He looked back down at him.

“No, you don’t. Otherwise we won’t be wearing matching rings.” He smirked. Zion snorted, but his lips curled into a smile. Molten pressed his lips against Zion’s.

“I think we have some guests to see to,” Molten said.

“Ugh,” Zion groaned. “Fine.” He said starting towards the door. At the last second, he picked up his veil. “Can you put it in for me?” Molten took the veil from him and slid the ‘comb’ into Zion’s hair behind his crown.

“That ok?”

Zion tapped the veil. “Yeah, I think so.” As they left the room and started down the corridor, Zion slid his hand into Molten’s. “So us your war veteran, racist, homophobic, sexist grandsire gonna be here?” He asked.

Molten sighed. “Yep, but after our last encounter with him, I think he knows that today is the worst day to voice his opinions.” Zion smiled.

“But we are going to kick him out if it happens?” Molten looked at him.

He hesitated. “I... I.”

Zion laughed. “We’ll just try to enjoy today,” Zion stopped in front of Molten. “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” He pecked Zion’s nose. They looked at the double doors to the ballroom. They could hear the bubbling atmosphere inside. Molten walked in, still holding Zion’s hand, but didn’t go straight for the guests, instead going towards the tiny appetisers laid out on a line of tables.

“Molten!” Zion hissed.

*-*-*-*

It had been a few hours since the meal had started. Molten and Zion had escaped for a few minutes onto the jetty by the ballroom. The air near the sea was cooler than that of the city, and the sun held a warm evening-like glow almost constantly at this place in Wyrmia.

The sound of water lapping up against the wooden posts of the jetty tickled Zion’s ears as they both faced the water. Molten held his arm around Zion’s waist. He nuzzled his hair to get his attention, before spinning him around, as if they were dancing, to face him. Zion looked up at him and looked at him to say he wanted to tell him something. Molten leaned his ear close to his mouth.

“I think its time for the cake,” he said.

Molten laughed. “Yeah, I suppose so.” Zion tugged Molten back towards the ballroom.

The cake stood on its own table beside the head table where both of their families sat. One side of the cake was black with white sheet music printed on the icing, the other was white, with black speckles on the icing, to represent stars. The divide between the colours was a curve, hidden by flowers made of icing, all lined up to look like a rainbow—or as others might see it, the stereotypical pride flag. The colour either side of the cake represented the grooms’ suit, and the printed music notes and stars represented their passions.

They made their way towards the cake. They went for a piece from the divide in the cake. They went for a 5 tier cake, each tier was a Victoria sponge. Most of the room took photos or a video of them cutting it. So once they were done, they took it back with them. The waiters cut and dispersed the cake. They seemed to relax a bit.

“Just out of interest,” Lika started, “Is this an actual song or is it a random mix of notes?” She asked as she ate her piece.

“It’s an actual song,” Molten assured.

“What’s it called?” Came Sarabi.

“What was my last album called?”

Mona squealed with her mouth closed. “That’s adorable.”

Zion looked at him questioningly.

“He doesn’t know your album name?” CJ asked.

“My dear husband isn’t so keen on my mixed music style.”

Zion looked to Mona.

“The title of his album and one of his songs was called Zion.” She said, looking to Molten. He smiled, embarrassed.

“I had to alright?” he said at Zion’s dumbfounded face.

Mona slapped Zion on the back. “How did you(I)—” she poked his chest “—not know that?”

Zion raised his hands up in defence. “I have my taste in music!”

“He’s your fiancé-now-husband!”

Molten chuckled at the twins’ argument. Zion whipped his head around at Molten.

“Aren’t you gonna defend me?”

Molten sighed and shrugged. He turned to the DJ, who had been playing soft music in the background. He gestured for him to play their song. The DJ nodded and Molten stood up.

“C’mon,” he said, holding out his hand. Zion smiled a little and took his hand. As they walked passed Molten’s family, Molten flicked Ember’s hair, making her giggle. They walked onto the dancefloor, in between the DJ and the guests.

“Ready?” He whispered.

“As I’ll ever be.”

#Scales and Hooves

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